A Punching Bag Still Has to Do Its Job While Getting Hit. Right, You Filthy Whore?
Lee Jihyun's body shuddered with something close to a convulsion. She kept her head bowed, her gaze locked on the floor — the very spot where she had licked up her own shit.
She opened her mouth slowly. So slowly. Her voice came out heavy and sodden, like cotton soaked through with water.
"I... I used you..."
Lee Dongwoo leaned back against the sofa and waited for what came next. He needed something far more stimulating than mere scribbles on a wall. He watched her with the eager eyes of an audience waiting for an opera's climax.
"...like a punching bag."
The words barely managed to escape her lips.
"Because you... you were just... good for taking it out on. You never said a word."
Tears dripped from her eyes once more. But they were not tears of remorse. They were a desperate performance — a bid to stay alive.
"Back then... I really was sorry."
Yoo Jimin swallowed involuntarily at the confession. A punching bag. So that bitch had actually beaten the nerd. Direct violence — something on a completely different level from anything Jimin herself had done.
I made it.
Relief washed through her, accompanied by a faint flicker of contempt for Lee Jihyun.
"A punching bag."
Lee Dongwoo rolled the word across his tongue as if savoring a fine wine. He rose from his seat and walked slowly toward Lee Jihyun. He seized her by the hair and forced her to look at him. Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, and beneath it, a hatred even deeper than before.
"Yeah, I remember. You were always kicking me in the stomach. For no reason at all."
He kicked Lee Jihyun in the gut with the toe of his shoe — a casual, almost dismissive tap.
"Ugh!"
"I also remember not being able to eat properly for days because of your little tantrums."
He kicked her in the stomach again.
"Well then. Deciding your punishment just got a whole lot easier."
Lee Dongwoo smiled coldly and whispered into Lee Jihyun's ear.
"Tonight, you're going to be my punching bag. I'll use your stomach as a sandbag and kick it until I fall asleep. Fair, don't you think?"
With that, he kicked Lee Jihyun over onto the floor. Then he jerked his chin toward Yoo Jimin.
"And you. Lick this room clean so my new punching bag doesn't get dirty. Right now."
The sudden reversal left Yoo Jimin's brain unable to process the sentence. She had been expecting — hoping for — the relatively merciful punishment of becoming a footrest, instead of that filthy cleaning job. The words simply would not compute. She blurted out something stupid before she could stop herself.
"Huh?"
"Why."
Lee Dongwoo turned his head slowly at the question. There was no emotion on his face at all. Just the cold stare of a man looking at a lower life form that could not comprehend simple instructions.
"You don't want to?"
Those three words froze the air in the room solid. A cold sweat cascaded down Yoo Jimin's spine. Don't want to? There was no universe in which she could say those words. She slammed her forehead to the floor in a panic.
"N-no! Absolutely not! I'll do it right now... right now!"
She shouted it as she prepared to stick out her tongue toward the floor. Han Seoyeon's blood and fragments of teeth. Lee Jihyun's shit stains. The mere thought of it made her gag, but she had no choice.
Lee Dongwoo clicked his tongue, as if her groveling actually irritated him.
"No."
"While I'm kicking my punching bag, you keep my other foot from getting bored. Lick the top of it."
He spoke with the arrogance of a king bestowing a duty upon a subject.
"And as for cleaning this room—"
His gaze shifted to Lee Jihyun, who was already on the floor, waiting to become a punching bag.
"You do it. In between getting your stomach kicked in, lick the floor clean."
That was the rule of this room. Dangle hope, then snatch it away. Grip a human soul and shake it until it came apart. He was the cruelest of masters, and the most perfect of trainers.
"Y-yes!"
Yoo Jimin's mind reeled between the relief of having survived and the humiliation already bearing down on her. She crawled toward Lee Dongwoo's shoe and flattened herself against the floor.
Slowly, she stuck out her tongue. The gleaming black leather of his shoe waited. Her pink tongue met the cold surface of the hide. She licked. Licked, and licked again. Like a dog. Like a maid. She began polishing her master's shoe with her own saliva.
Lee Dongwoo showed not the slightest reaction. He simply sat on the sofa. While Yoo Jimin licked the top of one foot, he began tapping Lee Jihyun's stomach with the other — tap, tap — as she lay prone on the floor. Lightly, for now. Almost playfully.
"Kh...!"
A short groan burst from Lee Jihyun's mouth. She lifted her head and looked at the floor. Han Seoyeon's blood and spit. Fragments of teeth scattered across the tiles. And a little farther off, the traces of her own earlier excretion. All of it. With her tongue.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Then, just as Yoo Jimin had done, she stuck out her tongue toward the floor. The first thing it touched was the cold, hard tile. And then, immediately after, something slick and metallic. Han Seoyeon's blood.
She fought back the urge to vomit with everything she had and moved her tongue. She licked up the blood. She swallowed the filthy dust.
This was today's punishment. To be a punching bag, kicked over and over, while simultaneously cleaning every scrap of filth in the room with her own tongue.
This was the beginning of hell.
Her tongue stung. The floor was cold, and the fine dust and grime packed into the grout between the tiles ravaged every taste bud she had. Lee Jihyun gave up on thinking. She simply moved her tongue mechanically, wiping the floor as she went.
Tap.
From the sofa, Lee Dongwoo's foot brushed lightly against her lower abdomen. It was a contact devoid of any feeling, like pressing the switch on a toy. Lee Jihyun's shoulder flinched. But she did not stop. She kept licking the floor. If she stopped, worse pain would follow. She stretched her tongue out again toward the tiles, slick with Han Seoyeon's blood and spit.
Thud.
This time there was more force behind it. A dull sound, and a heavy impact slammed into her lower belly.
"Hngh."
A short moan leaked from her lips.
Lee Dongwoo was looking at his phone. He tapped at the screen as if playing a game, occasionally kicking Lee Jihyun in the stomach — steady and indifferent, like keeping time with his foot.
Thud.
Suddenly, the rhythm changed. He started putting his weight behind the kicks.
"Ghhk!"
The air was forced from Lee Jihyun's lungs. Her vision went white for an instant. Her tongue faltered, stopping of its own accord.
"Your cleaning's slowing down."
Lee Dongwoo spoke quietly, without taking his eyes off his phone.
Yoo Jimin heard every bit of it as she licked the top of his other foot. The dull impacts. Lee Jihyun's stifled groans. She felt her own saliva running dry and licked her master's shoe even more desperately.
Thud! Crunch!
Lee Dongwoo's kicks grew rougher and rougher. This was no longer casual. This was malice, plain and simple. Pain that shook her organs crashed over her in waves. Inside her stomach, she could feel the filthy waste she had been forced to swallow earlier starting to come back up.
And then her limit arrived. The moment his shoe slammed into her solar plexus.
"Bleeegh—!"
Lee Jihyun vomited onto the floor — a filthy slurry of bile and everything she had swallowed.
"Ah."
Only then did Lee Dongwoo look up from his phone, gazing down at the fresh filth on the floor. He sighed, as if it were an inconvenience.
"You made a mess."
He grabbed Lee Jihyun by the hair and shoved her face into the vomit she had just produced.
"Lick it up. What comes out of that trap of yours is yours to clean."
Once again, her nose was buried in her own vomit. The sour, nauseating stench hit her even harder than before.
Lee Jihyun closed her eyes. Don't think. If you think, you'll actually die.
She moved her tongue again. She scooped up the filthy things her own stomach had expelled and swallowed them once more. She was no longer human. She was nothing more than a living rag, cleaning the floor of this room.
"How well-behaved."
Lee Dongwoo murmured with satisfaction as he watched. He stretched, as if bored, and left his foot in Yoo Jimin's care as she licked the top of it, then pulled off his shoe. A black sock was revealed. He peeled that off as well and tossed it aside. His bare foot appeared — white, clean. He extended it toward Yoo Jimin's face.
Yoo Jimin's breath caught. Instead of leather, her master's bare skin was right in front of her. A faint smell of sweat. But even that smell was fragrant compared to Lee Jihyun's vomit. She hesitated for a moment. A bare foot. What was she supposed to do with it?
"What are you doing."
Lee Dongwoo's voice snapped her back. She stuck out her tongue again. This time, instead of cold leather, the sensation of warm, soft flesh. She began licking devotedly, from the sole of his foot to each individual toe. She did not miss the grit caught between them, sweeping it away with her tongue.
This was her role for the night. To make her master's feet as clean as they could possibly be.
Yoo Jimin's tongue moved mechanically. The sole of her master's foot. The heel. Then the top again. She licked thoroughly, coating his bare foot in her saliva. She could hear Lee Jihyun licking up vomit beside her, but she forced herself to ignore it. Right now, her own survival came first.
"Stop."
At the quiet word, Yoo Jimin's tongue froze. She lifted her head to find Lee Dongwoo looking down at her with a bored expression. He wiggled his foot in front of her face.
"Just licking is boring, don't you think?"