Pilates Instructor Park Min-a: Uterus Tanghulu - Part 6
"Hic... sob..."
Beneath Min-a's navel, deep within her Y-zone, were two dark bruises. In the center of each bruise lay a tiny, crimson dot.
They were the puncture wounds from the needles used to harvest her eggs.
To be honest, rape didn't phase her all that much.
Truth be told, even her first sexual experience had been a forced encounter, a "hazing" of sorts by a popular upperclassman in college.
Losing her ada to a forced encounter hadn't actually felt that bad.
In fact, when her slutty friends whispered in her ear that "these days, people think you're weird if you don't have any experience with guys," she had felt a secret sense of pride.
Since then, she had lived as promiscuously as any other average girl her age, so having her cunt taken a few more times was hardly a big deal.
Under normal circumstances, even if she were raped, she would have merely felt a passing annoyance and regret over the unpaid transaction, thinking, Ah, fuck, I just gave away a freebie.
But things were different now.
Min-a had lost all of her eggs.
At her age, she had suddenly been thrust into menopause.
She was a woman who had spent her precious youth using her cunt as currency and a weapon.
Her ultimate backup plan had been to launch a pregnancy trap, snagging a successful man to clean up her mess and support her for life.
But she could never do that now.
She was no longer a woman.
Because she had no eggs left.
For someone whose entire brain was wired around peddling her pussy, losing her fertility meant the absolute destruction of any future prospects.
It was like having a highly liquid, blank check—one she could have cashed in at any moment—ripped from her hands.
"Why is this bitch crying so much?"
"Who knows? I don't get it either. It's not like a womb with a history of abortions would produce anything but a monster anyway. She should be grateful, but instead... I really don't know what goes through women's heads these days."
"Do women even have brains to think with?"
"Well, that's true..."
Young-ho chatted amiably with Pastor Kang as he wrapped up his work.
"So, can we use 'what's left' now?"
Seeing that Young-ho was finished, Pastor Kang licked his lips and broached the subject.
"Yes, go ahead."
Young-ho gave his permission.
"You heard the doctor, boys. You can take your turns now."
Pastor Kang addressed the crowd.
"Yes, Pastor."
"Thanks for the feast!"
The homeless men sneered as they closed in on Min-a.
"Would you care to join us for a round, Doctor?"
Pastor Kang offered.
Internally, Young-ho recoiled. Who knows what kind of diseases a filthy slut like her has? Syphilis? Herpes?
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
However, not wanting to openly show his disgust after Pastor Kang had been so hospitable, he managed to maintain a polite, neutral expression.
"Hmm, well... I always feel like I'm in your debt. Is there anything else you might need? It might not look like much here, but we have just about everything."
Pastor Kang offered once more.
"Well, in that case..."
After a moment of thought, Young-ho said,
"I'll take that one."
He pointed toward the woman impaled on the spit, who was still barely breathing.
"That one? Her body is pretty thoroughly wrecked, you know..."
"Well, some people only buy completely beat-up used cars, don't they? Personally, I find it easier to use them up and just throw them away."
"I feel a bit bad giving you such junk... but if that's what you want."
"Don't worry about it. I'm the one receiving a gift."
Young-ho replied cheerfully and walked over to the 'living one.'
He roughly pulled the severed breast out of her mouth.
"Ki-kill me... P-please... Please just kill me..."
As soon as the flesh gagging her was removed, her desperate pleas for death burst forth once again.
"Don't worry. I'll make good use of you first, and then I'll kill you."
At Young-ho's promise of death, a brief flicker of hope crossed the woman's face.
"Th-thank you... Thank you so much..."
She muttered, grinning like a lunatic.
"Now, let's see..."
Young-ho surveyed the female body impaled on the spit.
"First, I'll have to take this out."
He grabbed her by the armpits and hoisted her upward.
As her diaphragm, which had been crushed against her lungs by the metal pipe, snapped back into place, a grotesque, guttural belch escaped her throat.
"The uterus..."
As the metal pipe slid out of her cunt, her vagina and uterus, which had been pushed deep inside, suddenly slipped and prolapsed outward.
The vaginal canal was severely torn, split horizontally along its natural folds.
With utter indifference, Young-ho balled his hand into a fist and shoved the uterine prolapse back inside her body.
Young-ho's fist plunged ruthlessly into her cunt, fisting her deep, which once again compressed her diaphragm.
"Groan..." "Gasp..." Grotesque, choked gasps and belches erupted from her.
Having put her back into a somewhat usable shape, Young-ho loaded the woman into his van and drove off.
The woman would eventually come to bitterly regret not dying slowly on that spit, but that was a story for another time.
Meanwhile, Min-a was already being raped.
"Aaaah! No! Stop!"
Min-a thrashed and screamed like a wild animal, but it was entirely futile.
"Hey, your life is over anyway, you fucking bitch."
"You can't even get pregnant now that all your eggs are gone."
"Just enjoy it, you cunt. It's not like you're even a real woman anymore."
"Ah... gasp! Aaagh!"
Animalistic wails tore from Min-a's throat with every thrust and blow as the men subjected her to a relentless barrage of violence and sexual abuse.
"Ah... sob... It hurts! My cunt hurts so much! Stop shoving it in! Stop fucking my ruined cunt, please!!!!"
Because they had forced a speculum inside her without any lubrication, stretching her internal muscles to the tearing point, her vaginal canal was a shredded mess of lacerations.
Against her bruised, black-and-blue mons pubis, the homeless men's cocks—bumpy and ridged with venereal warts like spiked clubs—shoved in and out.
Every time those diseased ridges scraped against her raw vaginal lining, a searing, white-hot agony shot up her spine.
"Ah... screams! My cunt! My cunt is tearing! Don't rip it apart!!!"
Min-a shrieked with everything she had, her disheveled hair whipping around her face like a banshee's.
"You dumb bitch, a woman's cunt doesn't rip that easily."
"A worn-out sleeve like yours is making a fuss over nothing. Fucking drama queen."
The men continued to degrade her.
They squeezed her breasts until they were swollen and bruised.
They punched her directly in the stomach, right where her ruined uterus lay.
"Agh... gurgle?!?!?!&*(#!"
Her ovaries, already riddled with thick needle punctures, ruptured internally, sending a wave of agonizing spasms through her entire pelvic cavity.
The ovaries are the biological equivalent of a man's testicles; thus, the pain Min-a felt at that moment was easily comparable to having her balls crushed.
"Ah... gasp! Aaagh!"
Yet, it wasn't purely pain.
Just as Min-a's brain began to short-circuit from the sheer agony, the men softened their touch.
They began to slide their wart-covered cocks inside her in a slow, rhythmic pace.
Every time those diseased ridges bumped against her cervix, they stimulated her ruptured ovaries.
"Oh... gasp... Ah... ♡♡"
Her ruptured ovaries, as if under the illusion that there were still eggs left to release, began to spasm and contract.
They could no longer release anything into her fallopian tubes.
Instead, they merely leaked their remaining fluids through the needle punctures into her abdominal cavity, slowly shriveling up.
"Ah... gasp... Ah... ?!?!?!♡"
Her ovaries were slowly dying.
A dull, heavy ache that transcended mere physical pain throbbed deep within her lower abdomen.
That agony blended with the rhythmic, almost tender thrusts of the homeless men, melting into a twisted, perverse pleasure.
"Mmm... gasp... Hehe... Ah... ♡♡"
Her eyes rolled back as she dissolved into the hazy borderland between excruciating pain and intense orgasm.
"Ah... gasp... Ah... Hehe... ♡♡♡"
Perhaps as a defense mechanism to preserve her sanity, Min-a's brain began to hallucinate, tricking her into believing that these homeless men were actually the wealthy, handsome alpha males who had pumped and dumped her in the past.
The filthy faces of the vagrants began to look like those of handsome, elite men.
Delusional with the joy of being claimed by these "alpha males," she began to giggle like a madwoman. "Hahaha, hehehe..."
"Ah... gasp... Hehe... ♡♡"
Sensing that her expression was softening into pure ecstasy, the homeless men began to gently tickle her breasts and armpits.
"It tickles... It tickles... Hehehe... ♡♡"
Though her mouth was curled in a smile, her pupils were tightly constricted with terror and pain, giving her the look of a complete lunatic.
Every nerve in her body had dialed up its sensitivity to the absolute maximum in a desperate bid for survival.
Even the slightest draft of air felt like an agonizingly intense tickle.
The mammary glands inside her breasts were completely ruptured and swollen like clusters of bruised grapes.
Those swollen, hyper-sensitive glands rubbed against her fat and muscle, squeezing out a sticky mixture of excruciating pain and intense pleasure.
"Hehe... Ah... Hehehe... ♡♡"
Her convenient female brain was rewriting the reality of this brutal gang rape into a passionate, loving encounter, and translating the violence into tender foreplay.
"Hehe... Ah... Ah... gasp?!??!♡♡"
Min-a's eyes rolled back as her entire body shattered in a violent climax.
One of the homeless men pulled her close and began to slobber all over her mouth.
"No kissing... No kissing... I'm not your girlfriend, oppa... ♡♡"
Even in her broken state, she shook her head and tried to push his face away.
Even when she had sold her body like a piece of meat, she had always drawn the line at kissing.
It wasn't out of some sense of purity.
It was purely to preserve her pathetic pride: I'm not that cheap of a girl.
Of course, such petty pride meant absolutely nothing to these men.
"Ah... gasp!"
After a few hard slaps to the face, Min-a immediately fell back into a submissive, docile expression.
"Mmph... slurp... Mmm... ♡♡"
The vagrant mashed his mouth against hers without restraint.
Her lips and oral membranes, now reduced to mere sexual orifices, pumped dopamine directly into her brain.
With a wet, squelching sound of exchanging saliva, the last traces of her venomous arrogance peeled away from her face.
"Hehe... Hehehe..."
"Look at her face."
"I'm telling you, this is how you have to handle women. You have to rape them, beat them..."
"What, do you have a PhD in women's studies?"
"No, just an MBA."
"Well, you certainly know how to manage a cunt!"
"I still have a lot to learn."
The homeless men shared a warm, friendly laugh.
"Hehe... Hehehe..."
All the while, they kept taking turns, shoving one cock after another inside her, continuing the relentless gang rape.
Thick, sticky semen coated Min-a's bruised skin like a layer of varnish.
"Ah... gasp... Ah... ♡♡♡♡"
How many rounds had it been?
"Next."
"Oh... Oh... Ah... ♡♡"
Though her plump mons pubis was so swollen and battered that it was weeping blood and pus, Min-a felt utterly ecstatic.
Even if it was rape, these homeless men had a lifetime partner count that put the most active alpha males to shame.
When it came to pushing a woman to the brink of pain and pleasure, they were absolute maestros.
Like a twisted performance of the Kama Sutra, they constantly shifted positions and techniques, stacking climax upon climax, dragging her through endless peaks of ecstasy.
The alternating cycle of violence and stimulation thoroughly shattered her mind.
"I'm putting another one in."
While one man held Min-a close, working her cunt, another sneered and approached her from behind.
"Going for the anal?"
"No, anal is a bit much... I'm just going to double up."
The man hooked a finger into her vaginal opening and pried it open by force.
A sickening rip echoed as her vaginal entrance tore further.
"Ah... screams?! It won't fit! No!!!"
Only then did Min-a realize what they were trying to do, her eyes rolling back in sheer panic as she began to struggle.
But one of the men yanked her breast downward and threatened her.
"Keep thrashing and I'll rip this tit right off your chest."
She instantly went quiet.
"Mmm... gasp... Ah... ♡♡"
Two cocks thrust simultaneously inside her single vaginal canal.
Her overstretched vaginal muscles suddenly regained their tension, squeezing the two shafts as tightly as a blood pressure cuff.
"Oh... gasp... Ah... ♡♡"
She shuddered at the sheer intensity of the double penetration—a sensation she had never even experienced during her wild foursomes with tattooed gym trainers.
Several days passed like this.
"Oh... gasp... Ah... ♡♡"
How long had they been using her?
Min-a's cunt was completely raw, the inner flesh exposed and weeping.
Blood and pus dripped down her thighs, and flies buzzed around her groin.
Yet, her skin had become so hyper-sensitive that the mere sensation of flies landing and taking off from her flesh sent shivers of pleasure through her, making her swollen, black-and-blue breasts quiver.
"Well..."
"Yeah, she's completely broken now."
"This one's definitely done for, right?"
Watching the flies swarm around her, Pastor Kang and the homeless men held a brief discussion.
After a short consultation,
"Min-a."
"..."
They called out to her, but Min-a, still lost in the blissful afterglow of the gang rape, didn't hear them.
A moment later,
"Min-a."
"Ah... screams!!!"
Boiling water was poured directly onto one of her breasts, instantly snapping her back to reality with an agonizing shriek.
"Y-yes... Yes, Pastor... sob... I'll be good... I'll let you rape me as much as you want... I'll do any kind of sex... I won't complain, so please... please stop hurting me..."
Min-a fell to her knees, babbling incoherently as she begged Pastor Kang.
"Min-a."
"Yes, Pastor. Yes, I'll be good."
"Do you prefer tanghulu or malatang?"
"Huh...??"
Min-a blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden question.
"I asked if you prefer tanghulu or malatang."
"You fucking bitches love malatang and tanghulu, don't you?"
"We're letting you choose your favorite, so why the fuck are you just standing there? You want to die?"
"Hieee! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!!! sob..."
Terrified out of her wits, Min-a began rubbing her hands together in desperate supplication.
"Now, now, don't scare the poor girl."
Pastor Kang gently chided the other men.
"Or perhaps..."
Pastor Kang smiled warmly and offered another choice.
"That spot over there is empty... Do you like lamb skewers?"
"Hieee..."
Min-a's face drained of all color.
Pastor Kang was pointing at the metal pipe where the other woman had been impaled before Young-ho took her.
Realizing the horrific meaning of "lamb skewers," Min-a lost control of her bladder, and a stream of warm urine pooled beneath her buttocks.
"Lamb skewers and a Tsingtao beer, nothing beats that."
"And we've got a fresh little lamb right here. Perfect timing."
The homeless men chuckled, playing along with the joke.
"No!! I don't want lamb skewers!!... sob..."
Min-a's eyes darted around in sheer panic.
"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!!"
She threw herself to the ground, performing a frantic dogeza, slamming her forehead against the concrete over and over until it bled.
"Oh dear, sister, there's no need to be so dramatic."
Pastor Kang feigned shock and helped her up.
"I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Blood streamed down her face as she sobbed.
"I'm giving you a choice. Think carefully."
"Yes, Pastor. Yes, Pastor. I'll do anything. I'll do whatever you want."
"Malatang, or tanghulu. Choose."
"Ugh... sob..."
Min-a desperately tried to think through her hazy, concussed mind.
Malatang?
Malatang was spicy.
That sounded terrifying.
The only logical choice was...
"Tanghulu... I'll do tanghulu..."
Surely, sweet tanghulu would be better.
"Hmm... Well, no regrets, okay?"
Pastor Kang flashed a benevolent smile.
"Prepare the tanghulu!"
He commanded the men.
"Yes, Pastor!"
The homeless men began bringing out the ingredients.
A metal drum.
Sacks of sugar.
They set up the drum and poured the sugar inside.
They lit a fire underneath, slowly heating the drum.
The sugar began to melt.
Min-a was about to be turned into a living Uterus Tanghulu.