How Does Brother Namgung Know About Brainwashing…?
Far from Gaeul’s ongoing ordeal, in a certain basement…
“Urgh…! Kh…”
Young Master Namgung’s latest target—Jeok Taeyang—was thoroughly rattled.
He was twenty-five. Today he should have been racing about trying to seduce some sheltered maiden, failing, drinking himself into a stupor, and sleeping it off. Instead he woke to find his vision blocked and his arms bound tightly behind his back by what felt like rope.
“Damn it, what the hell…! What in the world is this…?”
He strained with every ounce of strength left in him, twisting and thrashing, but even a man as agile as Jeok Taeyang could never snap those ropes by brute force. They did not so much as budge.
Click. Click.
Footsteps approached. Panic flooding him, he shouted desperately toward the sound.
“W-who’s there…!? I am the fourth son of the Campbell barony of Scotland! Release me and I will pay any ransom you name—just free me from these bonds…!”
His plea went unanswered. A kick slammed into him instead.
Thud!
“Gah—!!”
He could not even scream properly. Stomach contents erupted from nose and mouth as he curled like a shrimp.
“I already know who you are. Belus Campbell. The Campbell barony is based in Aberdeen, Scotland’s third city. …Heh. But that past of yours no longer matters.”
“Wh-what…?”
Merciless blows rained down on the body already shrunk in agony.
Thud! Thud!
“Guh! Ghak!!”
The pointed tip of a shoe crushed every inch of him with exquisite precision—hard enough to hurt, never hard enough to rupture organs.
“Slaves do not ask questions. …And from now on I will call you Bella. Forget your old name.”
“Fuck…! You crazy bastard…!”
Crunch.
He spat curses at the nonsense, only for a blow—fist or knife-hand, he could not tell—to crash into the back of his neck and plunge him into darkness.
How long he was out, he never knew.
“Nngh… uh…”
When awareness returned, the first thing he felt was the savage pain of the beating still throbbing through every limb. The second was the absence of cloth against his skin. The raw kiss of air told him he was completely naked.
Click. Click.
Footsteps again.
“Y-you… Do you really think you’ll walk away after doing this to me…?”
He tried to bluster past the rising terror. The violence that answered him was worse than before—not mere fists now, but the pure, deliberate agony of a whip.
Whish— Crack—!!!
They said the tip of a whip could break the sound barrier. That whip danced across Bella’s flesh.
“Aaaaaagh—!!”
“A whip is an excellent teacher of manners. …So I will keep using it until you learn some.”
The young master’s goal was never to kill Jeok Taeyang. It was to break his spirit… to erase his personality. Everything that followed was simply meant to brand him with terror and pain he would never forget. Violence delivered while blindfolded was more than enough to carve permanent scars into the mind.
“One, two, three, four, five.”
After the count of five came a fist.
Thud!
“Guuuh… blech…!”
A blow to the lower belly never ended with mere pain. His guts flipped, sour bile flooded his mouth, and the already-abused organs twisted in fresh spasms.
“One, two, three, four, five.”
Whish— Crack—!!
Five again, then the whip.
“Kyaaah! Guwaaaaah!!”
The pain of the lash defied imagination. Every crack of leather tore a raw, soul-rending scream from the basement walls.
“One, two, three, four, five.”
And then… a kick. Straight to the balls.
“Guh… aah…!”
The young master had carefully measured the force so the testicles would not rupture—yet every ounce of that force was calibrated for maximum agony.
When Bella finally blacked out, eyes rolling back behind the blindfold, a palm charged with inner energy cracked across his cheek.
“Since when does a slave faint without permission? Wake up!”
Slap!!
His head snapped sideways. Still unconscious.
Slap!!
Then he would simply be struck until he woke.
Slap!! Slap!!
…It felt as though the entire world had narrowed to the young master who dealt out unspeakable violence and the helpless self who could only receive it.
After being beaten unconscious and forcibly revived again and again, the pride of a baron’s son—of a noble—was crushed beyond recognition.
“Stop, please stop… I’ll do anything, just stop…!”
“Well now… whether you truly can do anything remains to be seen.”
With those words, Jeok Taeyang’s spirit broke for the first time. Tales of unbreakable will that never yields to torture were nothing but fantasy. Having proven his own theory, the young master curled his lips in a smile.
For him, the most exquisite pleasure was always coaxing a beloved pet step by step into milky corruption… yet crushing someone this quickly had its own charms as well.
“I am going to use something very expensive, so you will soon have a body worthy of a femboy slave.”
As he spoke, the young master slid a slick suppository deep into Bella’s anus. The strange sensation made Bella thrash against the ropes in panic.
“Hiiik…!”
“…Hmm. Still needs more education, I see. One, two, three, four, five.”
That cold voice, followed by the nightmare count.
Whish— Crack!!
“Uwaaaaah!! I’m sorry…! Please, forgive me…!”
“Good. Resist again and I will beat you unconscious as many times as it takes.”
“Th-thank you…!”
Overwhelmed by violence, Bella now valued not being hit more than dignity itself. The pride of a baron’s heir had been sold for the cheap price of a few less blows.
Perhaps, someday, in a safe place with enough rest and peace of mind—though the aftereffects would linger for years—he might have recovered that dignity. But that day would never come.
Soon the drug the young master had used on his own beloved pet several times before melted in the rectum and flooded Bella’s body. The version given to the pet was pure and gentle; the version forced into Bella was brutally potent, highly addictive, the sort of narcotic used only when breaking newly purchased whores.
“Ah… ah…”
For a brief moment the haze let Bella forget the cruelty. Then something searing hot scraped across his lower belly like fire.
“Nngh…?!”
Even half-drugged he moaned in pain, yet he dared not resist. He could only clench his teeth and endure.
“Huu… Done. A splendid lewd crest.”
“Uh… uh…”
Thankfully the pain vanished with the young master’s words. Where the burning had been, a strange heat now radiated outward through every limb.
What had just been performed was an irreversible feminization procedure the young master had occasionally lusted after—but had never yet used on his beloved pet.
Jeok Taeyang… Bella himself, blindfolded for days, could not see it, but body and mind were changing at terrifying speed.
“Hmm… Combining expensive Eastern medicines with expensive Western sorcery really does work fast. Heh… Who would believe this lewd ass belonged to a man only a few days ago?”
The body that had once seduced and bedded countless maidens had shed its muscle and filled with soft fat, becoming plush and yielding. The Adam’s apple vanished, shoulders narrowed, waist cinched, hips and thighs swelled into a childbearing shape. Even the cock that once stood over six inches refused to rise at all—thanks to the forcibly branded lewd crest and the forcibly cultivated Femboy Divine Art amplifying each other.
“You said you took the virginity of at least ten girls and then discarded them. So you will repay that debt with this lewd body for at least ten years, won’t you?”
“…….”
“…Oh? I praised a slave’s body and receive no thanks? One, two, three…”
“Hii… I’m sorry… I was wrong…”
Ever since the young master had begun counting to five before every beating, the mere sound of numbers made Bella tremble in terror—sometimes even wet himself.
“Where is my thanks?”
“I am a femboy slave. Thank you for praising my excellent cock-sleeve…!”
“Stupid bitch! When did I ever say that?!”
Thud—!
“Kyaaah! I’m sorry! I’m sorry… please forgive me…!”
“Huu… Enough. What can one expect from a stupid slave? Recite the oath of submission. Even you can manage that, yes?”
Bella scrambled to recite the oath he had been forced to memorize thousands of times.
“I am a femboy slave… a female who submits to males… a worthless slave good for nothing but being fucked by cocks…!”
The oath of submission, now flowing from his lips as naturally as breathing.
At first, when he had been forced to speak it under the lash, tears had streamed down his face and humiliation had shaken him. He had known it was wrong; he had only said it to escape the violence.
But now…?
To memorize it perfectly he had repeated it endlessly inside his head: I am a femboy slave. I am a female who submits to males. Even when he drifted into drug-hazed sleep, even when he begged for forgiveness after some invented fault, the young master might demand the oath at any moment—and every syllable had to be perfect.
Thus, in a shockingly short time, Bella forgot to question whether the oath was right or wrong. In an even shorter time he began to accept its content as truth: that he was a femboy slave, a female who submitted to males, a worthless slave unless impaled on a cock.
…Or rather, he was carefully guided into accepting it. By the young master.
Everything Bella endured was textbook brainwashing—violence, confinement, and drugs blended in perfect proportion.