You Thought I'd Use My Hands?

A searing heat rose belatedly through my cock. That crazy bitch had handled it like it wasn't even part of my body, and it felt like she'd left it raw.

Every throb reminded me all over again that what had just happened was real.

This wasn't a dream.

This was a nightmare that had actually happened to me.

That insane girl had filmed me, then used my personal hole to violate me.

I still hadn't cleaned it. Cum and lube filled it to the brim. Leave it like this and it would drip and ruin the bed.

I carried the filthy onahole to the sink and scrubbed it hard. I worked hand soap deep into the inside, then set it on the windowsill. By tomorrow it would be clean again.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Wanna play again tomorrow? Dick slave.

That irritating voice rippled through my head like a hallucination.

Crazy bitch… where the hell did she get the guts to pull something like that?

We'd known each other for over twenty years, so guessing what she'd been thinking wasn't hard.

Overpowering her with force was out. While everyone else was learning taekwondo, she'd been at a jujitsu dojo. Our strength wasn't that different, and technically she had me beat.

Reporting her to the cops… basically impossible. There was a reason we'd known each other since we were kids.

My dad and her dad were business partners. They'd been running a company together since before I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even born.

If I got her locked up, the pillar holding my family up would start to crack right away.

And more than anything else—

I found myself thinking she hadn't tormented me badly enough to warrant a report.

Twisting my balls had hurt, sure, but it hadn't been that hard… and it was the first handjob of my life… and honestly, it had felt better than I expected…

Just imagining it sent blood rushing south.

Play again tomorrow… does that mean she'll do it again…?

Being mocked was humiliating. Being ridiculed pissed me off. Getting filmed made me anxious.

But more than all of that, the orgasm had felt incredible.

The memory of her shaking the onahole with that wet thwap-thwap-thwap, milking me like she meant to yank my cock out by the root, was stuck thick in my brain.

Her hands were softer than I thought, too…

In my memories Yerin had always been a tomboy with callused hands.

But the way those fingers had cupped my balls and stroked them gently—there hadn't been a trace of hard muscle in that touch.

Every time I dug through the memory, my cock twitched and begged for another release.

My balls felt hollowed out; I doubted there was anything left. But I was a slave to lust, so I squeezed more lube into the onahole and started working my cock again.

The climax left the base of my balls aching.

The volume was pathetic. It was a relief, sure, but nothing like the brain-melting pleasure from before.

"Fuck."

Caught in post-nut clarity, I washed the onahole again, took a cold shower, and crawled into bed. It was still early, but my body was heavy with exhaustion.

Her voice brushed past my ear.

Play again tomorrow. Play again tomorrow. Play again tomorrow.

I had a dirty dream. Normally the second a cock went in I'd wake up, but thanks to the onahole I'd already drained myself, so I got to fuck without waking.

The fact that my first dream-sex partner was that bitch was something I really didn't want to dwell on.

…

..

.

When I opened my eyes in the morning and checked the time, it was 8 a.m.

Earliest I'd gotten up all year. I was so bad at mornings that I'd built my schedule without a single first-period class.

Class was at 10:30, so leaving at 10 would be fine.

I was mid-shit, running mental simulations of how to kill two hours, when my phone buzzed with an unpleasant vibration.

I tried to ignore the texts, but a call came through right after.

Of course it did. She knew I always slept in, so I'd figured she'd call to wake me.

Should I just ignore the call too? No—who knows what kind of shit she'd pull if I did.

Knowing her didn't mean I had a plan. I sighed hard and picked up.

"What."

"…ma'am."

"T-ten minutes is way too short… And, uh, why do I even have to go…?"

"A… ball flick. One hit…"

It wasn't like yesterday, when she already had my balls in her hand. And out in public, fully dressed, I didn't really think she could pin me and smack them.

I knew this wasn't the time for pride, but some instinctive refusal still made me not want to just roll over for her.

"……Is it ten minutes starting now?"

A cackling laugh came through the speaker.

The second she finished, the call cut off.

Ten minutes. If I threw on clothes and sprinted, I could just make it.

No time to think. I yanked on whatever I grabbed, jammed bare feet into sneakers, and started running.

I jaywalked the whole way and skidded up to the front gate. In the distance, Yerin checked the time and strolled over at a leisurely pace.

"Eight minutes fifty-six. You got here fast."

"Hah—huff—yes… within ten… haaah…"

"Good boy. Follow me."

She didn't even give me time to catch my breath. She hauled me straight into the University Campus Female Toilet.

"H-here—"

"You need to keep quiet, right? What, you don't want your reward?"

It was 8:10.

Luckily no one was around when she dragged me in. But people would start pouring in any minute.

"Nervous? Want me to let you out right now?"

She released my hand like she was saying leave if you want.

"Or. Drop your pants right now and whip that little dick out."

My cock twitched.

Yerin grabbed it through my clothes. Like the answer had been decided from the start, she yanked my pants straight down.

"Sit. Pants and underwear—all of it off. Then spread your legs like a bitch in heat. Cheap and nasty. Hands behind your back, parade rest."

She enunciated every single syllable, spelling out exactly what I was supposed to do.

An order I couldn't refuse.

I stripped off my pants and underwear, spread my legs obscenely, and locked my hands behind me.

Click. Yerin locked the stall door.

Wearing a chilling little smile, she sat on the toilet and started peeling off her socks. She was in a skirt; her panties were on full display and she didn't care in the slightest.

"What. You thought I was gonna stroke that dirty little dick of yours with my hands?"

"N-no, ma'am."

"Liar."

Yerin tossed the sock she'd been wearing at me. It smacked me in the face. She'd just gotten to campus, so it barely smelled.

Fabric softener, mixed with a faint trace of her body.

The bathroom door opened somewhere outside. My heart dropped. Yerin leaned in close, planted a hand on my shoulder, and whispered.

"Look at that little dick twitching. You pervert."

Her sock had bounced off my face and stuck to my thigh. She flicked it against my face a couple times like she was dusting something off, then slid my cock into the foot of it.

Cock and balls both disappeared into Yerin's sock.

I could feel the leftover heat from a sock she'd just taken off. The one she'd been wearing until seconds ago.

Clunk. Someone entered the stall next door. Yerin didn't care. She stretched her foot out toward me.

Using that signature flexibility of hers, she rubbed my cock with her foot in long, slow strokes.

The sock dragged over my glans. It wasn't on the same level as the onahole, but it was still a pleasure hard to endure.

The weight of her foot grinding down. Her breathing roughening from the awkward angle.

It started clumsy, but her footwork grew steadily more skilled, and precum started dripping in thick strings.

Outside the door, women chattered while doing their makeup.

"Hurry up and cum… this pathetic little-dick brat is holding out…"

Yerin said it through gritted teeth. The breath mixed into her voice sounded filthy.

When her foot zeroed in on my glans and tormented it without mercy, I couldn't take it.

I clamped a hand over my mouth and heaved out a load of cum. Yerin pressed down on my hips, face twisting.

"My fucking legs hurt…"

She peeled the sock off my cock. Confirmed it was filthy with cum, clicked her tongue, and held it out to me.

"You've got class at 10:30, right? You've got time to run home. Bring me a clean one."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ah, shit. Now I've gotta wear sneakers with no socks… What are you doing. Stop spacing out and get dressed. Planning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to live in here?"

I scrambled into my underwear and pants. Yerin kept watch outside, then gave me the signal.

Luckily, we got out of the women's restroom without anyone catching us.

"Got something to say? Go already. You've got my sock to fetch."

"No… I just… why did you even call me…"

"Just felt like looking at that cute little dick. Got a problem?"

"No problem, ma'am."

"Then we're good. When your class is over, don't go anywhere—come out in front of the library."

"We did way too much yesterday. Doing it two days in a row is kinda hard for me…"

"What the hell are you thinking. I just want to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grab food. Is that the only thing in your head?"

She'd just said she called me to look at my dick, and now she was making me sound like the weird one.

I said okay and headed home. Walking back with a sock full of cum was more embarrassing than I expected.

How was I even supposed to wash this? Stick it in the machine and it'd wreck the rest of the laundry.

I filled the sink for hand-washing, and the part without cum caught my eye.

Was this the side she'd rubbed with her foot?

Without thinking, I brought the sock to my nose.

I regretted it immediately. Nothing but the thick smell of cum.

What had I even been trying to do, sniffing a sock? It wasn't like I'd wanted to smell that bitch's feet… right?

She wasn't doing any of this as a favor to me. She just needed a toy to play with.

It had always been like that. From elementary school until now.

I'd never once stopped being the toy that didn't break easily.