Chapter 8: The First Virgin
The world narrowed to a single, impossible point of pressure. Ji-hyun’s entire body was a clenched fist around the burning intrusion. Her breath hitched, stalled, then came in short, sharp pants that fogged the air between their faces. Her fingers dug into Aidan’s shoulders, finding the old scar tissue, anchoring herself.
“Breathe, Ji-hyun,” Aidan murmured, his voice gravelly. His own face was sheened with sweat, muscles in his jaw jumping with the effort of holding perfectly still. “Just breathe into it. Don’t try to take it all.”
“It’s… not… possible,” she gasped, every syllable strained. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly, a chaotic rebellion against the gradual, relentless stretch. She had sunk maybe two inches. It felt like a mile.
From the side, Mina watched, her hand unconsciously pressed between her own legs. “Unnie, your face is so red,” she whispered, half-horrified, half-fascinated.
So-mi, kneeling by Aidan’s hip, traced a finger along the shaft where it disappeared into Ji-hyun. “Look at the stretch. Jesus. It’s like watching a snake eat a rabbit.” She sounded clinical, but her eyes were wide.
“Don’t be crude,” Eun-ji said softly, though she didn’t look away. She was coiled tightly on the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees.
Ji-hyun rocked her hips, a minute, experimental shift. A sharp gasp escaped her, her eyes squeezing shut. “It burns.”
“That’s normal,” Aidan said, the phrase feeling absurd and inadequate. “The burn will ease. Go at your pace.”
“My pace,” she repeated, a faint, hysterical laugh in her throat. “My pace is stopping.” But she didn’t stop. She lowered herself another fraction, her body accepting him in a slow, excruciating yield. A tear escaped the corner of her eye, tracking through her foundation. She was methodical, even in this. Each millimeter was a calculated surrender.
Aidan watched her. This was the core of it. Not the sex, but this brutal, intimate negotiation between will and physiology. He saw the moment her expression shifted from pain to a dazed, focused intensity. Her breathing deepened. She opened her eyes, looking down at where they were joined.
“More,” she whispered, not to him, but to herself.
She sank further, her head falling back, a long, trembling moan drawn from her chest. The remaining length of him seemed to vanish into her, her body swallowing him until her hips met his. She was fully seated, impaled, her virginity not a ribbon cut but a boundary comprehensively erased.
For a long moment, she didn’t move. She just breathed, feeling the overwhelming fullness. The burn was subsiding, replaced by a deep, radiating ache that was not entirely unpleasant. It was a fact. A new fact of her body.
“Okay,” she breathed out. “Okay. I have it.”
Then she moved. A tentative lift of her hips, a slow drag upwards, followed by a sinking drop that was less hesitant. Aidan groaned, his hands coming to her waist to steady her. The friction was exquisite, a tight, slick vise. Ji-hyun’s rhythm was studious at first, then instinct took over. Her movements became sharper, more desperate, her previously perfect hair now sticking to her damp temples.
“It feels… strange,” she panted, her voice losing its steady control. “It’s so deep. I can feel you… in my stomach.”
Aidan could only nod, his capacity for speech reduced to raw sensation. The combined sight of her—the leader, the director, utterly undone above him—and the feel of her was short-circuiting his guilt. He was a tool, and she was using him with a fierce, singular purpose.
The other girls were silent now, absorbed. Mina’s fingers were moving in small circles under her shorts, her mouth slightly open. So-mi chewed her thumbnail, her gaze fixed on the point of connection. Eun-ji had uncurled, leaning forward, her dark eyes reflecting the candle flame.
Ji-hyun’s pace became frantic, her orgasm building not as a wave but as a sudden, seismic crack. It took her by surprise. Her body locked, a sharp, choked cry ripped from her throat, and she convulsed around him, her inner muscles pulsing in a violent, rhythmic clamp. She shook through it, her fingers clawing at his chest, her perfect composure shattered into a thousand glittering pieces.
As the tremors subsided, she slumped forward, her forehead resting against his. She was crying silently, the tears warm on his skin. “That was it?” she whispered, her voice ragged. “That was the thing?”
“Part of it,” Aidan managed.
She nodded against him. Then, with a resolve that seemed to pull her back together from the inside out, she pushed herself up. She looked at the others, her eyes clear despite the tears. “It hurts. And then it doesn’t. And then it’s… a landing strip. For the feeling.” She lifted herself off him, a slow, wet separation that made them both gasp. She knelt beside him on the rug, wincing slightly, and touched the inside of her thigh. Her fingers came away smeared with bright, shocking red. “Evidence,” she said flatly.
The room stared at the blood. It made it real in a way words hadn’t.
The clock on the wall ticked. 11:48 PM.
“Who’s next?” Ji-hyun asked, wiping her fingers on a discarded towel. Her tone was back to business, but it was brittle. “The schedule is tight.”
Mina’s hand shot up, then she lowered it, embarrassed. “Me. I want it now. Before I… think too much.”
Aidan, still hard, his skin sensitized, looked at her. Her courage was a fragile thing. He held out a hand. “Come here.”
She scrambled over, her movements quick and birdlike. She didn’t wait for direction. She straddled his lap, mimicking Ji-hyun’s position, but her energy was all nervous anticipation. She was already guiding him, her small hand trembling around his girth.
“Remember,” So-mi said from the floor, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Just the tip first, Minari. You practiced.”
Mina nodded, biting her lip. She positioned him, took a breath that shuddered all the way through her, and sank down.
She was tighter than Ji-hyun. Smaller. Her eyes flew wide, a silent “O” of shock. She froze, a statue of sudden, overwhelming sensation.
“Breathe, Mina,” Aidan said, his hands gentle on her hips.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s too big,” she whimpered. “I changed my mind.”
“You can’t,” Eun-ji said, not unkindly. “You’re already halfway. Going back hurts more.”
Mina swallowed, nodded again. With a pathetic, brave little grunt, she forced herself down the remaining inch, sinking fully onto him with a sharp cry. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, her whole body trembling. “It’s in,” she whispered, horrified. “It’s all the way in.”
“Now move,” Ji-hyun instructed, her voice regaining its steady calm. “Or you’ll cramp.”
Mina’s movements were jerky, uncoordinated. It was awkward and painful and profoundly moving. Her orgasm, when it came, was a surprise to everyone, especially her. It was a quick, sharp burst that made her yelp, her body seizing up before going limp against him. She cried in earnest then, messy, relieved sobs.
As Aidan held her, feeling her tears soak his skin, he looked over her shoulder at the window. The neon signs bled their eternal electric day into the night. The machine was fed. Two foundations laid, broken, and reset.
Three more to go before the dawn.