A Grueling Study Session
Lee Dongwoo left her with that cold declaration and stepped out for a moment. Yoo Jimin still lay sprawled across the floor, dragging in ragged breaths.
The word study circled her ears like an omen.
When he came back, he carried the shopping bag of adult toys he'd bought earlier — and an unfamiliar laptop in his other hand.
He set the laptop on the floor with the ease of long practice and powered it on. A boot chime sounded. The screen brightened, and his fingers moved across the trackpad with casual competence.
A moment later, a hard white light burst from the projector mounted on the far wall.
It was the same projector Jimin had used to watch movies and play games. It would serve a different purpose now.
What appeared on the wall was a File Explorer window. Inside it sat a folder labeled Textbook.
Dongwoo double-clicked it without a flicker of hesitation.
The folder was packed with video files. The thumbnails alone left no doubt as to their nature.
Explicit sex, laid bare. Every position, every race, every scenario imaginable — nothing but pornography.
Jimin stared blankly at the images flooding the wall. Her heart began to hammer again, uneasy and sick.
"Alright."
Dongwoo sat down on the floor and pointed at the laptop screen. His voice carried the warped warmth of a kindly teacher introducing a student to her new materials.
"I put this together just for you."
He rolled the mouse wheel, letting the list of videos scroll past. Every filename was crude and explicit.
"Starting today, this is your textbook. Watch it whenever you're bored — no. Whenever I tell you to. Learn it with your eyes. And then… you'll practice. Right?"
He pointed at the shopping bag of toys he'd set down beside him. Dildos of every kind, vibrators, and instruments she couldn't even name filled the bag.
"Watch. Feel. Copy it with your own body. That clumsy tongue of yours and those stiff little movements aren't going to satisfy me. Understand?"
It was not a suggestion. It was an order. From now on she would watch these repulsive videos and practice every act with her own body.
Whether she wanted to see them or not, she would see them. Whether she wanted to do them or not, she would do them. Another form of horrific training was about to begin — and this was the announcement.
Dongwoo left her with a satisfied smile and stepped out of the hidden room once more.
What remained was the sour stench, the scattered toys, Yoo Jimin moaning on the floor where he'd discarded her — and the laptop screen, glowing cold and bright.
Time seemed to freeze. Only Jimin's ragged, irregular breathing cut through the silence.
Her body weighed a thousand pounds. The torn flesh between her legs still burned like fire, and every muscle in her screamed.
But somewhere in her mind, a faint ember of hope — dying, but not yet dead — lifted its head.
The laptop. Could that be a way out? The internet? Some other program?
A threadbare hope that she might still have a way to reach the outside world.
She clenched her teeth and forced her body to move. Clutching her throbbing lower belly, she crawled across the floor toward the laptop. Her trembling fingers settled on its cold, smooth surface. Please. Please let something work.
She found the network icon and clicked it. Just as she'd expected. A cold system message was all that greeted her.
The ethernet cable didn't even appear to be plugged in. What about other files, then? She moved the mouse, trying to leave the Textbook folder Dongwoo had opened — to the desktop, or to another drive.
The instant the cursor tried to cross the folder's boundary, a popup flashed dead-center on the screen.
Access outside the designated area has been blocked.
A slave may neither see nor touch anything that has not been permitted.
Her breath caught.
Of course. That bastard had anticipated everything.
This laptop existed for one purpose: to play the porn inside the Textbook folder. An isolated instrument of torture. A perfect digital prison, every other function locked away. The last ember of hope went cold. Now there was truly nothing left.
She couldn't even manage a hollow laugh. She stared blankly at the warning.
A slave may neither see nor touch anything that has not been permitted. That was her reality now. Tears slid down her cheeks again, but she no longer had the strength to make a sound.
How long did she sit there? Through the resignation and the despair, her eyes drifted back into the Textbook folder.
So many files. So many explicit thumbnails. As if hypnotized, she moved the cursor. Which one should she pick? No — what did it matter? They were all the same hell.
In the end, she guided the cursor toward a file near the top — one that didn't look especially extreme, but didn't look ordinary either.
Her finger trembled. Click. The sound of the mouse button filled the room, unnaturally loud.
The screen went black for a moment. Then the video player launched, and the first frame began to play.
The room filled with a man and a woman's moans, the slap of flesh, and vulgar music. Her studies had begun.
On the screen, things that still wore human shapes writhed and moaned. The slap of skin on skin. Harsh breathing. Cheap music underneath it all.
Jimin stared at it, vacant. She had no idea how much time had passed. The video in front of her no longer stirred anything at all.
Not disgust. Not shame. Just a numbness, as if she were watching animated wallpaper. Maybe her mind had shut down her senses to protect itself.
Then her trembling fingers moved on their own. The cursor wandered across the screen and finally settled on the stop button. Click.
The racket vanished. Only her faint breathing remained.
In the silence, her gaze drifted naturally past the video player, back to the Explorer window behind it. The folder Dongwoo had left open. Textbook.
Inside that folder, beneath the video she'd just played, dozens of subfolders sat in neat rows.
The names were brief. Their meaning was hideously clear.
Folders lined up in what looked like alphabetical order. With every name her eyes traced, Jimin's heart sank colder.
These weren't just sex videos. Torture. Enema. Bondage. Slave. These were… these were…
Crazy… bastard…
The curse rose unbidden. The blood in her veins felt like ice.
This laptop was never about watching porn and "studying." It was a preview of everything that would be done to her — a detailed instruction manual.
How many more twisted, horrific videos were waiting inside those folders?
Was Dongwoo going to make her do those things? No. He would. She had already learned, down to the bone, that he was a man who executed without hesitation.
Dildo. Orgasm. SM. There was a malice here that went beyond sex — a will to destroy human dignity completely.
Fear swallowed her again. The numbness of a moment ago was gone. Raw terror crashed over her once more.
The cold light pouring from the laptop felt like the mouth of hell.
She stared at those dreadful names again, her pupils shaking.
What the hell are you planning to make me do, you insane bastard…!
For a moment — just a moment — she wanted to deny it. He's just trying to scare me. He wouldn't actually go that far.
But the hope was so empty she almost laughed at herself. Lee Dongwoo would do it.
He was no longer human. He would commit every evil he was capable of, without a second thought.
And if she resisted, or fell short of his standards, he would do it in even more horrific ways.
I have to… survive.
The survival instinct lifted its head again. She had to please him somehow. Stay off his nerves. Give him what he wanted.
It might be the only way to suffer even a fraction less in this hell.
She knew all of that in her head. Her body refused to follow. She hesitated for a long time. Her stiff fingers gripped the mouse and did not move.
Time bled away. The room filled again, not with those lewd moans, but with her own anxious breathing.
At last, she moved the cursor toward the folder that looked the least threatening — or perhaps the one she needed to learn first.
The thing Dongwoo had complained about first. Oral service. Countless video files waited inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and double-clicked the top file.
The screen changed. A new video began to play. Different performers this time.
Filling the frame in extreme close-up: a woman sucking a dildo of unbelievable size with passionate intensity.
The woman's face looked lost in ecstasy. The movement of her tongue and lips was practiced, overflowing with technique. It looked less obscene than grotesque. Was that… was that how she was supposed to do it?
Jimin reached for the shopping bag of toys beside her. Cold, hard plastic boxes. She picked one up and opened it.
Inside was a dildo roughly the size of Dongwoo's — smoother, more artificial in texture.
She lifted it out with shaking hands. The cold sensation spread across her palm. Nausea surged again. She forced it down.
On the screen, the woman was still devouring the dildo with fervor.
Swallowing it deep, pulling it out, dragging her tongue up the shaft, working the base with her lips… Jimin watched, transfixed.
And then, very slowly, she began to mimic the woman's movements, clumsy as she was.
She brought the cold dildo to her mouth. The horrific memory of taking Dongwoo's into her mouth rose up, and she shoved it away.
This is practice. To survive. She carefully parted her lips and took the tip between her teeth.
The artificial taste of plastic. She tried to copy the woman's tongue-work, but her tongue was stiff and refused to move properly.
She tried to swallow the dildo down. It caught in her throat with a gag, and she dry-heaved.
"Hh… kkh…"
Tears ran down her cheeks again. Clumsy. Pathetic. Humiliating.
But she couldn't stop. The woman on the screen was still smiling as she sucked, and someday Dongwoo would come back to inspect the results of this lesson.
She swallowed her tears and pushed the cold plastic shaft into her mouth once more.