SMS | Chapter 1.3

The moment that awakened Mino from his life of desirelessness was somewhat humorous.

“Ha Mino, come to the staff room after the assembly.”

It was during his second year of middle school. Somehow, Mino, who was ranked 12th in the whole school, ended up first in his class. Because of this, he received a proposal to join the student council, recommended by his homeroom teacher. Mino didn’t refuse, so he became a part of the council.

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It wasn’t a grand title, but it was still a badge of authority. The all-boys middle school was dreary, and there was arguably no one as obedient as Mino. Being practically adored by the teachers, his time on the student council was quite enjoyable. He took charge of various school events and even went on a special student council retreat. It was a decent memory.

Mino’s school was affiliated with a large church foundation. Therefore, the student council members often got drafted for events held by the church, especially during big occasions like Christmas where performances were involved.

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The foundation had separate schools for girls and boys at both middle and high school levels, which occasionally led to mixers. Naturally, there were instances of dating. Especially since the high school students appeared almost adult-like to those in middle school. To summarize, one of the male middle school council members had daringly started dating a female high school council member, and they were caught.

It wasn’t a big deal unless made so, but the atmosphere at the time was fierce. Given that it involved only exemplary students, the outrage suggested it wasn’t just an innocent exchange of letters.

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It was right before the Christmas performance, and the school’s pastor, who oversaw the boys, was in charge.

He looked benign at first glance but carried a somewhat creepy demeanor. Sparse hair, frail build, and sallow skin made him look weak, but when his droopy eyes fully opened, they transformed his expression in an unsettling way.

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He had unusually large eyes, noticeably different in size from each other, and there was something odd about the look in them. For a clergyman, his eyes were disturbingly haggard. Even at fifteen, Mino could sense the unease.

And, as expected, this man was a nutcase.

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“You guys should get beaten by your seniors. You Satan-like bastards. And the same goes for you. If you get caught messing around with the girls, you’ll get hit by your juniors. Understand?”

He declared that he couldn’t administer corporal punishment himself as a clergyman, so he used the male student council members to enforce collective responsibility. If this were now, it would be a scandal, headlined as child abuse, but it was a different time then.

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“Pastor!”

The president of the boys’ student council objected, but the pastor’s menacing glare subdued him. He claimed he wouldn’t lay a hand on them, but it seemed like the school conducted severe punishments out of God’s sight. Mino and his friends, reluctantly, had to prostrate themselves before much older seniors.

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It seemed the pastor had prepared whips in advance, his face filled with glee as he distributed them. Crazy bastard, nutcase. Even the usually non-swearing Mino felt an urge to curse, feeling the unfairness.

I’ve never been hit before…

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Indeed, until then, Mino had never experienced corporal punishment. He was a well-behaved son and student. There was no such insane teacher at his school.

As he lay face down, those around him who had been hit before wore expressions full of fear.

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“Those who hit softly will be called to the pastor’s office first thing tomorrow.”

The pastor giggled as he issued his warning, and the senior boys clenched their fists, holding the whips. Empowered to use force, it seems idiotic now, but those who knew the pastor’s ways couldn’t even rebel.

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The senior standing before Mino was significantly taller than the others, and even though Mino had never been hit, his sheer size was frightening. Due to lying face down, he couldn’t see his face, but he could hear a whisper when the pastor wasn’t looking. The scent of that senior’s skin had stuck with Mino. He couldn’t remember his face, though.

“I’m sorry.”

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It was a low voice, unlike the cracking voices of his age group. Was he going to hit softly? Mino didn’t know, but he hoped so. From the left, the thwack of a hit started, and one of Mino’s friends screamed, collapsing. With each hit, a mounting sense of dread grew, and soon a stinging whip landed on Mino’s buttocks.

“Ouch…”

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The first strike brought a heavy impact. Following the intense pain was a confusing sensation that froze Mino. His skin burned, and a peculiar pleasure ignited his core. It was just one hit. But it was unforgettable because someone intervened right then.

“What are you doing?!”

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Mino couldn’t regain his composure and dashed out, running down the hallway to the bathroom. Once inside, he gasped for air. The pounding of his heart was overshadowed by another body part making its presence known.

As he hastily lowered his pants…

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“Ah, damn…”

His underwear, distinctly marked by the painful reality, was wet. The disappointment was more profound than when he realized he liked men, not women. He fell asleep once home, haunted by the same dream repeatedly. The gentle voice saying “I’m sorry,” coupled with the harsh impact. When he woke up, his underwear was just as it had been in that bathroom. The shock lasted for days.

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“Mino, are you sick?”

His parents, seeing their son frequently feverish and vomiting, grew worried. When they learned about the violent incident at the school event from Mino, they were furious. The uproar led to the pastor being dismissed, and the foundation’s schools severed all ties. By the time Mino recovered enough to return to school, everything was over.

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“Are you guys okay?”

He closely inspected their faces, fearing someone else might have suffered similarly.

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“Hey, Mino, are you alright? Ah, that bald bastard! Such a shitty personality, no wonder his hair ran away.”

“Those guys were too much, weren’t they? I thought I was going to die.”

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“They wouldn’t have wanted to hit us, right? I heard that Park Han-seong guy is infamous at the high school. If you get dragged to the pastor’s office, it’s almost like being tortured.”

“Still, you shouldn’t hit people…”

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They chattered about the incident. Mino listened, frozen.

It’s wrong to hit people.
It hurts and feels terrible.
Only insane perverts enjoy such things.

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Those firm words tormented Mino further. What was he then, if he felt pleasure from being hit? Maybe the pupa dream was indeed apt. A pervert who can’t pervert until death.

His heart pounded. The wounds healed quickly, and Mino regretted that they did. What to do? How to live? The pupa he’d just realized he was wriggled restlessly.

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Life, which had already been dull, became utterly terrible from that day. It was proof he wasn’t normal.

During a time when most people grapple with such desires, as bodies grow and voices deepen, those memories violently shook Mino. Puberty was cruel. With his weak temperament, he couldn’t rebel by seeking punishment. He just suffered for days, recalling the owner of that whipping.

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Years of suffering followed, and adulthood arrived swiftly.

Having shed his minor status, Mino indulged in exploring various things. After legally verifying his adulthood, he entered a boundless world. And then he realized that what he wanted wasn’t just to be hit.

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Pain-induced pleasure wasn’t all. He wanted to be humiliated, to submit to someone. Maybe he would have suited being a slave in the Joseon era.

“I’m crazy.”

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His hands trembled with shock. This wasn’t normal. He hadn’t avoided trying. He had strived for normal, healthy relationships, or otherwise, sought out those as peculiar as he was. The conclusion was that there were many like him.

It felt like landing in a new world at first. Just the thought was so thrilling it sent shivers down his spine. He delved into it, ransacked it.

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And he learned that there were far crazier people in this scene. It was embarrassing how eagerly he participated in tests and waited for the results, only to be greeted by messages from fools who had set hideous faces as their profile pictures.

[38-year-old Male]: Big bro will tear up your pretty hole.

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Pretty? Gross. I wish they were dead… Anyway, all the accumulated messages were like this.

It was a dull life, but it was his life. He couldn’t stake it on scum-like people. A submissive masochist like him could easily ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. He was smart enough to know that. Mino, who knew nothing about real practices, needed a skilled ‘teacher’—someone who would willingly hurt and constrain him.

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Physical pain brought pleasure, but that alone wasn’t satisfying. Had he waited too long? Maybe he couldn’t start more easily because it was all still just a fantasy.

If possible, he wanted to be completely dominated, mentally as well.

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By just one person. It would be even better if they were each other’s only one…

“It’s really not fun at all.”

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But such a person didn’t exist. Thus, Mino was doomed to lead such a lifelessly dull life. He had no appetite for anything special, no desire for recognition or success. Lust was reluctantly excluded. He would just live moderately and die since he would probably never meet such a person anyway. The way people looked at him probably wouldn’t change either.

“Mino, don’t you like anything?”

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He would have been more comfortable if he were truly a person without desires rather than such a pervert. The many hobbies he had compulsively tried were meaningless.

He had arrived at his cozy attic room. Opening the worn door, he entered, and the interior, chilled all day, was filled with cold. The scene he had left in the morning looked like it had been bombed—utter chaos. The small, shabby place befitting a 28-year-old man living alone was nevertheless comfortable. The insane Seoul rent was also a factor. When Mino had been looking for a place, he had only three criteria: not too far from work, cheap, and well soundproofed.

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This attic room was the only one that met all those conditions.

As soon as he entered, Mino sat down on the bed without even taking off his clothes and hurriedly rubbed his lips. It was where he had been burned by the hot tea earlier. Touching the tender skin, the color of the tea that had burned him came to mind. Recalling that pain, he moved his hand lower. His usual fantasy involved the faceless senior from long ago, but today was different.

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“Ugh, hmm…”

Though it was unfortunate for the person involved, today’s side dish was the director.

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As he thought of the handsome man who had looked at him coldly, he caressed his genitals. He decided to set aside any guilt. His desires were boiling over. Having masturbated countless times, the temperature of his palm on his penis was familiar.

“Ah…”

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Slightly erect, his penis was oozing slick fluid. What kind of sex would that man have? What mattered now wasn’t accurate facts. Recalling the moment those sharp eyes had pierced him, saliva kept pooling in his mouth.

“Huh…”

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Mino, growing with only his imagination, stroked his enlarging penis while scraping his palate with the other hand. The tender mucous membrane, flayed a layer thin, tingled painfully when scraped with his firm nails, but it wasn’t enough.

His fingers were too slender for violent fantasies. Desperately, he reached out to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a silicone dildo carelessly shoved inside. He wiped it down roughly with a wet wipe before blindly stuffing it into his mouth, as if being violated forcibly.

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“Kh, ugh…”

Burned and thus dulled in taste but hypersensitive in touch, his palate was jabbed and scraped with the dildo shaped like a penis. The veiny dildo looked fierce, carefully chosen by Mino as if it were that man’s penis. As he gripped it tightly, the back of his throat was sharply poked as if being violated by that man.

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“Ugh, ugh, mmm…!”

Sparks flew in his mind, and his penis stood impressively erect. He hastily pulled down his pants and underwear, draping them over his thighs, and pushed the dildo deep into his throat while roughly fingering his buttocks.

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“Ah, ah!”

Drool trickled down his chin, and below, although cramped because he had initially inserted two fingers, it felt good. Mino, ruthlessly ravaging his insides, recalled the man’s voice as he let his imagination soar.

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“Bite deeper.”

His voice was lower and kinder than the senior’s voice in his memory. And this time, he could clearly remember the face. Until now, he had fantasized with the senior’s whispering voice of “I’m sorry,” but changing the subject made even his routine masturbation feel new, as if he were cheating.

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Before he knew it, only the handle of the dildo remained outside. The thick penis filling his throat created a sense of pressure. When he could no longer hold back, Mino hesitatedly raised his hand to slap his own cheek. With his eyes closed, the intensity would inevitably be mild, which was regrettable.

With a slap, his head turned, and the penis he had been sucking fell from his mouth.

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“After all that, you can’t even suck properly.”

Mino, worried that the imaginary man might be angry, hurriedly sucked and licked the penis again. The faintly artificial taste of silicone disrupted his arousal, but he defended against it by increasing the fingers probing his rear.

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“Ah, ah, uh!”

His white fingers rampantly entered the swollen red hole. Every time a joint was buried, his stomach throbbed painfully. Not enough. Even as he changed positions, he didn’t remove his fingers. Mino squeezed his eyes shut and solely by feel, smacked the silicone dildo against where the bed’s headboard would be. Even though it was done blindly, it attached perfectly. It was a task he had done alone for a long time, so there were no mistakes.

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“Ah, ah…”

Kneeling, he roughly penetrated his rear and opened his throat wide to swallow the thick dildo. Saliva dripped down his chin from his salivary glands.

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“Swallow deeper. Unless you want your throat torn apart.”

Perhaps that man would never say such a thing. He was a good person. He wouldn’t engage in such violent acts. But such thoughts were not helpful in masturbation. Mino controlled his mind and stoked his fantasies again.

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That man had a really nice voice. Almost enough to feel déjà vu. Mino diligently sucked the dildo. He put strength into the fingers ransacking his rear. It was entirely lacking because he was doing it himself, but he closed his eyes and imagined the man’s hands. The fingers that had brewed tea were thick at the joints. The neatly trimmed nails were tidy, and his movements were efficient. If those hands could violate him indiscriminately, anywhere, inside and out, like a dog, it would be wonderful.

“Ha, ah, ugh!”

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If it had been a real penis, it would have messily ejaculated inside his mouth, but no matter how much he sucked and squeezed, the silicone dildo gave no response. There were dildos that could hold liquid inside; maybe he should buy one of those. He was regretting not having one when he thought,

“You’re really kind.”

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In Mino’s fantasy, the voice of the man spouting lewd words had shifted to a clearer tone, mercilessly stabbing his conscience. He had heard that from the man. Mino had returned the compliment, calling him kind. But here he was, engaging in acts befitting human trash. Drained of energy, he slowly removed the dildo from deep inside his throat when his phone chimed.

Mino opened his eyes and frantically grabbed his phone. There was a message from an unknown number.

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[010-XXXX-XXXX]: The cat is sleeping well now. Have a good night, Ha Mino.

He remembered receiving his business card but hadn’t saved the number. It was a message from the man Mino had fantasized about as his side dish. A deep sense of guilt and self-loathing penetrated him more profoundly than the dildo had in his throat.

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Ah, I want to die. I’m beyond redemption. Mino, berating himself, sent a reply like [Good night, Doctor], and lit a cigarette.

His throat, which had just been occupied by the dildo, ached, his lips stung, and his half-exposed buttocks felt empty. The entire situation was miserable.

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