Chapter 214
"Hah... hah..."
Han Yaseong, breathless with tension and excitement, scrambled to his feet and snatched up the shotgun the bitch had dropped. Standing there with it in hand, looking down at her sprawled on the ground, a surge of triumph washed over him. He'd won! He'd beaten an armed woman. His body and mind brimmed with euphoria.
Unable to contain his joy, Han Yaseong let out a shout.
"I won!"
He'd triumphed in a fight for his life. Yadong had slunk up nearby, growling low with a face full of victory—it was like he'd tracked her down himself. Whatever. The point was, Yadong had been a huge help. Like delivering a perfect cross in soccer. He'd pinpointed her approach, letting Han Yaseong ambush her.
"Hahaha, fucking bitch. Look at you now."
Gazing at her unconscious form, all his pent-up resentment melted away. Now, what to do with her? Right—check her face. If she's pretty, rape her. If not, kill her on the spot. That was the plan from the start; time to stick to it.
First, he yanked off her two boots and untied the laces. Then he bound her wrists behind her back, tight as hell with those same laces. Just to be safe, he double-checked the knots—rock solid.
"Alright, let's see that face."
He flipped her body over and laid her flat. She was still out cold, not a twitch. He ran his hand over her head first. Solid. Something hard inside, no doubt. He peeled off the goggles, revealing closed eyes from the knockout. Definitely feminine eyes. Off came the ski mask, and blonde hair spilled out, her full face exposed. Even in the dark, she looked... pretty. Real pretty. Blonde hair, and her features struck him as a cut above the usual American chicks—maybe Northern European stock.
She had a ski helmet on, cracked and shattered from the hand axe. That had saved her. Without it, her skull would've split open.
Han Yaseong wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not, but damn, he felt good having a prisoner. He'd nearly died today himself. Even without killing her, capturing her alive filled him with pride.
He hoisted her limp body over his shoulder and trudged back whistling a tune. Made him think of cannibals hauling off their human prey like this. They must've felt pretty damn good too. Han Yaseong sure did—victory in a life-or-death brawl, plus spoils of war.
Yadong trailed behind at a leisurely trot as Han Yaseong carried her. Back at camp, he dumped her on the ground. Sweat poured off him in the heat.
"Whew, that was a workout..."
Carrying her had taken real effort. He chugged some water first, then gave Yadong some too. She was still unconscious. Now what? She might fight back when she woke—or worse, turn the tables. Hands tied behind her back didn't feel secure enough. Best strip her naked, like the old raiders did. Leave 'em bare to kill any escape thoughts, hit 'em with shame to break their will. Han Yaseong decided to follow suit.
Whistling merrily, he laid her on the down quilt and started peeling off her ski gear. The top was tricky with her hands bound behind, so he went for the pants first. Off came the thick ski pants, revealing leggings. Those came off next, exposing a tiny thong. That sight hit him hard—instant boner. He stripped the panties too, and blonde pubes framed her slit. Matching her hair, yeah. First time seeing one up close; felt kinda weird. He spread her pussy with his fingers—dry, but clean. Not overused by dudes.
With her lower half bare, he tied her ankles tight with rope. No telling when she'd wake and fight back—better safe. Then he untied the shoe laces from her wrists and whipped off the top: T-shirt, bra, done. Full nude now. Big tits, perky and firm. She was beautiful, just like she'd bragged. The type who'd turn heads at school, super popular.
He rebound her wrists behind her back with the laces. There she lay, hands and feet bound, stark naked. Still out cold. But her body shivered—cold, probably. In a humane gesture, Han Yaseong draped the down quilt over her nudity.
Tension gone, fatigue crashed in. Stomach growling, he heated up yesterday's leftover cow offal hangover stew over the fire. Yadong plopped his ass on the quilt, staring, then scooted over when food smells hit. Han Yaseong and Yadong slurped it down fast, chock-full of hippo meat.
Yadong conked out in the corner from food coma. Han Yaseong, wiped and sleepy beside the girl, felt eyelids drooping—maybe red fruit side effects kicking in. He popped a yellow and green fruit, then passed out.
"Hey, hey... Asian."
Someone yapping pulled Han Yaseong from sleep. He forced open heavy eyes.
"Ungh..."
Stretching, a woman's voice buzzed in his ear again.
"Hey, you. Wake up."
"Ahh..."
He scowled, lifted his head—and jolted. She was sitting up, staring at him.
"Gah!"
He bolted upright, groping for a weapon. His sword was nearby; he grabbed it, and she yelped in panic.
"No! Don't kill me!"
Up close, she was still under the quilt. Awkward posture meant hands and ankles bound tight. Han Yaseong stood sword-ready, flipped the quilt for a check. Wrists behind, ankles roped—secure. He exhaled, lowered the blade.
"Quit yapping."
Sunlight streamed into the shelter. Morning already. Yadong grumbled sleepily from the corner and burrowed deeper.
Han Yaseong drank water, shaking off drowsiness. She eyed him warily from the quilt, pale cleavage spilling out atop the down.
"Why'd you call me?"
"Piss."
She squirmed. Bladder full, had to wake him.
He scanned around, tossed her a wooden bowl.
"Piss in that."
"No!"
She ranted—sounded like she wanted ankles untied to go outside.
"No. No."
He shook his head and crashed back down, eyes heavy. She cursed up a storm, then awkwardly stood, ass over the bowl. Piss streamed loud—psssshhhh—stink hit quick. Han Yaseong wrinkled his nose, watching. Her split ass over the bowl looked damn tempting. She'd held it long; stream went forever. Finally tapered off—drip drip.
She jabbered—probably said to remove the bowl or it'd spill when she stood. He grabbed tissue, cleared the bowl, and wiped her piss-soaked pussy and asshole clean. She flinched in shock, stumbled forward—face-planted. Pussy and anus fully exposed in doggy position. She cursed, wriggling her ass to get up.
Han Yaseong wiped her spotless first. She rolled sideways, squirming back under the quilt. Tough mental game—American bitch. Pissing in front of a stranger, getting her holes wiped, no tears. A Korean girl would've died of shame, bawling. This one? Embarrassed but pissed off, face furious, not weepy.
He dumped the piss bowl outside and returned. Gave her water—thirsty after that much. She glared but drank obediently. Her loss if not.
Han Yaseong hunkered back under his quilt for more sleep. She lay down too, muttering—what now?
"Rape or die."
Same as before. She sighed heavy.
"Okay, rape. Don't kill me."
Opting for rape over death. Ballsy bitch. Smart too—read the situation perfect. Regular girls'd beg for mercy, release. Not her. Chose the option that favored her, bold as hell.
"Rape me. Now."