Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: This Is Purely for Treatment
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Current time: 2 AM.
At this hour, even the kids who should be sleeping soundly to grow into fine adults—not to mention most jaded office workers—would be lost in dreams under their blankets.
But for me, tonight, this serene dawn marked the 'start of the day.'
'Finally… it's here.'
How many times had I rehearsed this in my head for this very moment?
Dozens, hundreds—I'd memorized the mansion garden's layout like sketching it onto a map.
In preparation for any contingency, I'd even blanketed the entire estate with a soundproofing skill.
Today, this place was a perfectly sealed stage: no eyes watching, no ears listening.
Even the maids who usually pulled all-nighters had been sent home early, all in deference to the 'young lady's' privacy.
The sole permitted observer—her guardian, Branch Chief Yoo Geumhui—had bowed out, citing a packed schedule.
In the end, only the two of us remained in this sprawling mansion.
In a space so still that every breath echoed crisply, there was me, the attending physician, and… the patient whose body had burned hot in anticipation of this instant.
No—just Yoo Narae, the 'bitch' kneeling breathlessly before her master.
But before we began, one thing needed to be crystal clear.
I wasn't some paid dominatrix catering to twisted kinks.
I was a licensed psychiatrist, certified by the state.
So this 'exposure walk' about to unfold? Purely therapeutic.
Gentleman that I was—a man—I reined in any superfluous reactions.
She was the patient; I was the doctor. That line had to hold firm.
That's why, moments ago, I'd yanked back Narae from the brink of frenzy with a master's authoritative tug on her collar and laid down a few extra ground rules.
And… at long last, we stepped into the garden.
"Ah, auu…!"
"What's wrong, Narae? First time outside in ages, and you're already red as a beet?"
"Th-that's… because I'm showing myself like this in front of you, Master… it's, too embarrassing…"
Under the moonlight, she halted, reverting to deferential speech for her master as she cautiously turned her head.
The gold standard for an exposure walk? Buck naked.
But parading her chest and crotch bare before a man for the first time—even medically justified—was way too intense.
So as her master, I'd fine-tuned her outfit.
Stress relief, yes—but without sparking deviant tastes or full-blown exhibitionism.
The result: she teetered on that exquisite edge in scandalously skimpy lingerie.
…But here's the thing.
'Lingerie… why is it hotter than naked?'
Jet-black bra and panties.
Minimal coverage—just the bare essentials.
The faint glow of skin warmth seeping through that whisper-thin fabric, the teasing curves—it ignited an impulse to strip away the layers in my mind, one by one.
Above the bra, those soft swells quivered gently with every breath; below, the straps traced sleek lines down to her hips, locking my gaze.
And the body wearing it? Yoo Narae herself—bearer of flesh so vulgarly sensual it stole your breath on sight.
If not for my doctor's professionalism… screw the treatment; I'd have followed my already-stirred lower half, pinned her right there, and fathered a kid tonight.
But as a healer of lives, letting base urges create new ones? Unthinkable.
So I clamped it down.
"Uu… still… it's a rare walk… I'm a beast… clothes feel so… off…"
"Then strip for me right now?"
"Y-yes?!"
"Fair warning: the second you do, whatever awaits dwarfs a mere 'walk.' Brace yourself."
"Dwarfs it…?!"
Regret flickered across Narae's face, unmasked—until my words set it ablaze.
Ears scarlet to the tips, lingerie and all.
…But yielding here? She'd shed it all in a heartbeat.
Treatment be damned—it'd devolve into straight-up fetish exhibitionism.
I gripped her leash like a true master, crushing her momentum.
She flapped her lips a few times, then clapped hands over her bra and panty fronts, head drooping.
Steam practically rose from her scalp, plain as day in the moonlight.
'Phew… one "I'm ready" and we'd have had a real mess.'
Relief, but leave her idle and she'd reclaim her poise, crank the exposure up again.
Human aversion and trauma stress might ease, but exhibitionism could flare as backlash.
"Um… Master isn't undressing? I thought… we'd do it together…"
…See? Escalating already.
Keep this up, we'd trigger an adults-only rating. Time to muzzle her.
Stuff that noisy mouth with my tongue—no, role-play appropriate.
*Yank!*
"Kyaang?!"
The leather dog collar I'd picked myself, snug around her neck.
I hauled the leash hard, reeling her in close.
This moment demanded a beast-tamer's severity.
Seized her chin, tilted her face up, and loomed.
"I'm human. You're a beast."
"……!"
"Yet a rutting bitch like you dares strip a human man?"
"S-sorry… Master!"
Her eyes welled ruby-bright in an instant.
She flattened prone, dogeza-style, shame-free.
Tail swished lushly; tongue flicked tentative at my shoe's toe.
That perfect submission nearly turned me feral.
Deep breath—I smothered the surging instinct.
Ripped my eyes from her swaying rear, tugged the leash to raise her.
First order to the upturned gaze:
"Lead on. Or you aiming to cramp Master's feet standing?"
"…! S-sorry, Master! Walk starts now!"
"And beasts yapping human talk grates. Howl from here on. Clear, bitch?"
"Yes! Ah—no… kyung kyung! Woof woof!"
Command given, she whipped her tail and crawled off on all fours.
Retracing her solo nude-stroll route to a T.
Strict master needed a beast-call; wolves being canines, 'bitch'—female dog's shorthand—fit naturally.
Face unchanging as she obeyed? Yeah, this sticks.
Anyway.
Her mind now brimmed with fantasies: us stark naked, plunging into even kinkier play.
But even at this pitch, Narae looked blissed out enough. We strolled the garden, dawn air crisp, about five minutes.
Then we hit the open clearing—her breath shifted sharp.
Moonlight grazed her skin; wolf-kin wildness stirred, shivers wracking her frame. Rough pants reached me vividly from behind.
And right on cue, upper body reared, neck craned to the moon.
"Awooooo!"
Long, lupine howl poured out.
"Our little bitch."
"……?"
"Think you can fetch Master's disc?"
"…! Woof! Woof woof woof! Pant pant!"
I smirked faintly, drawing the prepped disc.
Disc-fetch rules: simple.
Four-legged dash to mouth my throw, bring it back.
Nail it? Head pats… or tonight, maybe something extra special.
"Nail 'em all… and I'll specially rub your belly."
"!!!"
Ears perked ramrod.
Canine catnip—head level, maybe more; total disarmament zone.
Narae's eyes gleamed, panting ramped—then nose to my beltline, sniffing.
Hot breath soaked through pants, sparking stray thoughts.
I snapped my gaze away, gripped the disc.
"Go—fetch!"
*Whoosh!*
Disc arced airborne; she launched, thighs springing like coiled steel.
Snap!
"…What?"
Back before it hit dirt, snagged midair.
Cheat-level speed.
S-rank candidate physique lapse on my part.
"Woof woof! Woof!"
Mouth-delivered to my feet, eyes ablaze.
Head pat promised and delivered.
But no woof—instead…
"Oook… ogok…!"
"…?"
A piggish, oddly erotic squeal leaked out.
'…Nah, hearing things.'
But it snowballed.
Every toss—airborne intercept, instant return.
Shorter pats, trashier pants.
Flailing ears, thrashing tail: cute turned carnal in my eyes.
'…This trajectory? Trouble for both.'
Doctor first—but man underneath.
Thus.
"Catch this!!"
Feint: fake toss, then real hurl opposite.
"Kyaang?!"
She faltered—then quadruped pursuit resumed.
Moonlit flashes: pale skin, black lace.
Pants receding.
But…
*Flick.*
"…Huh?"
Overdid the force.
Disc sailed past the mansion's edge.
And Narae in hot pursuit… lingerie-clad, all fours vaulting the railing.
That moon-kissed silhouette.
Damp tail fur, hip sway—eye-searing eroticism. But cold sweat now? Whole other story.