The Guardian Waiting Room
"Today, please watch from the other side of the glass."
Surin said it while fastening the buckle of Ha-yoon's collar. For the second night in a row—Friday, and now Saturday—Ha-yoon was naked on all fours on the floor in front of the Owner's desk in the lobby. Two of Surin's fingers slipped in between the collar's leather and her neck, then slipped back out.
The toe of Jae-hyuk's shoe lifted a little beside Ha-yoon's hand, and set itself down again.
Surin took her hand off the buckle and added, "The waiting room is inside the building. This isn't a night without a guardian—the kind you wrote into the NG section."
"……Yes. I understand."
Jae-hyuk bent his knees. A large hand swept Ha-yoon's hair back from the crown of her head. She did not lift her face. Her eyes stayed on Surin's left hand, wound around the handle of the chain.
The hand left her. The sound of shoes receded into the room off the lobby, and a door shut. It was the first night since she had come to the Kennel that Jae-hyuk was not beside her.
Ha-yoon knew that room. The night she first came to the Kennel she had knelt on the floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass, not on the sofa, and looked down at Mio circling the training floor one level below. Tonight Ha-yoon was the one below. Words spoken in that room did not come down. Only the sounds made underneath rose to its ceiling.
A chill stiffened along her spine. Sweat broke on the palms braced against the lobby floor, and the space between her spread thighs twitched and clenched.
On the stairs down to the basement, the curly-haired trainer took Ha-yoon by the elbow and brought her upright. She watched only the steps under her feet and went down one at a time.
The moment she crossed the threshold of the training floor, her knees met rubber again. A man was sitting on the bench. Late thirties, perhaps, his shirt buttoned to the throat. The two hands resting on his knees were sleek black leather to the wrists.
Ha-yoon knew there was lit glass somewhere overhead. She did not look up.
The curly-haired trainer set a water bowl beside the bench and left.
"Drink."
At Surin's word Ha-yoon crawled to the bowl and bent her elbows. The instant the tip of her tongue touched the water, her hips rose high. The lapping would be sounding, right now, against the ceiling of that room.
The bench creaked. Something cold settled on her lifted ass. Leather. The man swept a gloved palm down the curve of it and pressed, steady, at the edge of her labia with the tip of his thumb.
"Finish it. Until the bowl's empty, this hand stays right here."
Tongue still on the bowl, Ha-yoon nodded once and hurried. One finger moved slowly up and down between her labia. The slicker the leather grew, drinking her wetness, the more her tongue kept stalling. When the bottom of the bowl showed, the finger was about a knuckle inside her cunt.
The knuckle that had gone in did not come out. It flicked from within, at the same pace as Ha-yoon lifting water on her tongue. Through the last mouthful she lost track of whose rhythm they were moving to—her tongue, or the finger inside her.
"Wall."
Surin walked, drawing the chain after her. Ha-yoon followed on all fours and rose onto her knees before the wall beneath the glass, ass lifted off her heels.
She set both palms on the cold wall at the height of her face. Rings were fixed in a row along the right-hand wall, and Surin stood beside them. The bench was in front of the wall to the left.
On all fours, the floor had hidden the front of her body. Up on her knees, everything from her breasts to her navel to her pubic hair was bared to the wall, and whatever happened behind her she could know only by sound and by what met her skin. She put strength into the fingertips braced there. She had braced herself because she was afraid, and still, every time a nipple grazed the cold surface, her cunt fluttered.
From the bench on the left came the sound of clothes being folded and set down, several times over. Soon bare feet stopped behind her. Knees met the rubber.
The man's knees pushed in between Ha-yoon's and spread her legs. Two gloved fingers split her labia and held them open. The seams caught, rough, on the tender flesh.
"These gloves are done for. You're already dripping like this."
Ha-yoon straightened the arms braced on the wall, drew her upper body off it, and tipped her head all the way back.
The glass ran in a long horizontal band high on the wall, well above the crown of her head. The waiting room's lights were bright. Jae-hyuk stood pressed flush against that glass.
One palm was flat to it, his body leaned in until his forehead might have touched, looking down. The gaze past his glasses touched Ha-yoon's face, then dropped toward the man kneeling behind her. His mouth was slightly open.
What stung first was that his eyes did not stay long on her face. Her husband looked longer at the man spreading his wife's cunt than at his wife's face. A place she could not even have pictured, that first night in front of this glass. In the heat spreading out from the sting, her opened entrance wettened, and slick ran down the fingers of the man holding her open.
Ha-yoon bent her arms and lowered both hands a handspan down the wall. Her breasts met the cold. She broke at the waist and drew her ass back and up, and from her own side she pushed her cunt onto the fingers holding her split.
"Pushing it out already? I didn't even tell you to."
The head of his cock touched her entrance. He drove his hips, and the head went in, and the shaft went in, and at the last a leather fist met her labia. He had been entering her with a gloved hand still gripped around the base of his cock. Only then did he let go and push what remained all the way inside.
"Haaah…… ah……"
Between her legs he spread his own knees wider and dropped his hips. Hers opened by the same measure, and the cock drove up into her at an angle from below. Each time it sank, the head scraped upward along the inner wall toward her back, and Ha-yoon's palms slid a little farther down the wall.
One of his hands took her by the waist. The other pushed in between wall and chest, peeled off the breast that had been crushed there, and seized it. Her nipple was mashed in the center of his palm. Leather that had been cold warmed against her skin until it was only tepid.
"Don't hold the sounds in. They're hearing all of it up there."
Ha-yoon opened her mouth.
"Anh, aanh, anh……♡"
As the cock rammed up, the broken sounds struck the wall and came back. They would be coming through the speaker in that room a beat late. At the thought of Jae-hyuk hearing them, her entrance clenched around the cock of its own accord.
He shortened the draw of his hips and drove up fast. Short, chopped strokes shoved her body toward the wall. The breast he wasn't holding was ground against it, the nipple dragged over the cold surface until it stung.
"Hit, hih…… haeung……♡"
"You like getting fucked against the wall? The inside keeps clinging."
Ha-yoon pushed off with her braced palms and met the incoming cock with her ass. Every time his bare thighs struck the underside of her, a wet sound snapped in front of the wall.
She lifted her eyes again. The lower edge of the glass was just rising to catch on the tips of her brows.
"Don't look at the glass. A dog watches the hands."
Surin's voice came from the right. The chain wound short, and the collar buckle yanked the nape of her neck.
Ha-yoon dropped her eyes. A black-gloved hand was gripping the breast that had come off the wall. A reddened nipple bulged out between the fingers, and a black thumb rubbed its tip, slow. The other hand, the one at her waist, hauled her pelvis back toward his cock again and again.
A wet creak came from the hand clutching her breast. The smell of leather soaked in sweat and slick struck the air in front of the wall.
The moment she looked only at the hands, the glass overhead receded. Jae-hyuk, palm stuck to that glass, receded by the same measure. What remained in front of her was the black glove, and the cock driving up inside her cunt to the rhythm that hand was pulling.
Her lower belly drew up tight. All ten fingers on the wall scratched at it. To ask permission she would have had to turn her head to the right and look at Surin.
Ha-yoon did not take her eyes off the black glove. She opened the fingers that had been scratching.
The instant the opened palms lay flat against the wall, a tremor surged all at once from her knees to her waist. The cock drove up into the convulsing cunt twice more. Ha-yoon set her forehead to the wall and shook.
"Heuu, eung…… euuung……♡"
The sound she did not swallow climbed the wall and went up.
"I didn't give permission."
Surin said it in a flat voice, neither high nor low. Beyond the glass, Jae-hyuk would have watched from the beginning to the end—his wife, pressed to the wall, coming without permission.
The leather glove laughed. Jostled by the laugh, the cock twitched inside the cunt that was still trembling.
"You just came without permission? A habit you picked up from that husband up there?"
He drew his cock out slowly. With his fingers he spread the entrance once more, the trembling not yet gone, looked, and let it go.
Surin gave the chain a short pull.
"To the mat."
Ha-yoon lowered her knees and crawled on all fours to the center of the training floor. Surin, holding the chain, matched her pace on the right. As she crawled, the slick along the insides of her thighs cooled and went chill. Surin stopped in the middle of the mat.
The man followed.
"Lie down. On your back."
Ha-yoon lay back on the rubber, her head toward the wall under the glass. She would have had to throw her head all the way back to see it, and then only upside down. In front of her eyes there was the ceiling light, and the man knee-walking in from the direction of her legs, and nothing else.
He was naked but for the gloves. The man who had buttoned his shirt to the throat was black only at the hands, down to the wrists. His cock, coated in Ha-yoon's slick, gleamed under the light.
He set the head to her entrance and stopped.
"Want to eat it again?"
Ha-yoon nodded. Nodding, she drew her knees up in both hands and spread them.
He lowered his hips. Into a cunt slackened by one climax, the cock slid to the base without catching.
"Haeu……♡"
This time she could see his face, which she had not been able to see at the wall. He was not looking at hers. He looked down only at the cunt his cock was buried in.
One gloved hand came up over her chest. It passed the ring of the collar, laid a leather palm across the two ridges of her collarbones, and pressed. Her back stuck to the rubber. The ID tag hanging from the collar slid down between them.
He started to fuck her. Slower than at the wall, and deeper. Pinned by the hand on her collarbones, Ha-yoon could not be driven upward, and she took the thrusting cock whole.
She watched the black hand above her collarbones. Every time he drove his hips in, the wrinkles on the back of it folded and opened. Beyond that wrist, the cock sliding in and out gleamed wet with her slick.
The hand that had been pressing her collarbones came up to the corner of her mouth. Two black fingers were sticky with it.
"Lick."
Ha-yoon put out her tongue and licked the fingertips. Under the salt of her own slick, the bitter taste of leather bled through. When the fingers came into her mouth, she sucked the two knuckles to the rhythm of the thrusts.
The glove pressed her tongue with the joints of the fingers and made her lick up the rest of the slick worked into the seams. Even while she sucked the taste of her own cunt off someone else's glove, the cock did not stop moving in and out.
The fingers left her mouth and settled back across her collarbones. Leather wet with spit stuck cold to her skin.
Eyes do not go up to that glass.
The other hand hauled her ass up onto his thighs. Into the lifted pelvis the cock drove at an angle. This time the head swept along the inner wall toward her belly, and her clit, crushed under his pubic bone, was rubbed in time with the thrusts.
"Ah, ah, aheung……♡"
"Now that you've already come once, the cunt's gone soft. Much better to eat than before."
The insides of her spread thighs began to shiver. Ha-yoon buried her fingers in the knees she was holding. What had surged at the wall earlier rose again, starting from her entrance.
This time she did not let go of her knees. She did not turn her head toward Surin either. Eyes on the glove over her collarbones, she only opened her mouth.
"Woof."
From the edge of the mat, Surin's footsteps came one step closer. The chain swayed loose above her collarbones.
"You come on three. One."
In time with the count, the cock drove in to the base. Her clit was mashed beneath his pubic bone.
"Two."
It drew out to the entrance and drove all the way in again. Ha-yoon clenched her teeth and put her strength into the arms hugging her knees. On that single stroke the inside of her cunt clenched down and shook.
"Three."
Her feet, lifted in the air, stretched taut to the toes. The knees she had been holding came loose and fell open to either side, and under the hand pinning her collarbones only her chest heaved. Inside, her cunt tightened along the buried cock, pulse after pulse.
"Ha, aaaaaah……♡"
This sound burst straight up at the ceiling.
His hips shuddered hard, twice, and his weight loaded onto the glove over her collarbones. Her cunt grew heavy with hot semen.
The leather glove pulled the cock out. When the semen pushed toward the entrance, he drove it straight back in with two fingers.
"Don't spill. Carry it just like that, all the way to your husband."
Ha-yoon tightened her entrance. While the fingers that had gone in withdrew, she clenched and kept the semen in. She remembered last night—Mio, bent at the waist, guarding what was inside her. Surin, the chain slackened, looked down between Ha-yoon's spread legs.
A wet finger rubbed along the inside of her thigh. He never did take the gloves off. Still kneeling on the mat, he looked up past Ha-yoon's head, toward the glass, and raised one black hand to show it.
Ha-yoon brought back down onto her own collarbones the eyes that had started to follow that hand. The sound of him dressing was brief. The door of the training floor opened and shut.
"Down. Wait."
Ha-yoon turned over onto all fours. The wall on the glass side was in front of her head, but her eyes stayed on the rubber between her hands.
The curly-haired trainer set a second bowl between those hands and left. When she lowered her face to it, the smell of semen rising from between her thighs mixed with the smell of the water. She licked until the bowl was empty to the bottom.
From the bench, now and then, a pen scratched on paper.
The semen she had kept inside seeped out little by little, ran down the inside of her thigh, and dried above her knee. The dried place pulled at the skin. The rubber under her body warmed with her heat. As numbness crept in, she shifted her knees half a handspan at a time and planted them again.
The place on her collarbones that had been pressed still burned, and the bitter taste of leather remained in her mouth. The glass side stayed quiet to the end.
She still was not ashamed of having come without permission. She could have asked Surin for it just by turning her head, and even so she had opened, herself, the fingers scratching the wall, and let go. That was what frightened her.
"It's two. Up."
On the stairs the curly-haired trainer supported her elbow again. The moment she stood on two feet, the semen dried to the insides of her thighs pulled with every step.
When she set her knees on the lobby floor once more, the door of the room beside the lobby opened. Shoes stopped beside her hand. Jae-hyuk's shoes. Deep creases had set into the knees of the trousers above them.
Surin held out the sheet of paper she had brought up from the bench. A few lines of handwriting showed through from the other side.
"It's the daily log. Even in the first stage, we write one for you now and then."
Ha-yoon started to lift her head and stopped, and set her eyes at the level of Jae-hyuk's waist. She watched the hand that took the paper. The edge of it was trembling.