'그 손가락' 일러스트레이터는 참교육 당합니다. - 11
A moment later,
While Jiseong and the other men finished securing Hayan, Seongcheol wrapped up his own preparations.
In one hand, Seongcheol held a blowtorch; in the other, a pair of pliers.
Clamped in the jaws of the pliers was a thin strip of iron, about the length of a finger.
"What are you planning to do with that?" Jiseong asked.
"Remember when I said I was going to rip her fingernails out?" Seongcheol replied, sparking the blowtorch to heat the metal strip.
"Yeah, you did."
"Yep, I'm pulling them out. With this. But in a slightly different way."
"Can you really pull a nail out with that?..." Jiseong stared at Seongcheol, looking thoroughly confused.
"I saw something interesting on the internet the other day. It's a pretty novel method, so you can look forward to it."
The iron strip glowed a fierce, incandescent red under the intense heat.
Holding the pliers with the glowing metal, Seongcheol approached Hayan.
"M-my... my u-utewus... i-it's fweezing... fweezing... *hic*... p-please put it back in..."
Meanwhile, Hayan was thrashing in agony, bound tightly to the chair.
The reason was her Uterine Prolapse. Forced out from between her thighs, the exposed organ had frozen solid along with the moisture of her urine, sticking fast to the cold metal of the chair.
She looked like a pathetic puppy on a freezing winter day, its tongue hopelessly stuck to a metal lamppost after a foolish lick.
"Her cunt's going to be completely ruined at this rate," Seongcheol muttered, frowning slightly.
"I'll put this back in first." Seongcheol spoke with casual indifference, as if handling a mere object.
"Aw, come on, it looks so good out like that. Why not leave it?"
"A prolapsed uterus is hot as fuck."
"How often do you get to see a real uterine prolapse in your life?"
Many of the men gathered here to help Hayan make her "acting debut" were hardcore otaku.
Lately, the hottest topic in the hardcore subculture community was, without a doubt, uterine prolapse.
They say trends shape tastes; indeed, many of them stared in awe at the grotesque, hyper-realistic sight of Hayan's exposed womb.
"I mean, yeah, but..." Seongcheol hesitated for a moment, hearing their protests.
In truth, it did feel like a waste to just stuff it back in.
It wasn't like the neat, smooth pink flesh neatly dangling from a vagina in typical hentai.
Strictly speaking, it was hideous, resembling the grotesque tongue of some alien beast.
The vaginal walls, which should have been a healthy pink, were bruised and discolored from the freezing cold and relentless violence.
The surface was bumpy and ridged, like the segmented back of a caterpillar.
It made sense, considering the vaginal canal is naturally lined with transverse rugae.
Furthermore, the deep crevices were split open, raw and bleeding.
The delicate tissue had torn apart under the sheer brutality of their sexual abuse.
To any normal person, it would be a sight of pure horror and disgust.
But before reaching Hayan, these men had already raped and murdered several women—no, females—and feminist trash.
Thanks to that, they had developed a late-blooming taste for ryona.
To a ryona enthusiast, Hayan's mangled, prolapsed womb was a gourmet feast.
And that wasn't all.
Yellowish-white pus was beginning to ooze from the torn, gaping flesh.
It certainly didn't smell good.
Of course, depending on the person, some might actually find it appealing.
Sensation, after all, is entirely subjective.
To the men surrounding Hayan, who fell squarely into the latter category, the stench of her dying sex was nothing more than an aphrodisiac spice to whet their appetites.
"Still, since we need her cunt for 'business,' it's probably best to put it back inside for now," Jiseong chimed in.
True to his background as a businessman, Jiseong calculated the most efficient way to maximize the utility of Hayan's body.
Consuming an asset immediately through rape was a temptation hard to resist, but sometimes, preserving the asset for long-term use was the smarter economic move.
Besides, they had absolutely no intention of nursing her back to health just to rape her again.
If they wanted to salvage a ruined, worn-out whore, they would have run a women's shelter or a brothel.
Though, realistically, those two weren't all that different anyway.
"True. Since she's for 'business,' I'll store it away for now."
Agreeing with Jiseong, Seongcheol reached out with his red-gloved hand and brutally grabbed Hayan's dangling, prolapsed womb.
"Ah... ahg... gyah...?!?!&*@#(!!"
With a wet, tearing sound, Hayan's prolapsed tissue ripped away from the freezing metal chair, leaving chunks of her mucous membrane stuck to the steel.
"Oh, fuck..."
"That's gotta hurt like a bitch..."
Watching her insides get torn to shreds, a few of the men winced and instinctively clutched their own crotches.
It seemed to prove that men, too, possessed plenty of that "empathy" women so love to boast about.
"Ugh... gyaaaaah?!?!@&*&*(@"
Without hesitation, Seongcheol shoved the mass of flesh back between her thighs with all his might.
Along with the prolapsed womb, Seongcheol's entire fist sank deep into Hayan's soft, swollen mound.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a brutal fisting.
"Fuck, why does it keep trying to slide back out..." Seongcheol grunted, struggling to pull his fist free from her tight grip.
"Heugh... egheg... egheg..."
Perhaps triggered by the bizarre orgasm born of sheer, unadulterated agony, Hayan's dying, near-necrotic vagina greedily clamped down on Seongcheol's fist.
"Eheh... ugh... ugh..."
The dull ache of blood vessels ruptured by frostbite combined with a strange, scratching ecstasy, tearing through her shattered mind.
"G-g-go... eheh... ahg..."
While Seongcheol wrestled to free his fist from her clamping, spasming flesh, Hayan's face contorted into a vacant, drooling ahegao, lost in the overwhelming sensations.
Only after several minutes of struggling did Seongcheol finally manage to wrench his hand free.
"Holy shit, I thought my hand was in a blood pressure cuff," Seongcheol muttered, massaging his sore knuckles, thoroughly impressed by the tightness of her grip.
A short while later,
Seongcheol reheated the iron strip, which had cooled down during his struggle with her pelvis.
"W-what... what are you... what are you doing... ah..."
The glowing metal slowly advanced toward Hayan's thumb.
The searing heat radiating from the iron flickered against the tip of her thumb like a serpent's tongue tasting its prey.
"Torture," Seongcheol answered flatly.
"Come on, don't use such scary words. It's education. We're just educating a stupid bitch."
"Can you really educate an animal, though?"
"Sure. Even dogs learn to give you their paw when you tell them to. No matter how much of a brainless feminist she is, she should be capable of basic training."
"Hmm... honestly, I think a dog would be easier to train..."
"Haha! That's why real education is so hard. That's why they call it 'true education.'"
"True, true. True education... what a concept."
The men chatted amiably, sharing a warm, friendly laugh amidst the horror.
"Hey, Hayan. Do you know why I chose your thumb of all fingers?"
"I d-don't... ah... GYAAAAAAAH!!!"
The glowing tip of the white-hot iron slowly slid under her thumbnail.
"You see, the thumb is the most essential finger for humans to build civilization and use tools."
"Gyah... gyaaaah! It hurts! It hurts so much! Mommy!"
Despite Seongcheol's friendly explanation, Hayan could only shriek in agony, her ruined sex squelching as it pumped out a mixture of pus and vaginal fluids.
"Just imagine how hard it would be to grab things or use tools without a thumb."
"Gyaaaah! Save me! Mommy! It hurts too much!"
Seongcheol slowly pried the hot metal up and down, widening the gap between her nail and the raw flesh beneath.
"It'd be incredibly inconvenient, right? That's why the thumb is packed with nerve endings. It needs to be highly sensitive to be useful. Which means..."
"It hurts!!! Please stop! Mommy! Daddy! Help me! Mommaaaa!"
When she had dedicated herself to feminism, she had proudly declared that a true feminist knows neither family nor siblings.
She had cut all ties with her family. Yet, the moment she was subjected to unimaginable agony, the first people she cried out for were the very mother and father she had once despised as patriarchal relics.
Naturally, they were not coming.
"Shoving something under here is going to hurt like absolute hell. Yeah. There are twice as many nerves concentrated here compared to almost anywhere else."
Instead of her parents, the only things waiting for Hayan were Seongcheol's pure malice and the searing heat of the iron.
"Gyaaaah! Gyaaaah! Someone! Someone save me! I'm dying! I'm really gonna die!"
"She's still begging for her life."
"Must still have it too easy."
"She'll be begging us to kill her soon enough anyway."
The men sneered, thoroughly enjoying the music of Hayan's desperate screams.
"Gah... gah..."
Hayan's eyes rolled back, her teeth grinding together with a sickening crunch.
The sheer intensity of the pain had paralyzed her diaphragm, leaving her unable to even scream properly.
Bloody tears, forced out by her skyrocketing blood pressure, welled in her white-rimmed eyes, and bloody foam bubbled from her clenched teeth. She was a picture of pure, wretched ruin.
Regardless of her state,
"Gyahg... gyahg..."
The iron strip kept pushing forward.
In response to the sudden, extreme heat and trauma, Hayan's immune system sounded a frantic alarm, rushing bodily fluids to her fingertip.
Her thumb swelled rapidly, oozing yellow fluid from the roasting flesh.
"Gyah... g-g-g... grrrggh..."
The iron tore through her flesh, the heat instantly cauterizing the wound, only for the metal to push deeper, ripping the nail bed apart once more.
Blood and pus welled up from the torn flesh, boiling against the hot metal before being sealed shut by fresh burns, only to be ripped open again as the iron advanced.
Pain piled upon pain, until—
"G-gh..."
With a weak, breathless groan, the iron strip finally reached the deepest part of the nail bed, right against the bone of her thumb.
"Grrr... g-g-g..."
Unfortunately for Hayan, and fortunately for the men, she had not yet lost consciousness. She couldn't.
Seongcheol flicked the end of the iron strip embedded under her nail with his finger, sending agonizing vibrations straight into the exposed nerves of her nail root.
"Ahg."
"Ghh."
"Gyahg."
Each time he flicked the metal, Hayan's entire body convulsed in short, violent spasms, as if a button were being repeatedly pressed.
With every spasm, her near-necrotic sex spat out thick, pus-laden fluids.
Seongcheol smirked, thoroughly amused by her reactions, and then—
"Ugh... gyaaaah?!?!@#()*aaah?!@!#(&*"
He yanked the iron strip upward with all his strength.
With a wet, tearing sound, the remaining flesh holding the nail in place peeled away, shredding nerves and skin alike.
A torrent of pooled blood and pus gushed from beneath the torn-off nail root.
"Ahg... gyah?!@() ahhh, ugh???"
Hayan's screams had devolved entirely, no longer sounding human, but rather like the broken, incoherent wails of a dying beast.
A human fingernail is rooted much deeper than most realize.
As Hayan's thumbnail was pried upward, the flesh just above the joint of her thumb tore away entirely.
The pale, bloodless nail stood completely exposed amidst the shredded flesh, revealing the raw pink nail bed beneath, which rapidly darkened to a bruised, blackish-red.
"Ah... ahg... grrrggh..."
Hayan thrashed her head from side to side, bloody foam bubbling from her lips.
Her mind desperately tried to reject the agonizing pain radiating from her thumb, but the sensation was far too vivid to escape.
Seongcheol grabbed the nail, which was now hanging by a mere thread of flesh, and ripped it completely off.
"G-gah..."
With her nail severed from her body, Hayan's head slumped forward, dropping like a puppet with its strings cut.