Chapter 43
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: You Should At Least Say Thank You for Touching My Fishy Pussy (♡)
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If I touch your fishy pussy, you should at least say thank you (♡)
What was her name again...? Anyway, I grabbed the hair of that reporter bitch—something like fresh shiitake or pine mushroom—and dragged her into the recording booth.
She was just a C-grade talent anyway. Aside from the first one, I hadn't even bothered checking the conditions.
Not a talent I particularly wanted to covet. She was pretty enough, but not someone I desired to possess. She was nothing more than a bonus stage that Mammon had tossed my way to toy with and discard.
On the rough rug, I wrapped my arm around the reporter's neck, controlling her movements.
"Y-You! And you're going to... G-Guhk...?! Ghk!"
Before the clichéd question about whether I could take responsibility for what came after could spill out, I drove my fist into the reporter's gut. Not too hard—just enough to scare her.
"I'll handle that part myself. You, Reporter, just shut up and focus on getting raped."
I stripped off her thin jacket and tossed it to the floor, then roughly kneaded her impressively full breasts. Her thick bra got in the way, so I put more force into it, manhandling them crudely.
"Urk... You, I'll ruin you in this industry-. Guh... Ugh...!"
I'd heard the reporter gig was tough, which might explain her feisty personality. Or maybe it was because she spent her days sniffing out celebrities' weaknesses for money, making her as vicious as a viper.
Apparently, it wasn't uncommon for them to use those weaknesses to blackmail and extort cash. For a moment, I thought I should be more careful with my actions from now on.
Thwack-!
"G-Guhk...!"
I was just fucking pissed off. If this bitch hadn't interrupted me midway, I would've gone straight to Hong Ye-won as planned. I'd even sent the text saying I was on my way.
"Fuck, you worthless recycled trash of a reporter."
Just imagining what would've happened without Mammon's quest help was horrifying.
I yanked the reporter's hair, forcing her head around to meet my eyes.
Tears were already streaming down her face in fat drops. The moment our gazes locked, her bloodshot eyes blinked rapidly as her lips trembled, trying to form words.
"...Don't hit..."
"Don't hit you?"
Nod, nod-.
"Shut the fuck up, you retarded bitch. From now on, if I see even a hint of resistance, I'll beat you until you can't breathe. Got it?"
Adding a furrowed brow to 'Hee-chan's' blank expression amplified the threat, and it worked pretty well.
Fearing another hit, the reporter nodded frantically. Saliva dribbled messily from the corner of her mouth, but she didn't seem to have the presence of mind to care.
With the reporter somewhat tamed, I roughly unbuttoned her top. Taking off her bra was a hassle, so I just yanked it down forcefully.
"Aak...!"
Not caring if her flesh got pinched, I brutally crushed her tits and clamped down hard on her nipple.
The intense pain from her nipple made the reporter grab my hand to stop me, but she hesitated and let it drop again.
"I'll let this one slide. Raise your hand again?"
I relentlessly pinched and twisted her nipple, and the reporter, overcome with grievance, shuddered her shoulders and stifled sobs.
"Hic... Hic?!"
I repeatedly yanked and released the arm around her neck, disorienting her mind.
Flung around by my arm, the reporter staggered this way and that, her heeled feet tapping out a dance in the recording booth.
The rug muffled the clicking heels, but the thuds against the floor sounded like heavy drumbeats.
Something I'd personally wanted to try. I'd failed once before with CEO Baek Hee-jin, but now I had another chance.
Pinning a woman down so she couldn't move an inch, then mercilessly rubbing her pussy until her clothes were soaked.
Of course, with her skirt and stockings, her clothes wouldn't get wet.
So I set a new goal instead: 'Fill that bitch's shoes with her juices.'
"Spread your legs."
I slid my hand under her skirt for real, stroking the crotch where the rough texture of her pantyhose met.
"You're already wet?"
Fear was a kind of arousal. This was proof enough of how she was taking my actions.
"Huh? I'm asking why your pussy's leaking like a faucet, you fucking slut. Were you looking forward to this?"
"N-No... Ahk?!"
Before she could spout nonsense, I pressed hard on the plump mound with my fingers.
I bent my index and middle fingers with force, pressing them fiercely through her pantyhose and panties while rubbing back and forth like mad.
"A-Ah, Aaah! W-Wait! Uh, Eu, Eueueot?!!"
I gripped her neck tighter and yanked, preventing her from doubling over instinctively.
"I said don't close your legs."
She tried squeezing her thighs together to resist, so I slammed my fist into her lower right abdomen again.
"Ehk?! G-Guh... "
Catching her off guard, she spat messily into the air.
I held her body steady and kept rubbing her pussy hard. What started as just a bit damp quickly turned soaking wet.
"You feel it better than I thought? Your boyfriend must be good at it? Wait, no—at your age, if you're not married yet, it's a dried-up old hag bod. My bad. So, husband then?"
This was from the ID and photo that had spilled from her dropped bag earlier.
36 years old, Han Song-i. One couple photo with some guy.
"Sorry about this? Not planning to steal him, but I won't promise not to use it either."
"Hic, Ahk...! S-Sorry...! Hic, Stop ittt...!"
I paused for a moment and lifted the fingers that had been rubbing her pussy.
A musky, fishy smell wafted up.
"Phew. Must've been scampering around all day playing paparazzi. Smell that fishy pussy stench."
"Hic..."
I smeared her face with the hand slick from her juices and said,
"You fucking slut, if I'm gracious enough to touch your fishy pussy, shouldn't you at least say thank you?"
"Mmph, St-Stop, Ump...!"
"Not good enough?"
Squelch-.
This time, I really wedged my hand under her pantyhose from her lower belly, pushing inside. My fingers finally touched the reporter's slick, slippery pussy through her panties.
Even roughly probing, the rough, frayed labia majora screamed well-worn, secondhand trash pussy used by countless guys before.
"Phew. Fuck."
I shoved my fingers into the reporter's pussy roughly, gently stroking the bulging ridge on the upper inner wall, gauging her reactions.
"Gulp, Guhk...?!"
"Found it."
She was an easy one. I rubbed her G-spot like a DJ scratching a record.
"Hic, Heuk! W-Wait! R-Really, just a sec. Th-This! Uh, Ooh?!!"
Something I'd seen in a movie. Think of it as furiously rubbing the red TrackPoint nub on an IBM ThinkPad mouse.
The G-spot was about 5cm inside the vagina, near the cervix—basically the perfect spot to stimulate the urethra above it, creating an urgent need to pee.
In other words, it could induce squirting.
Scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape-!
Unable to endure the intense stimulation, the reporter screamed with her mouth agape and thrashed about. But I steadfastly held her in place, relentlessly working her G-spot.
"Hek, Heuk...! P-Please!! A-Ah, Aaak! I'm really gonna cum?!?"
I kept hurling degrading insults into her ear as she desperately fought not to collapse.
"You stupid bitch, just give up. What good's holding it? I'll keep fingering you till you squirt anyway. Just let it go. Squirt like the cheap slut you are."
Her legs clamped tight, her hips bucked wildly, and her screams grew more desperate.
Finally, the moment her pussy clenched fiercely around my fingers like it wanted to bite them off.
I pressed hard on her G-spot and roughly yanked my fingers out.
Just like sweeping your stomach clockwise stimulates peristalsis, pressing and stroking down from the G-spot hits from deep in the urethra to the opening, amplifying the urination urge intensely.
"A-Ah, Aaaaaah?!!"
And at the moment Han Song-i surrendered to the uncontrollable need with a scream.
Psssh, shhh, shhhhhh-!!
A thick stream poured down her tightly clenched thighs, scattering as it hit the netting of her stockings before reaching her toes.
It flowed into her high heels until it overflowed and backed up, spilling onto the recording booth floor.
"Haha. You're good at it, so why act so embarrassed."
I shoved my fingers back into her pussy and rubbed her G-spot hard again, and each time, the already limp Han Song-i trembled like she had urinary incontinence, squirting more.
After about three times.
When I released her body, she collapsed limply onto the rug-covered floor.
"Feeling grateful yet?"
"Ha, haaah... Uh..."
Unable to muster any strength, the reporter convulsed irregularly, clutching at the floor in confusion.
"Can't drag out a bonus stage forever. Time to wrap it up?"