How do Japanese men react to their wives' coldness?

The woman was standing on higher ground when the men finally appeared beside her. Perhaps they had already had enough of admiring her body from their low vantage point, or perhaps their hearts were pounding and they could no longer contain themselves.

In any case, the four men surrounded her, each shamelessly groping her body. The "lion" touched her soft breasts, the "bird" used his body to caress her face and neck, the "hedgehog" groped her back and buttocks, and the "sheep

" reached between her legs. The woman cried out, and I couldn't help but scream along with her.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

Who gave you permission to do this? What right do you have to grope her like this? As her husband, I have never been so brazen before! I clenched my fists in anger, and then suddenly heard Yuezi's muffled cries:

"I don't want to... Help!"

My wife was pleading for help, and a husband couldn't stand idly by. My head suddenly raced, and I rushed to the window, then paced around the room like a caged wild animal, struggling left and right, but unable to break free. Several times I reached the door, but then the words of the French girl from earlier immediately came to mind:

"No matter what happens, don't have the urge to rush into that house!"

That girl probably already knew this would happen. Perhaps other men, like me, had already succumbed to their impulses and rushed out of the room without thinking.

"...Beast..."

I cursed fiercely, covering my eyes tightly with my hands.

I didn't want to see Yuezi being manipulated anymore. Since I didn't have the courage to save her, I could only cover my eyes and let time pass quickly.

But it still didn't work. The men's actions towards Yuezi kept flooding my eyes. If this continued, who knew what absurd things they would do next?

Thinking this, I couldn't help but feel the problem was getting serious.

Originally, I was the one to blame for this situation. I was the one who begged these men to help Yuezi overcome her frigidity; I was the one who hoped they would transform the arrogant, aloof, and disdainful Yuezi into a normal woman. But now they were actually "training" Yuezi as I had requested, and I couldn't tolerate it. What was it that I truly desired?

Just moments ago, I was rejoicing at Yuezi finally being naked and at my mercy; now I was filled with hatred for those men. Why this fluctuating emotion?

Indeed, I'm not a bad person. I'm just a man with high aspirations and a narrow mind, yet I insisted on doing such bad things, and now I'm truly caught in a bind. Considering my own actions, I really have no right to blame those men. If I didn't have the composure to watch those men "disciplining" Yuezi, I should have just left the city and gone back to my Paris hotel.

I told myself this, and fearfully removed my hand from my eyes. I saw the men still surrounding Yuezi, still touching and groping her body, but their movements seemed very gentle, trying their best to make her comfortable. Yuezi's reactions had stabilized; her body trembled slightly with the men's movements, but she didn't resist, and her cries for help were gone.

This continued for a few more minutes. There seemed to be a leader among the men. Following his instructions, they left Yuezi in order and returned to the sofa. Only one man, wearing a bird mask, remained, holding a black whip in his right hand. He walked up to Yuezi, pressing the whip handle against her chin and saying something.

I couldn't hear what he was saying at all, except for the word "discipline." From this, I guessed he was saying "we will discipline you," but Yuezi kept her eyes tightly closed and remained silent.

Anger surged within me again. I stared intently at the man, who placed the whip on the floor and picked up a measuring tape to measure Yuezi.

First her neck, then her wrists, chest, waist, and hips, measuring in that order. This was probably what the report called body measurement. As he measured, the man read out the numbers; I could imagine someone had memorized them.

Slowly, after measuring her waist, the man suddenly stood in front of Yuezi, pressing the measuring tape against her nipples again, stretching it out between her legs.

What was he trying to do?! I jumped up involuntarily. Then I heard Yuezi scream again, her head shaking violently from side to side.

However, the man still relentlessly inserted his hand. Yuezi twisted her waist, desperately trying to escape, but the man in the sheep mask rushed forward and forcefully thrust her body forward from behind.

"Ah..."

Yuezi screamed desperately, but her hands were tied and she couldn't resist. She could only endure the man's lewd actions, her lower body sticking out for him to measure.

"What are you doing!"

I couldn't help but shout again, but I immediately realized it was futile.

I couldn't bear it any longer, I didn't want to see that lewd and despicable training anymore. If I had any conscience left, I should leave this room immediately.

With that determination, I reached out and pressed the black button on the upper right corner of the window frame. A few minutes later, the French girl from before reappeared in the doorway.

"I'm going back!"

I shouted angrily, but the girl didn't say anything, only calmly saying, "Please wait a moment."

With that, the girl turned and left, and the window behind her closed.

I could no longer see Yuezi. Thinking about this, I felt a little regretful, and couldn't help but glance at the window again. It was just a white wall, nothing there, but suddenly I felt my lower body was hard. Perhaps it started when I saw the woman naked earlier, but I was so focused on the scene in the room that I didn't notice myself.

Thinking this, I reached down and grasped my own manhood, only then realizing why there was such a large chaise lounge in the room.

The men who came here probably all needed one. Seeing their beloved wives and lovers being teased and played with by those scoundrels must have been a mixed bag of emotions. The only way to suppress these feelings was through masturbation! Knowing I was abnormal, every man who came here was an abnormal person with a wife or lover whom they couldn't have sex with!

"Poor thing..."

I couldn't help but sigh. Just then, the girl returned to the room and gestured for me to leave.

I stood up and followed her out. She was still dressed in the same way, her buttocks barely concealed. She descended the spiral staircase as before, then walked up a wider section to a corridor about 30 meters long. The walls of the corridor were adorned with statues of angels in various poses. Turning right, she led to an archway supported by several round marble pillars, and beyond that was the city gate. I stopped and gave the girl a farewell bow. She, still expressionless, handed me a paper package, saying, "This is today's training record."

What record? I really wanted to open it and take a look, but the young man dressed as a knight was watching me outside the city gate, so I had no choice but to put the paper package away and hurriedly say goodbye to the girl. Perhaps the drawbridge had already been lowered while I was waiting in the room. Now the young man led me across the bridge, and my car was parked on the gravel ground to the left .

"Goodbye, Bonsoir,"

I said to the young man for the first time, but he still didn't answer, only nodded silently. So I got into the car and drove down the Loire River from the castle gate,

which was completely shrouded in darkness. I deliberately drove slowly, and stopped the car not far away, glancing back at the castle. On the conical roof of the castle, a crescent moon silently climbed into the night sky, and the entire castle suddenly appeared so fiery red in the moonlight.

Suddenly, I realized how much I loved Yuezi. I jumped out of the car and shouted at the castle, "Yuezi…!" My voice was quickly carried away by the night wind, leaving only the castle standing firm in the wind!

It was in this enormous castle that those villains were still running rampant, and Yuezi was still being mercilessly ravaged by those four beasts. This castle was truly an unforgivable demon city!

Helpless, I could only spit a few times at the castle, and with a feeling of escaping from sin, I got back into the car.

In three hours, I would be back in Paris, but I suddenly remembered the package the girl had given me, so I turned on the headlights to look at it.

Inside were two freshly printed copies, one in English and one in French. The title was "Body Measurement Results."

The paper read: "Height 163cm, weight 48.5kg, shin circumference 30.5cm, wrist circumference 13.5cm, ankle circumference 18.5cm, chest circumference 82cm, waist circumference 59cm, hip circumference 86cm, areola diameter 3.0cm, nipple diameter 1.1cm, pubic hair: black, not very thick..." As I read, my body slowly became agitated. The image of Yuezi's pale body flashed before my eyes, and her desperate cries echoed in my ears. I suddenly felt overwhelmed and quickly slumped onto the steering wheel, trying my best to calm myself down.

To be honest, I'm not very quick to get up in the morning. This is undoubtedly a bad habit for a surgeon who might encounter emergency patients at any time. Although I started trying to correct it a long time ago, even though I've improved a lot since becoming a doctor, I still like to linger in bed for twenty or thirty minutes every morning after waking up. This is incredibly important to me; it's a turning point where I transition from a dreamlike, slumbering world into the waking, real world. So, when someone calls during this time, my voice often sounds a little unhappy. It's not that I have any prejudice against the caller, but rather that my central nervous system hasn't yet fully awakened from its dreamlike state. This

is true when I wake up, and it's also true when I go to bed at night. It's common to lie in bed for twenty or thirty minutes, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Even worse, I might lie in bed for over an hour, lost in thought—about humanity, about religion—these highly conceptual things often make my nerves very excited. The pain of insomnia sometimes transforms into the pleasure of contemplating various questions. However, being unable to get up and unable to sleep is never a good habit. Although I've tried to correct it quite a bit recently, it happened again this morning.

About two hours ago, I woke up at seven in the morning. There was a clock on the bedside table, so the time was right. But for some reason, I just didn't want to get up. I lingered in the warmth of the covers, or more precisely, I lingered in that sweet feeling. I lay in bed, half-awake, and two hours passed without me realizing

it. Actually, while I usually like to stay in bed, it's usually only for about thirty minutes before I get impatient. But today was strange. I've been lingering in bed for almost two hours, and I still don't feel like getting up. And what's worse, although the sunrise outside is brilliant, it's all blocked by my thick curtains, and the room is still hazy. In this hazy atmosphere, a man lying awake in bed, it's hard to resist absurd thoughts. In those two hours, I first became uncontrollably excited, releasing my pent-up energy through masturbation, followed by a languid aftertaste, a soft and comfortable feeling all over my body.

Thinking back, I don't think I've ever felt this comfortable before. No! This feeling isn't new; it started last night, or more precisely, after I saw the postpartum woman at the castle yesterday evening. This feeling has been clinging to me ever since…

Yes, last night, after crossing the drawbridge from the castle, I was driving back to Paris when I stopped my car on a road near a small village. In the quiet night, I could see the blurry outline of the castle through the car window. I couldn't control myself and started masturbating in the car. Perhaps it was because I had read reports about the measurements of various parts of the postpartum woman's body, but for someone my age to be so unable to control himself is truly incomprehensible. For a grown man to stoop to such a level is shameful and lamentable.

But reality is cruel; my manhood wouldn't wait a moment longer. If I forced myself to drive back to Paris, my entire being might be overwhelmed by the surging tide of desire, potentially leading to a fatal accident. It was better to take care of things naturally in the car; only then could my emotions gradually calm down, allowing me to drive safely back to Paris.

For three hours, I frantically floored the accelerator. Was it some urgent need to get back to Paris quickly? No, it was the anxiety of having my postpartum period cruelly abused, and now the helplessness to undo it. This sense of powerlessness, this restlessness, coupled with fear—fear of the men in the castle, fear of the Parisian police, fear of my in-laws, fear of everyone worried about my postpartum period—made me drive like a fugitive.

In short, I had to get out of there quickly. I had to escape that dark, evil, and lewd world as soon as possible. My speed increased until I reached the Orléans exit on the A10 highway. When I could see the lights of Paris, I felt a sense of relief, as if I had escaped from the clutches of the devil. I opened the window and took a deep breath of the Parisian night air.

Here, the devils could no longer catch me.

Feeling slightly relieved, I casually strolled past the hotel reception and returned to my room. Extremely thirsty from the tension, I eagerly grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and chugged it down. Finally calming down, I looked around the room and noticed a fax machine on the table by the window.

Someone had sent this while I was away. Casually picking it up, my heart pounded, and my body trembled uncontrollably.

What kind of report was this? It was their report on the postpartum care they had provided after I left the castle. The language was impeccably polite and courteous, and the speed of the fax showed their diligence and efficiency. But the content was utterly appalling, far more vulgar and shameless than I had imagined. What did this report prove? It only proved they were worse than animals!

"Beasts..."

I cursed under my breath, gritting my teeth. Even though I was back in the hotel in Paris, my soul and even my very being were still being tormented by those devils.

Was this report a sign of their despicable behavior? Were they showing off? Neither! It was an insult, a challenge, to me, a petty man! The report detailed their "postpartum training" of me after I left the castle.

I couldn't take it anymore. My heart was pounding, my body felt like it was on fire. I had only one option: I quickly stripped off my clothes, crawled into bed, and closed my eyes tightly. I desperately held my breath, still able to hear my own heart pounding. All around me was darkness. In the darkness, I cried out hatefully,

"Devils..."

No matter what tricks these devils used, no matter how despicable their methods, I couldn't fall for their tricks again!

"I absolutely won't fall for it..."

I muttered to myself, but for some reason, that thing between my legs started stirring again, acting up.

---Excerpt from *Junichi Watanabe's Analysis of Love and Sex: The Red Castle*

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How do Japanese men react to their wives' coldness?

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