Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Bank and Robber (2)
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He rapidly drew in and exhaled breaths through the mask. The non-woven fabric, soaked with moisture, clung damply to his face.
The foot of the woman robbing the bank pressed down on his waist. Like a frog pinned in a lab, sprawled face-down on the floor, he couldn't twitch a single limb.
"Unbelievable.... Hey, are you an idiot? A moron?"
The foot pressing into his lower back lifted just as he thought it might, then prodded his side with the toe. The pain kept him from saying a word.
He hadn't been hit that many times. But she seemed to know exactly where to strike to make it hurt the most. A dull ache radiated from each spot.
"Hey, why so quiet? Can't you at least mouth off like before?"
Even amid the insults, he couldn't muster a response. Opening his mouth even a little felt like it would bring tears.
"Aww, look at you sniffling. Want me to comfort you? Huh?"
Her foot dug under his stomach and roughly lifted. His body flipped over. Ignoring the sharp pain in his back, he finally saw her face looking down at him.
A slight smirk trembled at the corner of her mouth. Her eyebrows quivered. It was an expression anyone would call angry, but those eyes...
Moon Hayeon...?
"Whatever. You've totally ruined my mood."
She squatted down. Her open hand slipped under his hood. She grabbed his hair and yanked, forcing his head up.
"Threatening people with an empty gun. Kid, if everyone here dies because of you, you gonna take responsibility? Is that it?"
Her mocking tone carried a sneer. She grinned wide, spreading one hand dramatically for him to see. Sparks crackled. Zap zap.
He tried to shake his head. Just twisting his neck a bit pulled his hair tighter, ripping a shrill scream from his lips.
"Ow!"
"What a drama queen. Huh? You confident or what?"
They might all die. Because of his reckless stunt. Despair welled up again, mixing with duty. He forced his sealed lips apart.
"I-I'll do anything. Please..."
"Oh, hero's here. You really mean anything?"
"Y-Yes.... Really, anything. Anything at all. Just spare the others..."
As he spoke, tears welled up. He sniffled. She flashed a sly smile at the sound.
"Fine. Then strip."
"...Pardon?"
"Take off your pants. Or watch everyone die?"
Why? He barely had time to wonder. Her eyes darkened. He blurted out desperately.
"I-I'll do it!"
*
In truth, if she meant to kill everyone here, she wouldn't bother with such annoying conditions.
Even if the gun was just for show, had he faked pulling the trigger at her chest, his limbs wouldn't be intact right now.
The reason she'd left Park Jungwoo relatively unharmed was simple. She was curious just how far this foolish, justice-driven fool would go.
Park Jungwoo staggered to his feet, hand trembling on his belt buckle. Unbuckling it took forever.
"Hurry up."
She feigned anger. His shoulders jerked sharply.
His hands moved faster now. They paused at his waist, then with a sniffle, yanked down underwear and pants together.
"Huh. Thicker than I thought. Figured it'd be like an inch."
She raised her pinky and giggled.
He stood bare-cocked before a woman in her thirties. But the hostages averted their eyes after hearing the exchange.
While the bank teller's hands busied stuffing money into bags, the woman in rider suit pondered leisurely, like picking buffet dishes.
"...Fine. I'm not shameless like you, so no stripping elsewhere."
She clasped her hands together in front of his dick, like praying, then parted them slightly. A gap formed under her long pinky.
"Put it in. Shake."
A crisp command. Tears welled under his sunglasses, dripping down.
But no major resistance. Quietly, he stepped forward two paces and slid his glans into the gap between her palms.
Leaning his hips forward, chin up, his body shivered. Of all things, hands. Moon Hayeon's touch lingered fresh in his mind. The sensation was too stimulating.
"Making a fuss already. Can't move?"
"I-It... your hands..."
"What's wrong with my hands?"
Park Jungwoo clamped his mouth shut. Lips mumbling under the mask, he stammered.
"They're warm... feels good..."
"Pfft... Who says that? You're one weird freak."
He shut up again. Her hand squeezed his dick tight, urging him on, as her twitching smirk hardened into a glare.
If it doesn't get hard, it'll be fine...
His hips rocked slowly back and forth. Once, twice. Each thrust parted his clenched jaw a bit more.
The mask bulged then clung tight, repeating. She watched his sunglass-hidden eyes with a strange look.
Hnngh, mmph. Muffled groans leaked out. Park Jungwoo felt his mind fog as pleasure crept up his back.
"Whoa... rock hard already. Not embarrassed?"
The blonde woman's words snapped him alert. A heavy throb pulsed below. His dick, wrapped in her hands, stood stiff.
...The Submission skill's effect. He'd have died of shame ten times over, but the skill forced the erection.
He sensed sidelong glances from those who'd turned away. If shame stopped his hips, she narrowed her grip with a sly smile.
"Keep going all timid like that and it'll get boring. Put some force into it."
Not much of a threat. But her earlier words burned in his brain.
He grabbed her shoulders with both hands and bucked forward desperately. Grimacing like he was really fucking a pussy, his pathetic thrusts looked more comical than pitiful.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
No matter how rough, the sound was no different from solo play. Some hostages stared openly now.
It was all to save them. But his masked face hid his expression. Was it ecstasy or misery beneath? Curiosity glued their eyes.
"Hng...! Y-Yeah, ungh... mmph..."
"There you go. Felt like tickling before, now it's scraping nice?"
Park Jungwoo prayed he was buying enough time. He fought the rising urge to cum, keeping the rhythm.
The teller still packed bags. From dropping pants to now fighting not to blow, less than three minutes passed.
"What, gonna cum already? Premature much? Can't even handle a hand-pussy?"
"Hnn, ah, mmph, n-no... not y-yet, f-fine..."
Everyone could tell from his voice he wasn't fine.
Melting voice, nasal moans spilling out. Choppy words lacked sense.
"Really? You're twitching like crazy."
Her laugh deepened. Even as she teased, she squeezed the gap tighter, urging him on.
Squelching sounds rose from her palms. Each thrust in and out brushed precum-slick skin with wet schlicks.
Schlick, schluuuurk...
He pulled his hips back and gasped deep. The mask made breathing hard.
"Ugh, seriously. Can't watch this frustration... Like this, see."
"Eek! Hng, nn, hnnngh, haa, ah..."
Squeeze and release, but suddenly her stationary hands thrust forward. She gripped his dick firm, snapping her wrist roughly.
White-hot pleasure flashed. He tried pulling back, but her thumb ground his glans, pursuing relentlessly.
Excitement colored her face too, though less than his. His jaw jutted under the mask. Saliva dribbled from the gap, wetting her arm.
No escape. He slammed his hips forward.
Splurt! Spurt, spluuurt, spluuuuur...
His little dick twitched wildly. It drained everything inside, soaking her palms slimy.
Legs buckled; he ass-planted. His spent dick dribbled on the floor.
"Ew, gross.... Damn, you must've been saving it for days."
She squatted before him, wiping cum-smeared hands on his stomach teasingly. Then her hand froze.
Her eyes stared into space. Park Jungwoo knew what it meant. His unique skill, Seeding. Its effect explaining itself to her.
"You... Ah, tsk."
Her hardened gaze softened to a click of the tongue. She rummaged in her rider suit pocket.
"Make way! Vigilante Corps!"
"Come out quick!"
Voices from outside, a beat late. Park Jungwoo peered hopefully at the window. She grew busier, stuffing cash bags and digging in pouches.
"Ah. Here it is."
She pulled out her hand with an exaggerated sigh of relief, then squatted before him again. He propped on elbows, scooting back awkwardly.
Suddenly, her hand slapped his lower belly playfully. Smack. She stood.
"Stats go up, but targets don't multiply, so can't take you today... But now I know right where you are. I'll come get you soon, kid."
She giggled mischievously. He wanted to beg never to meet again, but no words came.
"Vigilante Corps!"
"Over there! There!"
Commotion on the stairs. Hostages had scattered far from her—and him.
She rose, shaking her drying cum-crusted hand playfully. From toes up, clothes, slung bag and all, her form began to fade.
Like a smoke donut unraveling. Her shape dimmed bit by bit until a wisp vanished out the window.
Relief and shame warred; his body went limp. Propped on the wall, he panted blankly.
A group burst through the auto-doors. Amid similar outfits, one woman strode forward.
"You lot, handle the civilians first. Check the CCTV."
"I called you guys! You have no idea how scary it was!" Complaints rose as people were ushered out.
Park Jungwoo lacked even the strength to move. So he just watched her approach.
What now? Medal maybe? Nah, Vigilante Corps wasn't official. A plaque at best.
His masked smirk of pride wouldn't fade. No deaths—thank goodness. Tension eased; a soft chuckle escaped.
Clack. Her heel struck firm; she stared down at him.
Her eyes held only contempt.
"...Put some pants on first. And... not my place, but that tattoo? You'll regret it later."
Her gaze fixed on his exposed lower half. Before shame hit, "tattoo" puzzled him. He followed her eyes down.
On Park Jungwoo's lower belly: her handprint clear. But that wasn't it. Something worse caught his eye.
Below the navel, just above the pubic bone. A black heart-shaped tattoo.
"What the hell...?"