Seoul Spankings by Anastasia Vitsky Page A

cracked an eye open to see Minhee turning the handle on the car door. Her sleek suit contrasted with the tumble of weeds, dried grass, and gravel road, and Hyunkyung stirred beside me. Her chauffeur turned off the car’s ignition, and Minhee took out a picnic tote bag, a tinfoil-lined seating mat, and a boxed cake. I stared at her, stupid with confusion. Wildly, the worst fear came to mind.
    She’s going to abduct, rape, and sell me into sexual slavery under an assumed name. I’ll never be found alive .
    When I got home, I would stop watching far-fetched cop shows.
    “What?” I asked, unable to make the adjustment from posh concert hall to dilapidated countryside.
    Greg , I thought, against my will. With a jerk of mental effort, I added, Go to hell . Already, her efficient assistants had set up a small grill, netting, and an enormous flashlight to illuminate our efforts. Or, rather, their efforts. The crackle of cooking meat gave a tang to the fresh, unpolluted air. As Minhee set up tiny dishes of various green and red colored vegetables, Hyunkyung used long wooden chopsticks to turn the pieces of meat. As they cooked, she snipped them into perfect rectangles with a red-handled pair of kitchen shears. My stomach rumbled, despite the ominous pile of kimchi sizzling next to the more innocuous meat. Spicy spoiled cabbage . Hyunkyung placed some translucent teardrop shaped pieces on the grill. Garlic cut into slices, most likely, but I had never seen it grilled this way before. Most of my garlic came powdered in a plastic spice container.
    “Come,” she repeated. She stepped out of her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bamboo mat, a place for me at her side. Minhee and her driver took their cue and melted into the darkness. Perhaps they returned to the car to continue their nap. I, on the other hand, tingled with alertness.
    “Okay,” I answered. Before I could sit down, she offered me a bite-size piece of meat from her chopsticks.
    “Taste it,” she commanded me. “You’ll like it.”
    I opened my mouth like a baby bird, and she deposited the burn-inflicting meat. “Ack! Ooh! Ouch!” I grabbed at a bottle of water and doused my mouth with coolness. “Ow!”
    “Really, Indi,” she said with amusement. “Is your tongue that sensitive? Come here.”
    Slightly afraid of what she might do, I edged closer to her. She picked up a new cooking chopstick and rapped the end against my buttocks. I stared at her, unable to comprehend her actions.
    “Taste,” she ordered.
    This time, I accepted the meat between my teeth and blew on it before chewing. Crispy, juicy, flavorful goodness. My stomach rumbled, and she laughed as she picked up the clean chopstick.
    “Oh, no.” I backed away. I liked her feeding me, but I didn’t like the weird games.
    Ignoring my protest, she set the chopstick down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but too soon. She reached around and pulled my sash to the side, applying a crisp smack to my bottom. I gaped at her, only to be fed another piece of meat. I wanted to protest, but the pork filled my mouth and belly with a new and wonderful sensation. Hyunkyung picked up a string of the nasty cabbage, and at that I drew the line.
    “No, thank you.” I turned my face away and squealed when she pulled me next to her. I breathed in her scented hair products, close enough to reach out and caress the velvety neck. I had to clench my hands tight in order not to touch, and she caught me by surprise with another clap across my buttocks.
    “Ah,” she said, and she cupped her left hand underneath the piece of kimchi wrapped around a bit of meat.
    Ah must be a command to open my mouth. How else could she use that order? Stop it, Indi!
    I wrinkled my nose but obeyed, and she placed the salty-sour package onto my tongue. I expected to wince at the sharp, acidic spice, but grilling had softened the kimchi into pleasant warmth. Paired with fresh meat, it offered the perfect combination. Without thinking, I