Chapter 1 — The Goddess's Garden - Part 1

She was truly an extraordinary woman. Twenty-six years old, 167 cm tall, weighing 50 kg, with a 75 B-cup bust, long, lustrous black hair that flowed like polished ebony down to her waist, a narrow waist that accentuated her full breasts, and below that, hips so perfectly rounded they seemed to steal your breath—hips that led seamlessly into smooth, shapely thighs and legs carved by grace itself.

By now, you've probably already pictured her silhouette in your mind. But no. What you're imagining is just some idealized woman from your own fantasies. I tell you this with certainty: without looking directly into her eyes, you cannot possibly understand her.

Her eyes were those of an angel—or rather, a goddess. Large, clear, and calm like a still lake, yet sparkling with the innocent curiosity of a child, so pure and bright they made rabbits seem coarse. One glance, and you'd fall in love with her helplessly, just as countless men had before.

Yet there was also something overwhelming in her gaze—arrogance, pride, unshakable confidence—that made most men shrink instinctively. Perhaps that's why so few dared approach her boldly, let alone propose.

"Grace, are you free today? Any plans?"

Grace silently nodded.

Even if she wasn't, it didn't matter. It was an order from the boss, unilateral and non-negotiable—a truth she knew all too well.

The boss was both her boyfriend and her sponsor. At the company, she served as his secretary; outside, she played the role of his devoted girlfriend; and beneath it all, she fulfilled the obligations of a contractual relationship. She lived one woman, three roles.

David Yoo, the boss, had a willful streak. Though he ran his father's respectable trading company competently enough, his personality was that of a spoiled only son—stubborn, entitled, and imperious. He demanded instant obedience, and only felt satisfied when everyone bent to his whims.

Today was no different. Had he told her earlier, even just given her a heads-up, could it have hurt? At least she could've changed her underwear, prepared herself. But no—he waited until the last minute before announcing their plans.

Huh… Who's it going to be tonight?

Grace slipped into the restroom to check her appearance once more.

"Japanese-style bar 'Chungdo'…" A place she'd visited many times with David Yoo. Following the waitress's lead, they entered the reserved room, where a man she'd never seen before was already seated.

"Oh? Mr. Choi, you're here early."

"Yeah, couldn't wait. Got excited, so I came ahead and had a drink. Come on in, sit down."

Mr. Choi—the name suited him. He smiled brightly, practically vibrating with anticipation.

The moment Grace stepped in behind David Yoo, she caught the flicker in the man's eyes. Mid-forties? His receding hairline was cleverly disguised with tight curls, but his overall vibe felt slimy. Behind his glasses, small, slightly upturned eyes gleamed with the sharpness of a seasoned businessman—but also with something sly, something unsettlingly sensual.

Looks like another rough night. Huh…

At David Yoo's silent nod, Grace meekly took her seat beside Mr. Choi.

His lecherous gaze, plump body, and oily demeanor—none of it matched her type. She preferred tall, lean men with wiry muscles.

"I'm Grace Lee."

She bowed her head slightly, feigning shyness.

"I'm Peter Choi. Pleased to meet you."

He grinned, clearly thrilled beyond words.

"He's a client. Tonight… you know. And Mr. Choi, please, feel free. My girlfriend here is only twenty-six. Ha-ha-ha."

David Yoo chuckled, glancing between them. That twenty-six carried heavy emphasis—an unspoken message: Look what I'm offering you. Treat her well. Of course, business interests were involved too.

Grace felt dirty. This wasn't just a casual date—it was a high-stakes business entertainment. She was being used as a hostess. But she buried the feeling. This wasn't new. Her job was simply to perform.

Still, a flicker of hope stirred within her. From experience, she knew men couldn't be judged by appearances alone.

Men were unpredictable creatures. Intellectual types often revealed crude instincts in the end, while sleazy-looking men sometimes turned out gentle and considerate.

This man wasn't her type at all, but the outcome remained to be seen. True character only emerged under pressure. That's where her hope lay—not in affection, but in mutual satisfaction. Even in these forced encounters, she wanted both sides to leave fulfilled.

As dishes arrived and drinks began circulating, the mood warmed quickly. Alcohol, after all, was the perfect catalyst for breaking down barriers between men and women. As the German saying went: When the mouth opens, the heart follows. Soon, the three were laughing and joking like old friends.

David Yoo and Peter Choi had somehow shifted to calling each other "brother" and "kid." With booze and a woman present, men bonded fast. Especially since they were about to become hole brothers—sharing the same woman. Not that strange, really. Brother and kid? Why not.

"Hehe. Grace, your tits are amazing. Wanna show us?"

Peter Choi leaned forward, cheeks flushed.

"Come on, Grace. Show brother your gorgeous boobs."

David Yoo chimed in, grinning.

"Hoho. You really want to see?"

Without hesitation, Grace yanked up both her shirt and tank top.

"Holy shit! No bra? That explains it… Hahahaha!"

Peter Choi's eyes bulged.

"And your panties? Are you going commando too?"

"No, not quite…"

She stood, pulled her pants down slightly. Ivory lace panties peeked out, half-exposed. The front was sheer mesh—her dark pubic hair almost fully visible.

"She gets wet a lot, so if she goes bare, it runs down her thighs. Hehehe."

David Yoo bragged as if proud.

"Hey… Shall we go? I think we've had enough to drink."

Peter Choi suggested, face burning—not just from alcohol. His smoldering eyes said everything.

"Alright. Let's move, Grace."

Moving meant heading to a hotel. The room was already booked by David Yoo.

They left their car parked at the bar's lot and walked—less than five minutes—to a modest three-star hotel David Yoo frequented. He always used this place for events.

High-end hotels were risky—too many familiar faces. It wasn't about money; it was about avoiding recognition. But sleazy love motels? Too tacky for a formal event.

This 00 Hotel fit perfectly. Tucked slightly off the main road, it was small and discreet, rarely crowded. Exactly what David Yoo needed.

"Hey, Grace. Wanna do a little public exposure on the way?"

They'd barely walked ten meters down the alley when David Yoo stopped, grinning mischievously.

"Exposure? Hahaha, sure!"

Peter Choi laughed, glancing back. This was routine. Grace knew it well.

"But… it's still early. There are people around, and it's so bright. I don't want to…"

Down the street, pedestrians still passed freely. It wasn't deep in some back alley—just the entrance to the hotel. Streetlights blazed like daylight.

But Grace's protest wasn't genuine. She knew she'd obey if pressed. The thrill came from resistance—pretending to fight, then reluctantly stripping. Only then did the rush of public exposure truly ignite.

"Tch. What now? You stripped willingly at the restaurant. Fine. Brother, you undress her."

David Yoo clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone—ready to take pictures.

"Me? Alright."

"Ahh, I said no…"

Grace pouted dramatically. But Peter Choi's hands were already fumbling with her jacket buttons.

"Fine, fine. I'll do it myself."

With exaggerated reluctance, she slid her jeans down to her knees and shrugged off her jacket. Then, in one motion, she lifted both her T-shirt and tank top above her chest.

There she was—bare breasts, no bra, panties exposed under bright light. For a split second, Grace tensed, wondering if someone might see. But that tension—that was the ultimate thrill of exposure.

"Brother, strike a pose for a keepsake photo. Hehehe…"

Peter Choi wrapped an arm around her and shoved one hand straight into her panties.

"Ah! Hahaha…"

She burst into laughter—giggling like a child. There was something playfully childish in his touch.

"One more…"

Peter Choi crouched slightly, pressing his face against the side of her panties. Then, with his tongue, he traced her inner thigh.

"Ah! Tickles… hoho…"

She twisted her waist, laughing.

"One last shot… Yeah, just like that. Hahaha!"

And with that, Peter Choi yanked her panties completely down.

Her thick, lush mound lay fully exposed. A cold breeze brushed across her skin, and Grace felt her face burn. Instinctively, she glanced around—not out of fear of being seen, but hoping someone would catch a glimpse, even briefly.

After this brief rite of passage, the three entered the reserved room.

"I'll go wash up first."

Grace turned toward the bathroom.

"No—later."

Peter Choi suddenly lunged at her.

"Ah! Wait!"

He grabbed her arm so roughly she tumbled backward onto the bed.

"I'll run to the convenience store and grab a few beers. Hahaha…"

David Yoo announced, stepping out. They both knew—he could've called the front desk. He was making himself scarce.

"Alright… fine."

Peter Choi's reply was distracted. His entire focus was on Grace now—flushed face, hot breath thick with desire, greedy eyes, hands tearing at her clothes.

"W-Wait… brother… just a sec…"

Grace writhed, deliberately blocking his hands.

"Stay still, damn it! Stop acting difficult…"

His breathing was already ragged.

"I don't want this… I said no… Please…"

"You don't? Bullshit. I touched you during the exposure—you were soaked already."

"But still… I don't want this… Please, brother… no…"

She kept resisting, shouting, but Peter Choi finally ripped off her jacket and pants. Then her panties.

Only a flimsy string tank top remained—and he didn't seem to care about removing it. Since she wore no bra, pulling the straps down would leave her completely bare anyway.

"Ah! Ah! What are you doing? Stop, please…"

She thrashed like a woman being raped. But inside, she screamed:

Harder… harder… please, treat me rougher…

Yes. Grace loved rough men. She craved being stripped violently, dominated like prey, degraded like a whore.

Most men froze when they met her. Intimidated by her beauty, even confident men became timid mice before her. They trembled, desperate to please, unsure how to act.

Even decent men disappointed her. In bed, it was worse. They handled her like fragile glass, timid as if rolling eggs.

She hated it. She wanted to be ravaged, humiliated, treated like trash. Only then did her body ignite, only then did pleasure surge.

Somewhere along the way, a deep rape fantasy had taken root in her. If only she wouldn't get hurt, she sometimes thought she'd walk into the street screaming, Please, rape me!

She'd fantasized countless times—of a man spotting her desire, luring her to a hotel, and taking her violently. Or being dragged to a dark alley, a quiet park, a deserted mountain trail, and being utterly ruined. Many times, she'd climaxed just imagining it.

She'd never confessed this to anyone, but she didn't feel shame. Sex was fair to all. Just as bodies differed, so did desires. The world of sex couldn't be divided into right and wrong.

Personality shaped sexual style. The key was finding someone compatible—someone who understood her, who could give her what she craved. That's all she believed.

Now, she was asking Peter Choi to fulfill that craving. Her fake resistance was a plea—Dominate me harder. If she had to give her body, she wanted explosive pleasure in return. And she knew—men were more aroused by slight resistance.

Did Peter Choi sense it? He pinned both her wrists above her head and attacked her breasts fiercely, as if biting them off.

"Ah! It hurts… please… gently…"

She twisted her legs, struggling with all her strength.

Then, Peter Choi slid one arm behind her neck, trapping her left hand. Her right arm was pinned under his shoulder—immobile. With his free hand, he plunged into her groin.

"Hmm! Stop… please… brother… please…"

Yet, slowly, she was heating up.

Their position was pure rape—exactly what she dreamed of. Now, she felt her nipples harden in his mouth. His skilled lips twisted and bit them, while his fingers tore through her delicate petals, sending electric chills across her skin.

"Ah… no… brother… stop…"

She moaned weakly, but her body betrayed her words.

"Heh… saying no but loving it. Look how wet your pussy is… heh…"

Peter Choi roughly parted her folds.

She knew exactly how slick she was. Her tender petals, wide open, swollen like a cushion, ready to welcome him—she was fully aware.

Once satisfied she was aroused, Peter Choi released her arms and pressed his weight onto her. He was clearly in a hurry.

Grace inwardly sighed. She'd hoped for more intense foreplay. They'd barely reached halfway, and he was rushing.

Huh!

A short gasp escaped her. Without warning, Peter Choi had thrust inside.

The fullness was underwhelming, but she had no choice. She adjusted her hips to match his rhythm, focusing inward, trying to summon pleasure on her own.

Whether he noticed or not, Peter Choi pounded away vigorously. Within less than three minutes, his face turned crimson—orgasm approaching fast.

"Can I cum inside?"

"No… I can't…"

"I want to… you can just wash it off."

"No… I'm fertile…"

"Then?"

"Just… cum in my mouth…"

"Alright."

No sooner said than done—Peter Choi sprang up. Grace opened her mouth and gripped his dripping cock, giving it slow, deep strokes.

"Huh…!"

With a final cry, Peter Choi exploded.

Grace caught every drop in her mouth. Then, slowly, she moved her tongue, showing him the thick, glistening cum on its surface.

"Phew… feels like I can breathe again. I've been hard since the restaurant…"

He exhaled deeply, chuckling.

Hesitating briefly, Grace swallowed the cum. Thick, sticky, metallic—like condensed milk—it slid down her throat.

Truthfully, she didn't enjoy swallowing. But most men loved it. It gave them a sense of conquest—another form of dominance.

Total rabbit… or frog? Ugh…

Looking at Peter Choi's goofy, satisfied grin, Grace almost laughed. It had been nothing like the intense sex she'd hoped for. She felt oddly deflated.

"I'll… go wash up."

Naked, she headed to the bathroom.

"I'll join you. Let's shower together."

Peter Choi hurried after her.

Warm water cascaded over her, washing away the sticky discomfort—the feeling of having left a bowel movement unfinished, a dull heaviness clinging to her soul.

"Damn, Grace… now that I see you, you're absolutely killing it…"

Peter Choi stared at her body in awe.

Grace looked at herself in the mirror. Even she had to admit—her body was lush. Full breasts, slender waist, soft curves of her lower belly, thick pubic forest, and long, toned legs stretching down from round, firm buttocks. Water streamed from the showerhead, running down her long hair, over her back.

"Come here. Let me soap you up."

Peter Choi began lathering her body. "Soaping" was a joke—it was pure foreplay. He caressed every inch of her, groaning in admiration.

Grace wasn't particularly turned on, but she let him touch her. When his hands roamed her breasts, waist, lower belly, and cupped her mound, she didn't resist. Instead, she subtly spread her legs, giving him freer access.

Maybe it was the slickness of the soap, but as Peter Choi rubbed her sensitive areas, the dying embers inside her began to glow again.

Actually, it started earlier—when his soapy hands passed over her lower belly and thighs. Those spots were especially sensitive. Normally, just touching them wasn't enough—but if licked with a wet tongue, she'd nearly faint from pleasure. Now, his slippery fingers brushing them sent unexpected jolts through her.

She reached behind, slipping her hand between Peter Choi's legs—and froze. His cock was already hard again, twitching eagerly.

"Oh! Brother! Already up again? Haha…"

She turned, surprised, and gripped his erection with both hands. Still soapy, she began pumping slowly.

"No… stop…"

Peter Choi shook his head.

"You're making it impossible… feel it."

"Oh? Again? You just came… shouldn't you rest?"

"No. I need it now."

Grace braced her hands on the tub, lifting her ass. Peter Choi entered immediately.

Huh…

A short gasp. She pushed her hips back, seeking maximum depth.

"Ah… damn, Grace… your ass is incredible. Heh…"

Peter Choi slapped into her with rhythmic precision. Slowly, heat built within her.

Yes… like that… harder… more! More!

She screamed inside. The spark had become flame.

Then—crack!—a sharp slap landed on her buttock. Grace cried out in shock.

Crack! Slap! Slap!

Hot pain flared across her skin.

"Ah! It hurts! Brother! Stop!"

But Peter Choi ignored her cries, slapping harder and faster.

Yet this—this was exactly what she secretly craved. Even as she screamed, the sting on her ass sent real pleasure surging up her spine.

"You like spanking, don't you? Heh…"

He'd read her. His slaps grew fiercer, faster.

"Huk! Mom! Huhk! Ah!"

With each strike, her hips bucked wildly. The humiliation, the brutal sting splitting her flesh—each blow intensified the pleasure until she trembled with ecstasy.

Just a little more… a little more…

Reluctant to lose the fiery bliss spreading over her sore ass, she rocked her hips, grinding against Peter Choi's pelvis.

"Ah… brother… huhk!"

Her first climax of the night. Head thrown back, mouth open, her ass lifted instinctively into the air.

"Huk! I'm cumming!"

"No! Outside! Don't cum inside!"

Instinctively, she twisted away.

Pregnancy was her absolute line. No matter how much she liked a man, no matter how lost in pleasure, she never crossed it. Oral? Fine. Vaginal? Never. That was her unbreakable boundary.

"Huh…"

Peter Choi shot his load into the air with a shallow groan.

When they stepped out of the bathroom, David Yoo was already there, sitting at the table tearing apart squid.

"So, first round over? Haha…"

"Haha, we did twice…"

"What? Already? Huh…"

Total rabbit…

But Grace held her tongue. She remembered hearing that men compared to rabbits in bed could develop impotence from the insult.

"Hey, shut up… This girl, man… she's unreal. I couldn't last five minutes. Never happened before. Whew…"

Peter Choi shook his head, embarrassed.

"Hohoho… Brother… isn't it all about how the woman responds? I was close to passing out too…"

"Really? You were? Heh…"

Peter Choi grinned, raising his beer.

Twice more, Grace took Peter Choi's cum into her mouth. It was technically a threesome with David Yoo, but David Yoo kept yielding his turn to Peter Choi. Grace hoped David Yoo would take charge, make it more intense—he knew her body and desires best. But tonight was Peter Choi's event.

David Yoo dropped her off at her officetel just before 1 a.m. It was a mercy—Peter Choi had come four times, but David Yoo feared he'd want more. Grace had been pushed to her limit; overuse left her immobile for days.

No matter how much people claimed sex relied on male stamina, it drained women just as much. To ask, How hard can it be, just lying there with legs open?—that person truly didn't understand women.

Women didn't exert force visibly, but they strained. Bearing a man's full weight, holding legs up until numb, bracing against each thrust—they burned energy just as intensely.

And if she had to crawl on all fours like a dog, endure rear entry, or ride on top in female superior position? Then every muscle gave out. Consider the weaker female frame—such exhaustion made perfect sense.

Back at her officetel, Grace collapsed onto the bed. Today had been exhausting. She'd experienced threesomes, even foursomes, with David Yoo before—but tonight felt especially draining.

Perhaps because she hadn't found real pleasure. It had felt like mere labor—body exploited, spirit untouched.

Huh…

She sighed deeply, again and again.

Her body felt like a waterlogged sponge, ready to sink into deathlike sleep. Yet, eyes closed, sleep wouldn't come. Her mind was crystal clear, like glass.

Already twenty-six…

David Yoo's emphasis on twenty-six echoed in her mind.

Marriage… family…

Suddenly, she pictured herself—holding a baby, leaning on a husband, smiling happily. But the image felt alien, like someone else's life. Given her reality, it seemed impossible.

If it's fate, maybe something will pull me there… just as it did before…

Instead of sleep, Grace sank into memories.

"Oh? Grace, practicing?"

The practice room door swung open, and a group of male students burst in, laughing. Third-year seniors, each carrying a plastic bag filled with snacks. A freshman tagged along.

"Yeah, brother… What's up?"

"We're gonna drink here. Wanna join? Sorry to interrupt…"

At 00 Arts High School, Grace was a second-year piano major. Her home was too far, so her parents bought her an officetel nearby. She practiced daily in the school's music room—on weekdays, slots were competitive, but weekends were hers. She usually had the room to herself.

Until today. The seniors barged in unannounced. She couldn't complain. The room was open to all students—and they were seniors. At arts schools, hierarchy was strict.

Especially the one leading them—Park Seok-hwan. Rumor had it he was brutal to juniors. Cross him, and school life turned hell.