With a grunt, the old man unbuckled his belt, the sound like a gun cocking in the quiet alley. He shuffled back slightly, his breathing growing more erratic as he unzipped his pants. The fabric fell away, revealing his erect penis, a grotesque sight that made Baek Hyun's heart sink. It was thick and veiny, a stark contrast to the rest of his withered frame.
He stepped closer again, pressing his erection against the soft curve of Soo-Young's ass. The fabric of his pants was rough against her bare skin, sending shivers of revulsion through her body.
Her mind went blank, the weight of the situation crushing down on her. She couldn't think, couldn't process the horror of what was happening. Her thoughts were a jumble of fear and anger, her body responding in ways she couldn't control.
The old man's hand on her breast was like a brand, the pain searing through her, mixing with the alien pleasure that came from his touch. It was a betrayal, a violation that made her want to tear her skin from her bones.
With a grin that showed yellowed teeth, he whispered, "How about a little taste, Miss? Suck me off, and I'll let you go. Just a little taste." He brought her face closer to his crotch, his erection pushing against her cheek, the fabric of his boxers now wet with precum. The smell of his desire was nauseating, but she knew she had to play along.
Soo young felt the heat of his erection against her cheek, the fabric of his boxers sticky with his lust.
The sight of the old man's monstrous penis was like a punch to the gut. It was thick and veiny, a terrifying testament to his depraved desires. She'd never seen anything like it, not even in the darkest recesses of her imagination.
His hand reached up, his fingers tangling in her hair. He yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were wild, his grin a twisted mask of pleasure. "You're going to suck it," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "You're going to suck it until I'm satisfied, do you understand?"
The words barely registered in Soo young panic-stricken mind. She felt the old man's hand tugging at her hair, forcing her closer to the terrifying reality of his erection. The fabric of his boxers was wet and sticky against her face, and she had to fight back the bile rising in her throat. She had never felt so degraded, so violated, not even in her worst nightmares.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the tip of his penis press against her lips. The smell was overpowering, a mix of sweat and desire that made her stomach churn. She could feel his excitement growing, the pressure against her mouth increasing. Her mind was going blank from the excitement, the horror of the moment threatening to consume her.
The old man's grip tightened in her hair, and with a snarl, he forced her mouth open, the tip of his penis sliding in. The salty taste of his skin filled her mouth, the sensation of his hardness against her tongue making her want to gag. She fought the urge to bite down, knowing that it would only make things worse.
The smell was overwhelming, a pungent mix of sweat and musk that invaded her nose. It was a smell that seemed to permeate everything, a stench that she felt would cling to her long after this nightmare was over. She could feel his pre-cum leaking onto her tongue, the taste a bitter reminder of his depravity.
With every ounce of strength she had left, she pretended to comply, taking him deeper into her mouth. His grin grew wider, his hips bucking slightly as he began to thrust.
The feeling of his penis in her mouth was repulsive, but she forced herself to focus on the rhythm, the movement of her head bobbing up and down in a rhythmic dance of submission. She could feel her gag reflex rising, but she swallowed it down, knowing that she had to keep this up if she wanted to escape.
The old man's grunts of pleasure grew louder, his hips moving in time with her sucking. Each thrust was a violation, a reminder of her powerlessness, but she used that anger to fuel her movements, making them more deliberate, more enticing. Her cheeks hollowed out as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the shaft in a way she never thought she would have to do.
Her hand, almost as if it had a mind of its own, snuck under her torn dress. The coolness of the alley air contrasted sharply with the heat that had pooled between her legs. She felt the slickness of her arousal and was momentarily surprised. The fear and disgust were still there, but now there was something else, something primal that she couldn't ignore. Her own body was responding to the situation, and she hated herself for it.
As the old man's grunts grew louder, she began to realize the power she had in this twisted game. If she could make him believe she enjoyed it, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Her hand found her clit, the same one he had so cruelly toyed with, and she began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation was a strange mix of revulsion and arousal, a dance of horror that she never wanted to learn.
The man's eyes rolled back in his head, his grip on her hair loosening slightly as he lost himself in the pleasure she was giving him. Her other hand slid up her thigh, the fabric of the torn dress whispering against her skin, to grip his shaft firmly. Her movements grew more urgent, her hand moving in time with her mouth. She could feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing as he approached climax.
With a final, desperate gasp, he climaxed, his hot semen spurting into her mouth. She forced herself to swallow, her eyes watering from the effort. The taste was bitter, the reality of the act almost too much to bear. But she didn't stop, didn't falter, her hand and mouth continuing to move in tandem until he was spent.
As the old man's grip loosened, she pulled away, her eyes never leaving his face. He was panting heavily, his eyes glazed over with satisfaction. He looked down at her, his grin fading into a leer. "You liked that, didn't you?" he panted, his chest heaving.
But Soo-Young said nothing. She didn't answer him. She couldn't. The words were trapped in her throat, a knot of disgust and fear that she couldn't force out. Her hand remained on his shrunken penis, the sticky mess of his climax coating her palm. She felt dirty, used, but she couldn't let him see it.
With a sneer, the old man buckled his pants, tucking his penis back into his pants with a sense of pride. "That was quite the show," he said, his voice a gruff purr. "If you ever want more, you know where to find me." He winked before turning to leave, his leathered hand reaching back to pat her bare ass one last time. The touch was like a slap, a final assertion of his power over her.
Soo young felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she watched him go. She had never felt so violated, so utterly degraded. As the man's footsteps grew distant, she slid down the wall, her legs giving out beneath her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the salty taste of his semen that lingered in her mouth.
The alley was silent except for the faint echo of the market and her own ragged breathing. She looked down at her torn dress, the fabric barely covering her bruised and exposed breasts. The cool air sent shivers through her, a stark contrast to the heat that still pulsed between her thighs. Despite the horror, she couldn't deny the alien thrill that still lingered, a dark stain on her newfound femininity.
Her hand was still trembling as she reached up to wipe the remnants of the old man's lust from her mouth. The taste was bitter, a foul reminder of the power she had just been forced to give up. She spat onto the ground, trying to rid herself of the feel of him. Her mind was a tumult of emotions, fear and anger warring with the confusing arousal that had swept through her body.
The alley remained empty, the only sound the distant murmur of the market. Soo Young pushed herself to her feet, her legs wobbling slightly in the high heels. The dress clung to her, torn and soiled, a symbol of the violation she had just endured. She tugged it down, trying to cover herself, but the damage was done. Her dignity was in tatters, scattered like the shreds of fabric around her ankles.
Her eyes searched the ground for the purse she had dropped during the struggle. It lay a few feet away, the contents spilled out like guts from a fresh kill. She approached it with a sense of detachment, her mind still reeling from the assault. Kneeling down, she began to gather her possessions, her hands shaking as she picked up the phone, the wallet, and the lipstick that had rolled into the gutter.
The plum from earlier had also fallen out, the fruit bruised and dirty. She stared at it for a moment, the symbol of the innocent encounter that had led to this nightmare. With a snarl, she tossed it away, not wanting to be reminded of the false sense of security she had felt just moments ago.
Her hand hovered over her torn dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. With trembling fingers, she pulled the tattered edges together, tying the ruined material into a makeshift knot. The high heels she had been so proud of now felt like shackles, making every step an agonizing reminder of her vulnerability.
The market's vibrant colors were now a blur as she pushed through the crowd, her eyes on the ground. The stares she received were no longer curious glances but those of lust and predatory hunger, and she felt every single one of them as if they were a hand reaching out to grab her. She had to get home, to safety, to process what had just happened.
With trembling hands, she tugged at the frayed knot in her dress, adjusting the makeshift cover-up. The fabric clung to her, a stark reminder of the alley's cold embrace. She couldn't help but feel that the very essence of her feminine identity had been tainted by the old man's vile touch. Each step in the high heels echoed her newfound vulnerability, but she refused to let it show.
Finally, she reached the sanctuary of her apartment, the solace of familiarity a stark contrast to the horror of the alley. She fumbled with the keys, dropping them once, twice, before they finally clicked into the lock. The door swung open, and she stepped over the threshold, the weight of the world lifting slightly.
Closing the door behind her, Soo Young leaned against it, her breathing ragged, her body trembling. The safety of the locked door was a flimsy barrier against the fear that clung to her like a second skin. She kicked off the heels, the sharp sound of them hitting the floor a small act of rebellion against the vulnerability they represented.
Her legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor, the cold tiles biting into her bare knees. Her eyes remained fixed on the door, watching the shadows that danced across it, expecting the old man to burst in at any moment. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the market she had just left.
For a few moments, she remained there, her breathing the only sound in the room. Then, she slowly picked herself up, her body protesting with each movement. She made her way to the bathroom, the need to scrub the filth from her body overwhelming.
The water was hot, almost scalding, as she stepped into the shower. The spray beat down on her, washing away the grime and the fear, but not the memory of his hands on her. She shuddered under the water, her eyes squeezed shut, the soap slipping from her trembling hands. The steam filled the small space, wrapping her in a cocoon of white, a stark contrast to the blackness that had engulfed her in the alley.
Her hand reached up, her fingers tracing the tender marks on her neck where the old man's grip had been. She could still feel his breath on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her against the wall. The water washed over her, mixing with her tears, as she tried to scrub away the feeling of his touch.
After what felt like an eternity, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. The fabric felt rough against her bruised skin, the softness a stark contrast to the harshness of the world outside the shower.
As she emerged from the bathroom, she heard a knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze. Was it the old man, back to finish what he had started? Her hand tightened around the towel, the fear a cold knife in her chest.