Foot Worship Chapter 29

It was the same now. Since the afternoon when I received Jerome’s call, my mind, which had been holding on in a state of extreme tension, was on the verge of snapping.

An image of myself wearing a judo uniform flashed before my eyes. The whispering of the people, the sweat-soaked judo uniform, the throbbing pain, the trembling lips. The miserable memories that had found their way in through my weakened defenses flowed slowly like a film.

I dropped my head, then raised it again and parted my lips. I couldn’t continue the play in this state. Jerome, who had been staring deeply into my eyes, placed his hand on my forehead, where my hair was plastered down by the wetness.

“Lee Taeha.”

For a fleeting moment, my vision went black, then brightened again. I wondered if I had unconsciously blurted out the safe word, but that wasn’t it. The safe word we had agreed upon had come not from my mouth, but from Jerome’s. I couldn’t understand this situation at all.

“Why, why.”

“The safe word is not the exclusive right of the sub; the Dom also has the right. We still had time left from our agreement, and no matter how much I am the one leading this relationship, I cannot end it arbitrarily, so I ended it with the safe word.”

“…”

“You worked hard.”

Jerome grabbed my arm, as I was half-stunned, and pulled me out of the tub. With calm movements, he used the scissors prepared for emergencies to cut the bondage tape, then dragged me in front of the toilet. He pushed his fingers into my mouth and prodded. When he triggered my gag reflex, the vomit that had risen to my throat spilled out. I gripped the toilet bowl in a daze and retched. Jerome patted my back gently. Even though the bathroom was filled with a sour smell, he kept his place silently. As I emptied my stomach, my mind gradually returned. Jerome checked my condition and pressed the toilet lever.

“…I’m, sorry.”

Jerome loosened his tie and threw it on the floor, then unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt that had been fastened to the neck. After roughly rolling up and securing his sleeves, he brought me into the shower booth. I pushed him away in a panic. My pupils trembled minutely. Ah… I curled my shoulders and sank to the floor with a low moan.

“Ha, what are you doing?”

For a moment, my eyes rolled back and then returned. It was exhausting enough just to hold onto the thin thread of consciousness I had left; I was on the verge of dizziness just trying to argue.

“…You, you can leave now.”

“Don’t be stubborn and stand up.”

I shook my head slightly. The play was over. His eyes, which had been engulfed in passion, were now clear and sharp. What Jerome was looking at now was not a sub he wanted to dominate, nor a play partner, nor a flirtatious interest, nor a Rope bunny, but merely an ugly man who was barely holding himself together, stripped bare. I didn’t want to show him, now that his reason had returned, a body that looked even menacing due to hypertrophied muscles. Like in the past, I wanted to get out of this place and run away quickly.

“Jin, are you like this because you’re ashamed to show me your body?”

I curled my lip and bowed my head deeply. Sometimes when I play, I’m so intoxicated by the atmosphere that I don’t care what my body looks like, but when the play ends and reason returns, there were people who found my body disgusting. They’d say I looked like a dairy cow, that it was repulsive, or creepy. These words had become subtle scars. So, from some point on, to prevent leaving another wound inside me, I had been busy running away without even cleaning up after the play ended.

“…I won’t force you, so don’t tremble.”

“I’m sorry, I am sorry.”

“Still, I can’t leave Jin here alone. I’ll wait outside the booth, so wash up and come out.”

Jerome stood outside the shower booth with his back to me. I looked at his back, then inevitably stood up and began to wash. I had no strength left, so I couldn’t even wash properly and just rinsed my body roughly with water. Because I had emptied my stomach, I didn’t feel as bloated or uncomfortable as before, but now my stomach felt uncomfortable in a different sense. Not only did I ruin the play, but he even had to be the one to say the safe word—I had no face to look at him.

A robe was hanging on a hanger attached to the shower booth. I reached my hand out, pulled the robe inside, and wrapped it around my body. Only after tying the knot tight did I carefully open the door.

Jerome sat me on the sofa and brought out a bottle of lukewarm bottled water, setting it on the table. I couldn’t even meet Jerome’s eyes. My head was a mess, not knowing how to explain this situation.

“Tell me if you need digestive medicine.”

“…I’m fine.”

“It seems we both need time to sort out our thoughts. For now, just get some rest.”

Jerome vacated the spot so I could rest comfortably. Lying on the sofa, I looked up at the plain ceiling. I reviewed the moment Jerome had said the safe word.

I don’t know why, but my tension suddenly vanished, and my mind faded away in an instant. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. The moment I thought I needed to say the safe word, like a lie, the safe word flowed from Jerome’s mouth.

In all my years of playing, I had never once seen a Dom say the safe word. What must Jerome have been thinking when he said it? I only cried out of sadness. I thought I only had to endure a little longer since the time was set, but I never expected the situation to turn out like this. Something so absurd had happened that I couldn’t even bring myself to fix it. I pounded my head with my fists and sat up.

I buried my face in my hands at the memory that surfaced the moment I thought I had been pushed to my limit. I had thought I had overcome it all. In truth, the reason I quit judo was also because of that crushing tension.

I was an athlete who failed at mind control. People whispered about me, leaving behind a man who would endure in a state of tension for hours, only to collapse from exhaustion once the match ended.

They say managing one’s mind is a skill an athlete must possess, but it truly wasn’t as easy as it sounds. The more I tried, the worse my symptoms became. Then, if an injury overlapped, the tension combined with anxiety, and my condition peaked. In such a situation, I ended up participating in the Olympics wearing the Taeguk mark.

“Just do as you’ve been doing. You know? Relax, it’s okay.”

“Yes.”

The Round of 16 was a series of upsets. Every athlete had trained for this day, so they competed with all their might. I, too, collided with my opponent during the match, resulting in a bloody nose and scratches on my face. The match only reached the Golden Score before I could barely decide to advance to the quarterfinals.

Just as I thought I was one step closer to winning, another unexpected event occurred. A large number of overseas athletes who had been mentioned as candidates for the championship were eliminated in the Round of 16. Because of that, I ended up facing an athlete in the quarterfinals whose strength I hadn’t analyzed. To me, it was an even more difficult opponent, but in the eyes of the public, they were just an athlete outside the rankings who didn’t even need analyzing.

I forcibly suppressed my tension and entered the quarterfinals. From the beginning, the grip fighting was intense. After being penalized with a shido for a passive match, I gathered my resolve and threw the opponent with a shoulder throw (seoi-nage). It was clearly a situation where a waza-ari or ippon was possible. However, the referee did not make a call and continued the match. I think that was when my mental state began to waver.

In the midst of a fierce war of nerves, the opponent, having discovered an opening, snatched my right arm and shoved their body deep into my armpit. And just like that, my arm was snapped. I rolled on the floor in extreme pain. It happened in an instant. The match was stopped, and it was revealed in the video review that the opponent had attempted a “deep arm lock” (ude-hishigi-waki-gatame), a prohibited technique in the match.

In the end, the match concluded with a disqualification of the opponent due to a foul, but I had to prepare for the semifinals without even being able to receive a thorough medical examination.

Because I was even injured, the tension was so severe it couldn’t be expressed in words. On the day of the match, I didn’t sleep a wink, spending the night with eyes wide open before heading to the match. The time standing facing the opponent felt like a dream. Everything seemed to be pressing down on me. Suddenly, my vision blurred, and the cheers of the crowd grew distant in my ears. I gasped for air until my breath reached the tip of my throat, and I eventually collapsed on the mat. The match ended with a forfeit, and I couldn’t even play the bronze medal match.