New Asmode
A dark cell.
One ability had taken root after a full month of inmate life.
“Hhnn….”
Her eyes opened around the time morning arrived.
The distant click of a guard’s shoes, or the rumble of some cart’s wheels, pricked at her nerves and dragged her from sleep.
In the outside world those sounds would have been easy to ignore. Here, where even the smallest thing could spiral into agony, it was another matter entirely.
“Haaht… ukh… hiiht♡ ah… aaa….”
Beside her, Yejin curled in on herself and spilled out moans. The stimulation spores implanted in her clitoris as part of her special death-row disposition were already tormenting her from the first light of day. The stimulation must have been fierce; she writhed continuously inside the cramped cell. Jaehee, unable to watch, bit down on Yejin’s nipple in an attempt to bleed off even a fraction of the sensation.
“Huu… ukh….”
Seoa was awake as well. She had endured a different torture from Nayoon the day before, and her entire body was mottled red and purple. To be precise, every one of their cellmates—Yejin and Jaehee included—looked the same. The women who had been tortured with BB guns carried bruises for every pellet that had struck them. Only their faces had been shielded. They had taken the hail of shots from every direction with their bare bodies.
“Hhnn…. Nngh.”
And Nayoon herself still felt the searing heat in her anus, beads of sweat sliding down her skin. Even after sleeping she did not feel as though she had rested.
“Hh… hnnn.”
Suddenly the previous day’s memories surged back.
In the guard room she had taken, anally, a pill thick with ginger extract from Leviathan. The tablet, absorbed through her intestines, had restored a portion of her stamina exactly as he promised—yet it left behind the peculiar itch and burn of ginger deep inside her body. Pain that had soaked into a place she could never scratch.
And then… the torture that followed.
The one applied to her alone: a timed enema.
The method was simple. The same “Type-B frame” Yejin had once suffered. Bound to a spreader bar, an enema nozzle forced into her anus, she had only to endure the fluid flooding her body for the allotted torture time. That time, however, had been long. The base hour, plus an extra hour from her disposition, plus the twenty-six minutes earned during training—two hours and twenty-six minutes in total.
And one more problem: the enema fluid itself was ginger juice.
“…Nngh.”
The hellish memory she had wanted to forget returned in full force. Even with the gag filling her mouth she had thrashed and screamed. She had been certain she was dying. She had begged and begged to be spared. It felt as though lava were flowing through her guts. No—her intestines themselves were melting, throwing her into convulsions. Even biting down on the gag she had retched and howled, left alone for a long stretch in that killing pain.
She had returned to the cell barely able to walk. Consciousness was nearly gone, yet when she saw her cellmates groaning under their own physical torments she could not bring herself to make a sound of complaint—she still looked relatively intact. Through the night they watched her struggle and, realizing she had suffered something especially vicious, tried to comfort her with worried skin-writing. In the end none of them slept; they simply endured the beggar’s night together.
“Hhnn.”
The one mercy was that the enema fluid must have contained restorative nutrients as well. As the hours passed her strength had returned a little. Still, the forcibly violated cunt and the anus that had burned with ginger since the previous afternoon kept a vicious ache radiating through her entire lower body.
If she could have chosen, she would have spent the whole day resting. The simple fact that morning had come filled her with dread.
I’m scared.
I don’t want to hurt anymore.
The conviction that she was a thorough masochist, the lust that had once boiled up beyond control—both crumbled. The mere knowledge that her human rights had been stripped away and that she could be handled however anyone pleased now brought pure, crushing terror.
The only remaining comfort was the belief that her ties to the outside world still offered some protection. She was being treated savagely, shoved to the brink of death again and again, yet as long as her sister remained outside, Waltz Production might still exercise the tiniest scrap of caution. Even if something happened to her and her sister learned of it only later, the mere existence of that sister would, she told herself, add a little to her safety. A pathetic belief. She knew full well it guaranteed nothing. Yet she was frightened enough to cling even to that.
Especially after days of sealed speech and sealed writing, the thought only grew heavier.
「Don’t tremble.」
“Hhnn….”
A hand touched her thigh. The soft tickle and the shoulder bumping hers belonged to Seoa. The woman must have been exhausted from the previous day’s torture herself, yet the first thing she did upon waking was worry over Nayoon; the gesture felt unexpectedly precious.
「Once today is over, release. Just hold on a little longer.」
The “release” Seoa meant was only the special handcuffs and the gag. Not true freedom. Still—right now that alone was enough. She desperately wanted to close her mouth. The drool sliding down her chin, the throbbing jaw joint, the headache rising from that pain—she wanted it all to stop. More than anything she wanted to leave written words. To Seoa, to Jaehee, to Yejin—she wanted to express gratitude to the cellmates who had helped her so much through the hard stretch. And… whether labor or the treadmill… she simply wanted to work harder to make up for everything she had fallen short on.
…Yes.
She already knew there was no escape. So, just as Seoa said, the only choice was to endure….
— Clank. Creeeak—
“Cell 3, out.”
Leviathan’s order rang out as always. At the sound, Nayoon and her cellmates had no choice but to file one by one out of the cell.
Hellish every day.
In the end, another day of suffering began.
***
Number roll call and the inmate’s oath.
Breakfast and the enema.
The morning routine repeated itself without variation. As usual Nayoon had to clamp vicious clamps onto her nipples and perform endless standing jumps until her cellmates finished eating; even though she had eaten nothing she still had to endure a brutal enema. Today’s enema, at least, was a little kinder. The fluid seemed determined to flush even the lingering ginger residue from her guts; once it had scoured her insides the throbbing eased somewhat.
“Nnngh….”
And somehow the nutrients absorbed through her intestines the day before kept her body moving. The hollow hunger remained, the trembling exhaustion in her hands and feet remained, yet she could walk and she could move.
“All right. Today you’ll run fifty kilometers on the treadmill again. Rules are the same as yesterday. Using yesterday’s times as the baseline, any time you finish later than yesterday will be added to today’s torture period. Keep that firmly in mind.”
Next came training time. Once more they had to force their feet into high heels packed with millet grains, hook their piercings into the wires dangling from the treadmills, and run that precarious race.
The same torture time as yesterday.
Yet the moment she thought it would be the same, one person’s entrance changed the entire atmosphere.
— Creeeak.
“Leviathan. May I come in?”
“…Yes. Please enter. What business brings you?”
A man opened the training-room door and stepped inside. He was quite handsome—blue hair, a gentle impression. Compared with the other guards he shared a similar air with Leviathan, and he wore a guard’s uniform.
“What business? I came to look over the inmates of Cell 3. I’ve already made a round of the other cells and saved this one for last. Thanks to that I got to watch the inmates panting like dogs again after so long, and I even caught the enemas… heh heh. Honestly, nothing feels better than being a guard.”
“…Do you think your wife would be pleased to hear that?”
“Of course. More than enough.”
The man with the sly smile. The instant he stepped through the door his gaze fell on them just as they were about to mount the treadmills. A sharp look. The moment his eyes met hers a sudden, violent pounding filled her chest.
“Inmates. Greet him. This is the new Asmode.”
Leviathan’s introduction. The moment the words ended the new Asmode walked straight toward the inmates. One step. Another. The sound of his shoes seemed louder than her own heartbeat. Time itself felt frozen.
He went first to Jaehee. Hooking a finger through her collar he checked her inmate number, then greeted her with a bright smile.
“Mm. Yes. A522? Park Jaehee. It’s been a while.”
“Ah… yes. M-… no, Asmode-nim. It’s been a long time.”
“Your previous term was three months, so this isn’t the first time. Re-enrollment?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I came back the moment the rest period ended.”
“Oh really? How long this time?”
“…Eighteen months total. Five months remaining.”
“Quite a stretch. Five months, huh~ Well, I’ll definitely be here until then, so… let’s get along.”
It looked exactly like those military inspection scenes from dramas. Asmode casually flicked the piercings hanging from Jaehee’s chest, then turned his eyes to Yejin beside her.
“Let’s see~ A691, Kim Yejin. Hmm… I’ve seen that face somewhere. Do you know me?”
“….”
He stepped closer and asked. Yejin kept her mouth shut. As a public face she clearly found it awkward to speak of her social life while wearing an inmate’s identity. But that kind of silence was a privilege reserved for ordinary people.
“Heh. So the brat streak I heard about is real—you’re already acting up at our first meeting? Hm? Is that it?”
“Ghk…!! Kuh!”
Inmates like them had no such right. A guard’s question demanded an immediate answer. Yejin knew that, yet her nature sometimes made her hesitate. The result now was a hand around her throat. Asmode’s free hand then seized one of her piercings and yanked; Yejin’s face twisted sharply. Even before the handcuffs were locked her hands were already trembling with strain.
“Ah, right. There was a famous star trainer— that was you, wasn’t it? Yeah, the other guards mentioned you now and then. I remember seeing you on TV. Charismatic trainer this and that, but seeing you as an inmate I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Hhk…!! Kuh! St-stop.”
“Stop, you say~ from an inmate~? Come on, say it again. What was that?”
“Ghk…! Kuh!! Nngh…! I… I’m sorry…! Kuh… ghk…! Haa. Haa. Haa.”
“That’s better~ For the record I don’t particularly like brats. If you lost to your lust and came in here, then enjoy the pain like a proper inmate. Who do you think you are, showing defiance? At least in front of me, be careful.”
“Hhk… hk. Yes… I understand.”
With only that brief exchange Asmode dominated the entire mood. Next came Seoa.
“A688. Kang Seoa…. Hmm. Leviathan. This the one who applied for thirty-six months?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“So it’s you. Yeah… mm. Yeah.”
“…Yes. I’m Kang Seoa.”
“I’ve heard the rough outline about you. Let’s get along from now on, Seoa.”
“Ah… yes. Please… take care of me.”
Seoa’s turn passed quickly. Asmode clapped her shoulder with the look of a man who already knew everything. Seoa wore a dazed expression, yet fear of the new guard was clearly settling into her features.
And then it was Nayoon’s turn.
Her heart thundered again. No—more precisely, it had never stopped racing. It pounded so hard she feared it might burst; blood surged so fast her face burned.
At last Asmode stood before her. Just as he had with the others he hooked a finger through her collar and read the number.
“A713. Lee Nayoon.”
“Nngh…! Nngh.”
The only answer she could give was a small muffled sound past the gag. Asmode looked her up and down. Then he casually brushed the piercing on her nipple and smirked at the way she flinched.
“Well… look at that. Never thought I’d actually see you like this. When the warden told me I half-doubted it, but face to face… inmate? You just look like a heat-crazed sex slave…. What do you think, Leviathan?”
“…What exactly are you trying to say?”
“You like this type, don’t you?”
“…Stop the pointless provocation. Keep it up and your wife might end up in my hands.”
“You? As if you could. Heh heh. Fine then… the warden said he’d cover Cell 5 for me today, so how about I just observe here from now on?”
“…Do you think I’ll allow that?”
“It’s only observation—what’s the harm? I’m not even touching the inmates. Or… yeah. This is a perfect opportunity~.”
What was he about to say? Asmode’s sly gaze locked onto her. He leaned in close, eyes meeting hers, and whispered into her ear at a volume no other inmate could catch.
“How about sisters running together? That’d be fun… little sister-in-law.”
The new Asmode.
He was her brother-in-law.
And…
the truth she now understood.
Her sister… had entered this prison island.