19. Roommate 4 (1)
Class is finally over, and I barely make it back to the dorm. The moment I open the door, Yeji unnie—who I haven't seen in days—is there.
"Unnie!"
She took pictures of me that no one else should see, but seeing her face after so long fills me with more joy than worry. I know she won't do anything bad with those photos. Well, it's just... a little embarrassing. I wish she'd delete them.
"Pervert, you doing okay?"
"Ugh, why say that."
Yeji unnie teases me with a beaming smile.
"You didn't do anything risky while I was gone, right?"
"Uh..."
I can't find words, just roll my eyes around. Yesterday was close. Writing such lewd stuff on my body feels like dancing on the edge now that I think about it. I never meant to go that far, but excitement took over, and I got caught several times. If those guys had been normal dudes, I'd have been forced right there...
I escaped those moments not by any plan or skill of mine—just pure luck.
Yeji unnie's eyebrow shoots up.
"What the hell have you been up to? Why can't you even speak?"
"Ah, haha... It's fine. Nothing happened."
Just got my tits groped, nearly raped, and ran away. I got caught again after, but it's not like they wear out from touching. Escaping should be fine, right?
I turn away from her piercing gaze. Her eyes feel like they'll flip me inside out any second. But how do I even explain? I can't tell the unnie who helps me with my dirty habits—and warns me to be careful—that I nearly got in deep shit from getting too excited.
"...Fuck, you little slut. Nothing happened, huh?"
She glares, but when my lips stay sealed, she gives up first. I nod faintly. She turns away like fine, whatever. She's not mad... right? It feels a bit cold, but I can't bring myself to talk to her while she's on her phone. She'd probably grill me until I spill if I reopened the topic.
I slip quietly into the bathroom for a quick wash. I come out in my nightgown-slash-loungewear dress, but Yeji unnie's still glued to her phone. This one's new for the warming weather—shoulder straps hold it up, and it's shorter than my usual. Before, I'd pick longer ones down to my knees with sleeves for the chilly nights and dawns. This barely covers half my thighs. Still, no see-through fabric or weird cuts, so it's comfy enough.
"Hey, want some chicken? Some guys from my department are rounding up for it."
Her tone's casual again. No anger or negativity in her eyes. Relief washes over me. Good, she's not mad.
"Chicken? Hell yeah. How many people?"
"Three or four guys from my major? With us two, that makes six."
Guys... I could pretend to be clumsy, flash them subtly... The thought hits me, and I flinch. They're unnie's friends—if I slip up and get caught, she'll chew me out. Why embarrass me like that, you idiot? Better dress modest. Look, she's staring like don't even think about it.
"You wearing underwear?"
"Huh? Y-yeah, of course."
"Good. Take it off."
What? Huh? She's still tapping her phone casually.
"You love this shit anyway. I'll keep you safe, so strip and go like that."
Her eyes are firm—she doesn't buy that I'll behave. It's the look you give a kid who causes trouble daily. I don't play that dangerous that often...
"What about the top?"
"Eek."
She yanks the neckline of my dress. The flimsy straps give way easily, exposing my bare chest without resistance. No curtains on the window, and I didn't mean to show—but someone else decides, and my tits are out for the world. Heat floods my face. Embarrassing. The cool air on my chest, the soft jiggle as they sway—all of it humiliates me.
"Wh-what are you doing...?"
"What? You like this stuff."
Her brows furrow like what's your problem?
"Showing off to strangers is fine, but not me? Am I worse than some rando outside?"
"N-no, it's not that..."
She is mad. That's why she's doing this.
"What if someone sees...?"
"You love the shame. With me there, no real danger. Isn't that perfect?"
Her gaze is cold, appraising—like I'm merchandise, laced with faint disgust. Who are you to pry? I should be the mad one—she yanked my clothes—but she shoots me that unfair look.
Then it hits me. She's not angry. It's worse. She doesn't see me as an equal. Lower than a person, lower than a street whore... worthless, not worth respect. Just a pathetic thing.
That's why she tells me to go panty-less to meet strangers. Why she flips up my clothes on a whim. Her "no big deal if caught" line fits perfectly. It's not her embarrassment...
It's like watching your roommate do something cringey versus showing off your cracked phone— the latter's no shame. She might even enjoy it. Laugh while I sink low, exposing my privates pathetically to others.
She's looking down at me like a toy for her amusement. Realizing that, my heart pounds. My lower belly tightens like I'm thrilled to my core. Hot breaths slip through parted lips as I stare at her.
"What? I said strip."
That's an order. Not to an equal—for her fun, to a worthless toy. My hands tremble, vision blurs. I want to scream: Don't look at me like that! I'm a person like you! I won't strip for your entertainment. I like kinky stuff, but I deserve respect!
But... but... It's more exciting than doing it myself. Being treated like less than human, ordered around—it makes my heart race harder. She'll make it feel even better. So... maybe a little is okay? Just playing along. Right? She wouldn't truly see another person—me—as an object. It's all fake, to turn me on.
I soothe my shaking hands and slide them under the dress. The hem flutters against my groin, tickling my thighs. Fingers hook into my panties at the waist. The elastic digs into my thumb. A brief hesitation, then I pull down.
I strip them off right in front of Yeji unnie. As I lift my legs to step out, she watches. The crotch is damp. Suddenly, my crotch feels so empty. Nothing on top either—just this thin dress clinging to me. Straps barely hold the shoulders, so from neckline to shoulders, mid-thigh to toes—everything peeks out if I move wrong.
"...I-I took it all off."
Her eyes curve slyly upward.
"Good girl, Ha-yoon."
This is the first time I've stripped on someone else's command, not my own will. Who strips and exposes for orders? The thrill of taboo, the inexplicable excitement—it fills me with ragged breaths.