How Does Brother Namgung Know About the Womb Tattoo…?
"Hoo… hnn…"
A night had passed, and the chastity belt was locked back into place. It had already been three full days since I last gave in to Consul Geungwang’s schemes and masturbated outdoors with his underwear.
"Hnn… heeuh…♡"
Today, once again, I was being paid to hold whatever pose the young master demanded. Pre-cum soaked through the already-drenched underwear as I panted out hot, humid breaths.
Drip, drip—
The overflowing fluid had already formed a little puddle on the floor… but that was fine for now.
Because…
Rewind a little—to the second time I had been paid to strike a lewd pose for him.
"Hmm. Starting today I should paint a design on your lower belly."
He dipped a brush into a paint that seemed to glow with a strange pink light and held it out toward me.
"…D-Does that have something to do with the illustrations…?"
"Yes. Depending on the composition I need different patterns. You can just wash it off with water every night, so it won’t be a problem."
"……"
"Well… I’ll throw in an extra silver coin. No—two."
"I-If that’s the case…"
And so that day, still wearing the underwear, I ended up with a bizarre heart-shaped design—something that looked uncomfortably like the handle of a plug—painted across my belly.
"I-It’s somehow embarrassing…"
"You’re even more charming than usual."
"Ehehe…"
A shiver ran through me at the young master’s praise and the thumbs-up he gave the drawing. I struck the lewd pose he wanted so he could sketch more easily.
"Nnh…?"
Yet something felt different that day.
Ugh… it’s getting a little hot…
Whether the room was warm or my lust had simply piled up again, a strange heat started in my lower belly, spread through my perineum and prostate, then gradually flooded my entire body. Sticky desire began to tint my thoughts a soft pink—so strongly I could no longer ignore it.
I… I want to touch myself…
The pink haze whispered filthy instructions. I bit my lip hard to keep my hands from wandering to my chest or ass.
I must be going crazy. What was I about to do right in front of him…?!
"Haa… haa…♡"
Somehow I managed to hold back from masturbating in front of him. After about half a ke of panting under that feverish heat—
Trickle—
Ugh, no way…?!
A familiar sensation hit my crotch. Focusing my senses there, I realized the underwear’s defenses were already on the verge of collapse. A little longer and I would be caught dripping pre-cum all over the floor in front of him.
This is bad…!
"W-Wait a moment… I’ll just step out…!"
Desperate to escape the crisis first and think of a solution later, I grabbed my clothes and made a beeline for the door.
"…What’s the matter?"
He was faster. His hand closed around my shoulder.
"Ah, n-no, it’s nothing really…"
I couldn’t exactly confess, so my answer came out half-formed.
"I can’t let you leave until you tell me."
His expression hardened further as he faced me squarely.
"……"
There was no way out now. Tears of shame pricked at the corners of my eyes as I confessed in a tiny voice.
"It’s just… um… my underwear got wet… so I was going to change…"
"…I see."
He nodded once, then the hand on my shoulder rose to gently stroke my hair.
Stroke, stroke—
"It’s all right. It’s a perfectly natural physiological response. …As I’ve already told you, I can accept that side of you as well, Gaeul."
I had braced myself for mockery, for being called a pervert, for some lewd demand. Instead he soothed my stiff, shrinking heart with such gentle strokes…
This is really dangerous…♡ My brain is melting…♡♡
Ignoring the last remaining scrap of manhood that tried to sound the alarm, the day’s work was called off. I nestled into his arms until I was satisfied, then spent the rest of the day glued to his side while he focused on his drawing.
If I had simply offered my body while he held me, he probably would have let it happen.
This is bad… this man is really waiting until I throw myself at him first…
At first the shame of soaking my underwear right in front of him had been enough to make me bolt. But after he stroked my hair and told me it was fine, a natural bodily function I needn’t worry about… after I forced myself to endure that same humiliation several more times… the shame was still real, yet it felt as though daily training had raised my tolerance, the way one builds muscle.
…I’m not just turning into a full-blown pervert, right…?
"Hoo…"
I exhaled a lukewarm sigh to scatter the stray thoughts and glanced down at my lower belly. Unlike the young master’s firm abs, my soft, feminine belly still bore today’s pink lewd crest.
He had casually suggested making it a permanent tattoo—“Plenty of people just get them inked these days. There’s even a method that uses internal energy to evaporate only the pigment under the skin, so you can remove it later”—but that was going too far.
Even painting something this lewd on my belly or the cleft of my ass with temporary paint is humiliating enough. Actually tattooing it…? Come to think of it, that book I borrowed from the rental shop said these things really do have lewd effects…
Indeed. Each design of a lewd crest carried countless effects; the most common was drastically raising the minimum level of sexual desire. If zero was complete absence of lust and one hundred was the point where you would go mad without release, then even after climaxing you could never drop below fifty.
There were others: preventing orgasm without a specific person’s permission, turning non-erogenous zones hypersensitive, linking the sensation of one erogenous zone to another part of the body… the list of filthy effects went on and on. And supposedly even paint or pigment was enough to activate them.
The one small mercy was that the book claimed crests painted on the lower belly only worked on “females.” They had no effect on “males.”
So this was merely a reference sketch so he could draw the crest from different angles. The one currently decorating my belly should have been completely useless on a genuine male like me.
"Hnn, haa…♡"
I had tried thinking about something else to forget the heat for even a moment, but of course the topic was lewd crests, so my body only burned hotter.
Drip, drip—
The strange part was that it shouldn’t work on a male at all. Yet the moment he painted the crest on me with that brush, far more intense lust flooded my body at terrifying speed.
He insisted it was only a placebo effect born of my belief that the crest would work… but whatever the reason, catching fire every single time we worked was a genuine problem.
"Hnnngh…♡♡"
I want to bury my face in the underwear and jerk off so badly…♡♡
I kept trying to hold out until Brother Namgung returned, yet the urge to masturbate outdoors kept winning.
"…Well done. That will be enough for today."
"Haa… yes…"
The young master finished the session and began packing away his drawing tools. Swallowing my embarrassment, I wiped the floor with the rag I had prepared in advance.
"……"
Then I reached for the underwear he had left in the corner… only to shake my head.
It’s still daytime… If I go outside and masturbate while smelling the underwear, even in a secluded alley someone is bound to catch me…
No matter how hard I tried to stifle my voice, there were limits. Cheonju might be a city that never slept, but the sheer number of passers-by—and the fact that even the darkest alleys were far more visible in broad daylight—made discovery almost certain.
Haa… what do I do…
I had already endured three days of this fire. I was truly at my limit. If I had been alone in the room I could have soothed myself with the expensive ointment Brother Namgung had given me, but Consul Geungwang was staying in my room around the clock. Masturbating in front of him was out of the question.
That left either gritting my teeth until nightfall or asking for his help. And if I didn’t relieve this lust soon, I might well throw myself into his arms before the sun even set.
I stood frozen in thought for a while.
Ah…!
A brilliant idea struck me.
The spare “pingtu”—condoms—Brother Namgung had handed me in a little box. I had recently read in the newspaper about an adulterous woman who argued in court that sex with a condom didn’t count as actual intercourse, and the judge had surprisingly taken it into consideration.
“When a pingtu is worn over the male organ, the flesh does not mingle; friction occurs only through rubber. Therefore it is merely a similar act and not true coitus.”
Of course I wasn’t about to put one on and actually press my navel against the young master’s the way that woman had. Still…
Even the magistrate ruled that way. Wouldn’t oral sex with a condom count as not really mixing flesh…?