Chapter 18: The Slave After the Master Left
"Ugh... my head."
The woman opened her eyes. Her skull throbbed as if it were about to split open.
"Goddamn... how much did I drink?"
Her eyelids refused to cooperate. Her stomach churned, threatening to send everything back up. The moment she spoke, she felt how parched her mouth had become, so she forced her eyes open and searched for water.
"Nngh..."
She'd hoped, luckily, that a bottle of water might be nearby. With that thought, she tried to sit up—
"Ah—"
The moment she pushed herself upright, pain flared below. Her lower abdomen. More precisely, her pussy and the whole of her crotch.
Wondering what the hell had happened, she forced her upper body up and looked down. Her pussy and mound were swollen taut and puffy.
"Ah... what the hell did I do."
She was completely naked. Her pussy hurt. Had her boyfriend, drunk, forced himself on her without any warmup—without her even getting wet?
But that didn't quite fit. His cock wasn't big enough to leave her pussy aching like this. And it wasn't as if he'd never just shoved it in to satisfy himself without a second thought—he'd done that more than once or twice.
She looked around. Empty beer and soju bottles were scattered everywhere, along with bags of snacks that hadn't even been opened.
"Ugh."
So she'd blacked out drinking with her boyfriend again. The thought of cleaning all this up made her irritable. Her head already hurt and her stomach was rolling; she didn't want to do a single thing.
But where was he?
His absence beside her was strange, too. Normally he'd be sprawled out drunk on his own bed or the couch.
And where was her phone?
Gritting her teeth against the sharp, lingering ache in her crotch, she got out of bed. She managed to pull water from the fridge, gulped it down, then went to the bathroom to pee.
As she relieved herself—
"......?"
Something felt off. Was it just the pain? Or was it a little... no. No way.
She pressed down.
"Nnh."
She'd torn off some toilet paper to wipe herself, and without meaning to, she pressed the paper hard against her pussy. A subtle, unexpected pleasure bloomed through the contact.
I must be losing it. Getting off while wiping after a piss? Something was wrong with her body.
She tried to ignore it and leave the bathroom, then caught her reflection while washing her hands.
Wait...?
There was a strange glow to her face. She'd gone to sleep without taking off her makeup—no, she was bare-faced. So why did her skin look this good?
Without thinking, she touched her cheek. The bare skin, without a drop of lotion, was in the best condition it had been in recently—as if she'd drained someone else's vital energy.
What was going on? Then again, good was good. She smiled, pleased—and only then, through the mirror, did she see her body below the neck.
"What the...?"
Kiss marks and bite marks covered her neck and breasts, along with red handprints. Dazed, she turned. Clear red handprints stood out on both sides of her ass as well.
Had her boyfriend been that rough? Sure, he slapped her ass when they did it from behind—but she'd always stopped him if he hit too hard. Had he just gone wild because he was drunk?
Looking at her own body, she felt a strange, unwelcome stir of excitement. And from her skin rose a damp, sticky smell, thick with the reek of a man's semen.
"I—I need to wash."
Even in the shower, the water streaming from the head felt strangely stimulating against her skin. In the end she couldn't hold out—she stopped mid-shower and rubbed her swollen pussy, masturbating.
"Hnnngh."
It was somehow more satisfying than her usual sessions, and yet still deeply lacking. Between the hangover splitting her head and the masturbation in the shower, she felt foggy and unmoored as she dried off and went looking for her phone.
"There it is."
The smartphone was wedged between the corner of the bed and the wall. Battery at around twenty percent—not much, but enough. She plugged in the charger by the bed and lay back down, still naked.
"Ugh, the smell."
The blanket and sheets were saturated with the traces and stench of sex. Soaked and sticky with juices and semen, the reek still thick enough to turn her stomach. Laundry could wait. She shifted to the cleanest corner she could find, then powered on her phone to piece together what had happened while her memory was gone.
It was past eleven in the morning. No missed calls. Without much thought she opened her messenger and started working through the backlog from the top—skimming her friends' group chat, leaving a few replies, moving steadily down the list.
"Hmm?"
Still asleep?
Her boyfriend's chat was completely silent—not a single message. She'd assumed he'd made it home fine since he wasn't here. Then again, if she'd been this drunk, there was no way that guy—who drank like a fish—had been in any better shape. Maybe he'd gone full dog and ended up in a police holding cell like last time.
With that thought she tapped open the chat—
"...What is this?"
Photos and videos she had no memory of sending were sitting in the conversation. Even the video thumbnails and the tiny previews of the photos looked wrong. Without thinking she opened one.
"Hah—!"
In the photo, she was holding someone's cock in her mouth, a blissful expression on her face. That alone was a shock. The problem was the size of that cock—it was nowhere near her boyfriend's.
"N-no..."
It was just a photo. Depending on the angle, even legs could look longer. A cock could look bigger, too. She opened another photo with that rationalization—and found herself with that massive cock buried in her pussy, eyes rolled up, tongue hanging out in a full ahegao, both hands groping her own breasts. She looked every bit a bitch in heat.
And the cock buried in her pussy—no camera angle could explain this away. It was absolutely not her boyfriend's size. The glimpse of the man's stomach and lower body wasn't her boyfriend's body either.
"No. No...!"
As if possessed, she hit play on one of the videos. Her own face filled the frame head-on. On her knees, she was eagerly sucking a stranger's enormous cock—drool running down her chin, tears welling in her eyes, and still wearing a look of pure happiness.
"Master's cock... it's so big, I love it. My boyfriend's tiny dick doesn't even compare..."
"......"
The woman's face went bloodless. She scrubbed forward through the video. Herself being fucked from behind in the bathroom, wailing. Herself face-down on the bed, squirting a fountain of juices as she came. Herself in front of the camera, declaring herself "Master's sex slave," thrusting out her chest and spreading her pussy.
"What... what is this... is this me...?"
She clapped a hand over her mouth. She had no memory of any of it. Just drinking with her boyfriend, and then—black.
If her boyfriend saw this...
She'd been lying on her stomach looking at the phone; she sat bolt upright on the bed. For a while now, nothing coherent had come out of her mouth.
"What do I do? What do I do..."
Panic scrambled her thoughts. She couldn't tell anymore whether her head hurt from the hangover or from what she'd just seen. Terrified, she checked the messenger. Still no "1"—he hadn't read it.
"Delete! I can delete them. I have to... delete them from his phone..."
Before he read them. She had to wipe them from his phone before he saw a single one. If he ever looked at this...
Just in case, she checked the other videos. Every one of them showed her either sucking the massive cock of the man she called "Master," or getting fucked by it and moaning. Was it someone she knew? She tried to catch his face—but whoever was filming had carefully kept "Master's" face out of frame. All she could tell was that he was a young man with a good body.
Wait—who was filming this? Had she gotten so drunk she'd been raped by two men?
"Master! I'm coming too!"
"Aahng! Aahng! Master's huge cock!"
"Mas—ter. Wai—wait—!"
"Master's cock! It's so big I love it—aahng!"
"......"
But the face in the videos was far too happy, too drowned in pleasure, for that to fit. How good did it have to feel to make a face like that, body shaking? Even through her fear, the thought rose unbidden.
Squelch. Psssh. Pssshhh!
And the squirting. Had she ever been able to gush like some porn actress in an AV?
She needed a solution, fast. She needed to figure out who the man mercilessly driving that enormous cock into her pussy was—and who was holding the camera. So why...
Why was her hand moving downward?
Right. This was just—because that huge cock had pounded her so hard. She needed to check if she was torn. Yes. That was all.
She flinched. The moment her fingers brushed her clit, her whole crotch clenched. She leaned her back lightly against the wall and looked down at herself—legs spread, lower body pushed forward, angling her pussy toward the ceiling as if presenting it for anyone to take. Even so, she couldn't see it well enough.
Shit. She needed to deal with this. She needed to delete everything before her boyfriend checked.
Even as she thought it, she opened the camera on her phone and reached for the record button. Or tried to. Next to it, a thumbnail of a saved recording caught her eye. She tapped it.
It was one of the videos from the messenger.
"Ah..."
It had been sent from her account, so she'd half-suspected—but it had been filmed on her own phone. Now she truly had no idea what had happened.
She hit record again and filmed between her legs. She ran a finger along her labia.
"Ah."
A sharp sting rose with a subtle flush of arousal. She pressed and stroked the area around it, moving her fingers as if conducting an examination. And then—
Squelch.
"......"
She pushed a finger into her already-wet cunt—wet for reasons she still didn't understand. Just in case any semen was still inside. The videos showed no condom. Getting pregnant would be a disaster. With that thought she pushed deeper.
"Mmh..."
How hard had he fucked her? It didn't feel like the pussy she knew. Swollen, the inner folds stretched wide and distinct—as if her cunt were still lost in arousal. She couldn't tell if what she felt was pain or pleasure. She bit down hard on her lower lip and pushed her finger in as far as it would go, then stirred.
"Nnh—!"
A brief, dizzying sensation. She yanked her finger out and checked. Nothing but her own juices. So he probably hadn't come inside... If he had, she would have noticed it running out when she peed or showered. Unless it had gone straight into her womb and stayed there?
An absurd thought—but that thick, massive cock, the one that had made its presence known even from the outside of her lower belly every time it speared through her in the videos... maybe he'd put it right into her womb and—
"...!"
Her face flushed crimson at the ridiculous fantasy that had sprung up unbidden. The bloodless terror from before was nowhere to be found.
Then—
Ding-ding-ding—!
"Hah—!"
The sudden ringtone made her jump. It was her boyfriend.
"......!"
What do I do? I still haven't figured anything out!
Her hands shook as she hesitated, then answered.
"Hey, why weren't you picking up?"
"Uh, uh... I just woke up."
His voice was rougher and more hoarse than usual. It only made him sound more threatening; her whole body tensed.
"W-where are you?"
She swallowed hard and asked for his location. The messenger still showed unread. If he was home, she'd grab a taxi and run over right now. No—no matter how fast she went, he'd check the messages while she was on the way. Then what? Right. Don't hang up. Keep him on the line...
She was still working through options when—
"Fuck, what the hell happened last night?"
"What? Why...?"
Her heart dropped. He still hadn't read them—had he?
"I'm at the hospital. Whatever went down after we drank, my arm and leg are wrecked."
"What, for real?! How?"
"How the fuck should I know. Apparently I ate shit alone on the stairs outside your place. I open my eyes and I'm in a hospital. Fucking great."
"O-oh. Th-then—then which hospital? I'll come right now."
She started throwing on clothes as fast as she could—skipping the bra, just panties. She switched to speaker and scrambled to get dressed—
"Hey. You. What the fuck is this?"
All the warmth had drained from his voice. She frantically checked the messenger. The "1" on the chat was gone.
...He'd seen it.
Silence on the other end of the line. Nothing but his rough breathing.
"Th—!"
She hung up before the ugly words could start pouring out of him. Looking down with a bloodless face, she found her hands so slick with cold sweat the phone nearly slipped free. The strength left her legs and she sank straight to the floor.
The phone rang again immediately. She didn't answer. Messenger alerts kept firing. Glancing at the previews stacking at the top of the screen, she saw nothing but vicious language.
"......"
She watched for a moment, bit her lip, thought it through—then dug through her contacts and dialed someone.
"Ah, yes. Hello. I'm the tenant in unit @. When does our lease run through, exactly?"
If she stayed here, her boyfriend might come find her and kill her. Even if he didn't kill her, he'd beat her half to death. The relationship was already over. She still had no idea how any of this had happened—but one thing was certain.
She had to cut contact with him and run somewhere else.
It was just before lunch. I sat in my chair at the office, nodding off, and wondered.
I wonder how those two are doing.