Pussy Whipped into Prostration
"Your words are spot on, sir." Slap! "You old hag." Smack! "Not knowing your place." Slap! "And daring to blow smoke right in my face?"
Bang So-un's palm crashed against Mo Ryeo-won's body. A slap to the face? No. Nothing visible. Women had plenty of spots that wouldn't show but still delivered that satisfying thwack to vent his rage. Tits. Ass cheeks. And pussy. Of those, Bang So-un was gleefully hammering away at Mo Ryeo-won's wide-open cunt.
The pussy throbbed endlessly even as it took the blows. It was already swollen bright red. A trained martial artist's merciless strikes would do that, of course. In a situation that should bring excruciating pain, Anhui's matron stared with vacant, idiotic eyes, her pussy twitching as if that was the sum total of her existence.
"Puhaha, looks like this so-called matron's got a lot she wants to say with that sloppy cunt of hers."
Jang Il burst into mocking laughter. A pussy bitch speaks with her pussy. Proving it herself, Mo Ryeo-won didn't utter a word from her mouth—only her lower mouth quivered away.
"Haha, nice and quiet when it's talking out of its lower hole." Slap! Bang So-un chimed in, slapping the twitching pussy again. Paying back what he'd received several times over was always a relief. No, dozens of times over. Now, this bitch's life was his to toy with at the flick of a finger. If he wanted, he could make her strut naked through Anhui's bustling markets in broad daylight, dancing her pussy madly until her life was ruined.
A matron's life-ending pussy dance. Hilarious just to imagine—but he'd hold off. Too soon. Better avoid anything that could leave a trail.
"Hmm, time to wrap this up."
Bang So-un finally stopped. Lingering too long might raise suspicions. This was just right.
"Heh, got it. Time for the finishing lesson, then..."
"Ah, one thing first."
"Yes?"
Bang So-un tapped out the ash-filled remains of the cigarette leaf he'd rolled up and tucked behind his ear after a few puffs. He scooped up a handful and shoved it straight into Mo Ryeo-won's pussy.
"You rude fucking bitch. A slut like you deserves to eat cigarettes with that rag of a cunt."
Now Bang So-un wore a fully satisfied grin.
"Looks like that smoke in your face really pissed you off, huh?"
"Wouldn't anyone lose their shit if a pussy-flapping bitch like her pulled that?"
"Damn right. Of course."
"Haha, good. Finish her up."
"Yes, young master."
Jang Il grinned and approached Mo Ryeo-won, whose pussy was still twitching despite the cigarette stuffed inside.
What the hell? It's been a while—why no word?
Nangong Ji sat awkwardly alone in the room, eyes darting around. Every wild thought crossed his mind. Bang So-un had already been kicked out, so was Mo Ryeo-won ignoring his message just to rub it in? Or were they still negotiating? But that didn't seem like something to drag out. She wasn't the type to listen anyway. So, leaving him to twist in the wind?
Nangong Ji agonized over whether to leave or stay.
Then—creeeak. The door finally opened, and someone entered.
Nangong Ji's eyes widened in shock. Totally unexpected.
Bear. Bang So-un's hulking bodyguard stood there.
"Wh-what is it?"
He stammered, caught off guard.
"A message from the young master."
"From Brother Bang?"
"The negotiations with the lady are concluded. He asks you to join him."
"What?"
Nangong Ji's face twisted in disbelief. He knew what kind of woman Mo Ryeo-won was. But the talks were over? Wait—no, that didn't mean it went well.
"...Outside?"
Yeah, that made sense. Things went south, got the boot, so they call him out like this...
"No."
Bear's firm denial.
"Huh? Oh, r-right?"
Nangong Ji flustered again.
"Let's go."
Bear turned without another word.
"Uh... y-yeah."
Nangong Ji stumbled to his feet. Whatever happened, he had to see for himself.
So he followed Bear.
Luju Hall?
Nangong Ji looked haunted. His mind reeled. How the hell did the talks end up with him in here?
Some dramatic compromise? Neither seemed the type...
Creeeak. Bear opened the door.
"Go in."
"Ah... okay."
Nangong Ji entered the hall with a complicated expression.
Click. Door shut. Bear stayed out.
Not important. Nangong Ji's eyes quickly scanned the room.
Two people on chairs. Mo Ryeo-won and Bang So-un. Both impassive—hard to read the mood.
Nangong Ji's steps faltered awkwardly.
"There you are, brother."
Bang So-un spoke.
"Y-yeah, but..."
"Have a seat first."
Bang So-un eyed the empty chair.
More questions swirled in Nangong Ji's head. Why was he—the guest—directing, not the host Mo Ryeo-won? It broke protocol. But she sat silent, which seemed like tacit approval.
So Nangong Ji sat.
"What the hell happened?"
He glanced at Mo Ryeo-won and whispered to Bang So-un.
"Simple."
Bang So-un's quick reply.
...Simple how? Nangong Ji's face said it all, but Bang So-un continued.
"We sorted right from wrong. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir."
Mo Ryeo-won's first words. Nangong Ji jolted. So polite—nothing like her earlier sharp, commanding tone. Unimaginable.
Wh-what...?
"Then prove it with actions. Right?"
Bang So-un tossed out casually.
"Yes, your words are spot on, sir."
Mo Ryeo-won rose politely and stood before Nangong Ji.
He panicked.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"To beg forgiveness for this bitch's wrongs."
Nangong Ji doubted his ears. Forgiveness...? And this bitch? The mighty Mo Ryeo-won using such groveling self-talk? Sounded like bullshit.
"Wrongs...?"
"Treating a guest like trash. Then foolishly denying it and trying to brush it off. I beg your deep forgiveness for both."
"Heh...?"
"This bitch humbly prostrates in apology."
Without hesitation, Mo Ryeo-won dropped and kowtowed. Forehead fully smashed to the floor—the most humiliating bow imaginable.
Stunned, Nangong Ji accepted it.
That was the beginning of everything.
A life of constant frustration, so clogged he couldn't recall the last time it eased. Now, for the first time in ages, a sharp thrill pierced through.
Making a matron kneel and accept his bow. He never knew it could shake him like this. Hot emotions surged. Electric.
A thrill even pounding a woman's hole couldn't match. Nangong Ji shuddered involuntarily.
Then, an unbelievable vision overlaid his eyes. On Mo Ryeo-won's ultimate humiliation, his half-sister Nangong Hwaran's image began to superimpose.
The sister who'd overtaken him in martial arts, studies—everything—despite starting late. How he'd suffered inferiority. Couldn't even claim brotherly dignity. Got nagged instead.
That memory stirred a different heat. If he could make that arrogant bitch kneel like this...
If only. Nangong Ji's clenched fists trembled with excitement.
But that was just the start. An absurd vision followed.
His stepmother Yi So-ok. The world's most fearsome, formidable being. Her image overlapped Mo Ryeo-won, kowtowing humiliatingly to him.
"Ahh."
Nangong Ji groaned uncontrollably. In his heart, he'd killed that stepmother hundreds of times. Killed and killed again. If possible, filial piety be damned—he'd do it.
Couldn't even imagine the rush.
But today, he learned. Something brought even greater emotion than death.
Stepmother. If she knelt to him, offering that ultimate apologetic prostration...
How intense would that be...?
"Aaaah!"
Shuddering head to toe, Nangong Ji let out a louder groan.
Watching it all, Bang So-un smiled with satisfaction.