Karma (5)
"Ah?"
His mouth had fallen slightly open—and through that gap, a tongue slithered in like a tentacle. Thick and long, their tongues coiled together, though it was less a kiss than a one-sided plunder. She drank his saliva as if it belonged to her alone.
"Mmwahhh~♡ Mmwahhhh~♡"
"Mmphhh...! Nngh...!"
Was Jiwoo's tongue always this good...? The thought flickered through him unbidden. Her technique was a contradiction—rough yet impossibly silken—and the pleasure it wrung from him was so relentless he felt he might come from this alone.
But there was something Hanbyul didn't know.
This was a bribe. A scrap of false hope, dangled before a punishment far more severe.
Sluuurp...♡
A glistening thread of saliva stretched between them with a filthy wet sound. Jiwoo sucked it back into her mouth and swallowed.
"Does that feel fucking good?"
"Huh?"
Slap.
"I said, does it feel fucking good. Huh? Why are you zoning out again..♡"
"Haaahn..."
Hanbyul clutched his cheek like a wounded little animal, his eyes welling up. Tear tracks already glistened on his skin—he'd been crying, then.
"Did you cry?"
And Jiwoo wanted those tear tracks too. She lapped them up. Lick. Lick. The lewd little sounds that filled the room were unlike anything she usually made, and every one of them sent a crawl of dread down Hanbyul's spine.
Her hand settled on his pants, groping, kneading through the fabric.
"Hyaaah..!!!"
In a single motion her hand slipped inside and closed around the head of his cock. His hips jerked off the floor of their own accord, his whole body shuddering so hard his teeth nearly chattered.
The sight of him like that—so vulgar, so broken, those wet little sobs spilling out of him—drew a thick, throaty moan from Jiwoo.
"Khhhnngh~♡"
She was dripping. Her body, already wound tight from touching him, was soaked through at the crotch. She rose from the floor for a moment, just long enough to ease the ache between her thighs...
"Alright. Now we start for real…"
"Kh-hhk..!!!"
He saw his chance. He scrambled across the floor on all fours, crawling for the threshold, already bracing himself for the hand that would close around his ankle from behind—
"Huh..?"
She didn't grab him at all. She just stood there with her arms folded, watching him with languid, unhurried amusement.
Her stillness unnerved him, but the thought that this might be his only chance—that if he didn't get out now he never would—drove him to the doorknob. He yanked it.
Click.
"Huh?"
Click. Click.
The door wouldn't open.
He'd been moving on pure panic, his body barely obeying him, and it took far too long for the fact to sink in. The door was locked. It had been locked the entire time.
"Hanbyul. Looking for this?"
She twirled her fingers with a bright little jingle. A keyring dangled from them.
"Why were you trying to run? Why? Do you hate me? Are you sick of me? Why the hell would you try to run? You were enjoying it too. Weren't you? You fucking piece of shit."
Every sentence ended on a question, each one twisting the knife of how unfair this was—how unfair he was being. Her bare feet peeled off the living room floor and settled again, a slow, unhurried slap of skin on wood as she came toward him.
"You really haven't learned a thing."
Her face was a blank. Not anger. Not hurt. Nothing at all. She closed the distance, fisted a hand in his collar, and hauled him up.
"You wanted to leave me that badly?"
"Nnh... n-nooo.."
"Fuck!!! What do you mean, no?!!"
She raked a hand through her hair—then ripped at it, hard, until the dark strands stood up in wild disarray. The mess of it said everything her face refused to.
She looked down at the man trembling in front of her with that same empty, expressionless stare. Her grip shifted from his collar to his throat, squeezing just enough to force his eyes up to hers.
The moment their gazes locked, her other hand rose into the air. And then—
"If your wife."
Slap.
"Tells you something."
Slap.
"You listen."
Slap.
"That's how it."
Slap.
"Should be."
Slap.
She struck him across the face with every word.
"Hm? Hanbyul? It hurts my heart too, you know, hitting you like this. And I'm swallowing that pain just so I can educate you. So why won't you even pretend to understand? What are your ears plugged with? Want me to bore them open with an ice pick?"
He knew that temperament of hers—the one that would burn the whole house down without a second thought. Both his hands flew up and clamped around the wrist at his throat.
"I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry.. Jiwoo..."
"What should I do?"
She murmured it as if talking to herself, her gaze dropping away from him.
"Hanbyul just won't learn. What am I supposed to do with him? Drug addiction? If I get him addicted, he'll depend on the drugs instead of me... Should I gouge his eyes out? But then he couldn't look at me. I wouldn't mind, personally, but still... I want to see those adorable eyes of his... Ah, then what about cutting off his limbs? Amputation isn't really my taste, but wait—wouldn't that just make him my personal masturbation toy? Ah! I could just sew his limbs together instead..!"
"J-Jiwoo..?"
Hanbyul had heard every word. The color drained from his face in an instant, ashen and bloodless—and in perfect contrast, Jiwoo found her answer and smiled at him, bright and clear as morning.
"Hanbyul! I've got good news. I found a way...!"
"Th-that's... what are you..."
He stared at her, stunned that she could say something so deranged without the slightest hesitation—and then the world flipped. Whatever he'd been about to say vanished from his mind.
What...?
She twisted, and in one clean motion hurled him onto the bed.
WHUMP—!
It didn't hurt, but the sound was loud enough to jolt him senseless. He lay there spread-eagled, staring blankly at the ceiling. And standing over him was his Queen.
"Hanbyuuul~♡"
She wasn't wearing a scrap on top. The smooth lines of her torso, the modest swell of her breasts, all of it bare. Below, she'd already stripped down to nothing but her panties—and in one hand she held a length of red rope like a whip, snapping it taut with a sharp twang as she looked down at him, patient and implacable.
She looked like a torturer. He shoved himself upright and scrambled backward.
"D-don't..!"
"If you stay still, it won't hurt♡"
Her eyes were glossy with raw hunger as she climbed onto the bed.
"Stop iiit! I said stooop!!!"
One hand flew up to cover his own face. The other stretched out to keep her away. The difference in strength between a man and a woman was overwhelming—it was a futile, thrashing waste of effort. And yet something about the resistance must have landed, or perhaps the rope in her hand had simply kept her from pinning him properly, because she tossed it to the floor—
WHAM—!!!
—and drove her fist into him instead.
The punch sank deep into his gut. The air left his lungs in a single ruined gasp, and for a long moment he could only suck at nothing, mouth working like a fish. Spit flew from his lips like a spray of blood. His eyes rolled, unfocused, the whites showing as his body went slack—and for a few seconds, it seemed he'd actually passed out.
"See? Isn't it so much better when you stay still?♡"
She took his limp body in her hands and moved it like a marionette with its strings cut.
"You just had to make this a big deal..."
She undressed her husband with painstaking care.
"Haaah... Hanbyul's body. Isn't this way too lewd? I seriously want to keep every part of you as a souvenir♡"
She bound his arms with the red rope.
"You're only supposed to look at me..."
She bound his legs.
"So plump and soft... like a prime cut of meat♡"
She kept up a running commentary the entire time she trussed him. His legs were folded against his thighs the way a chicken is trussed for the pot, and his arms were bound so that his hands were pinned to his own shoulders. He couldn't go forward. He couldn't go back. He was hogtied in that grotesque, helpless posture like a prisoner of war—and the body that trembled there, pelvis tipped toward the ceiling, wasn't even a whole bird. It was nothing but a living dildo.
"Hanbyul~ Wake up~♡"
Yang Jiwoo leaned in and whispered it against his ear, her fingers brushing the shell of it.
"Nnnnh..?"
Hanbyul came to. He stared at himself—limbs bound, body folded, utterly sealed—for several blank seconds before the reality of it hit, and he lurched against the ropes in raw panic.
"W-what the hell is this...!!!"
"Heh-heh♡"
"M-more importantly, untie me..! What if Jia sees this?!"
Even now. Even like this. He was thinking of Jia before himself. And he'd already forgotten the door was locked.
How am I supposed to get through to this idiot...?
The habits of married life almost made her gentle with him. She caught herself.
Not anymore. I don't have to hold back anymore.
He needed to be re-educated—the way he had been when they were dating. No. It looked desperately, urgently overdue.
"It hurts, it hurts.. it huuurts...!"
He thrashed, and the knots started to give, so she cinched them tighter. The more he writhed, the more his cock swung and bounced, painting a picture so obscene she couldn't look away. She reached down and squeezed that unruly thing in a merciless fist.
"Aaaagh..!!!"
Hanbyul screamed. He was always so demure in daily life—so coy, so sweetly flirtatious—that the rawness of it felt startlingly, deliciously new.
"W-wait..! Wh-what are you doing! Jiwoo... l-let go!"
She fisted a hand in his hair and dragged his head forward, lining his mouth up where she wanted it. She was going to make him eat her out.
Right now, Yang Jiwoo was educating the person she loved. And in this moment, it was as if she had every right in the world to use him however she pleased.
"Jiwoo.. please.. don't do this…. Ghhk?!"
"Yap yap yap. Shut up."
WHAM—!
"Urgh.. uggghhk..."
A fist in the gut, and the screaming stopped.
All that time I spent desperately trying to persuade him, to make him understand—I feel like an idiot. I should have done this from the start...
THUD—!!!
"Uwek!!! Kh-hhk... ghk..! Mmph.. ghhk.."
She hit him in the stomach again. He went limp, piss spraying from him in a helpless arc, his hips twitching and trembling like a dog's while his cock swayed with every spasm.
"Hanbyul... this is so filthy. You'll clean it up yourself later, won't you?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she thought how cruel they were.
"Aah... you can't do a single thing by yourself now, can you...? What's a rag worth if it can't even hold a rag?"
"S-stop iiit..♡"
She'd been grinding her foot down on his cock, pressing and pressing, when he found enough strength to lift his head.
"I'll forgive you even now... this is abuse.. this is something a married couple should never do...!"
He put everything he had into it—pleading, bargaining, thrashing against the ropes—and the sight of him like that was...
Way too cute♡
A trickle of her juices spilled down her thigh.
"As if I'd forgive you..? But Hanbyul. Are you really in any position to be saying that? You genuinely have no capacity to learn, do you..."
She dragged her hand along his cock in one long, slow stroke—from the swollen head all the way down to the root. It had gone stiff from nothing more than reflex, standing up despite everything she'd done to him.
"Hwooooh..! S-stooop..♡"
"See? This is what I'm talking about. You're in no position to be running your mouth at me right now. I'm educating you. Did you forget? You're nothing but a slave. A filthy dog. So how exactly do you figure you get to talk to me like that?"
Even now. Even after all of this. He still didn't understand where he stood. She couldn't tell if he was stubborn or just stupid.
It didn't matter. She had time. More than enough of it. Time to burn.
"If I work you over until even an idiot like you gets it through your thick skull, maybe you'll finally understand♡"
"D-don't..!"