Chapter 49 – #12_Midnight Tutoring (4)
#48
1.
The room was silent.
A strange tension, like a taut spiderweb, hung in the air, broken only by Odile’s panting breaths and the sound of a finger moving back and forth.
“Hmm… Hmmm….”
The finger penetrated Odile’s depths more easily than expected.
Perhaps it was because it was the ring finger, particularly slender among the fingers?
One knuckle slid in and out without difficulty, repeating the motion.
Slick oil and a hot clench.
Shiwoo carefully observed, touched, and felt her body, which he hadn’t fully appreciated before.
“Are you… alright?”
A strange atmosphere.
His voice cracked, turning into a metallic rasp, perhaps due to excessive tension.
Odile’s anal passage was that alluring, a magical hole.
It was so tight with just one finger, he couldn’t believe he had ever managed to push his cock in there.
“Ugh… yeah… it’s nothing much yet.”
Odile answered without turning around.
Was it just his imagination, or did her voice sound a little excited?
Shiwoo swallowed hard, adjusting the angle of his finger.
He supported her entire buttocks with his hand, lifting them slightly, and pushed deeper.
By spreading her cheeks with his other fingers, he was able to insert his finger even further.
“Hah… ugh….”
There’s a reaction.
Her slender back drew a graceful curve backward, and her hips tightened as if snatching at a finger.
Odile herself was like that, but her body was the very essence of seduction.
Without realizing it, Siwoo began to insert and remove his finger, observing her reaction.
He was controlling the brazen and willful Odile with just one ring finger.
When he inserted his finger, she would raise her heels as if trying to avoid it, and conversely, when he removed it, she would tremble with a hot sigh.
Each and every one of those bewitching reactions seemed to be tempting Siwoo.
-Pop!
“Heeuk!”
With Odile’s moan, his ring finger was completely withdrawn.
It’s probably difficult to insert more than two segments, especially since the ring finger is so inflexible.
“Why, why did you take it out?”
“My finger was a little uncomfortable. Please bear with it a little longer.”
Therefore, what Siwoo chose was to insert the longest and most flexible middle finger.
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.
It was a small, antique-looking music box. The kind you’d see in old movies, with a ballerina spinning on top. The box was made of dark wood, intricately carved with patterns that looked like vines and flowers. It was beautiful, but there was something unsettling about it.
I found it on my doorstep, wrapped in plain brown paper with no return address. There was a small, handwritten note attached: “For your 20th birthday. May your dreams come true.” The handwriting was elegant, almost calligraphic, but I didn’t recognize it.
I didn’t know who had sent it, but I was curious. I opened the lid, and a delicate melody filled the room. It was a tune I’d never heard before, but it felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory. The ballerina on top began to spin, her tiny porcelain face serene.
I spent the rest of the day listening to the music box. The melody was hypnotic, and I found myself lost in thought, my mind drifting to places I’d never been. It was as if the music was unlocking something inside me, something I hadn’t known was there.
That night, I had a dream. It was vivid and real, unlike any dream I’d ever had. I was standing in a vast, open field, the sky above me a swirling canvas of colors. The air was filled with the scent of wildflowers, and the sound of a gentle breeze rustled through the tall grass.
In the distance, I saw a figure walking towards me. It was a woman, her face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. As she drew closer, I felt a strange pull, a sense of recognition that made my heart ache.
She stopped in front of me, and slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes were the color of the sky, and they seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. She smiled, and in that moment, I knew who she was.
She was the ballerina from the music box.
I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. The dream had felt so real, so intense. I looked at the music box on my bedside table, the ballerina still spinning slowly.
I knew then that this was no ordinary gift. It was something more, something magical. And I had a feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t even imagine.
“How, how, how….”
Odile, her mouth agape, let out strange breaths.
Each time her gnarled knuckles were swallowed by the hot meat pot as if being devoured, Odile’s breathing grew louder.
Siwoo, witnessing her sensual reaction, was also slightly losing his self-control.
The instinct of a male to bring pleasure to a female.
The sense of conquest that he could control the noble apprentice witch with just a finger.
It wasn’t just for the experiment anymore; Siwoo’s desires began to mix in.
It was a primal urge in Odile to make her feel even better, and thus, to observe her disheveled state even more.
-Squish squish squish squish
“Ugh… haah… ugh… hnn…”
With the middle finger, not only strong but also long, now in play, the caress became even more intense.
A creaking sound that gradually grew louder.
Odile’s reaction, which had been like ripples on a lake in a drizzle, also changed roughly.
Siwoo supported Odile’s flexibly bent waist with one hand.
As he reached into her drawers, the gap in her nightgown, which had risen slightly, revealed her soft side and hip.
It was a handle with no excess fat, but soft and supple, with the best grip.
“Ah…uh…uh…”
Siwoo already knew.
That Odile was already feeling pleasure in her rear.
Her request had been, “Would it really feel good if we were together?” so there was no need for any more foreplay.
Even so, he didn’t stop.
He didn’t even tell Odile that.
It felt like the brakes had been released.
“Heh…heh…hnnn….hff…”
Odile, who had been standing with her waist slightly extended, had collapsed.
Her two arms, which had been supporting herself on the bed, had sunk down to her elbows, and her upper body had lowered, causing her to stick her buttocks up in the air.
Perhaps due to the violent movement of her hands, her drawers had also slipped halfway down, revealing Odile’s pale buttocks.
“Hoo….”
Shiwoo’s bloodshot eyes began to move his hands rapidly.
There’s no special technique involved.
I’m just moving my hands a little faster.
“Huuu…ung…hiut…”
That alone made Odile’s legs start to tremble.
The tension in her thigh muscles was so high that they could be seen twitching intermittently.
Is it even possible to go backward?
Honestly, Siwoo couldn’t even begin to imagine what that feeling would be like.
Still, he wanted to try at least once to bring Odile to the peak of pleasure with his own hands.
-Squish squish squish
“Huk…huk….hiuk…”
Odile’s strange breathing gradually grew more rapid.
It could be said that the pitch was rising.
Odile, for her part, thought she was suppressing it by burying her face in the blanket, but in this quiet room, her sweet moans could be heard without any filtering.
And then the climax came.
“Haaang….!”
Odile’s waist, which had been floating up whenever Siwoo’s hands wandered, momentarily lowered.
Her sudden movement, as if jolted by an electric shock, caused the finger that had been stimulating her rear to slip out.
Startled by the momentum, Siwoo took a step back.
This allowed him to fully observe Odile’s luscious backside.
“Hhh… hhh… hhhk…”
Odile’s exposed backside, peeking out from her half-slipped-down drawers, tightened and loosened repeatedly, even without being touched. Her legs, barely managing to keep her upright, trembled like a newborn giraffe’s, and her waist bounced up and down as if dancing.
“Ooh….”
While observing Odile’s sensual back, Siwoo was most surprised by something else.
It was the drawers that were in contact with Odile’s vulva.
The crotch area of the white drawers was stained a damp gray.
Since the witch didn’t go to the bathroom separately, the meaning of that liquid was clear.
“Haa…”
Odile’s trembling subsided, as if the earthquake had stopped, settling calmly.
A hot sigh signaled the end of this obscene experiment.
There wasn’t really anything to say.
I just slept, but it hurts like hell. My underwear is probably damp with precum.
Odile, who had her head buried in the bed, cautiously turned around.
Her eyes were burning with hot desire.
“W-what are you doing? Assistant.”
“Yes?”
“You said you’d… help with the experiment.”
Odile’s words, spoken in a flushed voice, were something Siwoo hadn’t expected at all.
You said you’d help with the experiment?
“Didn’t I just help you?”
“I… told you… I wanted to know if your hands, assistant, could make me feel better.”
Siwoo was bewildered.
Hadn’t he just gone backward?
It was an unusual movement and reaction.
The rain was pouring down.
It was a downpour that made you wonder if the sky had sprung a leak, a relentless torrent that seemed determined to wash the world away. The kind of rain that made you want to curl up under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate, not the kind that made you want to go out.
But I had to go out.
I had to go to the convenience store.
My stomach was growling like a hungry beast, and the only thing in my fridge was a half-eaten jar of kimchi. Not exactly a gourmet meal. So, I grabbed my umbrella, pulled on my raincoat, and stepped out into the deluge.
The wind was howling, and the rain was pelting me from all sides. It felt like I was being attacked by a thousand tiny needles. I struggled to keep my umbrella from turning inside out, but it was a losing battle. I was soaked to the bone within seconds.
I trudged through the puddles, my shoes squishing with every step. The streetlights cast eerie, distorted shadows on the wet pavement, making the world look like a scene from a horror movie. I could feel the cold seeping into my bones, and I shivered.
Finally, I reached the convenience store. I pushed open the door, and the warm air washed over me like a comforting hug. The fluorescent lights were a welcome sight after the gloom outside. I shook off my umbrella and stepped inside, leaving a trail of water in my wake.
The store was mostly empty, save for the cashier behind the counter and a lone customer browsing the snack aisle. I headed straight for the ramen section, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. I grabbed a pack of spicy chicken flavor, my usual go-to, and a bottle of water.
As I was paying, the cashier, a young man with tired eyes, looked at me with a hint of amusement. “Rough night?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I managed a weak smile. “You could say that,” I replied, handing him the money.
He rang me up, and I took my bag and headed back out into the storm. The rain hadn’t let up, and the wind was even stronger than before. I felt like I was fighting against the elements, but I was determined to make it back home.
I finally reached my apartment building, soaked and shivering, but with a bag of ramen in hand. I climbed the stairs, my legs feeling like lead, and unlocked my door. I stepped inside, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the couch.
I quickly changed into dry clothes, and then I went to the kitchen to prepare my ramen. The smell of the spicy broth filled the air, and my stomach growled even louder. I poured the hot water into the cup, waited for a few minutes, and then dug in.
The hot, spicy noodles were exactly what I needed. They warmed me from the inside out, and I felt my energy returning. I ate every last bite, and then I leaned back on the couch, feeling content.
The rain was still pouring outside, but I didn’t care. I was warm, full, and safe inside my apartment. I closed my eyes, and I drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain lulling me into a peaceful slumber.
“It’s not over yet. I didn’t feel anything, you know? It’s no different from when I do it myself…”
Odile, who had briefly glanced back at Siwoo, whined, averting her gaze the moment their eyes met.
“What are you doing, assistant? The experiment… we, we should continue.”
Is she crazy?
Even the oblivious Siwoo knew why Odile was acting like this.
Odile had actually felt pleasure and trembled from the very beginning when his finger entered her.
Moreover, she had reached her peak with the continuous fingering.
Why was she pretending to be nonchalant, telling such an obvious lie like a turkey burying its head, thinking she wouldn’t get caught?
Was it because she wanted to feel more?
“Weren’t you already feeling good?”
Amidst the lust that had already reached his head, Siwoo tried to confirm Odile’s true intentions with his last bit of conscience.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t feel anything?”
Odile answered shamelessly, her eyes darting around.
“Then, I’ll try a little more.”
If it were any other time, he would have just said, ‘Seeing that you can’t feel anything even with this much, it seems like your theory is wrong, Odile,’ and moved on.
But a man who wouldn’t do anything after seeing such a sly look is not a man, but a eunuch.
There was no doubt that even the three greatest saints would have made the same choice as Siwoo.
“Wait, assistant.”
Could it be that your mind has changed now?
Odile grabs Siwoo, who was about to put his hand back into the drawers.
Siwoo pauses, half with regret, half with a feeling that it might be for the best.
“Yes, Odile.”
“Well, you know… I’ve been thinking about it, and… maybe it’s because fingers aren’t enough.”
“What do you mean…?”
“Well, you know… when I think about when I felt good, you didn’t use your fingers, you put… your dick in, Siwoo…”
Siwoo swallowed hard.
He quietly waits for Odile to finish.
Odile, who had glanced at Siwoo over her shoulder, was startled and looked forward again as soon as their eyes met.
“Of course, I know that doing it this way… from behind… is a bit embarrassing. And it’s also a bit awkward for a slave like you and an apprentice witch like me to… well, to be connected.”
“Yes.”
Odile started to beat around the bush.
Maybe she was hoping Siwoo would speak first.
After keeping her mouth shut quietly for a while, Odile barely managed to open her mouth when no answer came.
“But, it’s not really the first time, is it? They say that the first time is always difficult, but the second time is easy… So, um… well… so, what I mean is, like we did before… that…”
Siwoo swallowed hard.
“Just a tiny bit, at the very end… Can I put in just a tiiiiny bit?”
Just a tiny bit at the end?
How am I supposed to resist that?
“Are you really sure about this?”
“Don’t get any weird ideas… Just think of it as an extension of the experiment…”
The old man’s face was a mess.
His eyes were swollen, his nose was red, and his lips were trembling. He looked like a child who had been caught doing something wrong.
“I… I didn’t know…”
He stammered, his voice cracking.
“I really didn’t know… that it was that important.”
I stared at him silently.
The old man was the owner of the antique shop I frequented. He was a man who always had a gentle smile and a kind word for everyone.
But now, he was a mess.
He had accidentally sold a very precious antique to someone else. It was an item that I had been eyeing for a long time, and he knew it.
“I… I’m so sorry,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ll get it back. I promise. I’ll do anything.”
I sighed.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound calm. “It’s just an antique.”
“No, it’s not just an antique,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s… it’s something special. I should have known better.”
I looked at him, his face full of remorse. I knew he was sincere.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s just try to get it back.”
The old man’s face lit up.
“Really?” he said, his voice full of hope. “You’ll help me?”
I nodded.
“Of course,” I said. “We’ll get it back together.”
The old man smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
I smiled back.
“Let’s go,” I said. “We have work to do.”
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange package.
It was a small, wooden box, no bigger than a palm. The wood was dark, almost black, and felt strangely warm to the touch. There were no markings on it, no address, no return label. Just the box, sitting on my doorstep as if it had materialized out of thin air.
I was living alone then, in a small studio apartment on the outskirts of the city. My parents had passed away when I was young, and I had no other family. I worked part-time at a convenience store, barely making ends meet. Life was monotonous, predictable, and utterly devoid of surprises. Until the box arrived.
Curiosity, a rare emotion for me, got the better of me. I took the box inside, placing it on my worn-out coffee table. I examined it closely, running my fingers over its smooth surface. There was no latch, no hinge, no visible way to open it. It was as if the box was a single, solid piece of wood.
I tried prying it open with a knife, but the wood was too hard. I tried shaking it, hoping something would rattle inside, but it was silent. I even tried dropping it, but it landed with a dull thud, still stubbornly sealed.
Frustrated, I gave up and went to bed. The box remained on the table, a silent, enigmatic presence in my small apartment.
The next morning, I woke up with a strange feeling, a sense of anticipation I hadn’t felt in years. I looked at the box, and for the first time, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. A faint, almost invisible line had appeared on one side of the box.
I touched the line, and it felt like a seam. I pressed on it, and with a soft click, the box opened.
Inside, nestled on a bed of soft, dark velvet, was a single, silver key. It was old, with intricate carvings on its handle, and it seemed to hum with a faint energy.
I picked it up, and a strange sensation washed over me. It was as if the key was calling to me, beckoning me to use it. But use it for what? I had no idea.
I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what the key was for. I tried it on every lock I could find in my apartment, but none of them fit. I even went outside, trying it on mailboxes, doors, and anything else that had a lock. But nothing.
As the sun began to set, I returned to my apartment, defeated. I sat on my couch, staring at the key, feeling a strange mix of frustration and fascination.
Then, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. A small, almost invisible symbol had appeared on the wall, right above my bed. It was the same symbol that was carved on the handle of the key.
I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. I held the key up to the symbol, and as I did, the symbol began to glow. A soft, blue light emanated from it, and the key began to vibrate in my hand.
I hesitated for a moment, a sense of unease washing over me. But the pull of the key was too strong to resist. I pressed the key against the symbol, and with a blinding flash of light, everything went black.
Siwoo looked down at his lower body, which had been throbbing with an erection since earlier.
And then I saw Odile’s hips swaying gently in front of me.
Last time, I was only able to insert once while tied to the sofa, but this time, I can grab Odile’s waist and shake her as I please.
Full satisfaction is possible.
“Hurry, Assistant! Are you going to do it or not?”
Odile, her embarrassment growing, became irritated for no reason.
Suggesting that she drop her pants and turn around first, like getting a shot, was enough to make her blush, considering her usual personality, to the point of being angry.
Of course, it seems like you want to feel even more pleasure, enough to overcome that embarrassment.
It’s something we’ve already done once.
Let’s take our time and really savor it this time.
Siwoo hooked his fingers on Odile’s drawers.
Because to insert, he had to take them off first.
“Wait, don’t take it all off… just pull it down a little.”
“L-like this?”
“Yeah… like that.”
Because the female genitalia is very close to the anus, based on the perineum, a magnificent sight of Odile’s petals, already slightly soaked in honey, gathering together was visible.
The old woman’s face, wrinkled like a dried persimmon, was a canvas of deep furrows. Her eyes, though clouded with age, held a sharp glint, and her lips were pressed into a thin, unwavering line. She sat on the low stool, her back slightly hunched, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The worn hanbok she wore was faded, but clean, and her silver hair was neatly pulled back into a bun.
“So, you’re the one,” she said, her voice raspy, like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “The one they call the ‘Miracle Maker’.”
I bowed my head slightly. “I am.”
“Hmph,” she snorted, her gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. “You don’t look like much.”
I remained silent, letting her assess me. I knew that appearances could be deceiving, and that true power often lay hidden beneath a humble exterior.
“They say you can heal any illness, mend any wound,” she continued, her voice laced with skepticism. “That you can even bring back the dead.”
I didn’t respond to her last claim. It was a rumor, and I had no intention of confirming or denying it.
“My grandson,” she said, her voice softening slightly, “he’s been sick for a long time. The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. They say he’s going to die.”
Her eyes, which had been sharp and critical, now held a flicker of desperation. It was a look I had seen many times before.
“Can you help him?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
I looked at her, my gaze steady and unwavering. “I will do my best.”
A small, almost imperceptible nod was her only response. She stood up, her movements slow and deliberate, and gestured for me to follow her.
The house was small and humble, but it was clean and well-kept. The air was thick with the smell of herbs and incense, and the only sound was the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. She led me to a small room at the back of the house.
The boy lay on a thin mattress, his face pale and gaunt. His breathing was shallow and labored, and his body was wracked with fever. He looked like he was barely clinging to life.
I approached the boy, my heart heavy with the weight of his suffering. I placed my hand on his forehead, and closed my eyes. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the weakness that had taken hold of him.
I took a deep breath, and began to channel my energy. It flowed through me like a river, washing away the sickness and pain. I could feel the boy’s body begin to relax, and his breathing became more regular.
I continued to channel my energy, focusing all my attention on the boy. I could feel the life force within him, flickering like a candle in the wind. I poured my energy into him, nurturing and strengthening it.
After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes. The boy’s face was no longer pale, and his breathing was deep and even. He was sleeping peacefully, his body finally at rest.
I turned to the old woman, who was watching me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“He’s going to be alright,” I said, my voice soft.
A single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the gratitude in her eyes.
I knew that my work was far from over. There were many more who needed my help, many more who were suffering. But for now, I was content. I had done what I could, and that was enough.
Here, it has become possible to put it in.
“You know, right? You have to put in just a little?”
Yes, I understand.
Siwoo, having answered like that, pulled his dick out of his pants and aimed it at Odile’s back.
The old woman’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, each line a testament to the years she’d lived. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief as she looked at me. “You’ve grown so much, haven’t you, my dear?” she said, her voice raspy like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “Last time I saw you, you were just a little sprout.”
I smiled, a genuine smile that reached my eyes. “It’s been a while, Grandma,” I replied, my voice soft. “How have you been?”
“Oh, you know, the same old aches and pains,” she chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “But I’m still kicking, aren’t I?” She patted the worn wooden chair next to her. “Come, sit. Let’s have some tea.”
I settled into the chair, the wood cool against my skin. The scent of chamomile and something else, something earthy and sweet, filled the air. Grandma poured the tea into delicate porcelain cups, her hands trembling slightly.
“So,” she began, her eyes twinkling. “What brings you back to this old place?”
I hesitated for a moment, the words catching in my throat. “I… I needed to see you,” I finally said. “I needed to hear your stories again.”
Grandma’s smile widened, revealing a few missing teeth. “Ah, my stories,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. “They’re all I have left, you know.” She took a sip of her tea, the sound of the liquid a gentle slurping. “Which one do you want to hear today? The one about the mischievous fox, or the one about the girl who could talk to the stars?”
I leaned forward, my heart filled with a familiar warmth. “Tell me the one about the girl who could talk to the stars,” I said. “That one was always my favorite.”
Grandma nodded, her eyes closing for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. Then, she began to speak, her voice weaving a tapestry of words that transported me to another time, another place. And as I listened, I felt like a child again, nestled at her feet, lost in the magic of her stories.
