Song Jiwon, Bursting with Feminine Allure... But Do You Have a School Uniform?
Behind the lectern, Song Jiwon crossed her legs and struggled to keep her balance. She bit down on her lower lip and exhaled softly.
Haa... It stopped... I'm okay...
The slick fluids that had soaked through her panties now trailed down her thighs and dripped onto her high heels. She quietly closed her eyes, reached into the drawer beneath the lectern, and pulled out a small wad of tissues. With careful movements, she lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to wipe the inner thighs, the front of her panties, and along the curve of her hips.
I can't let anyone find out... No one can know. This is a secret only Master and I share.
Her lips curved into a faint smile as she stepped out from behind the lectern. Class was ending, and students were packing up their sketches and preparing to leave. Song Jiwon kept her expression calm and professional.
“Everyone, great work on today’s practical. Don’t forget to bring your final sketches next time.”
One by one, the students slung on their bags and filed out. Song Jiwon calmly gathered her printouts and moved with the flow. As she passed the doorway, she quietly approached Mingyu.
He stood there with his usual calm expression, but his eyes held a clear, leisurely smirk that said, I know exactly how hard you came behind that lectern. It was as if he were silently whispering, “You came, didn’t you? Our little bitch.”
Song Jiwon dipped her head slightly toward him, lips curling upward. In a soft, feminine, affectionate tone, she whispered, “I have a little tidying up to do, so I’ll be a bit late, Master~ Sorry.”
Mingyu raised one eyebrow and nodded without a word, watching her retreating figure.
Once the art room fell quiet, Mingyu stepped out of the building alone. On the familiar walk to the subway station, his mind felt strangely tangled. Her lips, the way she had softly called him “Master” in that quiet voice—it lingered more vividly, more deeply, than any lewd video he had ever seen.
At home, Mingyu sat at his desk and closed his eyes. After a long moment, a single thought surfaced out of nowhere.
School uniform...
The word had no context, yet it instantly dragged memories across his mind like lightning. Tight blouses with underwear lines peeking between buttons. Skirts shortened until they barely covered her thighs. Ah, fuck... I’ve really liked school uniforms since middle and high school.
The pretty, flashy girls who always sat with their legs crossed on their desks. Back then he could never speak to them; he had only drawn them in secret, pouring everything into his sketches.
In those days, girls wore their uniforms like that—skirts hiked up above the knees, shirts cinched tight at the waist, neckties loosened and hanging to one side. Thighs exposed, hip lines visible, the swell of breasts pressing against the fabric. It had been so damn sexy.
Mingyu bit his lip and opened his phone. What would Song Jiwon look like wearing one? Not a suit or blouse, but a real student-style uniform—short, tight, clinging to her body. No panties, the skirt so tight her ass line showed through, sneakers with socks slightly pulled down, hair tucked behind her ear as she said, “Master, shall I try being a student today?”
That’s it... Fuck, that’s exactly what I want to see.
He chuckled to himself. When she comes back tonight... I’ll bring it up.
The familiar click-clack of heels echoed down the narrow hallway. Mingyu, sitting on the edge of the bed, turned his head. He didn’t need to open the door; that sound alone told him exactly who was coming.
Click—
The door opened.
“Master, I’m home. Sorry I’m late. Have you eaten?”
Song Jiwon quietly closed the door and stood with her handbag held neatly in both hands. Mingyu watched her in silence from the bed. She met his gaze, drew a small breath, and carefully slipped off her high heels. In the tiny entryway of the small studio, she placed her shoes neatly beside his sneakers.
Then she turned, smiled softly at him, and took one careful step after another toward him. Her steps were cautious yet light, like a happy puppy that would wag its tail if it could. When she reached him, she knelt gracefully between his thighs, lowered her head, and pressed her cheek against his leg.
The soft brush of skin made Mingyu’s fingers tighten. Song Jiwon rubbed her cheeks gently against him, as if asking, “Did I do well today?”
“Mm... Could you tell me I worked hard today...?”
Mingyu smiled quietly and rested his hand on her head. “Yeah. Good job. You held in your moans pretty well, didn’t you? Our little bitch?”
His fingers stroked her hair slowly, tenderly. Song Jiwon buried her face deeper into his thigh to hide her embarrassment. “Ugh... It was so embarrassing...” Her voice was small, yet filled with pride and a strange tremble.
A moment later, her lips curved upward again. “But... it felt so good, Master... I came right in front of the students...”
Mingyu kept stroking her hair, then suddenly spoke the thought that had been on his mind. “Bitch.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you have a school uniform at home?”
She lifted her head slightly and looked up at him, puzzled. “...A school uniform?”
“Yeah. I want to see you wearing one.”
Her eyes widened, then quickly sparkled with playful mischief. “Aha~~ So Master likes school uniforms~?”
She tilted her head. “If that’s the case... well, you can find event ones on shopping sites, right?”
Mingyu slowly shook his head. “No. Not those cheap cosplay uniforms for sex.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I want to see you in a real school uniform. The kind a real high-school girl would wear—shortened and tight.”
Song Jiwon bit her lip, thinking. “Umm... I think I might have one... But back when I was a student, I was just a plain study bug. My uniform was long and baggy... not pretty at all.”
Mingyu’s reaction was even more excited. “Perfect. That’s even better.” He smirked. “The fun part is shortening it yourself, after all.”
He flicked his fingers playfully. “Tomorrow. Stop by your place and bring it, bitch.”
She lowered her head again and rubbed her cheek against his palm. “Yes, Master... But I’m over thirty. Won’t I look ridiculous in a school uniform?”
Mingyu silently pulled out his phone and opened TikTok. He showed her a saved video of an influencer in a school uniform, striking a V-pose with a smile. The uniform was daringly short, the blouse cropped, the skirt tiny. But her face... she looked like a late-thirties karaoke hostess.
“How old does she look to you?” he asked.
Song Jiwon stared at the screen for a moment. “Um... at least twenty-seven? If she looks young... maybe thirty-eight?”
Mingyu chuckled. “Don’t be surprised. She’s eighteen.”
“Eh...!?”
Her eyes went round as she looked back at the screen. “Really!?”
He nodded, still smiling. “Yeah. There are girls like that. But honestly, with your body, people probably wouldn’t even look at your face.”
He added slowly, “The truth is... you’ve got that perfect figure and a pretty face. So you’re flawless.”
Song Jiwon lowered her head, fidgeting with her fingertips. Her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh my... Master... If you keep saying things like that, my heart might burst...”
Her whisper was full of embarrassment, yet carried a girlish thrill at being praised. She glanced once more at the phone screen, then at the man who had casually told her she was prettier. Her eyes sparkled.
“Yes, Master! I’ll definitely find it and bring it tomorrow!!”
Her tone was firm, her expression resolute—a bitch’s vow of loyalty to please her master. Mingyu burst out laughing. “Why so serious? Cute, seriously.”
At those words, she suddenly stood up, cupped his cheeks with both hands, and looked straight into his eyes. “Please forgive this bitch’s rudeness...” she whispered, then leaned down and pressed her lips to his—short, deep, filled with both affection and guilt.
When their lips parted, she looked into his eyes and said, “I have to make a little mistake like this... so that when you punish me, Master, you won’t feel bad about it.”
It was a voluntary confession of guilt, a declaration that she existed to be punished. Her smile was lewd, and the submission within it was perfect.
The quiet night. Only the sound of warm water echoed softly in the small bathroom. Beyond the glass door, the two stood naked, facing each other. Her hands moved carefully as she lathered shampoo, tenderly scrubbing his back. Song Jiwon wrapped her arms around his shoulders, scooped water, and let it run over his chest. “Master, is the water temperature okay...?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect. Feels like paradise.”
He was the one being bathed; she was the one serving. Yet both moved as if the roles were completely natural, washing each other without any awkwardness.
After the shower, they lay down on Mingyu’s small bed without bothering with towels, skin pressed together beneath the blanket. His arm naturally slid under her shoulders, supporting her head. Then Song Jiwon spoke softly. “Master... does your arm hurt?”
He turned to her and smiled. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”
But her expression showed she still had something to say. “Why? Got something on your mind?”
She hesitated, then whispered, “...Your arm... it just can’t hurt, okay?”
“Huh?”
“Because... then I can be your arm pillow and hold you tight while we sleep...”
Mingyu burst out laughing. “Is that why you were hesitating?”
“Aah... Well... I’m your bitch, so I was worried your arm might hurt...”
“Nah. That’s not it, is it?”
She flinched slightly, then confessed more honestly. “Actually... um... can’t I be the one holding you? I want you to sleep in my arms...”
Mingyu looked at her for a moment, smile fading. “Haa... Seriously... How did my bitch turn into such a timid little puppy?”
He gently patted her head. “Fine~ Hug me, bitch. You’re adorable.”
Her face lit up. She carefully freed his arm and slipped her own beneath him, pulling his body gently against her chest. Her soft breasts brushed his chin. She held him snugly, making sure he was comfortable, and his breathing gradually slowed between her hair. She stayed perfectly still, every touch careful so he would feel nothing but warmth.
That night, Mingyu fell asleep quietly in her embrace. Their skin stayed warm against each other, breaths mingling, until dawn broke.
Service cut