Foot Worship Chapter 28

I moved my legs, hesitating, and approached him. Jerome shoved me into the bathroom and stood me in front of the mirror. Seeing myself with my chest emphasized, unlike usual, felt strange and alien. His hands wrapped around me from behind, kneading my breasts.

“Firm yet soft, pretty yet erotic.”

“Uh.”

“Next time, I’ll tie you up beautifully with rope.”

My heart swelled at the word “next.” The fact that he was thinking about a “next” with me meant he intended to continue this relationship in some way. My anxiety settled a little. But apart from that, the pit of my stomach felt bloated and uncomfortable.

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, and bit my nipple hard enough to cause pain. The shock sent shivers through my whole body because my nipples, already swollen, were being stimulated.

“Since you went off on your own without my permission, you have to be punished.”

“Hut, I’m, sorry. Ugh!”

This time, I felt like my nipple might actually come off. The act of sucking hard and then putting it between his teeth to bite was agonizingly stimulating. Without realizing it, I tried to pull my body back, only to stop once my buttocks hit the sink. There was nowhere left to retreat.

“Aack! Stop, hut, please, stop!”

“…”

“I, I was wrong, wrong, huak! I was wrong.”

He paid no heed to my earnest pleas, repeating the act of biting my nipple hard and sucking on it. When he finally lifted his head a while later, my left nipple was abnormally swollen. As if satisfied, Jerome flicked my nipple with his finger. The moment his smooth fingernail touched the painfully swollen nipple, a mixture of pain and pleasure beyond words pierced my brain. I gasped, my mouth hanging open, and my body shuddered.

Jerome checked the time on his wristwatch, grabbed my arm, and shoved me into the empty bathtub. Then, he took shaving gel and a straight razor from the bathroom cabinet and sat on the edge of the tub.

“Closer.”

Jerome took off his jacket, spread it out where my knees would touch, and opened the cap of the shaving gel. I knelt and sat on the jacket Jerome had spread out. After he squeezed some gel into his palms and spread it over my face, he placed the straight razor against my face immediately. I held my breath involuntarily at the eerie sensation.

“If you don’t want to see blood, stay still and be obedient.”

“Yes.”

Jerome grabbed my chin and pulled it, tilting my head slightly upward. Because of the light pouring down from above, my eyelids closed on their own. My nipples were still throbbing. I struggled to push out the sensations—I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain—burning inside my body. The faint sound of the razor shaving off my beard reached my ears. I couldn’t even swallow, just keeping my eyes shut. He was so close that Jerome’s breath broke against my face.

“Once you become my sub completely, I will manage even the smallest fuzz on this body myself. Not only will I overhaul your lifestyle, but no one else’s hands must ever touch any part of this body.”

“…”

“In return, if you behave well as my kind and submissive sub, I will reward you amply. I can tie you up beautifully with ropes and hang you, do wax play by melting low-temperature candles, leave you abandoned while tied to a spreader bar, or accompany you in whatever play you desire.”

Just as my beard was being cut away by the sharp blade, it felt as if the thought circuits in my brain were being severed, too. The plays he mentioned unfolded in my mind. I wanted to try hanging (a play where one is suspended in the air) with my entire body bound. To do that, I would need a sturdy bar capable of supporting my weight. As I materialized the fantasy, I felt my breath grow slightly shallow. The moment I exhaled slowly to control my excitement, my cheek stung. Huh? In front of my eyes, the dream shattered, and I saw Jerome’s stiff, hardened face.

“I told you not to move. It seems I’ve treated you too like a gentleman until now.”

“I, no, I am sorry.”

Jerome picked up the showerhead and turned on the water. Cold water poured into the bathtub. I panicked and tried to scramble to my feet, but he grabbed my hair and held the showerhead directly to my face. Cold water began to enter my nose and mouth. When I instinctively bowed my head to avoid the water, the grip on my hair tightened.

“Cough, h-huff.”

“Are you not going to pull yourself together? Keep your mouth shut and hold your breath.”

Since water had already invaded my respiratory tract, that was not easy. I had no choice but to endure it ignorantly, spitting out the water entering my mouth. After some time passed, Jerome lowered the showerhead. I quickly inhaled and struggled to regulate my breathing.

Water play was a breath-control play that regulated breathing. But it was slightly different in nature from standard breath control. I had to endure the water pressure and current physically applied to my face while also holding my breath. Because of that, the time I could endure was shorter compared to breath control.

Jerome, who had tightened his grip on my hair, held the showerhead to my face again. Because the distance from the showerhead was greater than before, the water pressure hitting my face was bearable. Ugh, even in a moment like this, my lower abdomen throbbed. My breathing broke instantly. I had no choice but to keep my mouth agape, spitting out the water that entered my mouth again.

An eternity passed, and a lull settled in. I raised my bound hands and rubbed my face with my arms. Once the moisture was removed to some extent, my vision cleared.

“Is your condition poor, or do you have no patience?”

“Cough, my breathing was disrupted, huck, that is why.”

The moment I coughed, bitter fluid refluxed into my throat. Fortunately, Jerome was bending over to pick up something that had fallen outside the tub, so he didn’t see me gagging. I had a bad feeling about this, but I tried to ignore it. If I could just endure a little longer, the time I promised him would end. I just had to hold on until then.

Jerome placed his hand on my chest and commanded me to inhale. I filled my lungs to their capacity until my ribcage expanded fully, then exhaled slowly. He checked my pulse by pressing his finger against my neck. My throat stung and my nose burned because I had swallowed a lot of water. This was a pain that would only subside with time.

I realized I was submerging in water. It seemed he had plugged the bathtub drain, and the water was gradually rising. Jerome narrowed his eyes, pondered for a moment, and then hung the showerhead on its hook. Then, he yanked out the jacket that had been underneath my knees. The water-soaked fabric trailed out, limp and heavy. Just as I thought he might be stopping, he grabbed my hair and forced me to look down.

“Hold your breath.”

As soon as he spoke, my face was plunged into the water. I kept my eyes open and held my breath. Since there was no current or pressure pouring onto my face, it was much easier to endure. How much time had passed? I began to run out of breath. I tried to swallow the air, but my throat stung from the water I had swallowed earlier. At most, I had ten seconds left. I desperately hoped Jerome would pull me out within that time. Please, please. I counted numbers in my head.

3, 2, 1.

At that moment, Jerome pulled me out of the water. Puhak! I thrust my head out of the tub and coughed violently. Water mixed with saliva flowed out of my mouth. Perhaps because a large amount of air had suddenly rushed into my lungs, my head spun. At that moment, I felt something inside me that I had been desperately clinging to crumble away. A danger signal rang in my brain. My eyes rolled back and then returned. Even though I closed and opened them, my vision was not clear.

“Mr. Park Beomjin.”

“Huff, yes.”

“Are you going to space out during play again?”

“Ah, no. No. I, I was wrong.”

“Answer properly—are you okay, Jin?”

Even though I tried to pull myself together, my body kept going limp. My brain, already having lost its control functions, wouldn’t listen. My shoulders shrank at the feeling of deja vu and the situation.

Back in my days as an athlete, when an important competition was ahead, I would maintain a state of extreme tension from five or six hours before the game started until it ended. Once everything was over, the tension would be released, and I would collapse from exhaustion simultaneously. That was why my nickname when I was active was “Marionette.” It was a fatal defect for an athlete who had to compete in multiple matches.