I Made a Deal with the Devil
I made a deal with the devil. The cloying, overripe scent of night-blooming flowers permeated the air. Lee Seol turned her head away in shame, squeezing her eyes shut, but her thighs trembled in spasms, as if tiny orgasms kept rippling through her.
It was then. The Park Manager reached out with his bear-like paw of a hand, roughly grabbing her breast and twisting her nipple hard.
"Haaah—! Ah, aaaang!"
The instant the sharp stimulus hit, Lee Seol's back arched like a bow. Her scream twisted into a bestial moan. The shiver that started from her pinched breast slammed through her whole body, and from her secret place, pent-up fluids gushed out once more. A perfect climax.
In that moment when her pleasure-addicted brain paralyzed her reason, filthy words poured from her mouth—no trace of a top star's dignity.
"Haa... ugh! Aaaah...! C-cumming... Lee Seol... this dirty bitch... is cumming right now...! Uuugh!"
The Park Manager grinned at her excitedly.
"What are you? National fairy? Top star lady?"
Lee Seol's eyes had lost focus, drool trickling from her lips. Her crotch dripped with love juices. But she didn't look like some cheap whore. Even in this state, her bewitching allure held firm, creating a tremendous irony.
As if trained by reflex, she spat out the lewd words.
"Hng, aaaang! I'm not the national fairy... Lee Seol... I'm the masters' breeding sow. The masters' cum dump... meat toilet!!!... Aaah, huaaang!"
Just from having her nipple twisted and pinched, she'd climaxed again. Her face flushed crimson with shame that made her want to die, tears streaming down. But beyond those tears, her pupils gleamed with a bizarre vitality, thrilled at exposing her ugly truth to the lowest of men.
The ecstasy of falling from the highest perch to forced marriage with a lowly man. Being paired off like livestock, without a say, for the masters' petty amusement. Meeting this drunken, unwashed wretch who looked subhuman—her masochism was at its peak.
'Ahh... if this is what the masters want from me...'
She didn't show it outwardly, but her masochistic sadism had already hit critical mass.
The Park Manager twisted her nipple again.
"Haaah—! Ah, aaaang!"
It wasn't mere physical pain. It was the signal of her final shred of pride being utterly crushed—total ruin.
She wasn't in her right mind. With her pleasure-trained brain numbing her reason, she panted, tear-streaked, tongue lolling out long like a beast, gasping wildly.
"Haa... haa... Can you see...? This lowly slave's... filthy hole...? The sight of a base slave fit for scum like you!!!... Showing you this... aaah! It feels so good... I'm going insane...!"
She shoved her shame in my face, debasing herself. The pleasure of the highest being crumbling before the lowliest man had corrupted her into the perfect sex slave.
But that humiliating spectacle didn't stay contained. Ultra-high-definition cameras lining the penthouse walls captured every trembling breath, every viscous drop of fluid, streaming it live somewhere.
She was dedicating this unlock of her fall to her masters.
At the same time, in Pantheon's massive secret performance hall somewhere in Seoul, those who wielded Korea's true power lounged at ease. White-haired, liver-spotted, reeking of age even at rest. But their eyes glittered like starving beasts.
Watching Lee Seol's pathetic downfall on the giant screen, they sipped wine and critiqued like connoisseurs of a classic masterpiece.
"Heh heh, that bitch who was so haughty at first, cumming in front of a bum like that. Breeding sows need shame, not whips."
"Look at that husband's face. Priceless. Can't wait for their married life."
The old men's crude laughter filled the hall.
But the true depravity wasn't just on the screen. In the dim shadows of the VIP seats, more ugliness unfolded. Korea's top stars, shoulder-to-shoulder with screen-Seol in fame, groveled like animals between the old men's legs.
Idols who shone on stage, proud top models, the epitome of innocence—actresses. Those radiant women now mouthed the wrinkled, twisted cocks of pants-down geezers. Tongues working blindly like beasts craving their master's favor. Slender fingers clutching dry thighs trembled with suppressed shame and weird excitement.
Lee Seol's screams of collapse on-screen mingled with the slick slurps of stars sucking off the old men. That grotesque, perfect harmony was Pantheon's game for these power brokers.
This was the reality of the Pantheon organization.
And those devilish bastards were offering me their hand.
'Haa... haa...'
The musky reek pouring from Lee Seol's gaping slit filled the vast penthouse. Any pure lily fragrance had long faded. The overripe night-flower stench, her climax gushes, her ragged breaths—I couldn't think straight.
Revolting. But insanely erotic too.
What really drove me mad was the grotesque sensation rising inside me. The Park Manager yanking Lee Seol's hair, dominating her like a beast. His overwhelming presence had my knees buckling. Not just fear. It was the instinct of a lesser creature: submission to the strong was natural.
'Am I any different from that woman?'
Crushed by Erebos's tyranny my whole life, struggling futilely—here was my destination. Under the heel of a giant predator. Maybe I'd always been meant to be tamed, trampled, toyed with in someone's grip, just like her.
Lee Seol's wet eyes met mine. Soaked in shame yet surrendered to pleasure, they whispered to me.
'Roll in this hell's bottom with me.'
That sweet temptation paralyzed my brain like poison. Falling with her, becoming playthings for this vast power alongside a goddess like her... even that might be a kind of salvation. A ruinous thought.
"Sign it, Kanghan. Then you'll have the power to protect you in this hellish world."
The Park Manager's low voice sounded like gospel. I took the pen, entranced. My hand shook, but I didn't hesitate.
This wasn't just a contract. It was the death warrant for my self called 'Na Kanghan'—a declaration of becoming Pantheon's loyal dog and official handler for Lee Seol, that breeding sow.
Scritch. Scritch.
The pen nib scraping paper sliced my soul thin. After the final stroke, I set it down and stared blankly into space. My life sinking into an eternal abyss.
Then the Park Manager's low, arrogant command shattered the silence.
"Good. On paper, you're perfect husband and wife now. So kiss like newlyweds. Practice for that fake love show for the nation."
At his order, Lee Seol rose. She approached with a devastatingly brain-melting smile. My goddess, my muse. The lofty lips Korea worshipped met mine.
"Mmph...!"
A brain-piercing sensation dizzied me. So soft, so warm. But when her tongue invaded my mouth, I realized: just as her white thighs hid a pussy stuffed with cum, her mouth was caked in countless ejaculations' traces.
Her breath, which should have been floral, reeked of semen—fishy, thick protein rot. She'd swallowed load after load down her throat. Another man's unwashed lust mixed in her saliva, flooding my tongue.
Humiliating. Nausea rose. But paradoxically, that filthy reek was insanely sweet.
In vertigo threatening to black me out, I roughly gripped her nape.
From beyond the screen, Pantheon's grotesque old men cackled at our vile vows, like hallucinations. A sacred marriage for someone's mere amusement.
In the most wretched way, I opened hell's gates with my goddess.