Imprint #026
“Ahh… Ah! Ahhng…!”
“Hoo….”
Gaon thrust into her depths again and again. Even after all this, the pleasure never grew familiar—it boiled his brain like bubbling lava. With each insertion, a fireball scorched through his body, amplifying the ecstasy. Chorim must feel it even more intensely, he thought. After all, this was truly her first time.
Gaon returned the warm breath tickling his ear, burying his face in her snowy nape.
Chuurp—
“Ahk!? G-Gaon….”
Her melting voice, the lewd moans that gripped and shook any man's composure—they all made his cock throb harder. Gaon sucked at her nape with wet pops while sliding the hand gripping her ass up her side, seizing one full, heaving breast. His fingers dug into flesh too abundant for one hand, kneading it fiercely. Soft meat spilled between his knuckles, delivering an indescribable bliss, while her stiff nipple scraped his palm.
“Hng! Th-there…! Ahhng—!”
Pussy and breasts. Stimulating a woman's two surefire erogenous zones at once drew a massive moan from Chorim. She flung her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist—an instinctive urge to take his cock deeper. Her upper body pressed tight against him now, making it hard to fondle her chest, but that was no issue. Chorim's body offered endless delights beyond her breasts.
Gaon seized her ass again and resumed his vigorous thrusts. Squelch, squelch—her pussy gulped his cock greedily amid the sticky sounds, and he punished it fiercely for its gluttony.
“Hoo… Miss Yi Cho-rin. Does it still hurt?”
At his sly question, Chorim pulled her face back slightly to meet his eyes. Shame colored her pleasure-flushed features as she cried out.
“…Why ask that!?”
“I wanted to hear it.”
“You're so mean… Gaon, you're bad.”
Silence was affirmation. Her moans alone proved she was enjoying this. He'd asked anyway just to see her embarrassed. Bad, huh? A little teasing didn't warrant that. Her words only stirred wicked impulses.
Gaon crushed her ass with bruising force and rocked her up and down, spearing toward her womb with piercing intensity. Splurt! Splurt! Splurt! His cock scraped out her juices on the withdrawal, then slammed back to batter her cervix with savage sounds.
The shock made Chorim's eyes fly wide, her mouth gaping.
“A… Ahhaaaang!! S-stop! G-Gaon! Go easy, pleeease…!”
“Go easy?”
His thrusts were violent enough to call brutal; her waist went slack, and she slumped against him, begging for mercy. When Gaon echoed her plea, she nodded frantically, tears welling.
“Y-yes! Please, ahk!? S-slower…!”
“I'm a bad man, so I can't. Sorry.”
Whether to evoke pity or overwhelmed by pleasure, her begging only fueled his sadism. Repaying her earlier words, he refused to slow, ravaging her pussy relentlessly. Her double-layered walls milked him with ruthless efficiency, granting staggering bliss. Gaon endured to the limit—balls swollen taut, faint prostate ache—before shoving deep into her cervix and unleashing.
Spuuuurt—
“Hk! Hnng… Hic!”
His cock pulsed wildly, painting her womb pure white. The thick, milky torrent breaching her cervix arched Chorim's head skyward; she loosed a near-fainting moan. Gaon steadied her hips to prevent collapse, burying his face in her jiggling mega-breasts with each twitch. Plush softness enveloped his face first, then her fresh, invigorating scent purified his lungs. He licked sweat beads from their coupling, bouncing his hips a few final times to finish.
As if waiting for that moment, Chorim collapsed atop him like a marionette with severed strings—still impaled, face nestled in his shoulder, gasping raggedly.
Gaon, too, was drained. This intense pleasure after so long had exhausted him physically and melted his regression-forged iron mind into mush. Their breaths mingled in harmony.
Savoring the pleasant night breeze, he gazed skyward—when Chorim pinched his forearm.
Gaon let out a low yelp. “Ow.”
“Ow? Ow yourself! I said go slow! I said stop, go easy! Why won't you listen!?”
Her soulless cry ignited her fury. With each word, her grip twisted his arm; her hands slapped and pinched his body everywhere. She paused only when her hand drifted downward to his side.
“Ah!”
“Miss Yi Cho-rin. That hurts quite a bit. Mind healing it?”
“…I didn't pinch!”
Chorim pinched his cheek and shook it—irritated by his cheekiness—before placing her hand on his side. Mana flowed from her palm, erasing the wound. As it healed, changes rippled through her pussy cradling his cock. Not regeneration like before, but absorbing semen to replenish mana—dissolving the sticky white globs trapped between her walls and his shaft. Once the viscous fluid vanished, slick juices alone coated her freshly smooth walls.
With his side fully mended, Chorim withdrew her hand—and resumed nagging.
“And just cumming like that? What if I get pregnant!?”
“You can absorb it.”
“Still risky! You'd take responsibility if I did!?”
The proper response here was promising not to do it again. But that would mean endless nagging ahead. Gaon counterattacked.
“If you get pregnant, I'll take responsibility.”
“……Ugh, urgh! Th-that's not it! You say you'll be careful next time!”
Flustered, Chorim flapped her mouth before shaking her head wildly and unleashing more scolding. But Gaon never let seized opportunities slip. He was a master at latching onto words.
“So you'll do it again next time?”
“Th-that's not— Argh, anyway, you get me?”
“Yes. Understood. Next time, outside.”
“Not that! No next time at all! Handle it yourself!”
Dialogue failing, an enraged Chorim declared unilaterally and tried rising to disengage. Gaon thought: No more sex from now on.
This was his sole chance at her virgin membrane. It wouldn't return. He couldn't stop here.
Judging thus, Gaon grabbed her waist and yanked downward forcefully.
Thud—
“Ahk!?”
The cervix-smashing impact gaped her mouth. Confusion clouded her eyes, rejecting the reality. Meeting them, Gaon whispered.
“Seems the wounds aren't fully healed. Need more mana.”
“W-wait! Healing's alrea—”
Squelch!
“Ahhaang!!”
Chorim tried speaking, but Gaon gave no quarter. He seized the moment, pounding her pussy diligently.
***
“So, to sum up—it's not precise, but we can't leave a certain range. Goblins to the north, orcs to the east. Right?”
“Yes. Correct. Northeast unexplored, but based on current intel, that's the conclusion.”
“Hmm… I see.”
Park Gyu-wan stroked his chin, lost in thought at the scouting leaders' report. Late thirties, he enjoyed games and subcultures—thus recognizing the pattern. Like a game: easy foes first, escalating difficulty. Goblins and orcs were starter fodder. What after a month of survival? What trials awaited?
We must prepare.
With faction unification complete, stockpile strength by hunting slowly. So Park Gyu-wan thought—but the world rarely obliged.
—What? Stop!
—Move! We're in a hurry!!
Commotion outside. All eyes turned as the tent flap parted, revealing a figure.
“Kim Min-jun?”
“Boss! Disaster!”
Park Gyu-wan rose slowly; Kim Min-jun rushed in, ghost-pale and screaming. Sweat-soaked, dirtied as if rolled on the ground.
“Disaster? Where's everyone else?”
Kim Min-jun led Squad 1, reinforced by Squad 3 support. Yet he was alone. At Park Gyu-wan's question amid ill omens, words poured like a machine gun.
“All wiped out! Everyone but me! I tried saving them, but couldn't alone. We need revenge!”
“All? Weren't there just two?”
He'd even named known allies—no worries then. Total annihilation? Unbelievable. Confirmation drew a headshake.
“Thought so, but more comrades!”
“Comrades?”
“Yes! Near goblin territory. Sudden ambush—no choice.”
“Goblin territory….”
Park Gyu-wan doubted. Settling near goblins? Odd. Lake there, sure, but too risky. No reason to insist. Yet not pure lies—ten scouts. Combat capable, not elites but no pushovers. Two ambushing ten strained belief.
Sensing Park Gyu-wan's doubt, Kim Min-jun pressed: staying quiet meant failure.
“Dispatch combat squads now! They killed my comrades—revenge! We're Shin Segye! Ignore challengers!?”
“Kim Min-jun. Calm down.”
“Calm? All dead but me! Even your favorite Cheon Jae-hee! This isn't just revenge—it's war!”
“War” stirred murmurs. Scouts aside, combat and logistics leaders present—combat squads buzzed agreement: can't ignore.
Park Gyu-wan rubbed his temple, voice edged with anger. “Kim Min-jun. I said calm.”
Killing intent laced it. Usually mild for a thug, but enraged—unstoppable cruelty. Knowing this, Kim Min-jun silenced.
Tent hushed; Park Gyu-wan slammed the desk, drawing eyes, then ended the meeting.
“Dismissed. Continue tomorrow. Everyone out but Kim Min-jun.”
No point prolonging. Mood ruined—focus shifted to revenge over expansion.
All filed out, leaving Kim Min-jun. Park Gyu-wan massaged temples, sighed—then snatched his collar.
Thud!
Slammed head to desk, he growled in his ear. “…Kim Min-jun.”
“…Yes, boss.”
“Special pass this once. Be grateful for your useful ability.”
“…….”
Park Gyu-wan sensed ulterior motives, con-man tells: sweaty palms, averted eyes—never over three seconds.
Damn….
Word spread faction-wide. Leniency would shatter morale, discipline. War inevitable.
Irked by derailed plans, Park Gyu-wan flung him down and sat.
“Out.”
“Yes, boss.”
Kim Min-jun fled like embers on feet.
Silence reigned. Park Gyu-wan reviewed battle plans.
And next morning—Cheon Jae-hee returned to Shin Segye.