Engraving the Slave Name
As soon as Jang Il finished speaking, an excruciating pain stabbed through her skull like a razor-sharp blade shredding her brain. It felt as if her cranium was splitting open and her gray matter was being torn into fragments. Her vision flushed red and blurred. She wanted to scream from the unprecedented agony, but her voice wouldn't form properly, as if she'd been struck mute. Thick saliva dribbled from her gaping mouth.
The maddening torment made even coherent thought impossible. Her mind refused to string ideas together. No... I can't let myself break like this... Better to die... I'm sorry, Cheong-ha... This mother of yours... Even amid the delirium, she desperately tried to circulate her sealed inner energy to sever her heart meridian.
By some heavenly mercy, she sensed a faint trickle of qi responding. That meager amount would suffice to snap her heart meridian and end it all. Just as she was about to do so—
Her body froze like a puppet with its strings cut.
"......"
The pain vanished in an instant. Her mind cleared to a crisp freshness, a euphoric high she'd never known surging through her body. Her thoughts swiftly pieced together the situation.
Ah...? What insane thing was I just about to do...?
Yeon Su-rin recoiled in shock at her own actions, her eyes widening. A slave's life belonged entirely to her master; she had no right to end it herself. Yet she'd acted like some uneducated idiot of a slave. For such a grave sin, she deserved to beg her master's forgiveness.
Trembling in terror, she hurried to prostrate herself before Jang Il—only to realize her wrists and ankles were bound. Reflexively channeling her inner energy, she snapped the ropes. Unlike before, her qi flowed freely now.
Yeon Su-rin dropped to her knees and slammed her forehead to the floor. It was a posture of utmost deference, one she'd never even shown to her benefactor and liege, the late Hwang Bo-pyeong.
"I'm sorry, Master. This stupid slave bitch has committed a grave error. I won't make the same mistake again. Please forgive me."
Jang Il watched her transformation with a delighted smile. The voice brimmed with absolute loyalty. Reciting hypnotic suggestions in a flat tone was one thing, but this sparked a deeper thrill of conquest that stirred his manhood. Perfect domination. A sense of completion filled him with satisfaction.
Now she would obey without question or unease. To others, a cold martial world beauty. But to him, she'd spread her pussy wide and fawn like a pet.
With a playful lilt, Jang Il said, "Spread 'em."
"Pardon? ...Ahh!"
Why was she still wearing such useless rags without permission? If her master wished, she should bare her filthy tits and splay her vulgar dog-pussy anytime. These were nothing but obstacles.
Yeon Su-rin grimaced as if peeling off filth, yanking off her tit-cover and panties and hurling them away. That's when she noticed urine trickling down her thighs.
Glancing back, the floor was soaked in her piss.
"Ahhh?"
Her face drained of color. A slave who couldn't even hold her piss? Mortifying. Shame burned through her.
She scrambled toward the puddle on all fours, tongue out to lick it clean—
"Stop."
Jang Il must have figured her mouth would see plenty of use today; no need to dirty it yet. Rising, he smacked I Hwa-rin's ass with his palm.
"Lick up her piss and clean it spotless, you."
"...Yes... Master... This lowly bitch will lick up the piss... and clean it spotless..."
Obeying instantly, I Hwa-rin crawled to the wet spot. Lowering her head, she lapped at the filthy urine like a hog, without hesitation. Unthinkable for her usual fastidious self, who wouldn't tolerate even a speck of dust.
Her ass thrust high, exposing the middle-aged woman's pussy and anus in raw detail. Her outer labia were dark and wrinkled, sagging with lost elasticity. The inner lips were dusky, swollen asymmetrically to the left. That was why, despite her decent looks for her age, Jang Il dismissed her with a yawn. Her nipples, hidden under her top, were a dark purplish-brown too.
Yeon Su-rin fidgeted anxiously beside her, trembling like a frightened bird. She'd committed so many errors at once, her mind reeling in panic.
"Come here, cutie..."
Jang Il called her over, then paused. He'd nearly said "cutie slave." But a thought struck him.
Jeolhwadae—his slaves—would keep growing in number. Calling them all "slave" would get confusing. Using real names felt too dignified, too humanizing. They were livestock. They needed proper slave names.
Jeolhwadae, so flower names? Plum blossom, orchid, chrysanthemum... No. Too elegant, like courtesans.
Something cruder. Her surname was Yeon, so Yeon-no (燕奴), "Yeon slave"? Easy for naming multiples, but it didn't click.
"Hmm..."
Pondering, Jang Il suddenly clapped. "That's it!"
Name them after body features—specifically, the shameful parts only he could see.
Yeon Su-rin's bush was thick, so something pubic-related. Cunt hair? Pussy fur? Decent, but straight-up "pussy hair" fit better. Just "Pussy Hair" might confuse with others, though.
Add the surname: Yeon Pussy Hair. Perfect. Scalable too.
For Paeng family's daughter: big tits? Paeng Tit-Tank, Paeng Red-Tit, Paeng Tit-Bag. Areola focus? Paeng Tit-Rim, Paeng Red-Tit-Wheel. Nipples? Paeng Nipple, Paeng Tit-Nub, Paeng Red-Tit-Nub. Asshole? Paeng Anus, Paeng Shit-Hole, Paeng Bottom-Hole...
If two slaves had great tits, one Tit-Tank, one Red-Tit. No mix-ups.
Smug with his genius, Jang Il beamed.
"Yeon Su-rin."
"...Yes? Ah, yes, Master."
"Come here."
"Yes, Master."
Yeon Su-rin crawled over, ass jiggling lewdly. Her face was still pale with fear, body tense. Dreading punishment for her mistakes.
Jang Il pointed at her with his chin. "And what are you?"
"This lowly bitch is a Jeolhwadae member and your faithful slave, Master."
"Right. You're a slave. Slaves need slave names, don't they?"
"This foolish slave bitch knows nothing, Master. She only obeys your commands."
"Haha, well said. As a reward, I'll bestow a slave name on you. A special name for you alone in the world."
"Ah... Thank you, Master."
Her face lit up. She'd worried over her blunder, but he seemed unfazed. And a name just for her...? Bliss flooded her. She felt special to her master. A smile bloomed naturally.
"You look good smiling."
He meant it. Rumor had it she hadn't smiled much since her husband's death. During training, only rote, lifeless grins at orders. This was Jang Il's first glimpse of her true smile.
Not a peerless beauty like Hwang Bo-seol, but Yeon Su-rin was stunning. Her smile wafted a orchid-like fragrance, pleasing the eyes and heart.
"Ahnng... Master, you're embarrassing this lowly bitch."
She cooed coyly, a flirtation she'd never shown even her late husband. Gold Dragon Battlefield retainers who knew her icy demeanor would gape in disbelief.
"Haha, I just said what I meant. Anyway, time to name you."
"I await your words, Master."
"I've noticed your pussy hair is thicker than most women's."
"Ah... Does my dog-pussy hair displease you? I'll shave it right now."
Her face crumpled. She looked ready to fetch a razor and shear it off.
"No, no. I saw it as your unique trait, so I named you for it."
"Ah..."
"Combining it with your surname: Yeon Pussy Hair. Like it?"
The worst name imaginable. Utterly vulgar, unutterable. Who'd name a woman that?
But Yeon Su-rin, perfectly brainwashed, couldn't conceive such doubt. She recognized the shame but accepted her master's will unquestioningly—above all else.
"Yeon Pussy Hair..."
She murmured it like a cherished treasure. Another saying it would've earned dismemberment in rage. But from her master? Pure joy. Her body—pussy hair included—was his. How could she resent it?
Thrilled he'd noted her thick bush as special, she flashed a sweet smile.
"I love it, Master. Thank you so mu—"
Creak.
The door slid open, cutting her off.
"Ahh, too late. Completely missed it. What a shame—I wanted to see the good part."
Bang So-un entered, sweat beading on his brow. In his hand, a vibrant pink lotus root.