My Beloved is Becoming a Masochistic Slave - 1
The black sedan heading toward the Pantheon Performance Hall was filled with a silence so profound it sent chills down the spine. Her parents, who would normally offer gentle encouragement, sat today like soulless dolls, not uttering a single word.
Alone in the back seat, Lee Seol swallowed dryly amid the heavy, oppressive air of the car, sensing an indescribable wrongness. The first thing that caught her eye was her father Lee Hak-su's back as he gripped the wheel. Unlike usual, he wasn't using the driver but handling it himself. In the rearview mirror, his eyes—bloodshot as if burst veins—gleamed with a mad intensity. And she couldn't shake the disgusting feeling that he was stealing glances at the exposed space between her thighs, revealed by her short dress.
What disconcerted Lee Seol most was his lower body. Deeply sunk into the seat, the front of his pants bulged unnaturally, twitching. More than guilt for shoving his precious daughter into hell, a twisted anticipation as a male eager to partake in the impending cruel game dominated him.
And Father wasn't the only odd one. Seo Ji-an, who always rode in the back with Lee Seol, was sitting up front today, seemingly avoiding her on purpose.
"Mom... are you feeling sick? Why do you keep pulling away...?"
Lee Seol cautiously reached for her shoulder, but Ji-an recoiled in fright, forcing her to withdraw her hand. Ji-an's body vibrated with fine, mechanical tremors that wouldn't stop—like a broken machine. The masochistic senses honed over decades pounded mercilessly at her womb as they drew nearer to the Pantheon, the domain of her masters.
And something—an indefinable, lascivious scent—pricked at Lee Seol's nose, filling the cramped car. It wasn't her mother's elegant perfume or the clean air freshener. It was a thick, musky reek: dense love juices and the fishy body odor of a bitch in heat, bursting forth behind choked sobs, impossible to suppress.
That wasn't all. From Lee Hak-su at the wheel came a faint, fishy night-bloom scent. In this ultimate situation of offering their child as sacrifice, the parents' warped sexual arousal mingled in the sealed car, forming a grotesque harmony that polluted the air.
As if intoxicated by that foul stench, Lee Seol suddenly sank into a strange sensory mire. She was, after all, the bloodline of Seo Ji-an, Pantheon's most perfect masochistic slave. The masochistic genes etched into her bones had passed flawlessly to Lee Seol, merely dormant in the unseen depths of her soul, awaiting its bloom.
The parents' aroused scents acted as catalyst, heating the blood coursing through Lee Seol's veins. Her mind rejected it, her heart filled with terror, yet her body responded to the irresistible call of instinct, trembling faintly. At last, that cursed masochistic blood was approaching its moment of savage flowering on the Pantheon's threshold.
Before the Pantheon doors, Lee Hak-su—unable to contain his rising excitement—spoke to his daughter in a voice quivering with feigned kindness. But his grotesquely tented pants betrayed how that kindness was built on ugly desire.
"Seol-ah, today... you're meeting some very... very important people."
Beside him, Ji-an said nothing. Her eyes brimmed with hot tears ready to spill. But beyond that transparent veil, the emotion wasn't mere maternal pity for her child. Behind the gut-wrenching pain of pushing her daughter into hell, her lifelong conditioning as a "masochistic slave" gripped her body, delivering spine-chilling thrills.
Her thoroughly dominated flesh instinctively knew: the moment her daughter crossed that threshold, the brutal ravaging awaiting her was merely the prelude to the fishy, fatal pleasure she'd indulged in her whole life. Lee Seol's noble soul would shatter, her first scream morphing into the thick moans of submission Ji-an herself had offered over the years.
Convinced that witnessing her daughter's ruin—and the ensuing exquisite shame—was the ultimate reward from her masters, Ji-an trembled, tears flowing even as her womb clenched in uncontrollable arousal.
"Mom, Dad... what's wrong? You're scaring me..."
As Lee Seol reached anxiously for their hands, the heavy metal door of the underground lounge swung open. Hak-su took his daughter's hand and led her inside. His palm was slick with cold sweat, but his body twitched like a spasm at the confirmation of "contract sealed" from across the room. Fatherly love evaporated helplessly before the sweet poison offered by the organization.
"Come on, greet them. These are your true masters from now on, who'll take care of you."
The instant Lee Seol's toes touched the cold marble floor of the stage, blinding spotlights poured down on her pure white dress. From the darkened audience, beastly, hungry eyes ignited all at once. The organization's executives and VIPs ogled the dazzling sacrifice freshly placed on the altar, their greed blatant.
Instinctively, Lee Seol hugged her shoulders and curled up. But the bizarre heat that started in the car showed no sign of cooling in the stage's chill air. Mixed in her parents' fishy scents: a colorless, odorless aerosol aphrodisiac. Having inhaled it for so long in the sealed car, her body had reached critical point.
Her mind reeled in deathly terror, but her drug-soaked nerves sent shivers of pleasure to her brain with every predator's gaze on her skin.
"Hah... ugh..."
The sound of her noble reason crumbling echoed. The masochistic genes inherited from her mother, fused with the aphrodisiac, were awakening the long-dormant masochism within. Between her quivering thighs, thick love juices seeped out against her will, soaking her dress lining.
As the VIPs' brazen scrutiny dragged on, her eyes clouded not with fear, but misty heat. Beneath the saintly mask, the masochism seed bloomed with fishy fragrance under the ultimate pressure of countless predators.
Low gasps of admiration rose from the seats.
"Indeed... Seo Ji-an's bloodline. Even with the aphrodisiac, to soak herself with that terrified face. Perfect bitch potential."
"Ah, Dad... something's wrong... my body... feels weird..."
Lee Seol desperately sought Hak-su with unfocused eyes. The mind-melting aphrodisiac heat and the bizarre pulsing in her lower abdomen for the first time. She felt suffocated by this repulsive rebellion in her own body. Her sole savior, the one she blindly trusted to always protect her from the world: Dad. She clutched his sleeve end with trembling hands like a frightened animal.
"Dad, please... let's go home. Yeah? I'm scared... I wanna go home..."
At her pitiful voice, Hak-su's shoulders visibly spasmed. His eyes shook violently. Veins bulged on his hands; fingers that meant to grasp hers wandered lost in air. He reached to wipe her tears, fidgeting, but froze like ice whenever he felt the masters' gleaming stares from the dark.
"Seol-ah, Dad... Dad's sorry..."
Hak-su's voice trembled like wet leaves. He ached, soul tearing between the urge to scoop her up and flee this mad banquet—and the Pantheon's brutal retribution that would follow. Even as her noble soul screamed on the brink, he could only pace in place, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.
Paternal instinct screamed to shield her, but decades of Pantheon's terror nailed his feet to the marble.
"Just endure a little, Seol-ah... don't be scared... Dad's right here..."
The most powerless, cowardly comfort. Hak-su cupped her wet cheek with shaking hand, but his gaze drifted to empty air, unable to meet her pleading eyes. Realizing the hand of her believed world-protector trembled so feebly, Lee Seol's last hope began crumbling deep in her heart.
Then it happened. From the opposite side of the stage, a massive iron door in the dark screeched open. Two burly men in black suits dragged Seo Ji-an onstage by the arms. She wore high heels and a dark, long barbour coat wrapped tightly around her.
"Mom...?"
Lee Seol's cracked voice echoed across the stage. At the desperate call, Ji-an—led by the men—slowly turned. Her eyes met her daughter's, brimming with raw sorrow and apology ready to burst. Though a slave whipped into submission for decades, maternal guilt for luring her daughter to hell wrung her last reason dry. Lips quivering, she offered silent atonement to her child.
But while her noble soul drowned in grief, her flesh—perfectly eroded by rigorous training—excreted ugly truth. With each step toward stage center, dragged by the men, thick, unfamiliar liquid oozed relentlessly from beneath her tightly closed coat hem. Proof of uncontrollable arousal that began in the car.
Drip, drip, drip...
Her fishy love juices left dark stains on the cold marble. Already steeped in aphrodisiac for her daughter, Ji-an needed no drug—her masters' command alone could bring instant climax as Pantheon's masochistic slave. With the aphrodisiac added, her ripe flesh teetered on explosion. Sticky juices like urine began trickling, marking her trail onstage.
Whether from the drug or masochistic instinct to the masters' gazes, her crotch's emissions today exuded unimaginable density. Beyond mere bodily fishiness, the overripe heat of a slave steeped in Pantheon's semen and whips for decades blended with the aphrodisiac's potency, filling the stage.
That viscous scent rising from the scattered transparent stickiness stimulated—nay, numbed—the VIPs' nerves, potent enough as its own aphrodisiac to inflame everyone. She clutched her coat collar to hide her shame, but each step scattered "marks of depravity." Her slave instincts, hidden from her precious daughter, were laid bare.
Feeling her daughter's shocked stare, Ji-an bowed her head, but hot liquid trickling down her inner thighs wouldn't stop, defying her will. Shame worse than mere exposure. Low, thick chuckles of anticipation rose from the seats.
Her twisted innards—complete as "bitch" before "mother," never to be seen by her daughter—were exposed live via those wet traces. VIPs followed the damp path with mocking admiration; Ji-an screamed silently, trembling at soiling her daughter's soul with her shame.
But the humiliation didn't end. At stage center, a man halted her roughly and issued a cold, absolute command to the bitch.
"Strip. The masters are waiting."
Ji-an's body spasmed visibly. Her head turned weakly, meeting Lee Seol's eyes full of horror and confusion. Hesitation. Forbidden to Pantheon's perfect slave, yet her final instinctive resistance before her daughter's pure gaze. She bit her lips till they bled, clutching the coat collar. Shame so vicious she'd rather bite her tongue and die right there gripped her.
"Can't you hear? I said strip."
The man's hand yanked her coat collar viciously. Pop— the top button tore free, rolling across the marble. Further resistance was futile. Her flesh knew defiance brought only greater shame and pain.
"Hngh... ugh... please, I beg you..."
A wretched moan leaked from Ji-an's lips. For daring hesitation, the man pointed stage-side.
"This breeding sow... no more words. Hesitate once more, and you'll meet those favorite masters of yours right now—in front of your daughter."
There... a dog and pig the size of men stared at her. Strangely familiar gazes; their cocks already stiff, drooling. The beasts teetered on losing control to arousal. Seeing them, Ji-an couldn't stifle her horror. Trembling, she said,
"Please... not that, please... ah... sob sob... sob... I understand."
Her shaking hand slowly moved to the coat buttons. Cheeks flushed with shame, tears endlessly soaked the collar. Hearing her daughter's soul shatter, she still had to discard her last maternal dignity with her own hands.
Shhh—
The tightly wrapped barbour coat slid softly down her shoulders to the floor. Beneath: flawless nudity, not a thread of underwear.
But it wasn't primordial beauty. A bred bitch's body, modified and ravaged for decades under Pantheon's sadistic desires—existing solely for masters' amusement.