Seoul Spankings

by Anastasia Vitsky

  Han princess arrested for sexually assaulting foreigner.

  I hated to take her back to the city, even if it meant we could have privacy. The stench of sewer and piled-up garbage bags always made me long for the countryside. Father had raised me to be a Seoulite, but Halmoni ensured I would never forget her roots. My roots.

  What would Halmoni have said about the peanut debacle? Would she have laughed it off as more ridiculous media frenzy, or would she have muttered that I wasn’t too big for a switching?

  Within minutes, Minhee had installed Indigo and me back into our reclining chairs. I accepted the pink floral damyo and tried to sleep, but every nerve vibrated with desire. I wondered whether Indigo felt the same, or if she appreciated the interruption. Had I taken things too far? Would she run, screaming, to the airport tomorrow?

  The airport. “Minhee-ssi.” I sat up.

  “Yes, Ee Sajangnim?”

  “Cancel her ticket for tomorrow. She’ll stay with me.”

  Minhee hid her surprise or lack of surprise. “Yes, Ee Sajangnim.”

  I lay back in the chair, humming to myself. Indigo had fallen asleep already, worn out by the long evening. All the better to have fun once we arrived. I grinned and forced myself to breathe deeply. Within minutes, I joined Indigo in sleep.

  ***

  When Minhee woke us up, it took me a few minutes to understand her words. The uncomfortable, desperate throbbing under my skirt made it difficult to stand up, let alone walk. I let Minhee think it was due to going barefoot by the stream.

  “Here,” she said, setting out a pair of black ballet flats. I walked in exquisite comfort toward the door, but Indigo hobbled on her shoe-weary feet. I let her lean against me, and I took her to my own suite instead of Mugunghwa.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” I said, darting into the bathroom. I needed a quick refresh before what I hoped would be a sizzling night.

  I didn’t know what I expected when Hyunkyung brought me to her rooms, but I should have known. Panicking, I picked up her room extension and punched in the phone card numbers from Great-Aunt Matilda. Just after ten in the morning her time, so she would be awake. I waited until the answering machine picked up.

  “This is Matilda. Leave a message if it’s important. If not, don’t bother.”

  I gave a smile at her trademark gruffness. “I need help,” I said. “Something’s weird here. Call me back to make sure everything is okay.”

  Hyunkyung emerged with the scent of fresh mint toothpaste and cleansing cream. She opened her hands to me, and I shrugged.

  “Come,” she said, and I did. “We must correct your failing.”

  I thought back to the shared, all-too-brief kiss, and I wondered whether she preferred more tongue.

  “You must learn to say my name correctly.”

  I groaned. “I’ll never get it right! It’s too difficult.”

  She took out a cedar chest and opened it. Inside lay an assortment of sexual toys, paddles, gloves, blindfolds, a whip, and a riding crop. I gulped. Maybe it was a good thing Great-Aunt Matilda would check on me. “Choose two.”

  “Okay.” That was easy enough. I searched for the least intimidating, holding up a thin wooden spoon and a red silk ribbon.

  She shook her head and put the ribbon back. “Not your first time. How about this?” She picked out a thick leather glove, right hand only.

  “Sure.” I didn’t know her game, but it couldn’t be wilder than Greg’s demands for threesomes that mainly included my performing with another girl under his direction.

  Greg. Damn it! Focus, Indi!

  “Come here,” she purred, and I spread my legs before bending over the edge of the bed. She stood over me and held me down, inspecting every inch. “Such a pretty color against your skin,” she crooned. “We’ll have to turn your bottom a lovely shade of rose to complement your new dress.”

  Good thing she didn’t plan on matching the blue-green of the first dress.

  She tugged the glove onto her right hand and swatted my bottom with hard, steady pressure. The leather gave an extra thud to the spanks, but I rumbled at the increase in warmth. If this was how she meant to turn the color of my skin, she could do it all night.

  Then she picked up the wooden spoon, and I remembered, too late, the terror that innocent-looking tool had inflicted in my childhood. Mom hadn’t spanked often, but every once in a while she got stressed enough to grab and whack. I had forgotten how much it hurt until now.

  “Stop!” I squirmed, yeowched, and demanded more time when the sting of wood against naked flesh grew to be too much. Whenever I begged for a break, she switched the spoon to the other hand and massaged with the heavenly glove until pain faded into a pleasant glow.

  “Say my name,” she demanded, and my stomach lurched. This was a dangerous game, if my previous lesson with Miss Cha was any indicator. I doubted Hyunkyung would be as patient.

  When my efforts proved too slow, she switched out the wooden spoon for the riding crop and fastened the vibrating bit of silicone against my most sensitive parts. The straps went around my hips like a kinky pair of panties. Then she switched the toy on, and my knees buckled in the effort not to wet myself. Greg and I had played with a toy or two, but he never liked anything designed to give me pleasure rather than him.

  I moaned, thrusting my hips and begging Hyunkyung to give me release. Instead, she switched the toy off and made me practice each syllable.

  “Hyun.”

  “Hun!”

  As punishment, she refused to turn the vibrator back on. “Say it correctly.”

  I labored to follow her instructions, but forming any recognizable syllable was an impossible job. By sheer luck, my lips and tongue produced something close enough that she gave me a few moments of shuddery bliss. “Heyun,” I repeated. “Hyun. Hyun!” Something in my brain clicked, and I could say it right. As a reward, she drew the riding crop in a circle around my right bottom cheek and slapped hard enough to intensify the buzzing of the butterfly.

  “Restrain yourself,” she said, and I gave a slight hop in the effort to maintain composure. “Kyung.”

  “Ka-yong.”

  She switched the toy off, and I almost cried in frustration. “I’m doing the best I can!”

  “I know,” she said, leaning in to nibble my left ear. “You’ll have to make your best better.”

  I fought through the devilish letters until I could produce the syllable correctly. “Kyung!” She sent me into a shiver of pleasure.

  “Now, say it together. Hyunkyung.”

  “Hyunkyung,” I parroted, and she unstrapped the vibrator. “I said it right!” I protested.

  “Yes,” she said. “But you will never use my name in public. Outside these walls, I am Ee Sajangnim. Do you understand?”

  I writhed with unmet need. “Why did you make me learn Hyunkyung, then?”

  “Because,” she cooed, turning down the sheets and pulling me to lie next to her, “you need to say it right when I make you scream it in bed.”

  Scream I did, until I grew hoarse with spent lust. I panted, lying back on the pillows, trembling with the effort to move my little finger.

  “Spread your legs,” she ordered. She might as well have told me to fly to the moon. “Spread them,” she repeated, “and I’ll show you a new toy.”

  With limp spaghetti muscles, I flopped my legs into a loose V. She inserted a silver metal bullet, allowing the cord to dangle outside. I wriggled at the cold, but she hit the “on” button. Already exhausted from her ministrations, I fought the waves of pleasure. She adjusted the dial, letting the pressure build, ebb, and change to pulsations.

  I grabbed her shoulders, begging her to stop. One more second of pleasure would kill me, and I would explode into Indigo pieces of over-satiated lust. Instead, she switched the bullet off. I tried to take it out, but she stopped me.

  “Imagine,” she said. “Sitting in your best finery at a formal dinner, with that between your legs, and I have compl
ete control.” At the word “control,” she jabbed the vibrator control to full power. I convulsed in paroxysms, gasping.

  “Stop!” I begged, afraid I would lose control. I tried to convince myself I hadn’t already done so, multiple times per minute. My body was hers, and I bent to her will. She switched the toy off and cradled my cheek.

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s your turn.” Indigo started to sit up, but I held her down. “C’mon. You have to let me—”

  “Shh.” I placed a forefinger on her lips. “Don’t spoil things.”

  “But I can’t….” She propped her elbow on the mattress and curled her legs inward. “You…, It’s not fair.”

  You. How free Americans were to say a pronoun fraught with implications. It had taken me years to say “you” comfortably, and I insisted all of my staff learn to say it. In Korean, the tiny word carried enormous complications and potential for offense. Noh. From a superior to an underling, giving an order.

  Dangshin. The most over-used textbook word of foreigners trying to speak Korean according to their own country’s rules. Dangshin-eun Indigo imnida. You are Indigo, in phrasing no native Korean speaker would use. Dangshin spoke of strangers accusing each other after a traffic accident, or a formal song composed for the object of unrequited love.

  “Lie down.” I wanted her next to me, not above me.

  “Taking pleasure and not giving anything back is exactly what Greg would do! I….”

  There it was. The reality I’d asked her not to speak.

  “No one has to know. You are American; your culture is more permissive. No one will ask.”

  “You don’t understand.” She pushed back the sheet and caressed my breasts.

  I covered her hands with mine, unwilling to accept what was not given freely. “No, Indi. Don’t give to me out of obligation. Wait until you truly want—”

  I should have phrased it better. The words struck a sour note as soon as they left my mouth, but she didn’t give me a chance to explain.

  “Is that what this was? An obligation?” She turned away from me, sliding off the bed. As she stood up, blinding me in the sheer beauty of her naked form, she reached for the crumpled yellow dress we had thrown onto the floor last night. That I had thrown. “Should I offer a testimonial for your business? I’ll let your next customer know to expect good sex.”

  “Indi—”

  “Say your name, huh? Do you use that line with every woman you get into bed with you? The one about looking for a wife was a nice touch. Almost made me believe you.”

  The harsh, acidic bitterness made us both cringe. I should have contradicted her, but instead, my internal warning system flared a different signal. Need food. Now. We had left the cake uneaten last night, and it rested on the table a few feet away. If I could get my blood sugar up, my soggy brain could function.

  Then again, all of my years training to be the next Ee Sajang of Han Incorporated left me clueless to handle post-coital anger. I’d never faced post-coital anything before, at least not with someone I actually cared about. I racked my brains, trying to think of the right thing to say.

  “I was serious.”

  She zipped up the back of the dress Minhee had chosen with such care.

  “I told Minhee to cancel your flight home today. We can announce the engagement as soon as my father gives permission. You can choose—”

  “No.” Shoving her feet into the gold sandals, she glared at me. “You had no right to make that decision. Get the ticket back. Maybe you could buy a blow-up sex doll. It would follow your orders.”

  Stunned, I clutched the bedsheets to my chest that felt more naked than she should see. “Greg,” I guessed. “Greg treated you badly, so you think I’ll do the same. I won’t, Indi.” I fought the tremors, headache, and rising panic. I had to control myself. I’d rather face another international shaming than let Indi get away.

  She finger-combed her tousled hair, causing it to stick out all over. And yet, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and flushed with anger, she was the sexiest woman I had ever seen.

  Stop it, Han Hyunkyung! Think with your head instead of your pants! What will you do, tackle her and force her to stay?

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, fatigue replacing anger. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I just— It’s time for me to go home.”

  This should have been Indi’s new home, but a Cheongju Han could not dishonor her name. “Very well.” I rose and put on my own clothes. “I’ll tell Minhee to make the arrangements. She will let you know when to expect the car.”

  Indigo let herself out of the room without asking for directions to the guest suite. I stared at the closed door for a few minutes before placing the call.

  “Hyojung-ssi. I need your help.”

  ***

  “Miss Indi Go!”

  I might have wandered the hallways forever if Miss Cha hadn’t found me. “I need to find my bag so I can pack.”

  “Why do you go home?” Her tone was kind, but the shame of the past few days caught up with me.

  “Hyunkyung said you would make the arrangements.”

  Miss Cha bobbed in approval but answered a different question. “Your Korean is getting better. You said Ee Sajangnim’s name perfectly!”

  Say my name!

  Hyunkyung.

  But you will never use my name in public. Outside these walls, I am Ee Sajangnim.

  Why did you make me learn Hyunkyung, then?

  For when you scream it in bed.

  I had learned, and she had made me scream, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Don’t go home, Indi Go.” Miss Cha touched my arm, and I looked at her in surprise. “Ee Sajangnim has never looked as happy as she has since you came. You are perfect for each other.”

  Something twisted inside my gut. I didn’t want to hear about our perfection. Did Miss Cha say this to every girl she petted and escorted from Hyunkyung’s bedroom? Maybe she would slip a few big bills into my bag as hush money.

  “She’s perfect for all the girls she brings home,” I said without thinking. I could have slapped my forehead, but it didn’t matter. A grave insult to the company owner meant nothing when I would leave anyway.

  “All?” Miss Cha wrinkled her forehead. “There is no all. She never spoke of marriage until she asked me to contact Madame Eve-nim about you.”

  Great-Aunt Matilda had mentioned a Madame Eve, too. Curious despite myself, I stopped walking to face Miss Cha. “Why did she want me? She didn’t even know me, right?”

  “Yes.” At my confusion, she clarified. “Yes, Ee Sajangnim didn’t know you. She asked Madame Eve-nim for an arrangement.”

  “To pretend to be her business client at the concert last night?” Hyunkyung’s words to Leila rang in my ears.

  “For a date. Madame Eve is famous for choosing the right people for each other. It was time for Ee Sajangnim to settle down, raise a family, and assume her new role as leader of the Han legacy.”

  “But I don’t speak Korean. Or know anything about Korea, or business, for that matter.” I wanted to believe Miss Cha, but nothing made sense.

  “Silly.” Miss Cha gave an affectionate laugh. “Ee Sajangnim can hire people to do all that. She can’t hire someone to love her. And you do.”

  ***

  “Why couldn’t you tell her the plane was booked? It should have been, anyway. Why did you get her a ticket?” Through sheer self-discipline, I forced myself to break off a piece of the scorned cake from last night. My frayed nerves didn’t need the whiplash of jeohyeoldangjung.

  “Eat rice,” Minhee urged, but I couldn’t take time for a real meal.

  “At the very least, you could have delayed until tomorrow’s flight!”

  Minhee stayed out of striking range. “I called in a favor, and I purchased a ticket for Miss Indi Go in first class.”

  If there had been a peanut in sight, I would have thrown it at her. “I told you not to!”

  “Ee Sajangnim.” Despite her usual
deference, something in her tone made me take a deep breath.

  “Yes. Nuts. What?”

  “Ee Sajangnim.” She paused. “I purchased a ticket for you, too. It’s the seat next to Miss Indi Go’s.”

  ***

  “Miss Indi Go, the car is ready. Are you sure you won’t change your mind? My country is a beautiful one. You would be happy here.”

  Wistfully, I zipped my bag closed. I had learned the folly of my snobbery, and Korea had indeed proven itself a beautiful country. Its people, however, left something to be desired. “Thank you, Miss Cha.”

  “Ee Sajangnim will escort you to the airport, of course.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to face Hyunkyung, especially in public. “I’d rather go on my own. Isn’t she busy?”

  “You love her.”

  I blinked. Did I hear Miss Cha’s words or my own accusing heart? “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  Without waiting for my answer, Miss Cha picked up my roller suitcase and trundled it through the foyer and out the door. She gave it to the chauffeur, and I sighed. I turned around to give Han Incorporated a silent farewell.

  Thank you for one wonderful night, no matter how it turned out. Maybe next time, I’ll go to France.

  I knew better, though. Great-Aunt Matilda would let me live with her because that’s what family did, but I’d return to my minimum wage job at the pub and serve drunk adjunct professors until I died. I’d watch Greg and his pregnant girlfriend, and I’d take in a litter of cats to keep my mind off the might-have-beens.

  ***

  Calm, Hyunkyung. Miss Cha had already given my bag to the driver, and I waited with a pretense of patience as Indigo buckled herself into the seat next to me.

  “It will be about an hour until the airport,” I said, and she refused to look at me. “Try to rest.”

  She accepted the pink damyo from Minhee with grace. “Thank you.” She screwed her eyes shut, as if to block out everything around her. Did she reject Korea altogether, or just me?