Sun Hee Ch. 08

Note: Chapter 8 resumes the story of Sun Hee, a dominant Korean girl who loves to tease. If you are new to the story, you can probably start here. I've built into the story a re-introduction of the characters. But I would encourage you to start from the beginning as the story as a whole works as a slow tease and character study.

*****

In the days since Sun Hee had left for Korea, I masturbated almost constantly.

My hand tugged my cock helplessly as I relived my time with Sun Hee. Finally free of her chastity cage, paradoxically I couldn't stop thinking about what it was like being caged by her. It was an obsession.

I jerked off remembering Sun Hee's beautiful face: her fine elfin features, her large dark eyes that seemed to look into your soul, her wide, soft mouth, and her long, black Korean hair. I jerked off to her large breasts. I jerked off to her flat stomach and narrow hips. I jerked off imagining what it would feel like sliding my cock into her impossibly tight pussy. And, strangely, I jerked off even more to the way she had kept denying me any access to her cunt.

I had never felt her, never fucked her, though clearly others had, and almost certainly others had again. Worse, I tortured myself with the possibility that even now in Korea she was having sex with someone else.

Sexy, smart, and sweet, Sun Hee was by far the hottest girl I had ever known, and I had lost her. Yet the pain of heartbreak merged and confused with the erotic memory of submitting to her: the click of the lock as she caged me, the way she teased me in front of her friends at the library, and the intense imagination of spreading for another man and crying out in pleasure as he penetrated her.

Even as my heart ached at losing her my cock ached with need, and the more my cock ached the more my heart hurt. And the more my heart hurt, my cock ached.

At some level I must have known what I was doing. I was eroticizing the pain at losing Sun Hee. I was eroticizing the pain of her sleeping with someone else. I was training myself to associate the ache of her betrayal with the throbbing arousal of my cock, imprinting deep into my psyche the idea that I wanted to feel this way, rewiring myself. Part of me understood this was a bad idea - but if felt so good. I couldn't help it.

Maybe Sun Hee expected this would happen too? Maybe this was her plan all along?

That made me jerk even more, submitting myself to her.

So I jerked and jerked. I jerked myself raw. All while thinking obsessively about Sun Hee.

Day by day through the winter break, finally free of her chastity cage, I must have jerked off and spilled in every corner of my parent's house and during every hour of the day. I went through an entire box of tissues, and then another.

It felt heavenly to cum, even as my pleasure was mixed with the bittersweet agony of our break up.

But naturally I wanted more. I wanted Sun Hee.

***

The process of reconnecting with her started slowly. For several days I agonized over whether to contact Sun Hee and what I should say. Keep it simple, I told myself. Don't overwhelm her. If she wants to talk to you, she will. How does the cliche go? If you love someone, set them free.

So I kept things simple. It was hard, but I reined myself in from sending the long, rambling love letters I kept writing despite myself. And instead I started with a simple note of support that I sent by email: "Dear Sun Hee, I hope you are having a nice break in Korea. I know you must miss home."

When she didn't reply right away, I freaked out. I kept checking email almost as often as I was jerking off, and when a day passed without hearing back from her, I started writing another long and rambling love letter. Thank god I didn't send it.

Finally, two days later I got a reply: "Thanks for your note. It was nice hearing from you." That was it. Seeing those few words from her on the screen made me feel both flushed and chilled at the same time, loved and abandoned.

And so things went between us for several days, slow and cautious. We shared a few emails, always carefully neutral and brief, and gradually we built up to longer messages in which we shared our days and talked about the petty frustrations of family.

Something of the familiar intimacy of when we first started dating returned, and it felt magical. Weirdly, though, the return of this intimacy stressed me out even more. Knowing now how easily it could be broken, I was even more afraid we would lose it again.

The first time we skyped together was a revelation. Sun Hee's face was suddenly right there in front of me on the computer screen. She looked as beautiful as ever. My heart melted.

I must have looked as stunned as I felt, just staring at the screen for several moments with my mouth open.

Registering how flustered she made me, Sun Hee smiled and then started to giggle. She crooked the corner of her mouth in that special way she does, and asked, "Wow, has the cat captured your tongue?"

The slightly off version of the idiom was charming. Sun Hee's English was very good, but those little moments when her Korean stood out were endearing. Everything about her was endearing!

I blushed in response to her question and lowered my eyes, which led Sun Hee to smile wider, and just like that our familiar pattern was reestablished. I was hopelessly in love with her, and she knew it. I was submissive to her, and she knew it.

We didn't talk about what had happened between us, and by unspoken agreement we weren't ready to. We didn't talk about sex or Sebastian or any of the other things that had become so intense between us. Not yet.

***

Skyping became more regular. It was hard though because L.A. was 9 hours off from Seoul in timezone, so morning for her was night time for me and vice versa. That meant there was only a brief window everyday when we could talk. It became our special time.

One morning, during a rare moment she had the apartment to herself, she took me on a tour of her parents' place by carrying her laptop from room to room. Sun Hee's bedroom in Korea was tiny and sparsely furnished, but it had a clean elegance that drove home to me that she really was from a foreign country. Everything was so small but so neat and efficient.

When she took me out onto the tiny garden patio, way up on the 23rd floor of their building, the view out over Seoul was breathtaking. I was stunned how beautiful it was. High-rise apartment buildings filled the foreground, and hidden amongst the trees of a large park she pointed out the walls of an old palace. Mountains rounded with age and thick with vibrant green trees dotted the landscape.

***

Sun Hee complained about how her mother and brother treated her around the house, her mother constantly giving her chores and her brother ordering her about while enjoying his own privilege.

I had heard this from her before, but now I was seeing it (well, hearing it) first hand. It seemed like nearly every time we talked her mother would interrupt us by yelling something through the door, and Sun Hee would apologize for having to go mop the kitchen floors or hang up the family's laundry or scrub the bathrooms. To my naive outsider's eyes it almost seemed like something from Cinderella. But Sun Hee assured me this was just a normal part of life, and while she resented the unfair gender roles (her brother never had to help out with chores) she also loved her mother and wanted to help out like a good daughter.

One morning while we were talking briefly on skype, her mother abruptly walked into Sun Hee's little room and started talking loudly in rapid Korean. There was no knock or warming; the door just suddenly swung open. The intrusion startled me, but it positively panicked Sun Hee. She quickly pushed the laptop half closed. Her mother would not approve her talking with some white boy in America; she was to marry a nice Korean boy.

It felt surreal waiting there for several minutes hearing the girl I loved talk rapidly back and forth in Korean. The tone of her mother's voice seemed angry, and I worried Sun Hee was getting in trouble. But I learned later that her mother simply wanted her to help prepare breakfast for the family. Although Sun Hee had half-closed the computer, I could just see her mother in the corner of the screen: an attractive older Korean lady wearing an apron frilled with elaborate pink lace tied around her narrow waist. I could see where Sun Hee got her looks.

Another time we were skyping, late in the evening Sun Hee's time, her brother yelled something through the door. Sun Hee apologized and explained she had to go pick up some snack her brother wanted from a corner store.

"So late at night?" I asked in surprise.

Sun Hee shrugged, and another chance for us to talk had ended.

Privacy was luxury that Sun Hee simply didn't have. How she dressed and acted was subject to constant nagging from her mother, and anytime she left the house she had to tell her parents exactly where she was going and who she was seeing. Even boyfriends were sometimes chosen for her. Her family thought nothing of barging through her door without so much as knocking, and her mother would go through her drawers and purse and even her journal. Hearing about her mother reading her journal especially caught my ear, both because it was a shocking violation of my beloved's privacy and because I ached with a guilty envy at accessing such secret thoughts. What might Sun Hee have written about me? Weirdly, it also made my cock tremble to imagine her mother reading about how she had locked me in chastity, though I knew Sun Hee would never have risked writing something like that where her mother could read it. Would she?

As a very private person myself, I couldn't really imagine what it was like for Sun Hee to not be able to have control over something so basic as her own room or even over her own person.

Not that I had ever doubted her, but I could see now what she meant about the lack of autonomy and control in her life. Between all the expectations placed on her as a good Korean daughter and the constant peer pressure among her Korean friends at college, an awful lot of her life seemed chosen for her. No wonder Sun Hee loved the feeling of power and control she gained by dominating me!

***

The next time I saw Sun Hee on skype was first thing in the morning for her; night time for me. She was fresh out of bed, and I could see the crisp white of her sheets already drawn up neatly around the tiny twin mattress of her bed. The white lace of her bedspread was smoothed out, and her little pink stuffed bear from when she was a girl sat propped on her pillow top. I loved that she was so neat and careful.

Her whole room felt bright and airy and clean with the morning sun spilling across her room and across the left side of her face, and Sun Hee looked so cute and innocent on my computer screen, all bright-eyed and sweetly fresh from her full night's sleep. The morning sunlight framed a kind of halo around her that made her pale gold skin seem to glow. Yet at the same time there was an unmistakable undertone of, well, sex to her. It was like a wiff of raw pheromones, a naughtiness that prickled my skin and made my hands shake a little.

Sun Hee was wearing a simple white camisole, thin spaghetti straps resting neatly on her delicate shoulders, and a pair of loose cotton pants. It was her pajamas. A perfectly innocent outfit that she wore to breakfast with her family, yet I found it distractingly enticing. The thin fabric stretched tight around Sun Hee's petite frame, making clear that she wore no bra underneath. What little actual cleavage it showed was covered by a delicate network of lace around the collar, yet the white cotton, contrasting beautifully with her Asian skin, was thin enough to plainly show the long shadow of the valley between her large, DD breasts. Her breasts hung so heavy on her tiny frame as to seem almost lewd, dangling tantalizingly right there before my eyes in stark contrast to the otherwise sweetness of her demeanor.

"Good morning, Oppa," she beamed. "Oppa," as she had explained, meant older brother, but it was also used by girls to address their boyfriends in a playful and submissive way. The way Korean girls used the word seemed to move back and forth between a sexual invitation and an asexual expression of familial closeness that I didn't know what to make of. Was she flirting with me? Or was she signaling she thought of me as safe, an ex-boyfriend she no longer thought about in a sexual way?

Her use of the word flustered me, and she knew it.

Sun Hee batted her big eyes at me and waved at the camera with a simple happiness. But she also edged her breasts closer so that the white of her camisole top stretched tighter and the hint of her cleavage deepened. The barest outline of her nipples became more visible.

"Hi Sun Hee," I smiled back.

We still had not talked about our breakup or what had happened between us. Not directly. Sun Hee knew I was still hopelessly in love with her, I felt confident, but I wasn't sure how she felt. I was afraid to ask. Passively I let her take the lead, hoping she would talk about things when she was ready.

So instead we talked happily. We shared the details of our day, and for a while we recaptured the comfortable intimacy of our first days together, talking about art and ideas and our hopes and dreams. We both felt it. Occasionally she would lean closer into the screen, and I could almost imagine our heads touching. The smell of her was real in my nostrils, and I ached to stroke her hair the way I used to, the glossy softness of her hair gentle under my fingertips.

This renewed feeling of intimacy was intoxicating, but so was the view. As Sun Hee leaned inward to listen, bending down over the little table her laptop rested on, this pulled her cleavage closer, causing her breasts to swell against the lace of her top in a most delightful way. Idly, I wondered if she was doing this deliberately.

The sight made my cock start to stiffen, tenting awkwardly in my jeans, and I couldn't help staring a little. Soon I had to reach down surreptitiously to readjust myself under the table. Luckily the screen blocked any of my awkwardness from view.

Each time her ripe breasts pressed closer I was painfully aware of how they were just inches away, and yet woefully out of reach. In reality Sun Hee was half a world away. I ached to touch her - but it was impossible.

Sun Hee smiled sweetly as I continued my story.

I told her about my recent trip to the Getty art museum. Sun Hee listened raptly as I described some of my favorite paintings, and in turn I marvelled at the sweet beauty of her face. Her large, dark eyes seemed to shine in the morning sunlight, and her wide mouth rested in a sleepy smile. A slight breeze from somewhere occasionally teased her black hair against her cute little elfin nose.

Most distracting, though, was the way the spaghetti straps of her camisole were prone to slide down her shoulder. One of the tiny little straps would fall off her shoulder, and then Sun Hee would push it back up again.

Each time one of the straps slipped from her shoulders I couldn't help but ogle. Her bare shoulders were so creamy and smooth, her golden skin so deliciously soft. Somehow, seeing her shoulders bare like that was intensely sexual and intimate, rendering her vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

Fortunately, Sun Hee acted totally unaware of the way my voice faltered as her fingers absently slid the straps back up her shoulders.

Once I even reached out without thinking, my hand automatically moving to help, and my fingers brushed the screen. It was the kind of unconscious care I used to show Sun Hee when we were together, one of the many small little things I did to always make sure she was looked after and cared for. But as my fingers clicked against the monitor, the unexpected sound pricked both of us from our reverie.

Sun Hee pulled back in surprise and looked down, suddenly realizing the amount of cleavage she was showing.

"Oh, sorry," she murmured. Her hands went to her chest to cover her modesty, but there was just the hint of a smirk on her full lips. Then Sun Hee leaned back, showing the full weight of her heavy tits hanging against the stretched fabric of her top, and while she made a careful production of lifting her top back into place, the effect was to make her twins lift and sway dramatically.

Her heavy breasts bounced and heaved on her petite frame in a way that it was a marvel the delicate spaghetti straps could hold them.

My cock swelled in response, and again I had to furtively adjust myself. I had still not worked up the nerve to admit to Sun Hee the way I pined for her, and it felt dirty being unable to control my body's reaction this way.

Sun Hee caught my eye and smirked as I shifted in my chair, before resuming our talk as though nothing had happened.

If I was disappointed she had recovered her modesty, I needn't have been. Somehow moments later amidst our animated conversation, Sun Hee shifted her shoulder in a way that made one of the straps slip right back down again.

My eyes followed it downward.

Again her fingers found their way to the satiny straps. This time Sun Hee aimlessly teased at the strap, tugging it out and away from her arm and tugging it absently, which had the effect of pulling the white cotton of her top tighter across her breasts. Her nipples, already discernable through the thin cotton, seemed to grow more erect.

Sun Hee pulled the strap tighter still, seemingly unaware, until the fabric formed a clear outline around the perky curve of her flesh, and even the shadow of her areola became visible. For a long moment I could see the full heft of her breasts as the impossibly tight cotton clung to every inch of her. Then, finally, she lifted the strap back up into place.

The view was delicious and maddening in equal measure, and when it was gone I sighed audibly.

Yet watching her lift the straps back up onto her shoulders was perhaps even more erotic than when they fell. Sun Hee never seemed to quite manage it though, for some reason; they stayed kind of half up and half down, the thin little satin straps brushing barely against the soft golden skin of her arms.

The straps just hung there in a way that gave me goosebumps.

Try to imagine how helpless and aroused I felt, watching with bated breath and utterly impotent to touch this girl who so completely controlled my arousal.

Then, as we talked together about a Giacometti sculpture we both liked, Sun Hee's finger teased idly with the strap of her left shoulder. Vivid memories played through my head of what it felt like to trace my own finger along the hollow at the base of her neck and across her clavicle. My mind strained to will her fingers likewise, to tug down the delicate little strap... just a little bit. If only her fingers would pull it downward a little, tug it down her shoulder, and reveal just a hint... just the top of her breasts...

"Are you listening?" Sun Hee interrupted. Without fully realizing it my gaze had fixated entirely on her left shoulder when her words yanked me back to reality.

"Yes, yes, sorry," I said, carefully looking back at her, and I felt myself blush as our eyes met. What I saw wasn't anger but amusement. I was pretty sure I was busted.

I shifted awkwardly in my chair, feeling myself stiffen and swell in my jeans. Oddly, being caught only seemed to arouse me further. Still, I tried hard to pretend nothing had happened, that I hadn't been caught staring, and did my best to resume the conversation. I stammered through an answer to her question about the sculpture, but already Sun Hee's fingers had found their way back to her shoulder and were teasing the strap a little lower.