Martial Arts Masochist

A slick touch glided along her thigh.

Why was he touching her thigh when it was supposed to be her buttocks getting the spanking?

She had her doubts, but she didn’t voice them.

Because it felt too good.

“Huu… Haat…”

The exquisite pressure was both ticklish and refreshing.

It felt like the knots in her legs from grueling training were finally unraveling.

Every time he pressed with force, her breath caught involuntarily, and whenever he gently stroked them afterward, her heart raced.

The mere contact alone would have been pleasurable enough, but an even greater mental stimulation overwhelmed Cheongwol.

This hand belonged to Han Seojin.

He, dressed so impeccably that one might not recognize him, was caressing her as if she were a treasure.

No matter how roughly skin met skin, the scented oil made their touches glide pleasurably against each other.

She was realizing now just how good her body could feel.

Goosebumps kept rising from the unfamiliar stimulation.

“Hng!”

His hand delved between her thighs.

It pried open the tightly pressed crevice, applying the fragrant oil everywhere.

“Feels good?”

Han Seojin asked teasingly.

Cheongwol couldn’t muster a reply, merely flushing red and letting out a moan.

Then, suddenly, she became aware of Dang Soran’s presence.

She was being toyed with like this in front of Dang Soran.

Overcoming the shame, she glanced sideways and…

“…”

Saw Dang Soran frozen with a confused—or perhaps resentful—expression.

If it had been a look of shock at her, it surely would have been even more embarrassing.

Instead, that envious expression made Cheongwol’s chest swell with pride.

Embarrassing, but enviable.

Humiliating, but cherished.

She mustn’t forget that.

“Hngp…!”

Next, Han Seojin’s hand touched her ample buttocks.

Cheongwol finally let out the moan she’d been holding back.

Dang Soran’s body twitched in response.

She’d let out a moan lewd enough to shame anyone who heard it, yet Cheongwol felt not just shame, but a certain thrill as well.

No matter what she did, she’d never been able to scratch at Dang Soran’s nerves before.

Now, it felt like she’d finally found Dang Soran’s weakness.

Having been teased her whole life, this newfound power doubled in its preciousness.

“Now, Young Master… how long… Hngt!”

“Stay still.”

So Cheongwol forcibly suppressed her sense of impropriety and continued her not-quite-boastful boasting.

She didn’t hold back her excited moans.

Han Seojin was touching her.

It was ecstatically thrilling.

To the point where she realized just how tediously boring the Murim had been back when she didn’t know this sensation.

****

Why?

Dang Soran couldn’t understand.

Why was Han Seojin caressing Cheongwol like that?

Dang Soran thought she knew everything.

Especially about the spanking part.

She’d been spanked multiple times already and even understood the pleasure it brought.

Yet the process unfolding now was entirely new to her.

The position was different.

Baring the buttocks was different.

Caressing those buttocks was different.

Applying scented oil was different.

Why was it all so different?

Why hadn’t she experienced something like this?

Why the disparity?

It was supposed to be the same punishment.

Dang Soran’s hands trembled.

She didn’t know the reason, but they shook.

As someone from the Tang Clan of Sichuan, skilled in hidden weapons and daggers, she had undergone extensive training to steady her hands.

Yet they trembled enough to render all that training useless.

Cheongwol’s melted expression filled Dang Soran’s eyes.

“Haah… Hng… Eung…”

Every time Han Seojin’s oil-slick hand glided softly over Cheongwol’s buttocks, Cheongwol moaned as if it felt too good.

Half-lidded eyes. Pupils gleaming with lust beneath them.

Trembling shoulders. Flushed cheeks. Wet lips, heated breaths—all of it.

Dang Soran’s heart clenched tightly.

That position should have been mine.

It definitely should have been.

Han Seojin had played the spanking game with her before.

This game was surely meant to be hers next.

“…”

If she hadn’t played around, hadn’t been arrogant, could she have been in that position?

Would he have smiled at her, caressed her buttocks with such satisfaction?

She imagined herself in that spot.

“Ugh…!”

And the realization that it could never be hers now made her chest ache.

Why does it hurt so much?

Dang Soran thought, watching Han Seojin’s eyes that never turned her way, even if it killed her.

What poison have you used on me, exactly?

Finally, Dang Soran spoke up.

“If you’re going to do it… just spank her quickly and be done with it. Do you think it’s permissible to touch the buttocks of the Emei Sect Leader like that? And why are you applying that cheap scented oil…!”

Cheongwol glanced back at Han Seojin at her words.

Han Seojin said,

“Wol-ah. I squeezed this oil out myself. Doesn’t it smell nice?”

At those words, even in Dang Soran’s eyes, the oil transformed into the most luxurious of luxuries.

Oil made personally by Han Seojin. And he was slathering it so generously on Cheongwol’s buttocks.

*Nod.*

Cheongwol nodded in affirmation to Han Seojin.

Their bond kept deepening.

Han Seojin was applying the oil he’d made to Cheongwol, and she was affirming his effort with her approval.

“The reason I keep applying it to your buttocks… is because I don’t want to see this beautiful skin get scarred. I want to see you in pain and suffering, not wounded.”

“Eut!!”

Those words, instead, hurt Dang Soran.

…Then what about me?

Young Master. Why did you just spank me?

Why do you pamper Cheongwol so much while just hitting me?

Cheongwol’s pale buttocks shifted shapes this way and that under Han Seojin’s touch.

Han Seojin grabbed them firmly, shook them lightly, stroked with his fingertips, brushed with the back of his hand.

“Ahuk… Hugrk…”

Cheongwol’s reactions varied too.

But one thing they shared: delight amid the shame.

Then, Han Seojin’s gaze suddenly changed.

His hand lifted away.

Cheongwol tensed slightly, sensing what was coming next.

Cheongwol tensing up. It was plain to see here who held her in check.

“Ready to get spanked?”

Han Seojin asked.

…No.

Dang Soran answered inwardly.

Don’t do it.

But Cheongwol squeezed her eyes shut and nodded obediently.

Without having done anything wrong.

Yet the Emei Sect Leader was declaring herself ready for the spanking.

Cheongwol, who couldn’t tolerate injustice or unfairness, was accepting Han Seojin’s baseless violence.

Han Seojin took a deep breath and swung his palm.

Explosive power surged from his mighty frame.

SPLATTT!!!

Soon, a horrific tearing sound echoed through Dang Soran’s room.

Utterly different from the sounds from her own buttocks.

Dang Soran had been spanked while fully clothed, so the sounds were mostly dull thuds and thwacks.

From Cheongwol’s buttocks came clear, moist slaps or sharp, crisp smacks.

“Huuuuuk!!!”

Cheongwol let out a massive feminine cry, the pain evidently sharp.

Han Seojin’s hand remained gripped on the struck spot, clutching her buttock.

“It hurts…!”

Cheongwol whispered petulantly.

“Can you feel the heat?”

Han Seojin asked.

Cheongwol wore a wronged expression but nodded.

“Now, let’s continue right away.”

SPLATTTT!!

Without waiting for permission, Han Seojin swung again.

Beneath him, Cheongwol merely trembled.

“Aeuk!! Haa… Eut!!”

She clearly had the power to escape if she wished, yet she didn’t.

She was simply accepting the violence.

“Wol-ah.”

Han Seojin called out to Cheongwol amid it all.

Cheongwol, struggling to endure the pain—or that strange sensation—nodded with reddened ears instead of replying.

“You know what?”

Dang Soran perked up her ears too.

Han Seojin said,

“Your snowy-white buttocks now bear the mark of my handprint.”

Thud.

Cheongwol’s head finally dropped, burying into the bed.

A sign her body could no longer bear the shame.

“Tell me whose buttocks these are.”

Han Seojin whispered.

Leaning in, he spoke into the ear of the head-hidden Cheongwol.

Dang Soran found the whole scene suffocating.

Especially knowing that position could have been hers.

“…M-Mine… my buttocks.”

Cheongwol replied as if she absolutely refused to give Han Seojin the answer he wanted.

“Right now, they’re my plaything, but still yours?”

“…Hngt…!! M-Mine, they’re mine.”

“Yeah?”

SPLATTTT!!

“Ha-eut!! I-It hurts… It hurts, Young Master…!!”

“I’ll keep punishing you until you give the right answer.”

It would be unjust for anyone, but Dang Soran saw it.

“…Ah.”

Through the gap in her hair, Cheongwol’s mouth—buried in the bed—was faintly visible.

Her lips curved up ever so, ever so slightly.

…Subtly uplifted in pleasure.

“Stop it…!”

Finally, Dang Soran cried out.

Interrupting their intimate moment made her feel pathetically wretched for some reason, but she couldn’t endure otherwise.

Han Seojin continued caressing Cheongwol’s buttocks without responding.

But since he hadn’t raised his hand, it was a chance to speak.

“Young Master, you want to punish me, right?”

“…”

“Th-Then… d-don’t do this… punish me directly instead. Okay?”

Cheongwol lifted her head from the bed, trembling.

She propped herself up on her elbows.

“Wol is a nun. A bhikkhuni…! You can’t do this. So stop toying with Wol…! If you’re going to punish someone, punish me.”

“…”

“I’ll take it instead. Like we used to. Okay? So my punishment—”

“—Senior Dang.”

But it was Cheongwol who cut Dang Soran off.

With an expression steeped in pleasure and humiliation, she said,

“…I’m grateful for the sentiment, but I’m fine. Young Master wants to punish me. I’ll endure it. I’ll bear it. Don’t hurt yourself, Senior Dang… just stay there quietly.”

As if seeking confirmation, Cheongwol looked at Han Seojin.

Han Seojin blinked before saying,

“Wol-ah. You’ve been going on about ‘Senior Dang’ this and that… who are you even talking to?”

It was childish banter. The kind of ‘I can’t see you even though I can’ that only a child would pull.

“…”

Yet it was devastatingly effective.

Dang Soran felt, for the first time in her life, as if a hole had been punched straight through her chest.

One thing was certain: this pain hurt twice as much as any spanking on the buttocks, and was twice as unpleasant.

Humiliating tears welled up.

Because Han Seojin was ignoring her.

Dang Soran couldn’t respond.

And once more, a strange sense of victory flickered across Cheongwol’s face.

A nun with her buttocks bared. Slathered in oil. Taking bare spanks that left red marks.

Yet she was expressing through her expression that she was superior for enduring it.

Caught in this unprecedented situation, Dang Soran couldn’t collect her thoughts.

Dang Soran had grown up showered in love.

Wherever she went.

The whole world had given her affection in generous measure.

Perhaps due to her looks, or because she’d risen so splendidly bearing the Tang Clan of Sichuan’s name, or her unique personality—who knew.

Whatever the case, she’d received much love.

From within the Tang Clan of Sichuan, from outsiders.

From servants to strangers.

Finding husband candidates had been effortless; she was used to attention.

Cheongwol received love too, but not as much as her.

Even during the sparring at Mount Emei before, hadn’t villagers there cheered for Dang Soran?

When she’d gone missing for a month, hadn’t the entire Murim buzzed searching for her?

SPLATTTT!!

Dang Soran snapped back to reality with a shudder.

And yet her…

…Now she was being discarded like this.

“You perverted bitch. If the Emei Sect hadn’t taken you in, you’d definitely have become a whore.”

“Hau… N-No, no… No, I’m not…”

SPLATTT!!

“No backtalk.”

“Hueuk… Hnng…”

She who’d always only known love was being discarded like this.

She didn’t even know how to describe this overwhelming sense of alienation.

Perhaps, vaguely, she’d thought herself superior to Han Seojin.

After all, she was the eldest daughter of the Tang Clan of Sichuan, beloved by so many.

Han Seojin was a beggar-born youth ignored even in his village.

Anyone asked would say the same.

That Poison Phoenix Dang Soran was naturally superior to some beggar man.

SPLATTTT!!

Han Seojin tugged Cheongwol’s collar, whispering into her ear.

“So pretty. So pretty I might lose control if I’m not careful.”

Cheongwol’s face melted further. Vivid pleasure stimulated her.

What she realized then was that her relationship with Han Seojin differed greatly from her assumptions.

She’d thought he’d treasure their connection like a lifeline.

Wasn’t it the rope that could upend his life?

Any ordinary man might cling desperately once such a bond formed.

But Han Seojin was different.

He was a man who could discard her anytime.

That realization tormented Dang Soran.

The alienation Han Seojin gifted her was maddeningly painful.

This sensation was so novel it felt all the stranger and more agonizing.

Only now did she grasp that Han Seojin, who’d colored her world, might not even look her way.

“Haha, your buttocks are too red now?”

Han Seojin teased Cheongwol.

Cheongwol shook her head vigorously and buried her face in the bed again.

He then stroked the reddened buttocks with his hand.

“But the warmth feels nice. They were too cold earlier.”

“Haa-u… Hau…”

As if savoring the gentle touch after the harsh punishment, Cheongwol couldn’t even compose herself.

He brushed the buttocks lightly with the back of his hand, then with his fingertips.

Following his gradually retreating hand, Cheongwol subtly arched her waist.

Like a collared pet, her buttocks trailed his fingertips.

The curvaceous flesh lifted momentarily; then, aware of her lewd display, she lowered her waist again softly.

“Ow, it hurts, you say? But it feels good, huh?”

“Eut!”

And Han Seojin wasn’t the type to let such a sight pass unnoticed.

Teasingly, he pointed out Cheongwol’s recent indecency.

“Why, sad to see my hand pull away? Like this?”

Squeeze!

Once more, he roughly kneaded her buttocks.

Cheongwol merely trembled.

That sight was beautiful even in Dang Soran’s eyes.

Was a submitting woman always this pretty?

Only then could Dang Soran admit it.

Too late, but now she accepted.

Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes.

…She was jealous.

I want to be in that position.

I want Han Seojin, who ran around for me, to look only at me.

I want him to touch and delight in my buttocks.

I want him to play with me.

“Hueuk…”

But there was something she clearly had to do first.

Dang Soran knew she’d acted too presumptuously.

So…

“I… get it, so…”

She whispered.

At her watery voice, Cheongwol’s eyes turned to her.

Han Seojin still hadn’t.

“…I get it, so… stop. The hairpin…”

Even with bound hands, Dang Soran pulled out and clutched the hairpin.

Her treasured possession.

This hairpin that might symbolize her engagement to Han Seojin.

Only now did she realize stealing it like this robbed it of meaning.

So it was time to return it.

“…I’ll return the hairpin, so… I’m suffering… stop ignoring me…”

Even amid pleasure, fire lit in Cheongwol’s eyes.

“As expected of you, Senior.”

She said.

Dang Soran nodded.

“I’ll give it back, Wol-ah… so tell Young Master to stop ignoring me…”

This overwhelming defeat.

The powerlessness of having to speak to Han Seojin through Cheongwol.

Yet she couldn’t not do it.

The situation was that desperate.

Him looking only at Cheongwol was too painful.

Being ignored by him was too much.

She couldn’t bear this alienation. Even breathing hurt.

…Her heart demon felt ready to rampage.

Cheongwol took in Dang Soran with her eyes, then looked at Han Seojin.

She asked him,

“…Young Master, is my gift ready?”

Dang Soran couldn’t grasp the meaning.

Han Seojin replied,

“…It’s ready. Be a good girl today, and I’ll give it to you.”

Cheongwol’s face bloomed brightly, then she cautiously asked again.

“C-Could you give it now? I’ve… waited so long… I’m dying of curiosity about what it is…”

“You and your…”

Han Seojin clicked his tongue and rummaged in his pocket.

Visibly excited, Cheongwol looked at Dang Soran.

“Senior. Just keep that hairpin… you have it.”

“…What?”

“It’s just something Young Master got as a gift anyway. It means nothing…”

“…”

“…But thanks to you, Young Master decided to make my gift himself. So I don’t need that anymore.”

*Thud*, Dang Soran’s heart plummeted.

Her hand, fiddling with the hairpin, froze.

Meanwhile, Han Seojin pulled out the gift.

Without hesitation, he unfastened Cheongwol’s dog collar and…

Slipped a thin, sleek black leather cord around her snowy-white neck.

Too thick for a necklace, too thin for a dog collar.

“…Haat.”

Yet it carried the symbolism of restraint by someone.

Something Han Seojin had made himself now encircled Cheongwol’s neck.

“It’s your gift, Wol-ah.”

Feeling the collar’s presence, Cheongwol’s expression filled with deep satisfaction and emotion.

“It’s… too much, Young Master. I love it so much.”

Trembling, Cheongwol grabbed Han Seojin’s hand and said.

“…Spank me more, Young Master. Torment me more.”

SPLATTTT!!

Han Seojin didn’t hesitate.

As if claiming recompense for his efforts, he toyed with her buttocks.

Cheongwol hurt, yet rejoiced more than ever.

She had offered herself to Han Seojin.

Dang Soran watched from afar as the two grew closer.

Her eyes couldn’t leave Cheongwol’s neck.

She was so jealous of that gift.

And at the same time, the hairpin in her grasp seemed so shabby and pathetic.

Dang Soran felt something snap in her mind.

She knew today’s punishment and shock would haunt her for life.

Through this process, what she truly wanted began to crystallize, one by one.

…And to never endure this again…