Earpiece
Her wrist felt cold. Yura fastened the silver bracelet she had just unclasped around Lara's left wrist. Click. A small red dot appeared in the corner of the display — the same dot she saw every time she sent her to the old man's room.
As long as it wasn't recalibrated, the dot stayed put. It was small enough that no one would notice without looking up close; for a year, no one had spotted it under the lights of hotel rooms. The routine was second nature to her by now. The only difference was the destination — not a hotel this time, but Minhyuk's studio.
"Hair down. If that ear shows, it's over."
"Yes, Mistress."
Lara fitted a flesh-toned silicone cover over the yellow tag on her left earlobe and let her long black hair spill down over it. Cream knit dress, Yura's drop earring in her right ear. In the dressing room mirror stood two Yuras — one wearing the bracelet, one with a bare wrist.
Seven in the evening, two days later. The second night she was sending Lara to Minhyuk's studio.
She said it never happened... and yet here I am, sending her again.
She could have taken back the nod she'd given in the dressing room two nights ago. But Yura didn't. Instead, she attached a single condition.
"Put this in."
Yura held out a flesh-colored earpiece no bigger than a fingernail — the kind she wore on photo shoots when taking a director's instructions. Lara pushed it deep into her right ear canal.
"Every sound you make comes straight to me. My voice only goes through when I press the button."
"Yes."
"Today, I'll be listening. If even one word doesn't sound exactly like me, it's over."
Lara looked into the mirror and opened her mouth.
"Minhyuk. Hurry up."
The same pitch as Yura's, the same clipped ending. Hearing her own voice from the outside felt so strange that Yura turned her head away, though there was no reason to.
She was only verifying things. What was being done out there with her face. An owner had every right to know.
That was what Yura decided to believe.
An alley in Seongsu-dong, in front of the building that housed Minhyuk's studio. Behind the deep tint of a black SUV, Yura sat tucked into the driver's seat.
Her wrist felt empty. Out there, a woman without the bracelet was treated as an unregistered livestock. She couldn't set foot outside the car. On her lap sat a receiver shaped like a walkie-talkie, its earphone cord running up to her ear.
One minute after Lara went inside. Through the earpiece came a doorbell, then the groan of a steel door opening.
"There you are?"
Minhyuk's voice.
"Mm."
It was exactly the answer Yura always gave. Then the door shut, and a wet sound followed — lips meeting and parting. For a long, long while.
The rustle of knit fabric being crushed mixed in. Minhyuk's hand seizing her breast through the dress, kneading. Lara's breath leaked out in short bursts until — a nipple caught and twisted, maybe — it cut off with a sharp hn. A moan pitched exactly as low as the kind Yura would make.
...It's dragging on.
Minhyuk had never kissed Yura that long. She was always the one to turn away first.
"You look pretty today."
At that moment the earpiece picked up a soft rustle — the sound of Minhyuk's fingers brushing Lara's right earlobe. The very ear the device sat in. His breath boomed as if he were exhaling directly against it, and Yura hunched her shoulders without meaning to.
"Your ear's staying still today, too."
"Touch it all you want."
Lara didn't flinch away. Yura would have slapped the hand off.
Minhyuk gave a short laugh. Instead of an answer, the shutter clicked once.
Then came the thump of Minhyuk dropping onto the sofa.
"Over here. Sit."
The sound of Lara kneeling before him. A zipper being drawn down.
Yura held her breath. She knew what waited behind that zipper. The thick cock that had pushed into her two nights ago, condom and all.
"Mwah... shlp..."
Lara began to suck him. Slow, wet sounds — her tongue trailing up the shaft, her lips sealing over the head and letting go — traveled through the earpiece straight into Yura's ears.
"Haah... that's it, Yura."
Yura's hand clenched around the receiver. It had been her own mouth, two days ago, that said such things were for livestock. Now a mouth identical to hers was wrapped around Minhyuk's cock under Yura's name.
"Think you can take it all the way down?"
A brief pause — then the sound of a deep swallow. Minhyuk groaned, long and low.
Yura closed her eyes, and then she saw it: her own face in the cream knit, kneeling before the sofa with Minhyuk's thick cock buried to the root in her mouth. Drool running from the corner of her lips, dangling from her chin.
"Eyes up. Look at me."
Click. The shutter fired again. Minhyuk was photographing "Yura's" face with his cock in her mouth.
He's shooting that? My face... a face like that?
A face gazing up around a mouthful of cock. A face Yura would never once make in any photo shoot. And it was being preserved on Minhyuk's film right now.
While the sucking sounds went on, Yura rested her thumb on the mic button — unable to explain even to herself why.
"...Slowly. Flatten your tongue."
The sounds beyond the earpiece slowed at once. A long, drawn-out slurp up the length of him — and Minhyuk's breathing changed.
"Ah, fuck... that's good..."
One word from Yura, and the man's breath changed.
What is this... What am I doing right now.
Her thighs were hot. She could feel herself getting wet. Yura crossed her legs, then uncrossed them.
It was about five minutes later that she reclined the driver's seat.
Don't. You're in a car. Getting off to the sound of livestock sucking a man's cock — that's not sane.
Even as she thought it, her hand slipped under her skirt. Her fingers met damp fabric. Yura pushed her panties aside and spread herself open with two fingers; her arousal clung in strings between them.
"Why are you so good at this today..."
Minhyuk murmured through the earpiece, between the steady, rhythmic sounds of sucking.
The mouth on his cock belonged to livestock — but the name being praised was Yura's. She herself had no memory of Minhyuk ever saying such a thing to her. She'd never done anything worth a good job.
Yura rubbed her clit slowly, in the same rhythm Lara's tongue had circled it two nights ago.
When she coated her fingertips and rolled her clit in slow circles, her back arched off the seat on its own. She bit her lip. Through the earpiece came Lara's tongue lapping up his balls, and Minhyuk laughing — ah, right there — at the very place Yura had never even wanted near her mouth. Then the sound of her swallowing him deep again.
"Enough. Come here."
The wet sound of his cock slipping free of Lara's mouth. Minhyuk's voice dropped lower. He rose from the sofa — footsteps, something being shoved aside.
"Grab the desk."
"...Mm."
Yura's fingers stilled on her clit. The desk. The huge solid-wood worktable in front of the darkroom. She'd walked past it a few times herself.
The hem of the dress being lifted. Minhyuk chuckled.
"You came without any on."
"Couldn't be bothered."
Lara answered just as Yura would. There was no sound of a condom wrapper. Instead, right away, came a slick, grinding noise — Minhyuk gripping himself and rubbing against her soaked pussy.
"Hah......"
Lara's breath caught. Minhyuk's cock was going in. Bare, into a pussy identical to Yura's own.
Slap... slap... slap...
The desk legs scraped the floor. The sound of flesh striking flesh filled the earpiece. Lara's moans stayed low and short.
Hn.
"There."
Exactly the sound Yura would make — just that much. But the rhythm of flesh kept arriving a beat early, again and again. Before Minhyuk could even thrust, Lara was already pushing her hips back to meet him.
Yura pushed her fingers back inside herself. Two of them, deep. Matching the rhythm in her ear.
Squelch, squelch. Her fingers moving in and out were audible even inside the car, nearly overlapping the rhythm in the earpiece.
"Harder."
Lara said it in Yura's voice, like an order. She heard Minhyuk laugh and seize Lara's hips.
And the rhythm quickened. Slap slap slap — his cock driving to the hilt without pause. Something on the desk toppled and rolled across the floor.
"Hah, hn... there, Minhyuk."
"There," she says. I don't even know where "there" is.
Yura pushed her fingers deeper, as if searching for the "there" Lara kept crying out. When she pressed the front wall inside herself, her lower belly thrummed. The exact spot Lara's fingers had pressed two nights ago.
I wouldn't... do it like that. I would never push my ass out first and beg to be fucked.
And yet Minhyuk was fucking her while calling her Yura. And Yura was fucking herself in the car to the sound of it.
The rhythm stopped.
"Yura."
With his cock buried deep inside her, Minhyuk spoke right beside Lara's ear. The side with the earpiece.
"Today... can I try the back?"
Yura's fingers went still.
Anal. She'd turned down taking it from behind plenty of times. But her ass — that had come up exactly once. Minhyuk had asked, carefully; Yura had turned her back on him with an are you insane?, and he had never raised it again.
Now he was asking that of the livestock. In Yura's name.
She could sense him straightening up, waiting for an answer with his cock still sheathed in her pussy. Lara must have turned her head the other way, forehead against the desk, because a very small sound came through the earpiece — a whisper pitched too low for Minhyuk to hear.
"...Mistress?"
Yura's thumb settled on the mic button.
Say no. Not that far. I can't let her take that in my name.
One word was all it would take.
"No."
Then Lara would refuse, cold as Yura ever was, and Minhyuk would retreat with a laugh, the way he always did.
But Yura wanted to know. What voice Minhyuk would use on a "Yura" taking his cock in her ass. What sounds her face, her voice, would make if they went that far.
Her thumb pressed the button.
"...Take it."
"Go slowly, Minhyuk."
Lara said it in Yura's voice. The sound of his cock sliding out of her pussy. A drawer opening. The lid of a lube jar clicking off. Something slick being stroked along a length of flesh.
"Relax. There you go..."
Lara's breath escaped in a long, thin stream. As Minhyuk's cock spread her asshole open bit by bit and pushed inside, Lara exhaled through the earpiece, very slowly. No sound of pain. Instead came something Yura had never heard before — a sound that seemed to rise from somewhere deep in the belly.
"Haah... ah......"
"All the way in. You okay?"
"...Move."
Cold and clipped. Something Yura would say. But the moan that followed was one Yura had never once made.
"Nngh... ah, more......"
Minhyuk began to move inside her ass. Slower than before, deeper. Gel-slick flesh slid with a steady, wet friction.
Lara's moans stretched longer and longer. Even trying to hold them down low and short, the way Yura did, the tail end of every one unraveled whenever his cock sank to the root. And each time he heard it, Minhyuk pushed a little deeper.
"Ah... nngh... Minhyuk, deeper."
Stop. Don't beg for that... in my voice.
But every time the sound came, Yura's pussy clamped down hard around her fingers. Her arousal ran down her palm and onto the seat.
"Yura... you're so tight here..."
Yura added a third finger. She was stuffed full. Her body, slumped toward the passenger seat, swayed with the rhythm. Her face floated faintly in the tinted windshield — mouth open, eyes gone glassy.
That's not me. The one taking cock in there isn't me, and neither is the one doing this here......
"I'm coming, Yura... inside..."
"...Come."
Lara granted it, short and cold, just as Yura would. Minhyuk's low groans came one after another, hips driving — slap, slap — and then a long, held breath.
To that held breath, Yura's pussy seized around her fingers. Her toes curled inside her shoes. With the back of her head pressed against the seat, she came without a sound. She couldn't afford a sound. What if the button was still live.
Her lower belly shuddered again and again. When she pulled her fingers free, her arousal dripped onto the seat.
Through the earpiece, Minhyuk drew himself out slowly. Lara took a short breath.
"Stay just like that. Don't move."
Click. Click. The shutter fired twice. Minhyuk was photographing "Yura" bent over the desk — her spread ass, and the cum leaking from it.
That too... is going to remain as my face?
Yura wiped her wet fingers with a tissue. Even wiped clean, the smell of herself clung to her fingertips. How many frames of Yura's face would be left on Minhyuk's film tonight? A face gazing up around a cock, an ass dripping seed...
10:40 p.m. The passenger door opened.
Lara climbed in. Only her hair was slightly mussed; the knit dress looked exactly as it had when she'd left. But the moment she sat down, Yura saw white seeping out from under her hips. The load Minhyuk had poured into her ass.
Yura grabbed a towel from the back seat and tossed it over.
"Don't get the seat dirty."
"Yes, Mistress."
As Lara lifted her hips to spread the towel, Yura's eyes went there despite herself. Between her parted thighs, a pussy shaped exactly like her own, flushed red and glistening. And from the hole behind it, Minhyuk's semen was slowly being pushed out — taken bare, her insides full of him.
Yura thought again of the condom she'd thrown in the trash two days ago. Minhyuk had never once been allowed to leave a drop inside Yura. She had never let him.
Lara settled carefully onto the towel. For a while, neither of them spoke.
The smell of Yura's arousal still hung in the car. There was no way Lara didn't know. And yet Lara asked nothing.
That wounded her pride more than anything.
"That sound, earlier."
Yura spoke first.
"Don't make sounds like that in my voice. I don't moan like that."
Lara turned her head and looked at her. The same face, with the same eyes.
"Then show me, Mistress."
"...What?"
"How you sound when you come. You always held it in in front of Minhyuk. The night before last is the only time I've ever heard you."
Yura couldn't answer. Two nights ago. The armchair in the dressing room. That moan that had torn out of her while Lara's tongue circled her clit.
Then her phone buzzed. Minhyuk.
And then one more line came.
Yura stared down at the screen.
Louder... whose voice, exactly?