The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 210

Volumes 1-4 + Side Stories of DMS are available uncensored on ko-fi! ※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pushed her down and began in earnest. Jaha, turning her face to the side to avoid suffocating in the sheets, sobbed as her cheek was pressed into the mattress.

Unlike his usual politeness, he was rough—whether because of her request or the dominant position itself. And strangely, it excited her. This feeling of being ruined, violated… she didn’t hate it. If anything, it brought a bizarre sense of liberation.

The pride she clung to so desperately wouldn’t earn her a dime. The forced dignity she had to maintain simply because she was human—along with every other shackle that weighed her down—was now being shattered, and the pleasure of it was overwhelming.

The catharsis of letting go, at last, of the defenses she’d clung to all her life—both her shield and her burden.

The dizzying rush of freefall, the exhilarating coolness like a hole punched through her lungs. The thrill.

Of course, it was a conditional deviation made possible by safety measures. Like bungee jumping with a rope attached, it was a thrill she could savor only because she could dip her feet into the mire and then be pulled back onto solid ground.

Each time his c**k thrust in, water splattered everywhere—splat, splat. The joining area, her b******s, thighs, and even the bedsheet had long been smeared with messy fluids.

He was like a f*****g machine. Far from tiring, it was as if he had pressed a button to escalate the intensity, driving into her with ever-increasing speed and force.

“Hhk, ah, hh-it!”

Every time he plunged deep and struck that weak spot, Jaha’s mind flickered—light vanishing, then returning. It was as if her consciousness had become a broken lightbulb.

Ah, good.

So good it’s terrifying.

If this goes on, I feel like I’ll lose myself.

Like I won’t be me anymore…

With each violent thrust, his firm lower body slammed against her a*s, sending waves of searing pain. Even without looking, she knew her b******s must be flushed red from the abuse. Even that stinging heat transformed into pleasure.

“Hhhuuuk!”

The sensation, as if her hair were being yanked upward, burst apart in an instant. Jaha convulsed, her eyes rolling back.

He kept f*****g her, gripping her wildly spasming body, until finally—after wringing out another tortured climax from Jaha, a near-exploitative kind of ecstasy—he came.

For a moment, he stayed on top of her, holding her close, before realizing his frame was too large for this fragile woman to bear and pulling away. Then, he admired the masterpiece he had created.

The thick spurts of c*m, the wet traces left everywhere, and her b******s, flushed red from taking his merciless pounding.

He reached out and squeezed the pliant, fever-softened flesh of her a*s, now tender as if slightly melted. The way it molded perfectly to his palm felt satisfying.

“That must’ve hurt.”

Under the soothing touch that gently caressed her flushed b******s, Jaha found herself ensnared by an indescribable sensation.

Is this what they mean by giving pain and then offering relief? She wished the soreness would make him stop touching her, yet part of her wanted him to continue.

Torn between conflicting desires, Jaha remained frozen, unable to react, while he gradually escalated his actions. By the time she confirmed that the strange feeling wasn’t just her imagination, his movements had already turned into unmistakable caresses.

His fingers, slick with the wetness from her arousal, traced the damp crevice before brushing against the hidden hole nestled between her cheeks. The unexpected contact made Jaha jolt.

“W-Why there… ngh!”

The sticky fingers rubbed slowly around her a**s. The smooth, silky texture of the gloves sent shivers down her spine, an unfamiliar ticklish sensation blooming within her.

She had heard that the entrance was densely packed with nerve endings—a highly sensitive erogenous zone—but she had never experienced it firsthand. Nor had she ever wanted to. Yet now, subjected to this, she understood exactly why it was called one.

“S-Stop… That’s dirty… Hnngh!”

“Dirty? It’s twitching so cutely, though.”

He replied, pressing lightly against the loosened hole. With just a little more pressure, the tip of his finger would slip inside, making Jaha flinch violently.

“Don’t do it!”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s just… too much…”

“Alright. Then I won’t push in.”

She should have told him not to touch it at all, but Jaha couldn’t bring herself to say it. As much as she hated to admit it, separate from her reluctance, the sensation itself wasn’t entirely unpleasant.