Chapter 1 — My Wife Is My Cruel Master - Part 1 (1)

It was already past nine at night. Daniel had just finished work and walked out of the office.

It was Saturday, but who among Korea’s salaried workers actually gets to enjoy a proper five-day week? Being able to leave early on a Saturday is already a small blessing.

Dragging his tired feet, he stepped into the house—and instantly sensed something was off.

He looked up, scanning the room, and saw a familiar face he’d seen before. A man he knew all too well was already waiting for him.

James Park. That was the name attached to that face.

An American. His wife’s lover.

James Park was wearing nothing but his underwear. He didn’t see his wife anywhere.

He quickly searched for her, and a moment later, she emerged from the bathroom.

“You’re finally here? You’re late.”

The sight of her stepping out of the bathroom was shockingly sensual.

Sarah wasn’t wearing a single piece of underwear—only a sheer slip that barely concealed her body. Her long, slender legs, the dark patch between her thighs, and her full, round buttocks were all on display, hypnotically alluring. Any man who saw her like this would instantly feel his groin stir.

Stunned, he asked her, “What… what is this? What’s going on?”

“What? Already forgotten? What I told you yesterday?”

“Yesterday?”

Confused at first, he suddenly remembered what she had said the night before.

“I’m going to invite my lover to our house. I’ll ask him to tie you up tightly. You’ve seen him, right? He’s tall, much heavier than you, and he was once a wrestler in his country. I’ll tell him to overpower you by force, bind you completely, and then make him pleasure me—right in front of you, while you’re helplessly tied up. You’ll have no choice but to watch him make me moan.”

“What…? You’re serious? You’re really—”

He was speechless, overwhelmed by disbelief and absurdity. His wife stared at him with an eerie, knowing look, then slowly curled her lips into a cruel smile.

“You thought I was joking? I’m not that kind of frivolous woman. If you’ve done wrong, you have to pay for it. And tonight, James will make sure of that.”

“You’re really—”

He was paralyzed—furious, humiliated, and utterly confused. He didn’t know what to say or do.

But his wife ignored him completely. She walked over to James Park and threw herself into his arms, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Her slender, sensual body, draped only in that flimsy slip, pressed tightly against him. The sight alone radiated a perverse, erotic tension.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t done anything with James yet because I wanted you to see. He’s very angry now.”

As she spoke, she slowly ran her hand down the center of James Park’s thighs.

Even through his underwear, it was obvious—his arousal was swollen, throbbing, a monstrous bulge that hinted at something dangerously powerful.

“You’d better obey James quietly. You know what he’s capable of. He was a wrestler, remember? Resistance is useless. And don’t even think about running. The moment you stepped into this house, your fate was sealed.”

Damn it. He cursed inwardly. Then he turned to look at James Park.

He stood 186 centimeters tall, with the dense, muscular build typical of Western men. He easily weighed over 90 kilograms—more than double his slight frame. As an East Asian man barely tipping the scales past 60 kilos, he stood no chance against him. And he’d been a wrestler? That sealed it.

“Well then, excuse me…”

He approached Daniel, speaking surprisingly fluent Korean.

Given he’d been living in Korea for nearly twenty years, suppose it made sense.

In his hand, Daniel noticed a length of rope.

He trembled—shaking with shame, humiliation, and rage—but he was powerless. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t fight.

There he stood, a pitiful, trembling, spineless Eastern man, utterly defenseless.

Before he could react, James Park grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind his back. He tied them tightly—no half-measures, no mercy. The rope bit into his skin, pulled so tight he knew he couldn’t break free.

Still not satisfied, he wound it around several more times, binding his hands with brutal precision.

Then he brought over a dining chair and placed it behind him. He sat him down and tied him to the backrest—again, tightly.

In an instant, without any chance to resist, he was completely immobilized—bound and helpless by his wife’s lover.

James Park looked at him with evident satisfaction, then lifted the entire chair with him still in it, carrying him effortlessly toward the bedroom.

His strength was terrifying. He was humiliated all over again, utterly powerless.

He placed him directly in front of the bed—their bed—and then climbed onto it himself.

The bed was his by right, but he had no claim to it now. Not anymore. And the same went for his wife.

Soon after, she entered the room and walked slowly toward the bed, slipping into James Park’s arms with delicate grace.

His thick, dark-haired arm draped over her shoulder—grotesque, yet undeniably dominant.

Sarah glanced at him briefly, then smiled—her eyes sparkling with something disturbingly joyful.

Her smile was innocent, almost childlike, yet utterly cruel.

Like a little girl gleefully tearing the wings off a grasshopper.

She was pure. And she was merciless.

“You’ll stay awake all night watching James and me. Whether or not I forgive you for your rudeness last night depends entirely on how well-behaved you are.”

With that, she turned to James Park, her gaze burning with heat.

James Park looked at him, smirked faintly—as if pitying him, a weak male unworthy of the same species—and then leaned in and kissed his wife deeply.