Traces (2)
Yu-rin had always liked the way Seon-ah passed out during sex—the way that pretty face went slack and vulgar, mouth hanging open, eyes rolled white. Still, the fading reactions left her a little unsatisfied.
But with the drug, Seon-ah never blacked out. He kept responding the entire time, and that made the sex almost unbearably good.
He stayed conscious now. Every so often he even answered her, which meant she got to torment him with words on top of everything else.
Once Seon-ah's shattered pelvis had knitted itself back together and she had wiped every last smear of nosebleed from his face, Yu-rin rolled her hips down and spoke.
"I'm going to wreck that cock so badly you couldn't even show it to other girls. I'll turn it into exactly what I like—swollen thick, puffy, and shredded to hell. You like your dick better this way too, don't you? Because of me?"
In reality his recovery ability would never let that happen, but the words were meant to hurt him.
"D-don't... ah! My mo-mo... nngh! D-don't... tease... ahhng! Don't... nngh!"
Every time he managed to form words, she ground down harder, and the way his answers dissolved into moans was so filthy it made her burn.
"If you hate it so much, slut, just stop getting hard. But you keep getting harder on purpose, begging for more. Isn't that right?"
"Th-that's... not—aaaaaahhh!"
His denial only excited her further. Yu-rin kicked her acceleration ability back on and began to ride him in a frenzy.
The relentless snap of her hips made it clear she had no intention of letting him speak. Mid-sentence, Seon-ah broke into nothing but raw, continuous moans.
When she leaned in for another kiss, he turned his face aside even as the sounds kept spilling out of him—petulant, almost sulking.
Looking faintly offended, Yu-rin pinched both of his cheeks between her fingers, forced his mouth open, and shoved her tongue inside with brutal impatience. Startled, he had no choice but to squeeze his eyes shut and take it.
Once again he was being violated without mercy, from above and below at once.
They said humans were creatures of adaptation, and it seemed to be true.
He was starting to adjust to the drug-fueled pleasure, just enough that he could endure even greater waves of it than before.
Under her relentless grinding he came again and again, and it felt as though the sex dragged on far longer than the times he simply blacked out.
Yu-rin finally pulled her tongue from his mouth and took hold of his waist.
Even with acceleration, the angle must have been wrong; she hadn't been getting the speed she wanted, and it had clearly been bothering her.
Moans spilled freely from his unobstructed mouth, but for Seon-ah this was a chance to speak.
"Ah-ah-ah! Hhaah! O-omma... haah! A-are you still... going...?"
"Until you can't get it up anymore. Same as always."
"..."
It hit him then: he was the one losing his mind on the drug, not her.
She genuinely meant to wring him dry the way she always did—until there was nothing left.
"Ahh—! I'm gonna die... please..."
A flicker of displeasure crossed her face, but because he was somehow still conscious and holding on, Yu-rin decided to throw him a bone. Just this once.
"Fine. Five more times and we're done. Deal?"
"O-okay..."
Ordinarily Yu-rin did whatever she wanted. He had no choice but to take what she offered.
He had already come more than ten times, and she still wanted five more.
She really was his girlfriend—and an absolute freak.
While she rode him like a woman possessed, Yu-rin kept pouring out every word she knew would break him down.
"Even with me right there, you keep staring at other girls. At university. At cafés. With a body this filthy, just looking at them is enough to make your eyes glaze over, isn't it? You dirty little whore."
"Ah... nngh... that's not—! Aaaaang—!"
He knew full well that every answer only made her grind harder. But if he stayed silent she would take it as confirmation, cancel the five-times promise, and keep going. He was certain of it.
On this bed, Yu-rin wasn't a tyrant. She wasn't even a demon. She was the Demon King.
Answering one jealous question after another, spilling into her again and again, he finally reached the last of the promised five.
And right before he came, Yu-rin asked her final question.
"So between me and Min-ji—whose pussy felt better?"
The endless sex had stripped his mind of any ability to think.
He barely even registered what she was saying. Only two words cut through: Min-ji and pussy.
"Ahh—! Aaaang! Mi... Min-ji... wha—ahhhhaaaah! Aaaaaah! Uwaaah! Aaaaaaagh!"
Min-ji what?
That was what he had meant to ask back.
His head was fogged, a ringing in his ears; he was only trying to hear her properly. But that was not how it sounded to Yu-rin.
He had tried, through a moan-choked voice, to ask her to repeat herself. The moment Min-ji's name left his mouth, Yu-rin went wild. She seized his waist and shook him as if she meant to break him in half.
Last time it had taken about thirty minutes to shatter his pelvis.
This time she didn't bother holding back. Five savage thrusts were enough to pulverize his hips, and he came hard.
Even with the broken bones grinding audibly against each other, she did not stop riding him.
"You fucking bastard. You think this is a joke? I'll fuck you like a dog. You're doing this on purpose, trying to make me jealous, aren't you? You sick little freak. Fine—I'll let this last orgasm count."
Even as she said it, she kept grinding her entrance over his spurting cock.
In the end she milked him until he truly could not get hard again.
Yu-rin had not exactly lied.
There really had been one climax left, and that really had been the last one she took from him.
The problem was that his cock had turned into a broken faucet, pouring out continuously until it finally went soft.
For all the endless abuse, the drug had kept him conscious the entire time—the first time he had ever finished sex with Yu-rin without blacking out. So he had never known what she did afterward.
Yu-rin kissed his face once, scooped him up, and carried him to the bathroom. She washed him first, then herself.
Once they left the bed, she really was a gentle girlfriend.
After that she changed the sheets soaked through with semen and her own slick, then remembered the recording she had started earlier and finally stopped it.
Last of all she pulled him into her arms and fell asleep beside him.
If she just didn't do this during sex, she would have been a caring, tender girlfriend. But the moment they hit the mattress she became a tyrant—no, a Demon King. Above the sheets and below them, she was two completely different people.
If a "daytime angel, nighttime devil" ever flipped this hard, anyone would be terrified.
If they ever got married, what exactly was going to happen to him? Staring at the ceiling, unable even to wipe the tears sliding down his face, Seon-ah drifted into sleep.
Morning came. Yu-rin woke him, and they ate breakfast together, then showered together.
She spent the time they weren't having sex editing the video she had filmed the night before.
When she finished, she showed it to him with a delighted little smile.
"Seon-ah. From now on, let's make lots of nice memories together. I'll film them all pretty for you."
She had shot a drug-rape femdom video and was calling it a "nice memory." It was horrifying.
The way she said it—like they were looking at vacation snapshots—was so twisted it felt like staring straight into the abyss of her lust.
It was the kind of moment that deserved every curse word he knew, but he swallowed them and answered as evenly as he could.
"Y-yeah... but maybe we could tone it down a little..."
The shock still hadn't fully left his voice; he stumbled over the words.
"Why? You don't like it?"
Her expression darkened at once, her tone turning into a threat—as if refusing her would unleash something truly violent.
"I just... prefer normal stuff. I guess it's not really my thing."
"You'll get used to it if we do it enough. It's fine. This is my first time doing it this way too."
Watching her talk so casually about something that wasn't happening to her body, Seon-ah could only sigh.
He was the one who had taken the drug. He was the one who had been milked dry. He was the one enduring sex that edged closer to rape every single day. And somehow she still had the nerve to sound this shameless.
"And you know about today, right?"
A sly look crossed her face, as if she expected him to look forward to it.
After everything she had done to him yesterday, the fact that she still had energy left for more insane sex was almost impressive.
After the flash of anger a moment ago, saying no would only make things worse. He answered obediently.
"I know..."
There was no strength left in his voice to sound enthusiastic.
She looked faintly dissatisfied, but the fact that he was going along with it seemed to please her anyway.
"I prepped something new for today too, so look forward to it. A lot."
He was not looking forward to it. Not even a little.
All he felt was dread. She was going to treat his body like a toy again. That much was certain.
People said that once you lived together, you saw everything—the good and the things you never wanted to see.
The meaning was a little different here, but he had to admit the saying was true.
And then evening arrived—the evening he had hoped would never come, the evening that should never have come. Yu-rin took his hand and led him back to the bed.