Chapter 18 When the Fourth Mother Was Filled With Regret...
Chapter 18 When the Fourth Mother Was Filled With Regret...
Da-eun rose unsteadily from the bench. Even sitting still sent waves of dull pain radiating from her still-stinging backside—the lingering aftermath of her son's discipline.
That little bastard actually dared to lay hands on the mother who raised him! Lee Eun-woo, you fucking piece of shit!
Though she cursed him inwardly, the fiery rage she normally felt when wronged—the kind that demanded tenfold retribution—was conspicuously absent. Instead, a perverse craving surged through her, an addict's longing to relive that electrifying pain once more.
The humiliation and shame already simmering within her now flared hotter, doused in the gasoline of arousal.
Da-eun, whose tolerance was so high that three bottles of soju barely gave her a buzz, now felt her face burn as if feverish. The alcohol in her system and the lingering heat from her earlier encounter with Eun-woo left her numb to the cold night air.
"Ughhhh!"
Gulp, gulp, gulp!
She drained the beer can in one go and hurled it onto the pavement, where it clattered and rolled away. Staring blankly at its trajectory, she revisited the memory of Eun-woo taking her.
Her son had always been obedient—docile, even. Like a loyal puppy trailing after its owner. She'd secretly looked down on him for it.
But tonight, that puppy had bared fangs and become a wolf, leaving the imprint of his palm seared into her flesh.
Okay.
Sure, she'd been startled. That much was understandable. Given how much she'd exploited him over the years, his anger was justified.
What she couldn't comprehend was her own reaction.
Why hadn't she immediately punched him for daring to strike his own mother?
Why had she instead shoved her dripping cunt in his face, shaking her ass like a bitch in heat, begging for more?
The answer came easily—too easily. She'd known it all along, long before this drunken introspection.
The moment she pictured Eun-woo's face, something hotter than lust erupted inside her.
"Ghhh—! Ghhh—! Fuck...!"
Bending forward, she clawed at her own bangs and groaned.
Humiliation. Shame. Guilt.
All weak, pathetic emotions she'd always scorned in others.
But not tonight.
Not when the memories of everything she'd done to Eun-woo flooded back, leaving no room for denial.
She hadn't even drunk that much, yet her mind spun as intoxication took hold. Grabbing another beer, she dialed Eun-woo again.
"Goddammit, Lee Eun-woo, you little shit... You're the one who made me like this, so why won't you pick up?! I—I just wanted to... apologize..."
As a teen, she'd been a bully.
As a volleyball star, the terrifying sunbae who disciplined underclassmen.
In the Cult, second only to Ye-hwa in meting out punishment.
That was who she was—always the one inflicting suffering, never the weakling wallowing in guilt.
Yet Eun-woo had reduced her to this:
A depraved slut who soaked her panties at the thought of her son's bare feet trampling her pussy, his palm spanking her ass, using her like a fleshlight to get off.
Even now, just imagining it made her wet all over again.
She cracked open another beer and downed it in one go. As drunkenness surged, she began ranting at the empty air.
"Eun-woo, you fucking bastard... You listen here. Flirting with other women? I won't allow it. Playing 'service volunteer' for some other bitch? Go fuck yourself.
And that—hnng—that stupidly handsome face... luring in every slut... Ugh... You'll just say you didn't mean it, won't you...?
Eun-woo, you're mine.
If I catch you clinging to some other woman... then—then—!"
She crushed the empty can in her grip and hurled it into the darkness.
"Ow! What the fuck?!"
A distant yell suggested she'd hit someone, but Da-eun paid no mind, finishing her oath with venom:
"Everyone dies. You. Me. That bitch. We all fucking burn together..."
After another swig, a thought flickered—Is this love?—before fading into the haze.
Time blurred. When she tried standing, her legs buckled, leaving her sprawled across the bench. She called Eun-woo again.
Again, he ignored her.
"Little shit! Getting cocky just because you're pretty."
But the insult rang hollow. The moment his face surfaced in her mind, her forced anger melted away.
Undeterred, she redialed—and this time, her son answered.
"Mom, I'm busy. I'll call you later."
A clipped sentence. Then silence.
Her brief elation at hearing his voice curdled into numbness. She didn't even feel angry.
Moving sluggishly, she fished out another beer. As she popped the tab, carbonation fizzed—and a tear fell.
"Huh? Wha—am I... drunk already? Crying over this? It's nothing... Must be the bathroom or... something..."
Baffled by her own tears, she kept sniffling, unable to stop.
*
"Mom, I'm busy. I'll call you later."
I delivered the line the moment I answered the Fourth Mother's call and hung up immediately.
Surviving the First Madam's blowjob was hard enough—I had no bandwidth to deal with Da-eun right now. She'd probably gone out alone, gotten lonely, and wanted phone sex.
Shutting her out, I refocused on enduring Ye-hwa's relentless mouth.
But my body betrayed me. Deep in my prostate, the pressure built, spurred by the First Madam's tongue pressing insistently against my perineum.
At this rate, I wouldn't last halfway through the timer. Just as panic set in, Ye-hwa released me with a wet pop.
"Pwah—! ...Son, ignoring Da-eun? She'll throw a fit later. Unlike me, that girl's greedy—can't share worth a damn. When something good comes along—like your cock—we mothers should split it, don't you think?"
I glared at her, unfazed by her incestuous teasing.
"...Focus on the blowjob. You've got three minutes left."
"Hmm~ Even your bluffing is cute. A little longer, and I'd have made you paint my throat white."
How had she known? Not that I'd give her the satisfaction. I kept my face blank.
Ye-hwa grinned, as if reading my mind, and gave my cock a playful shake.
Schlick! Schlick! Schlick!
Her spit-slicked hand moved effortlessly along my shaft—no lube needed. Unlike Da-eun's clumsy, painful strokes, the First Madam's skilled fingers glided with practiced precision.
Her palm cradled me gently, all five fingers working in tandem, stroking rhythmically—light on the upstroke, firm on the down.
Deceptively simple, yet executed with such natural ease that her mastery was undeniable. Worlds apart from Da-eun, who'd gasp and drip at a single finger inside her.
Before tonight, the Fourth Mother had never even jerked me off, let alone sucked me. This was virgin territory.
"Hngh... Hngh..."
I bit my lip, refusing to vocalize my pleasure—though my ragged breathing betrayed me.
"Feels good, doesn't it, son?"
"Not really."
Slap-slap-slap!
Her pace suddenly accelerated, her grip tightening. What had been a steady rhythm became a punishing jackhammer—too fast, too rough for true enjoyment, but brutally effective at milking me dry.
Slap-slap-SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Schlick-schlick-schlick!
Her fist pounded my groin like meat tenderizer, an unrelenting onslaught.
"Good? Good? Good? Say it feels good. I won't slow down until you admit it."
She giggled like a child, shaking my cock. When I clenched my teeth, her smile faded, and she doubled down silently.
Then her eyes gleamed with cruel mischief. The jackhammer slowed to half-speed, giving me respite—but no relief. I knew what came next.
"No—!"
I raised my phone high, but Ye-hwa struck like a viper, spearing her tongue into my ass.
"Hnggh?!"
Pleasure and violation collided, freezing me in place.
"No~?"
She snatched the phone, unlocked it (how?!), and dialed Da-eun.
"Son, ever heard of phone sex?"
As the dial tone buzzed in my ear, the First Madam smirked.