Guess It's Time to Stream
Time had gone numb. How long had it been? Lee Dongwoo worked the metal toothbrush with the mechanical persistence of a machine, and every stroke was aimed at Yoo Jimin's left nipple. What had begun as a mere sting gradually became a raw, skin-stripping ache — a sensitive peak endlessly scraped and goaded by those fine metal needles.
Yoo Jimin bit down hard on her lip. The inside of her lower lip split as she fought to swallow the moan clawing its way out, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Her whole body shook like a leaf in a gale. But within that pain, something terrible began to uncoil — a sensation of an entirely different kind.
This was an erogenous zone. The very place being so cruelly violated was also a place wired for pleasure. A faint, nagging heat rode along beneath the pain. Unwanted arousal. That alien mixture of sensations was harder to endure than pure agony would ever have been. Her mind felt like it was coming apart at the seams.
It hurt. It hurt so badly she thought she might die — and yet some stupid part of her body was trying to respond. Shame and self-loathing crashed over her in waves.
Don't... don't do this...
She tried desperately to focus on the pain alone, but her body was honest. Her hips twitched, ever so slightly, of their own accord. Lee Dongwoo did not miss that tiny reaction. He slowed the brushing just a fraction and stared into her face — the furrowed brow, the bloodless lips, the eyes welling with pain and shame. He studied every detail with genuine interest.
At last she reached the limit of what she could bear. If this went on any longer, she was going to lose her mind.
"Hngh... please... please stop...!"
The tear-choked voice she had been holding back finally burst free. It was a plea — the most wretched kind of cry, a slave begging her master for mercy.
"Just for a second... please just stop... it hurts... it hurts so much...!"
At her desperate cry, Lee Dongwoo's hand finally stilled. He left the toothbrush pressed against her nipple, unmoving, his cold gaze sweeping across her pain-twisted face as if weighing what to do next.
He had stopped as though granting her a mercy. But what rose on his face was not compassion. It was the cruel curiosity of a child who had just found an interesting new toy. He kept the tip of the toothbrush hovering against that sensitive peak and smiled as he spoke.
"You want me to stop?"
His voice was soft, but an irresistible pressure coiled beneath it.
"Fine. But I have a condition."
"A... condition...?"
Yoo Jimin gasped the words back at him, panting. She had no idea what kind of condition he could possibly mean in a situation like this, but the mere fact that he had stopped kindled a sliver of hope. She would accept anything — anything, if it meant escaping this pain.
"What is it...? I'll do anything... please..."
"It's simple."
Lee Dongwoo let the silence hang, savoring the desperation in her eyes. Then he slowly dragged the metal toothbrush down toward her lower abdomen — toward the smooth, exposed cleft, toward the most sensitive place hidden at its center.
"From now on, I'm going to 'clean' your clitoris with this toothbrush. You only have to last one minute. If you can hold out for exactly one minute without crying, screaming, or twisting your body without my permission..."
His eyes flashed like a devil's.
"I'll end today's atonement right here. How about it?"
"Cli...toris...?"
Yoo Jimin's face went white. A place infinitely more sensitive and fragile than her nipple. He was going to rub that scrap of metal there? Even imagining it sent a phantom of terrible pain through her. She barely held back the scream that wanted to tear out of her throat.
But... one minute. Just one minute, and today's hell would be over. It was an unbearably sweet temptation. She had no idea what worse torture awaited if she refused. She had no choice. Staring at Lee Dongwoo with trembling eyes, she could not bring herself to speak the words. Instead she nodded — a tiny, almost imperceptible dip of her head.
The deal with the devil was struck. The moment he confirmed that little nod, Lee Dongwoo brought the metal toothbrush to her most secret, most sensitive core without a shred of hesitation. In the instant before the cold metal touched her, Yoo Jimin held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut.
Then it made contact.
KYAAAAAH!
It was worse than anything she had imagined. A pain incomparably sharper than the assault on her nipple — as if the nerves themselves were being shredded — and at the same instant an irresistible, scalding pleasure detonated through her, as though every drop of blood in her body had rushed to that single point.
Already swollen and slick from the earlier torment, her clitoris was helpless against the coarse scrape of the steel bristles. Caught in a storm of pain that felt like it would burn her brain out and pleasure that felt like it would melt her down to nothing, Yoo Jimin screamed and thrashed. The promise to last one minute had already vanished from her mind. She twisted on pure instinct, thrashing to escape the hideous stimulation.
Hngh! Ah! Ah! No! I don't wanna—! Aaaaahn!
Meaningless cries and screams poured out of her, tangled together. Tears and spit and the fluids spilling from between her legs soaked her body and the floor. How many seconds had passed? It felt like an eternity. At last, when the unbearable wave of sensation crested—
Haaah— I came...!♡♡♡
Her whole body locked rigid and convulsed as if in a seizure. A blinding white flash swallowed her vision, and a climax so violent it seemed to drag her consciousness under tore through her. The iron chains rattled, and then her body went slack and did not move again.
In the wake of that brief, ferocious storm, nothing remained but an exhausted husk and a pair of empty eyes.
It had been exactly one minute and one second.
"Oops. Came the second the minute was up, huh?"
Lee Dongwoo said it as casually as if he had been reading a precision instrument. A faint trace of disappointment flickered across his face, as though he had wanted to watch her suffer a little longer. He wiped her fluids off the metal toothbrush on his clothes without the slightest concern.
"Well. A promise is a promise. That's it for today's atonement."
He tossed the toothbrush to the floor without a second glance and stood. Looking down at Yoo Jimin, who lay limp and gasping, he spoke again.
"Alright. Time to start getting ready for your stream, don't you think? Your fans will be waiting. Go on. Get out there."
At a flick of his hand, the shackles binding her sprang open again with a sharp click.
Her limbs were free. She did not have the strength to stand. What lingered was not the afterglow of pleasure but a vicious humiliation and a self-loathing that crushed body and mind alike. A stream. The word froze her heart all over again. How was she supposed to smile and chatter in front of a camera looking like this, feeling like this?
She also knew, perfectly well, that refusal was not an option. She staggered, very slowly, and forced her body — stained with disgrace — up onto its feet. The hour was approaching when she would become a slave on camera.
Even sitting up was almost too much. The space between her legs was slick and sticky, and with every step her nipple and clitoris — scraped raw by the steel toothbrush — dragged against nothing but bare skin, each contact a fresh reminder of that ugly pain. She did not need to look. She knew those places would be swollen an angry red.
Yoo Jimin staggered down the familiar hallway of her own home as if walking through a dream, and made for the dressing room. When she opened the door, a space packed with dazzling clothes under brilliant lights opened before her. Her streaming costumes. Pieces that glittered like idol stage outfits. Cosplay recreations of particular characters. Revealing cuts that played up her sex appeal. On any other day this would have been a room where she stood with a flutter of excitement, deciding which look would delight her viewers.
Now, standing naked with her whole body stained in humiliation and pain, those clothes looked like nothing but ornaments mocking her reality. The stark contrast between her wretched, ruined body and the glittering room almost made her laugh.
A tablet hung on one wall. Her eyes drifted toward it — the screen packed tight with her streaming schedule and content plans.
"...Ah."
Even through the shock that had bleached her mind white, the scheduled program had remained somewhere in the back of her memory. Today's stream. The one her viewers had voted for. Her face twisted with despair.
"Fuck... it's a dance stream...?"
The curse came out on its own. That was right. The latest hit idol dance cover her viewers had been requesting for days — the one she had prepared for, the one she had even uploaded practice videos of to build anticipation. A stream that would demand she move her body hard, in a costume that would inevitably leave a lot of skin exposed. And she was supposed to dance like this? With her body swollen and wrecked like this?
The thought crept in that this, too, might be another of Lee Dongwoo's cruel designs. It could not be a coincidence. He would have known all of it. He might have chosen, quite deliberately, the day that would be the most humiliating and the most painful, and made her into this.
Despair settled over her again, heavy enough to crush. Naked among all those glittering costumes, she looked impossibly small and shabby.
"Fuck... what a goddamn life."