The Student Council President's Secret Field Lesson
"Mmph! Nngh...!"
I clamped a hand over the scream tearing out of Seo Jisu's mouth. Her lips trembled against my palm. Behind those blown-wide pupils, terror, shame, and a stubborn refusal to believe any of this was real all tangled together.
"Shh. I told you not to make a sound. You hear those footsteps in the hallway, don't you?"
At my low whisper she sucked in a sharp breath. The only thing actually making noise was an old ventilation fan humming away in the corner — but to her terror-stricken ears, every sound in the world must have sounded like the footsteps of judgment coming for her.
Seo Jisu nodded frantically and clamped down on my wrist, a silent, desperate plea to please stay quiet. I twisted a smirk onto my lips and slowly peeled my hand from her mouth. A ragged breath laced with the sweetness of her saliva burst out, but she bit down on her lip until it went white, swallowing the moan.
"Good girl. That's our president."
I brushed her tousled bangs back behind her ear. A gentle touch — no different from a predator savoring the meat of its prey before the meal.
"This dusty little hole is the safest place in the world for you right now, sunbae."
I dragged my index finger along the edge of a desk coated in a pale film of dust. Gray powder came away on my fingertip.
"Because the second you walk out that door, the video of you rolling around with that bastard will be waiting."
"Stop... please, just stop..."
Seo Jisu whispered it like a sob. The rims of her eyes were raw and red. The haughty, exacting mask of the student council president she'd worn in the lecture hall had already shattered on the floor a long time ago.
I undid another button on her blouse.
Pop.
The button came free, and the pale skin of her collarbone and the upper swell of her chest gleamed faintly in the dark. She flinched on instinct and tried to cover herself.
"Don't cover up."
I snatched her wrist and pinned it to the desk.
"I've already seen everything there is to see. What's the point of being shy now?"
"This is... school... Dohun, please..."
"Isn't that what makes it better?"
I nipped her earlobe, and her body jerked in surprise.
"In this sacred space where students come to study, the student council president spreads her legs for an underclassman."
I breathed hot air into her ear as I whispered.
"Tell me a setup more deliciously depraved than this. Go on."
Seo Jisu's body trembled like a leaf in a gale. She could feel it too — that raw, nerve-end thrill blooming along the strange border between shame and terror.
My hand slipped beneath her skirt. The slick texture of her stockings met my palm. Warm. And damp.
"See? Your head says no, but your body's being honest."
"No... ngh, that's not..."
She shook her head, denying it. But when my fingers dug into the tenderest flesh of her inner thigh, her hips twitched like a conditioned reflex.
"What's not? You're already this wet."
I pretended to be surprised and stared straight into her eyes. She couldn't hold my gaze and squeezed them shut. Tears forced their way out between her lashes. That helpless look only fanned the sadism in me.
I laid her fully back across the desk.
Creeeak.
The old wooden desk screamed under the weight.
"Come on. Spread your legs wider."
"I can't...! I really can't...!"
"You managed just fine with Gang Minho in the back seat of a cramped car."
I deliberately prodded the rawest wound she had — the shameful memory she wanted erased.
"That video the bastard shot was quite the show. The way you clung to him, moaning oppa, oppa."
"Shut up...!"
"Try it with me. It's not like that skill of yours is going anywhere."
I grabbed her stockings with both hands.
Riiip—!
The sound of fabric tearing scraped sharply across my eardrums. The expensive black stockings tore apart helplessly in my grip.
"Ah...!"
She swallowed the scream. Shredded threads hung over her white thighs, grotesque — or maybe like chains. The bare skin showing through the gaps was strangely, vividly erotic.
I pushed my fingers through the torn stockings without hesitation.
"Hnnngh..."
Seo Jisu bit down on the back of the hand covering her mouth hard enough to leave teeth marks. The moan she was fighting to hold back leaked out as a nasal whimper.
The smell of dust. The smell of mildew. And the thickening scent of a female in heat. The cramped storage room filled with the smell of instinct.
Clack.
The metallic click of my belt buckle coming undone rang out unnaturally loud. At that sound, Seo Jisu's eyes flew open — a look of pure terror. But in the depths of those eyes, resignation mixed with something she herself would never admit. Anticipation.
"This is where it starts, sunbae."
I pushed between her legs.
"Of all the student council president's duties, this is going to be the hardest one."
Slowly — very slowly — I pushed myself into her. I had no intention of granting her the mercy of driving all the way in at once. The gradual tightening. The foreign pressure. I wanted her to feel every second of her body being invaded, without missing a single one.
"Nngh...!"
Seo Jisu's head fell back. Blue veins stood out on her throat. Her tightly clenched walls welcomed me — warm, tight, and burning hot. As if it were the first time.
"Relax. You'll hurt yourself like that."
I gripped her hips and rolled my waist, slow and unhurried.
Squelch. Squelch.
The raw, wet friction filled the silent storage room. Her body rocked up and down in time with mine. The dust piled on the desk bloomed into the air with every impact. Afternoon sunlight slanted through a gap in the window, illuminating the dancing motes and our tangled bodies.
"Sunbae. What do you think we look like right now?"
I asked her, panting.
"Out there you play the lofty, spotless saint. And now you're rolling around in a dust heap like an animal."
"Hngh... please... don't make me talk..."
"Answer me. How does it feel?"
I drove my hips up, deliberately rough.
Thud.
The wet smack of flesh on flesh.
"Aahh!"
A moan she couldn't hold back burst from her lips.
That was the exact moment.
Click. Click. Click...
Clear footsteps echoed from the hallway beyond the door. High heels. A female professor, or maybe a staff member.
Seo Jisu's body went rigid as stone. She seemed to stop breathing entirely. Her eyes went wide, locked on the tightly shut iron door — a face of terror at its absolute peak. If they were caught here, her life was over. Impeachment as student council president. Expulsion. Social burial.
I savored that extreme terror.
The footsteps were passing right in front of the door. I didn't stop. If anything, I pushed in deeper, heavier.
"......!!"
Seo Jisu clamped both hands over her mouth, desperately smothering the scream trying to escape. Tears streamed down, soaking her temples, soaking her hair. She shot me a look begging me to stop. I ignored it.
The footsteps gradually receded. Only then did she let out the breath she'd been holding.
"Haa...! Haa...!"
"Thrilling, isn't it?"
I grinned and kissed her sweat-slick forehead.
"You crazy... bastard..."
"Swearing now, too. Look at you grow."
I started picking up the pace. The slow, languid rhythm grew steadily faster. The desk thudded against the floor. It made an uneasy sound, but I didn't care. This space, this moment, and this woman were already under my complete control.
Seo Jisu's legs wrapped around my waist. Whether it was the instinct to survive or the instinct to chase pleasure, she clung to me. Her unfocused gaze met mine. Eyes that should have been full of resentment and hatred were going hazy, losing their focus.
"Dohun... ah... nngh..."
Her voice trembled as she called my name. I buried my face in the nape of her neck and exhaled a ragged breath.
Conquest. This wasn't just about getting off. The mental triumph of pinning down a creature that used to look at me like I was a bug — of making her submit completely — wrapped around my entire body.
"Feels good, doesn't it? You like this too, sunbae. Right now."
"No... nngh, I like it... aahh!"
In the end, she surrendered. The mouth that had been denying it spat out an admission.
That was when I kicked into the final stretch. Like an animal. Rough. Merciless. Her body thrashed like a live fish. The air in the storage room went hot and thick with the raw scent of sex.
How much time passed, I couldn't say. The frantic motion stopped, and only the sound of ragged breathing remained. I collapsed over her body.
Seo Jisu was staring at the ceiling like someone whose soul had left her. Unfocused eyes. Her mouth hung half-open, drool trailing from the corner. Utterly ruined.
I pushed myself up and pulled my clothes back on, piece by piece. Fastened my belt buckle. Buttoned my shirt. Then I looked down at Seo Jisu, sprawled across the desk. Stockings shredded to ribbons. Blouse hanging open. Hair a wreck. Anyone who saw her would know she'd just been through a violent fuck.
"Get up. You've got class."
I said it in a voice so calm, as if nothing had happened at all.
Seo Jisu slowly pushed herself up. Her legs shook so badly she couldn't stand properly, staggering on the spot.
"Fix your clothes. Walk out like that and you might as well take out an ad."
I tossed her bag — which had fallen to the floor — onto the desk. She fastened her blouse buttons with trembling hands. Her fingers had no strength; she missed the holes several times. She looked pitiful, but I felt nothing resembling sympathy. She'd brought this on herself. And my revenge was only just getting started.
"Oh, and sunbae."
I turned back just as I was about to leave. She flinched and looked at me — the eyes of a slave looking at a master holding a whip.
"Next time, find us somewhere quieter. Too much dust in here — it's making my throat hurt. And the stockings... they look better torn. Wear them like that when we meet from now on."
"......"
She couldn't manage a single word. She just hung her head and bit her lip.
Creeeak.
I opened the storage room door, whistling. Fresh air filled my lungs. The hallway was empty. The afternoon campus was perfectly, utterly peaceful.
But behind that storage room door, Seo Jisu's world had already become a hell she could never take back.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. Right on cue, a text from Choi Yura was waiting.
A bitter, satisfied smile spread across my lips. I opened the app. The Bitcoin chart was still rocketing upward, painting fat crimson bull candles.
My life. And the despair of those stuck-up bitches. Both had just smashed through the previous high and were charging toward the peak.
I walked down the hallway with a light step. The floor beneath my feet felt soft, like I was walking on clouds.