Martial Arts Masochist

I pinched Dang Soran’s tongue between my index and middle fingers and pulled.

A vivid crimson tongue spilled out endlessly.

I’d never realized it before, but Dang Soran had an astonishingly long tongue.

Cute and charming face adorned with a long, sensual tongue.

This tongue alone wasn’t like a spoiled brat—it was like a lewd woman’s.

Was that why it had always been so wicked?

“Soran, your tongue is so long?”

“Hee…! Hee!”

Dang Soran desperately twisted her head this way and that, but the gripped tongue didn’t budge.

With the back of her neck clutched in my hand, escape was impossible.

Her flushed red face, overlaid with an expression of shame—I loved it.

The girl who’d been so brazenly defiant, now helpless with her tongue in my grasp.

Gazing down at the glistening crimson tongue slick with saliva, I pressed my thumb into it like stamping clay.

“He! Heee!”

Her moan tickled my ear in protest.

Ignoring it, I dragged my thumb slowly along her tongue.

Incomprehensible, so I’ll ignore it.

Salty? Or faintly sweet? As the stimulation deepened, her shoulders began to tremble faintly.

Restrain one sense, and the others heighten excessively.

Dang Soran’s tongue must be feeling every sensation amplified right now.

Why is a long tongue so sensual?

Staring at Dang Soran’s snake-like tongue, I pondered.

This flexible, soft tongue.

…Maybe because of what it could do comes to mind?

If our tongues intertwined, it’d wrap around deeper, more persistently?

If I placed my cock on it, it’d coil around?

Strange fantasies rushed blood to my head.

I wanted to see more of her embarrassed face.

I needed to see that expression twist further.

Even her kneeling before me right now was a sight to behold.

You filthy masochist. Acted all high and mighty, but you love kneeling in the end.

That’s why you pestered me all this time—you wanted this.

You love the humiliation that much?

Being ignored hurt that bad?

Then let’s crank up the intensity. I’ve wanted to, too.

Her fluttering eyelashes, her anxious expression fixed on my fingertips.

Why did the sight of her obediently wearing the ring gag hit so violently?

Saliva wouldn’t dry; my hand was soaked through.

Sticky strands stretched long, dripping to the floor.

That slippery viscosity felt good.

After toying freely with Dang Soran’s warm, wet mouth and tongue, I suddenly let go to satisfy my curiosity.

“Eh…?”

I released her tongue, but it didn’t retreat to its place.

Probably because of my ongoing actions, slow and deliberate.

Her body froze, watching me.

Staring at my saliva-soaked hand, I brought it to my nose and sniffed.

…This girl.

No smell at all.

Could’ve been in my food without issue.

But I couldn’t say that.

A smirk spread across my face.

“…Let me smell it.”

Like when I teased her about her foot odor before, I taunted her again.

“Haaah!!”

That instant, Dang Soran started thrashing wildly.

****

Imagine a man you somewhat cherished dismissing your saliva as smelly.

Any woman would want to bite her tongue off at the mere thought.

“Heuu!! Aaah!!”

Dang Soran was experiencing it firsthand.

Raised delicately, the impact hit her even harder.

She wanted to bite her tongue and die, but the gag prevented it.

She had to endure the full humiliation.

“Soran. You put this foul-smelling saliva in my food? More vicious than I thought.”

“Huu… Huuu…!”

She bowed her head to hide her mouth, shaking it to fend off my approaching hand.

Her mocked, smelly saliva drooling to the floor bothered her, but she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t even think to get angry at Han Seojin—just excuses in her mind.

No. I’m clean. I chewed areca nuts diligently, and even herbs after to kill bad breath.

It’s one of the things I work hardest at. No way it smells.

I checked my breath several times today… no smell each time…

Grab!

As Dang Soran kept her head down, Han Seojin’s hand gently lifted her chin.

He could’ve yanked her hair to force it up, so this was almost kind.

But his following words weren’t.

“Maybe I was wrong. Gotta check again.”

This time, instead of his hand, he gripped her chin tight and brought his face close.

Realizing he was coming to sniff her breath directly, Dang Soran felt her blood run cold.

“Aaah! Haa!”

She tried pulling her head back, but it wasn’t allowed.

He tilted his head slightly, pressing his nose to her open mouth and inhaled deeply.

In this inescapable situation, Dang Soran squeezed her eyes shut, held her breath, and prayed for it to end.

If not for this moment and circumstance, she’d feel something other than shame and humiliation.

His face had never been this close before.

Han Seojin chuckled once.

Just like how Dang Soran used to mock him.

“Not a mistake. The Tang Clan of Sichuan’s pampered flower has this secret, huh.”

“Ah… Aaah…”

Tears welled up.

She couldn’t ignore the difference in treatment.

With Cheongwol, such gentle words, wanting to see her pretty ass, praises galore.

But with her, endlessly cold and harsh. Endless criticism.

She knew. She’d said cold things to Han Seojin too.

But that was all… just teasing… poking for reactions… not serious…

…Why did Han Seojin seem so utterly sincere?

Tears glistened.

Bastard. Toying with Dang Soran like this.

Her judgment was right.

This monster shouldn’t marry.

Poor Emei Sect women.

She’d have to cling to him forever, tormenting him so he couldn’t even talk to other women—

“-Crying again?”

Han Seojin asked right then.

His expression said he liked the tears.

Annoyed, Dang Soran averted her gaze, blinking to swallow them.

Whenever Han Seojin got even a bit harsh, these tears leaked out unnoticed.

” Crying over a little teasing. Soran, do you never reflect on your actions? Putting bugs or spitting in my food.”

“…”

“Fine, merciful me will let it slide. See?”

She glared, and he pulled over a small jar nearby.

It was filled with salt.

“Here. I’ll clean it for you.”

Gripping her teary chin, he tried shoving salt into her mouth.

The act of “cleaning” in this situation felt dangerously off.

She should be furious, but prolonging this play risked twisting anger into depravity.

Entrusting her mouth to Han Seojin wasn’t entirely unwelcome either.

Even couples don’t clean each other’s mouths.

People hide their filthy parts from each other—this was one.

“Aah!”

Dang Soran resisted, trying to unfold her bent knees.

Grab!

The moment she rose slightly, a small cage formed.

Han Seojin had hooked his leg over hers.

His firm calf brushed her nape, blocking her rise.

The narrow gap from intertwined legs trapped her naturally.

Almost no room to move.

Calf behind. Thigh on shoulders. His crotch ahead.

Bound wrists and numbing legs offered no help.

She was utterly pinned.

For the first time, his forced restraint subtly excited her.

The indifference incarnate now holding her back forcibly.

It annoyed her, yet stirred something.

Premium areca nut-chewing Dang Soran’s mouth received a handful of filthy salt.

“Ee!”

The saltiness snapped her back; she squeezed her eyes shut.

Shluck! Shluck! Shluck!

“Huu! Hrrk! Kek!”

Han Seojin’s rough hand invaded brutally, ravaging her insides.

” There, good girl. Stay still.”

He rubbed her teeth everywhere. Scraped her inner cheeks again.

Toyed with her tongue relentlessly—pinched, pressed.

His hand filling her mouth left Dang Soran clueless.

Trapped between his legs, no resistance possible.

She felt like a complete tool.

Her tongue swam between his fingers constantly.

She couldn’t deny the slippery sensation growing lewd.

“Eek! Hrrk! Kek!”

Han Seojin seemed pleased by her soft tongue, satisfaction on his face.

Gazing down at her toy-like body with interest.

That gaze sparked a change in Dang Soran’s chest.

Seeing him enjoy her body… why did it feel a bit joyful?

Why did his satisfied face using her feel good?

She was suffering horribly, yet his joy outshone her mood.

But soon, rough salt grains scraped everywhere.

Saltiness dried her mouth further, amplifying the scraping pain.

“Ah!”

Dang Soran moaned.

Salt grazing her gums sharply stung her nerves.

Han Seojin’s movements paused then.

“Make more saliva. It flowed fine into my food before.”

Dang Soran eyed him with a pained expression.

Han Seojin looking down at her.

His gaze meeting hers twisted into a sly, lewd grin.

As if he’d prepared for this from the start.

“…No helping it. If our Soran hurts, I gotta help.”

“Hee…?”

“Soran. You enjoyed doing it all this time, right?”

Han Seojin smacked his lips once.

Then gripped her face firmly with both hands.

His sticky, wet palms on her cheeks felt dirty, unpleasant—but today’s play was inherently filthy.

Han Seojin leaned in.

Dang Soran looked straight up at him; he looked down.

That instant, Han Seojin gathered saliva.

Sensing what was coming, tension surged through Dang Soran.

But her face was fixed by his hands.

No way.

Never this sadistic before.

The Tang Clan of Sichuan’s pampered flower.

She who’d rocked the Central Plains with marriage rumors recently.

Now, about to receive a beggar’s saliva.

“Ah…! Aaaah!!”

Saliva symbolizes contempt.

Spit on trash, on worthless things—that’s saliva.

That’s why even spitting in Han Seojin’s food, she chose only clear, pure drops, stretching long from her tongue tip.

Even dirty, no contempt intended. A nuance difference.

But Han Seojin wasn’t extending his tongue—he forced saliva.

As expected, the emerging saliva was cloudy white, bubbly.

This held utter disdain.

Completely looking down on Dang Soran.

Unacceptable to any dignified person.

…This was for objects, possessions only.

Han Seojin met her eyes, conveying with his gaze.

‘Eat.’

She gulped.

Long saliva strands dripped from his mouth.

“Ah…!! Haaa!!”

Dang Soran couldn’t close her mouth.

Eye contact held.

Pleasure lit Han Seojin’s face.

Drip…

Into her open mouth, onto her exposed tongue… his warm saliva fell.

The hot liquid covering her tongue tip made her whole body twitch.

The moment she received—and swallowed—a man’s saliva.

Han Seojin’s saliva.

Disgust, revulsion, humiliation.

The scorn of her usual tormentor turning tables.

“Tasty, right, Soran?”

“Ah… Ahha…”

Her tongue, touched by his saliva, froze, lost.

Yet strangely, her heart raced.

Thinking it gross, hating it…

…Deep between her legs, unbeknownst to her, wetness gathered.