[New Pit] [The Scent of Power]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Word Count : 5857
The Scent of Power (1.1—To be continued )　　　　Author :

hmhjhc Published 　　: 　　2015-11-5
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... 　　All the grammatical errors, absurd plots, contradictions, inappropriate word choice, and grammatical inconsistencies in this novel stem from the author's neglect of basic writing techniques in pursuit of fantasy. 　　This novel is completely devoid of any real-life experience; all basic knowledge, scientific principles, social norms , clique behaviors, institutional systems, and legal procedures are unverifiable nonsense. 　　This novel is extremely unsuitable for masturbation, as its dragging plot, complex character development, trivial backgrounds, lengthy psychological monologues, and repetitive scenes permeate the text, and the author shows no intention of improving it. 　　The erotic descriptions in this novel are purely depictions based on sudden whims of the author; the author has little to no intention of satisfying, nor actively catering to, the various sexual fantasies and urges of others. 　　The most important mission of this novel is fantasy, satisfying the author's own fantasies. If this novel can satisfy the fantasies of individual readers, it is a "side effect," not its primary function. Please do not attempt or even merely borrow 　　from any plot or case in this novel, including its fantasy content, in real life . Otherwise, you will have to bear all the consequences yourself, and the consequences could be unimaginable . ********************************************************************************************** 　　　　　　　　　　　　　Part One: Ishikawa Yue Returns 　　　　　　　　　　Chapter 1: Ishikawa Yue. A Quiet Night in Princeton 　　On the circular lawn of Princeton University's campus stands a bronze sculpture that students are accustomed to seeing every day. 　　It is a smooth bronze body, yet it has a soft bluish-gray color like Hetian jade. Two connected , forming a hollow that resembles the number "8". 　　The night is deep, and only starlight and the creamy yellow streetlights are shining on the ground. The dim light reflected from the dark green natural lawn faintly illuminates the sculpture. 　　Ishikawa Yue sits quietly on the bench under the streetlight, his thoughts seemingly frozen, staring blankly through the night mist at the sculpture that he has seen every day during his three years of studying abroad. 　　"Henry Moore's sculptures are characterized by their rounded, smooth, and curvilinear forms on metal, rather than right angles. I think they all symbolize women." Two years ago, in this very place, on this cherry wood bench , in front of his ex-girlfriend Youyou, whom he had been idly dating, Chuan Yue had said these words, merely to show off and to steer the conversation in a flirtatious direction. Although it wasn't until today that he truly and seriously examined and appreciated this artwork for the first time, he still couldn't help but think of Youyou. Youyou was the Chinese name he had given her; her original name was Yolanda Janet Green, a Danish girl. 　　That night, in his single dormitory room, he had sweated profusely, enjoying the beautiful body of this campus belle, who was quite popular among male students from various countries at Princeton Sports Academy. Her captivating platinum blonde hair, her delicate, full yet soft lips, her firm, high-set breasts like those of a Nordic girl, and her long, strong powerful legs—all of these naturally gave him carnal pleasure. The girl seemed to have played soccer before; her legs were particularly firm and muscular, and he fondly remembered the pleasure and impact of having her legs clamped around his hips. But what he truly couldn't forget was Youyou's expression—the expression of being conquered. 　　No matter what kind of girl she was—pure, proud, strong, alluring, cold—it was all just a protective mask. In certain situations, under the body of certain men, they would ultimately reveal their vulnerable side, their succumbing shyness, even their humble and powerless side. The international students who came here to study, regardless of their country of origin, with very few exceptions, were either from wealthy or powerful families. Their environment determined that their experiences were generally not shallow. Girls like Youyou always tried to project what they believed to be mature feminine charm. She might have hoped to appear unapproachable, or she might have hoped to give Chuan Yue a pure and innocent impression, or she might have tried to portray herself as confident and noble. 　　Hmph, this laughable woman! Ultimately, beneath Chuan Yue's body, under his almost destructive attacks and teasing, under the alluring yet powerful thrusting of his hips, she revealed the expression of weakness that Chuan Yue most longed to see. This was a woman's true expression, this was a woman's true face. 　　In an instant, she was no longer the arrogant girl from the next department, no longer the diligent student , no longer the intelligent and elegant goddess of her small circle, no longer the heiress of a family business, but completely became a woman—a weak woman, a simple woman, a woman symbolizing sex and pleasure. 　　Since the dawn of civilization, since men's conquest of women transcended simple reproduction and sexual intercourse, this aspect of womanhood has always been what many men have pursued and longed for deep in their hearts. 　　Shi Chuan Yue shook his head, banishing You You's image from his mind. In reality, it wasn't a particularly challenging or rewarding experience for him . His attempt to conquer the international student beauty was simply a result of hormonal fluctuations. It was Chuan Yue's inability to control his instinct to occasionally display his desire for power. Rather than wanting to sleep with You You, it was more about escaping the monotonous academic environment...

This was a form of entertainment, a way to occasionally reminisce about his own "strength."

Chuan Yue's so-called "strength" wasn't some vague, indefinable masculine charm, charisma, talent,
or even trivial things like sweet talk or womanizing techniques. Chuan Yue understood from a young age what true
strength , and he had always enjoyed the unparalleled pleasure that this true strength brought in filling an emptiness.

Power and money. That was strength.

More power, more money. That was true strength.

And Shi Chuan Yue was a scion of a family who had once truly possessed these things.

Unlike the sons of county party secretaries, the daughters of real estate developers, or even so-called high-achieving students supported by frugal
middle-class families studying here, Chuan Yue was a true scion of a powerful family.

From childhood, he had lived in an upper-class world unattainable by these people.

Under the cover of night, after receiving an overseas phone call, Chuan Yue sat quietly alone,
his thoughts seemingly fragmented. The figures of his grandfather and uncles, symbols of power, gradually blurred.
After a turbulent
You You, his aunt and cousin Qiong Qiong, and a little
girl whose name he couldn't even recall.

Yes, that little girl, who was probably only fifteen or sixteen at the time, not yet an adult. Was she in
the second team of the Capital City Gymnastics Team? Or the first team? He couldn't remember. But that trembling fear, that hoarse crying,
that humble pleading, that painful scream… that playful ponytail, that snow-white skin, that frail
figure , that exceptionally supple waist from gymnastics training, and those two
breasts that symbolized the most beautiful curves of a woman. Gymnasts usually start training in leotards at a very young age, and it's rare to see
breasts .

This seemed to be the reason why Chuan Yue couldn't control his desires back then, tearing the girl
's blouse and bra in that private room, and desperately kneading her alabaster breasts.

Seven years ago, on Chuan Yue's twentieth birthday, one of his uncle's subordinates, pandering to his tastes, brought a group of
teenagers—whose identities he could no longer recall—to "throw a birthday party" and "go to a bar for entertainment." These opportunistic
teenagers, much like student sorority gatherings at Princeton today, were either simply looking for money, unable
to refuse certain favors, or just ordinary students curious to
experience Some foolish kids even thought it was a form of socializing, hoping to
befriend someone like Chuan Yue.

He spotted her among the group, captivated by her gymnast-like flexibility and
the exquisite . In the private room, fueled by alcohol, he tore open her clothes, bound her arms,
removed her clothing, slapped her when she resisted, kicked her in the stomach, and tore at her hair
… He raped her. Although Chuan Yue broke out in a cold sweat as he saw the blood on her genitals, a slight sobering realization dawned on him.
Oh, she was a virgin, still young, and hadn't yet experienced the taste of a man. But she was no longer
a virgin ; he had become the man who conquered her body, and she wore that vulnerable expression.

At that moment, Chuan Yue felt a pang of fear, but he comforted himself, saying: This isn't rape. This is just…
just some kind of sexual game. Attending such an event, dressed so beautifully, coming to see a high-ranking official's son like himself,
this girl should know what she was doing. Power… he had that power. He could
ride on the girls he fancied, ravage them, rape them, hurt them. He could hear them cry, see their
expressions. He could derive sexual pleasure from them, and the destructive pleasure that transcended sexual pleasure. Power, that
was power. He could give them money, buy them things, solve their problems. If she needed anything, he could put in
a word, and she could join a group; even if they needed some psychological comfort, they could deceive themselves into thinking
it was a one-night stand or even a relationship, to cover up some shame. Their price was to offer their
bodies and souls for his torment and pleasure.

Things started as he expected. His uncle's subordinate easily "got" the girl.

No police, no interrogation, not even a hint of trouble. His stern uncle and loving aunt
had no idea what had happened. He wanted to cover it up, he wanted to feel guilty, he wanted to show some tenderness by
calling the girl or sending her some money to comfort himself; he even inquired about
her .

But he couldn't resist. Even years later, whenever he thought of that experience, a smile would still creep onto his face
. He was actually very proud, very happy, very satisfied. The meaning of that experience was:
if I need it, then your most precious youthful body, even if you don't want it, must be offered to my lust, your
tears, your shame, your humility, your pain, to exchange for my pleasure. This is
the pleasure of power, the fragrance emanating from power, a captivating scent even more intoxicating than sexual pleasure itself.

In the years that followed, living in the capital, Chuan Yue generally stopped using violence to conquer girls,
opting instead for gentler methods: seduction, deception, promises, and at most, a touch of coercion. He encountered
virgins , female athletes, students, married women, and even... several of these
girls gave him more than perfect orgasms and sexual pleasure. However, he still fondly remembered the thrill of that birthday
celebration. He loved that unbridled, unrestrained, prelude-free joy, like a
musician who listens to romantic blues every day occasionally rocking out, feeling the unique
sensation of his eardrums vibrating with the earth—a wild march, that thrill of conquest and destruction:

whoever I want, I can have.

The quiet night in Princeton was somewhat chilly. Chuan Yue remained staring blankly at the sculpture, his thoughts still somewhat
chaotic. Whoever I want, I can have; whatever I desire, I can have. For three years, sent to the United States by his uncle, he
followed his uncle's instructions, playing the role of a quiet, unassuming ordinary international student. Only with a temporary girlfriend like You
You did he occasionally reveal that fierce side: whoever I want, I can have; whatever I desire, I can have.

Whoever I want, I can have? Not entirely. In his life, the first two women who had moved him, he
couldn't have either of them.

His aunt's body was the first time he had ever seen, or rather, the first time he had become aware of, a woman's body. It
was when Ishikawa Yue was very young, maybe third grade, maybe fourth grade, he couldn't remember…
When he got home, through the crack in the door to his upstairs bedroom, which he hadn't closed, he saw his aunt Liu Chen's half-naked body as she changed
. Actually, it was just her back; she was still wearing underwear. But that smooth, graceful back,
that curve of her bare skin unique to women, gave Yue his first vague awareness of sexuality.

Was this what a woman's body was like? It wasn't until he grew up that Yue gradually realized his aunt Liu Chen was a well-bred
young lady with traditional feminine charm; both her figure and temperament were outstanding among her peers. But
in his young mind of only twelve, how could he possibly care about such things? He was simply
shocked by the simple difference between the sexes—was that what a woman's body was like? Those two pink and blue shoulder straps on his aunt's shoulders… ah…
what were those magical clothes? Why didn't men wear such clothes? If I wrapped those two shoulder straps
around my aunt's hands a few times, would she be unable to move? Would she be terrified?
Would struggle? Would she beg me to let her go? ...Could I spank her? Could I...could I
do something else to her?

Aside from these absurd daydreams in the long night, Chuan Yue dared not do anything, not even think anything. His parents
had died early, and he had been raised by his uncle and aunt. To him, his aunt was like a mother, a
beautiful angel incarnate, his protector, and sometimes a stern supervisor. She was inviolable
, his warm embrace, his safe harbor... As a child, he struggled to suppress his absurd
fantasy of "tying his aunt up with the shoulder straps," a painful but
alluring . Soon, he transferred this delusion to another object. In the dead of night, he
climbed to , lifted his cousin Qiongqiong's blanket, took her chubby
little hands together, and lifted her nightgown. In the darkness, he secretly caressed her body. He didn't experience any
strange sensations from his hands. But from his lower abdomen, he felt a
pleasure , and a thrill that transcended barriers.

Chuan Yue laughed, thinking how absurd it was. He was seven years older than Qiongqiong. When he first peeked at her body, Qiongqiong was probably only four or five years old, and didn't actually have any sexual characteristics. Chuan Yue couldn't remember
what her body looked like then . What he was sure of was that at that age, he wasn't driven by lust, but by some profound curiosity, which led him to do such an absurd thing. Later, when he was in junior high school and sleeping in a separate room from his sister, he still couldn't resist secretly caressing his sleeping cousin's body. Qiongqiong discovered his actions, thinking he was playing some kind of game with her, and kept pestering him to continue. He frantically tried to comfort his beloved cousin, telling her to forget the game that would cause trouble if their uncle and aunt found out. From that time on, he never dared to do anything to her . Luckily, his cousin was young and didn't understand anything. She probably forgot this childhood memory completely long ago . 　　Chuan Yue was certain that he loved his sister and his aunt, and would never hurt them. He had warm . But over the years, as he grew up and examined his own heart, he was very clear 　　about his sexual fantasies about these two relatives during his youth. The reason he suppressed them so tightly was not only because of the taboo of incest, and not only because of the guilt towards his relatives, but also for many other reasons. 　　On the one hand, as he grew up, his privileged family environment and rich social circle allowed him to openly make friends with girls. From the first girl he slept with, he gradually began to live a life of exciting satisfaction: whoever he wanted, he could have. On the other hand, he also gradually realized that all his assets were fundamentally given to him by his uncle and grandfather. He absolutely could not anger his uncle, so he absolutely could not have any improper thoughts about his uncle's ex-wife or his uncle's daughter. 　　His uncle was a symbol of power. 　　He respected his uncle and loved him even more. 　　But what he needed even more was everything that power brought. 　　Although something happened three years ago, and his uncle had a heart-to-heart talk with him, restraining him from coming to the United States to pursue a master's degree in sports management, he restrained himself for three years, not returning to China during that time. He lived a low-key and peaceful life, not extravagant, not drinking, not smoking, not speeding, and certainly not using drugs. Apart from dating two girlfriends to satisfy his desires, he didn't even have a social life. He studied diligently, exercising every morning, and honed his outstanding physique from his time in the sports school to become even more angular. It was as if the playboy " Young Master Shi" in China was a completely different person from him. At Princeton, he was just a well-mannered, ordinary sports student. He had some money but wasn't rich, had some taste but wasn't reckless, and had some hobbies but weren't excessive. He was determined to finish his studies here so he could return home and start a business. 　　But he knew that nothing would fundamentally change after he returned. 　　He could have whomever he wanted. 　　His uncle was a symbol of power. 　　He respected and loved his uncle. 　　He needed everything that power could bring. 　　But just now, he received a tearful overseas call from his aunt, whom he barely remembered : his uncle, Shi Shu'an, had been arrested. 　　(To be continued)

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