There were also thrilling and passionate emotional lives during the Cultural Revolution.

Even during the Cultural Revolution, there were thrilling and passionate emotional lives.

A woman from the Cultural Revolution recounted

experiencing the blissful life of paradise, finding earthly life tasteless and thus yearning for paradise, which only intensified her dislike of earthly life; therefore, she longed for paradise even more… Please forgive me for skipping over my winter vacation at my older sister's house, as it was far too dull. Even during the universally celebrated Spring Festival, because we weren't locals, my sister's family spent it alone.

After the Spring Festival, after the fifth day of the new year, I was clamoring to return to school. My brother-in-law happened to be going back to work, so we went back together.

Back at school, I didn't go back to my own dormitory, but instead went to his. All the single teachers around me had gone home for the New Year and hadn't returned. In the row of bungalows, even the entire campus, I was the only one there. But I didn't feel lonely, because living in his dormitory, breathing his scent every day, sleeping in the bed he had slept in, using the sheets he had made, and covering myself with the blanket he had used. Just thinking about all this made my face flush red with embarrassment, and my heart pounded wildly.

Since there wasn't much to do at school, I hid in his dorm to read. He had a huge collection of books, both Chinese and foreign novels, which was rare in those days, and this made me admire him even more.

During those days, I felt like I was back in paradise, as if my body was slowly leaving the human world, slowly floating upwards, waiting for him to return and open the gates of paradise for me.

But some things don't stop happening just because you're floating. Suddenly, I felt a strong aversion to that "but." My wonderful life was turned around by that "but," so I decided not to use "but" anymore.

I clearly remember that on the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, the sky was initially very clear and warm, which was unusual for this year's mostly cloudy Spring Festival, so my mood was unusually good. Looking back now, I guess it was one of those "when man suffers a great calamity, the heavens show unusual signs" kind of thing.

As usual, I lay naked on the bed reading. The book was very good; the author must be a very interesting person. I almost finished it last night by candlelight, but unfortunately, my eyes couldn't take it anymore, so I went to sleep. I got up early this morning to finish it. I

finished it quickly, got out of bed in my underwear, and found another book to read.

Deep inside the cabinet, a book sat forlornly. Curious, I took it out to see what kind of book deserved such neglect. Several sheets of paper fell out, vaguely resembling photographs. Bending down to pick them up, I glanced at them and was stunned. (Writing this, I suddenly remembered a saying, "The most dangerous place is the safest place." Yanse here advises all you perverts: repackage your hidden pornographic books and place them on the table; you can safely escape your parents' and wives' inspections.) Each photograph showed a different beautiful woman gazing at me with deep affection. Behind each photograph were words such as, "Park, that night you entered not only my body, but also my soul," and "To my beloved Park: I will always remember your tenderness that night. Your purity," etc.

Following these were lines clearly in his handwriting: "Summer of 1958, with Jie by the river," and "Winter of 1958, with Min at home." "etc."

I glanced at it briefly; it seemed he'd been dating different girls since 1955, and every single one of them in the photos was prettier and more elegant than me.

I froze, my mind a jumbled mess. Did he really love me? I asked myself. Judging from his past behavior, perhaps he did, but so many beautiful girls had been deceived by him and lost their virginity… I didn't think any further. I knew how weak I was against a handsome, charismatic bad boy, so I packed my clothes and went back to my cold dormitory. A cold heart is suited to this kind of cold environment, I thought cruelly.

Days passed like this, school started, classes began, peaceful and stable. I was surprised by my own calmness, feeling for the first time… I seem to have grown up.

I remember some days particularly clearly, like the day I entered heaven, and the day I fell into hell.

My memory of that day is like this: the first weekend of the new semester, a day destined to be anything but peaceful. That morning, I sat alone in the classroom, bundled up in thick clothes, looking up at the blank blackboard, my posture as aloof as a year ago. Aloof, yes, I thought aloofly, maintaining my aloof posture.

Around noon, he appeared before me. He didn't blush like Wang Jianjun, nor did he make my face turn red, but I still thought of the phrase "Jupiter entering Taichong," because when I secretly compared it, I found that only this phrase corresponded to "destined for romantic entanglements."

He looked at me with a hint of doubt, but I remained aloof. He asked me in a low voice why I hadn't contacted him .

I calmly told him that what I hated most were perverts who preyed on young girls, my tone cold and aloof, which pleased me.

He was clearly taken aback, wanting to explain something, but I met his gaze with my cold, aloof stare.

Soon, he left. Finally gone. I didn't know if it was acceptable for a cold and aloof person to use vulgar language, but I only thought it in my mind and didn't say it aloud.

Soon, he returned. I coldly scrutinized him, reminding myself that a cold and aloof person couldn't use vulgar language.

He only handed me a photo, completely shattering the cold and aloof image I had maintained all morning.

It was a photo that unlocked the key to hell for me. The girl in the photo was completely naked, with green cucumbers inserted into her vagina, clitoris, and mouth, her hands shamelessly placed on her chest, her body posed in a strange yet comfortable posture, displaying... The girl's soft, curvaceous body smiled shamelessly at me as I looked at the photos. Yes, the person in the photos was me in the past. Her alluring posture reminded me that there were other ways of life, so I followed him.

Not to continue our sweet love, but to get all the photos back. Of course, I knew there would be a price to pay; I was still a virgin, and I felt somewhat at ease.

We entered his dormitory one after the other.

I habitually and naturally took off my clothes and stood in front of him, not very panicked, because I was a virgin.

He looked at me in surprise, somewhat astonished by my composure. I thought to myself.

He sat back down at his desk, regaining his usual nonchalance, smiling as he looked at my naked body.

I glared back at him coldly, constantly reminding myself to be aloof, trying to bolster my empty heart.

"Not bad, I like passionate people, the more passionate, the better," he said.

"Be my little bitch, a little bitch waiting for her master to fuck her every day," he continued, "If you agree, I won't send the photos out." "

I panicked a little because his conditions weren't just about taking my virginity. I thought about it for a while, feeling conflicted. I hated him now because he was a pervert who cheated girls out of their virginity, but if I didn't agree, everyone would know I was a bitch eager to be fucked. But if I agreed, only he would know I was a bitch. Thinking about it that way, I felt I should agree. But I didn't know how to say it, so I weakly begged him not to send out the photos.

Actually, I am now a cold and aloof bitch, calmly waiting for a man to stuff his big cock into my pussy, asshole, or..." In my mouth, I made him ejaculate with a seductive gesture, and then calmly waited for the man. Therefore, I don't care now about the decision I made back then, even though I felt incredibly humiliated.

He was excited and forced me to take off his shoes with my mouth.

I was furious. Although I had decided to be his bitch, my heart remained as pure as a young girl's, yet he treated me like a bitch. So I stubbornly looked at him, my eyes filled with hatred.

He raised his foot and kicked me to my knees, pressing his foot against my shoulder, his toes rubbing against my lips. "A bitch should obediently listen to her master. You don't want those photos to get out, do you?"

Helplessly, I opened my mouth, biting his shoelace, and looked up to untie it. Then, biting his shoe, I pulled it back with all my might, yanking it off his foot. I'd seen this action before when I was little; my aunt's pug did the same thing with her shoes. I lowered my head and took off the other shoe in the same way.

He rubbed his toes against my face, sticking them into my nostrils and mouth, watching me with a smile. I didn't move, not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't disobey him.

Then he stripped naked, leering, "Little bitch, your master's going to take your virginity today."

I stripped naked too, climbed onto the bed, and tried to act like a dog, hands on the ground, buttocks raised high, swaying from side to side. I should act professionally, I thought, while wondering why I thought that.

Perhaps I was acting too well; he seemed surprised, then laughed. He got up, straddled my slender waist, slapped my plump buttocks, his penis rubbing against my smooth back, making me crawl on the bed like a horse.

I wanted to remind him that I was a bitch, not a horse, meant to be fucked, not ridden, but then I realized there wasn't much difference between fucking and riding, so I didn't say anything. I just tried my best to crawl, but he pressed heavily on my slender waist. After a few steps, I collapsed on the bed, letting him slap my plump buttocks, making "slap slap" sounds.

He lifted me by my hands, carrying me off the bed like a little white rabbit. I tried my best to lift my heels, keeping my body from leaving the bed. Actually, I did this mainly for his own good. Although I wasn't heavy or tall, as a college student, he couldn't lift me. So, I stretched out my body as much as possible, exposing my weakness to this man.

He let go of my hands, letting me hold them up myself, then hugged my waist, lifted me up, and let my head hang behind him. The familiar position stirred something within me. He threw me onto the bed, the hard surface hurting a little.

But I didn't care; compared to my heart, it was a comfortable feeling.

He looked at me, directing me to tear open my labia with both hands, my fingers spreading my clitoris to reveal my virgin pink vagina. Once again, I shamelessly presented my most mysterious and alluring part to him, as shameless as before.

He lowered his head, observing my clitoris closely, his heavy breathing tickling it. I reminded myself to hate this man, trying to suppress the familiar waves of pleasure surging through me.

He gently blew on it, sending intense pleasure through my clitoris. He knew my body so well.

I marveled at the feeling, letting out seductive moans. He continued to gently blow on it, aiming at my vagina, the cool breeze stimulating my delicate vaginal walls. My vagina immediately oozed a trickle of fluid, revealing itself to him, my pink clitoris engorged and swollen, the cool breeze intensifying the sensation.

He took a glass of water from the table, letting the trickle continuously flow onto my engorged clitoris, a tingling, pleasant feeling. Some of the fluid flowed directly into my vagina, while some soaked the surrounding dense pubic hair, which lay disheveled but orderly on my skin.

I moaned, my body's craving for familiar pleasure quickly surpassing my hatred for this despicable man, and more fluid flowed from my vagina. I finally felt the weakness of my will, the weakness of a woman, and tears welled in my eyes, filled with sorrow for being born a woman.

He stopped, watching me with a smug smile, satisfied with my performance. I felt deeply ashamed because my body had betrayed me, allowing this despicable man to see my weakness as a woman. My body calmed down, though my vagina was still leaking fluid, and my face remained flushed.

He remarked that he liked my innocent appearance, unlike the university teacher he had deceived, who, after being threatened, knelt before him like a bitch begging to be fucked whenever she saw him. I felt a sense of pride;

after all, I wasn't the first woman to betray herself. At the same time, that female teacher also attracted me; I longed to know what it felt like to kneel and wait for a man to fuck her.

He grabbed my short hair, pulled me up, and looked at me. I stubbornly looked back at him, my expression somewhat serious. But what wasn't serious was that his naked, erect penis was pointing directly at my equally naked pink vulva.

It was a little ridiculous, I thought to myself.

He asked if I wanted him to put his penis inside me. This reminded me of a time he had asked me the same question. So I tried hard to recall my previous answer and gave him the same one, my face flushed as before. I did this because I couldn't think of a suitable expression or answer in such a short time, so I had to rely on my past decisions.

He couldn't help but laugh, praising my innocence once again. I think this was his guilty expression; people often say that guilty people tend to repeat the same things.

He stopped rambling, wrapped his arms around my waist, stared at my face, and leaned closer, his penis touching the entrance of my vulva. I tried to back away, but he held me tightly around the waist, so I could only symbolically arch my back to show my defiant resistance.

As he drew nearer, his dark red glans parted my pink labia, passed through my pink clitoris, and entered my narrow, virgin vagina. Those colors were what he had taught me before, I thought sadly. Relationships between people are like that, constantly changing. For example, him and I used to be lovers, now we're master and bitch. Or take me and the man who often fucks me. Before, I thought he was like my brother-in-law, but now every time he comes to fuck me, I kneel reverently on the ground, licking his shoes, swaying my high-raised ass like a bitch.

His penis gradually penetrated my body, pushing open the tender flesh of my vaginal walls, advancing slowly but resolutely. I realized I used the word "gradually." If only this "gradually" were as gradual as that "gradually," I thought, feeling my vagina filled with his hot, burning penis. My narrow vagina felt like it was tearing open, so I had to clench tightly, trying to prevent it from expanding further, trying to restore it to its original narrow shape.

He complimented how tight my vagina was, how comforting it felt to grip his penis.

I don't know why, but he kept praising me; perhaps it was a habit he'd developed last year? Just as I'd developed the habit of leaking fluids in front of him.

I continued to grip tightly, trying to prevent my narrow vagina from tearing; his penis pressed forward resolutely, like a siege and defense. I suddenly remembered that very good book I'd read in his dorm after returning to school during winter break: "Those outside the city want to come in, those inside want to go out." Indeed, the penises outside the city wanted to come in, but what inside wanted to go out? I couldn't help but think of my first orgasm, my face instantly turning bright red.

He gazed at my flushed face, perhaps another habit from last year, and smiled contentedly. His penis stopped; it was already quite a long way in. I secretly glanced at it, comparing the exposed portion to the total length. It had probably reached my hymen, I concluded.

He taught me the term "hymen," but I'd never actually seen what it looked like. My intuition told me it was a membrane, a membrane that signifies virginity. Sometimes I wondered, why does a membrane grow there? Just now I finally understood. Like the siege and defense of the Cultural Revolution, there were thrilling, passionate, and intense emotional lives.

A Cultural Revolution woman recounted

experiencing the blissful life of paradise, finding earthly life tasteless, thus longing for paradise and finding earthly life even more bland; thus longing for paradise… Please forgive me for skipping over my winter break at my older sister's house, because it was so dull. Even during the universally celebrated Spring Festival, because we weren't locals, my sister's family spent it alone.

After the Spring Festival, after the fifth day of the new year, I was clamoring to go back to school. My brother-in-law was going back to work, so we went back together.

Back at school, I didn't go back to my own dormitory, but instead went to his. All the other single teachers around me had gone home for the New Year and hadn't returned. In the entire campus, surrounded by single-story houses, I was the only one there. But I didn't feel lonely, because living in his dormitory, breathing his scent every day, sleeping in the bed he had slept in, using the sheets he had made, and covering myself with the blanket he had used. Just thinking about it made my face flush red with embarrassment, and my heart pounded wildly.

Since there wasn't much to do at school, I would hide in his dormitory and read. He had a vast collection of books, both Chinese and foreign novels, which was rare in those days, adding to my admiration.

During those days, I felt like I was back in paradise, as if my body was slowly leaving the human world, slowly floating upwards, waiting for him to return and open the gates of paradise for me.

But some things don't stop happening just because you're floating. Suddenly, I felt a strong aversion to that "but." My wonderful life had been turned around by that "but," so I decided to stop using "but" from now on.

I clearly remember that the seventh day of the Lunar New Year started off sunny and warm, a rare occurrence during this year's mostly cloudy Spring Festival, so my mood was unusually good. Looking back now, I guess it was one of those "misfortunes befall men, and strange celestial signs appear" omens.

As usual, I lay naked on my bed reading. The book was very good; the author must be a very interesting person. I almost finished it last night by candlelight, but my eyes couldn't take it anymore, so I went to sleep. I got up early this morning to finish it.

I finished quickly, got out of bed in my underwear, and looked for another book.

Deep in the cupboard, a book sat forlornly. Curious, I took it out to see what kind of book was receiving such neglect. Then, a few pieces of paper fell out, vaguely resembling a few photographs. I bent down to pick them up, and after a quick glance, I was stunned. (Writing this, I suddenly remembered a saying, "The most dangerous place is the safest place." Yanse here advises all you perverts: put your hidden pornographic films and books on the table, and you can safely escape the inspection of your parents and wives.) Each photo showed a different beautiful woman gazing at me with deep affection. Behind each photo were words such as, "Park, that night you entered not only my body, but also my soul," and "To my beloved Park: I will always remember your tenderness and your purity that night."

Following these were lines clearly in his handwriting: "Summer of 1958, with Jie by the river," and "Winter of 1958, with Min at home." "etc."

I glanced at it briefly; it seemed he'd been dating different girls since 1955, and every single one of them in the photos was prettier and more elegant than me.

I froze, my mind a jumbled mess. Did he really love me? I asked myself. Judging from his past behavior, perhaps he did, but so many beautiful girls had been deceived by him and lost their virginity… I didn't think any further. I knew how weak I was against a handsome, charismatic bad boy, so I packed my clothes and went back to my cold dormitory. A cold heart is suited to this kind of cold environment, I thought cruelly.

Days passed like this, school started, classes began, peaceful and stable. I was surprised by my own calmness, feeling for the first time… I seem to have grown up.

I remember some days particularly clearly, like the day I entered heaven, and the day I fell into hell.

My memory of that day is like this: the first weekend of the new semester, a day destined to be anything but peaceful. That morning, I sat alone in the classroom, bundled up in thick clothes, looking up at the blank blackboard, my posture as aloof as a year ago. Aloof, yes, I thought aloofly, maintaining my aloof posture.

Around noon, he appeared before me. He didn't blush like Wang Jianjun, nor did he make my face turn red, but I still thought of the phrase "Jupiter entering Taichong," because when I secretly compared it, I found that only this phrase corresponded to "destined for romantic entanglements."

He looked at me with a hint of doubt, but I remained aloof. He asked me in a low voice why I hadn't contacted him .

I calmly told him that what I hated most were perverts who preyed on young girls, my tone cold and aloof, which pleased me.

He was clearly taken aback, wanting to explain something, but I met his gaze with my cold, aloof stare.

Soon, he left. Finally gone. I didn't know if it was acceptable for a cold and aloof person to use vulgar language, but I only thought it in my mind and didn't say it aloud.

Soon, he returned. I coldly scrutinized him, reminding myself that a cold and aloof person couldn't use vulgar language.

He only handed me a photo, completely shattering the cold and aloof image I had maintained all morning.

It was a photo that unlocked the key to hell for me. The girl in the photo was completely naked, with green cucumbers inserted into her vagina, clitoris, and mouth, her hands shamelessly placed on her chest, her body posed in a strange yet comfortable posture, displaying... The girl's soft, curvaceous body smiled shamelessly at me as I looked at the photos. Yes, the person in the photos was me in the past. Her alluring posture reminded me that there were other ways of life, so I followed him.

Not to continue our sweet love, but to get all the photos back. Of course, I knew there would be a price to pay; I was still a virgin, and I felt somewhat at ease.

We entered his dormitory one after the other.

I habitually and naturally took off my clothes and stood in front of him, not very panicked, because I was a virgin.

He looked at me in surprise, somewhat astonished by my composure. I thought to myself.

He sat back down at his desk, regaining his usual nonchalance, smiling as he looked at my naked body.

I glared back at him coldly, constantly reminding myself to be aloof, trying to bolster my empty heart.

"Not bad, I like passionate people, the more passionate, the better," he said.

"Be my little bitch, a little bitch waiting for her master to fuck her every day," he continued, "If you agree, I won't send the photos out." "

I panicked a little because his conditions weren't just about taking my virginity. I thought about it for a while, feeling conflicted. I hated him now because he was a pervert who cheated girls out of their virginity, but if I didn't agree, everyone would know I was a bitch eager to be fucked. But if I agreed, only he would know I was a bitch. Thinking about it that way, I felt I should agree. But I didn't know how to say it, so I weakly begged him not to send out the photos.

Actually, I am now a cold and aloof bitch, calmly waiting for a man to stuff his big cock into my pussy, asshole, or..." In my mouth, I made him ejaculate with a seductive gesture, and then calmly waited for the man. Therefore, I feel indifferent now about the decision I made back then, even though I felt incredibly humiliated.

He was excited and forced me to remove his shoes with my mouth.

I was furious. Although I had decided to be his bitch, my heart remained as pure as a young girl's, yet he treated me like a bitch. So I stubbornly looked at him, my eyes filled with hatred.

He raised his foot and kicked me to my knees, pressing his foot against my shoulder, his toes rubbing against my lips. "A bitch should obediently listen to her master. You don't want those photos to get out, do you?" "

I reluctantly opened my mouth, biting his shoelace, and looked up to untie it. Then I bit his shoe and pulled it back with all my might, pulling it off his foot. I'd seen this kind of action when I was little; my aunt's pug did the same thing with her shoes. I lowered my head and took off the other shoe in the same way.

He rubbed his toes against my face, put them in my nostrils and mouth, and watched me with a smile. I didn't move, not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't disobey him.

Then he took off his clothes, leering, 'Little bitch, your master is going to deflower you today.'

I also took off my clothes, climbed onto the bed, and tried my best to act like a dog, hands on the ground, buttocks raised high, swaying from side to side. I should act more professionally,' I thought, while wondering why I thought that."

Perhaps I was performing too well; he seemed surprised, then laughed. He got up and straddled my slender waist, slapping my plump buttocks, his penis rubbing against my smooth back, making me crawl on the bed like a horse.

I wanted to remind him that I was a bitch, not a horse, meant to be fucked, not ridden, but then I realized there wasn't much difference between fucking and riding, so I didn't say anything. I just tried my best to crawl, but he pressed heavily on my slender waist, and after a few steps, I collapsed on the bed, letting him slap my plump buttocks, making "slap slap" sounds.

He lifted me by the hands, lifting me off the bed like a little rabbit. I tried my best to lift my heels, keeping my body from leaving the bed. Actually, I did this mainly for his own good. Although I wasn't heavy or as tall as him, as a college student, he couldn't lift me. So, I stretched out my body as much as possible, exposing my weakness to this man.

He released my hands, letting me hold them up myself, then wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me up so my head hung behind him. The familiar position stirred something within me. He tossed me onto the bed, the hard surface causing a slight pain.

But I didn't care; compared to my feelings, it was a comfortable sensation.

He looked at me, directing me to part my labia with my hands, my fingers spreading my clitoris, revealing my virgin pink vagina. Once again, I shamelessly presented my most mysterious and alluring part to him, as shameless as before.

He lowered his head, examining my clitoris closely, his heavy breathing tickling it. I reminded myself to hate this man, trying to suppress the familiar waves of pleasure surging through me.

He gently blew on it, sending intense pleasure through my clitoris. He knew my body so well.

I marveled at the feeling, letting out seductive moans. He continued to gently blow on it, aiming at my vagina, the cool air stimulating my delicate vaginal walls. My vagina immediately began to secrete a trickle of vaginal fluid, which was presented to him. My pink clitoris swelled and became engorged, and I felt the refreshing breeze even more intensely.

He took a glass of water from the table and let the trickle of water continuously patter on my engorged clitoris, a tingling sensation that felt wonderful. Some of the fluid flowed directly into my vagina, while some soaked the surrounding thicket of pubic hair, which lay disheveled but orderly against my skin.

I moaned, my body's craving for familiar pleasure quickly surpassing my hatred for this despicable man, and even more fluid flowed from my vagina. I finally felt the weakness of my will, the weakness of a woman, and tears welled in my eyes, filled with sorrow for being born a woman.

He stopped, looking at me with a smug smile, satisfied with my performance. I felt deeply ashamed because my body had betrayed me, allowing this despicable man to see my weakness as a woman. My body calmed down, though my vagina was still secreting fluid, and my face remained flushed.

He sighed, expressing his liking for my innocent appearance, unlike a university teacher he had deceived who, after being threatened, knelt before him like a bitch begging to be fucked whenever she saw him.

I felt a little proud; after all, I wasn't the first woman to betray him. At the same time, that female teacher also attracted me; I longed to know what it felt like to kneel and wait for a man to fuck her.

He grabbed my short hair, pulled me up, and looked at me. I stubbornly looked back at him, my expression somewhat serious. But what wasn't serious was that his naked, erect penis was pointing directly at my equally naked pink vulva.

This was somewhat comical, I thought.

He asked if I wanted him to put his penis inside me. This reminded me of a question he had asked me before. So I tried hard to recall my previous answer and gave him the same answer, my face blushing as before. The reason I did this was that I couldn't think of what expression to use or how to answer in such a short time, so I had to rely on my previous decision.

He couldn't help but laugh, praising my innocence again. I thought it was his guilty expression; people often say that guilty people tend to repeat the same things.

He stopped talking, wrapped his arms around my waist, stared at my face, and leaned closer, his penis touching the entrance of my vagina. I tried to back away, but he held me tightly, and I could only symbolically arch my back to show my resistance.

As he drew nearer, his dark red glans parted my pink labia, passed through my pink clitoris, and entered my narrow, virgin vagina. Those colors were what he had taught me before, I thought sadly. Relationships are like that, constantly changing. For example, him and I used to be lovers, now we're master and bitch. And then there's me and the man who often fucks me. I used to think of him as my brother-in-law, but now every time he comes to fuck me, I kneel reverently on the ground, licking his shoes, swaying my high-raised ass like a bitch.

His penis gradually penetrated deeper into my body, pushing open the tender flesh of my vaginal walls, advancing slowly but resolutely. I realized I'd used the word "gradually." If only this "gradually" were as gradual as that other "gradually," I thought to myself, feeling my vagina being filled by his hot, burning penis. My narrow vagina felt like it was about to split open, so I had to clench it tightly, trying to prevent it from expanding further, trying to restore it to its original narrow shape.

He complimented how tight my vagina was, how comfortable it felt to grip his penis.

I don't know why, but he kept praising me; perhaps it was a habit he'd developed last year? Just like I'd developed the habit of leaking vaginal fluids in front of him.

I continued to clench, trying to prevent my narrow vagina from splitting open; his penis pressed forward resolutely; like a siege and defense. I suddenly remembered that very good book I'd read in his dorm after returning to school during winter break: "Those outside the city want to come in, those inside want to go out." Indeed, the penises outside the city want to come in, but what inside wants to go out? I couldn't help but think of my first orgasm, and my face instantly flushed.

He gazed at my flushed face, perhaps a habit he'd developed last year, and smiled contentedly. His penis stopped, having already penetrated quite a distance. I glanced at it discreetly, comparing the exposed portion to the total length. It had probably reached the hymen, I concluded.

He was the one who taught me the term "hymen," but I'd never actually seen it; I only intuitively understood it as a membrane, a membrane signifying virginity. Sometimes I wondered, why is there a membrane there? Just now, I finally understood. Like the attack and defense of a city, the labia are like the first wall, and the hymen is the second. In the capital, Beijing, the labia are the outer wall, and the hymen is the inner wall, protecting the dignity and mystery of the royal family.

Thinking this way, I felt a sudden realization, but this realization didn't help the current situation. The enemy had already reached the inner wall and surrounded me. I tried to tighten my vagina, preventing his penis from breaching my inner wall.

He looked at me, pulled me down onto the bed, and asked if I wanted to be his bitch.

I looked at him; he was no longer "handsome and classy," but a lecherous wolf I loathed. I didn't speak, but shook my head stubbornly.

He sneered, saying he liked women as fiery as me; the fiery, the more enjoyable it was to fuck, and the more wanton they moaned while being fucked. He even said his class's art committee member was even more fiery than me, and in the end, she begged him to fuck her in class, cried, and orgasmed five times, then swore to be his bitch forever.

As he spoke, he rolled me up, making me lie on top of him, then held my breasts with both hands to lift me up, his penis still inside my vagina. I looked at him in a panic; he was looking at my vagina. I followed his gaze down, and there it was—his dark penis inside me, very conspicuous and obscene. I swayed my waist, which he was holding, trying to break free from his control. He held me tightly with both hands, watching me struggle, his expression seemingly enjoying it, praising me for having the potential to be a bitch.

His hand suddenly loosened its grip on my waist, and I felt my body sink violently downwards. A sharp pain shot through my vagina, and I realized my virginity was gone, taken by this despicable man. Tears streamed down my face, not from the physical pain, but from the pain in my heart, tears for my misfortune.

His penis advanced faster and more recklessly, and soon I was on top of him, his entire penis inside me, the head reaching deep into my cervix.

His hips moved, pressing against my helpless body. I felt my head bobbing up and down, my eyes watching his firm breasts sway, everything around me swaying back and forth, like a restless world.

I don't know how long this swaying went on, but then he ejaculated. Thick semen filled my uterus. My uterus was no longer pure. I cried as I welcomed his ejaculation, my heart filled with sorrow for myself.

**********

...

Regarding the hemp rope, he usually first lets the end of the rope dangle outside my vagina, then wraps it around one breast, making the nipple swell up high, leaving only the large nipple rubbing against the rope. Then he twists it under my armpit, around my neck or back, twists it under the other armpit, wraps it around the other breast, again leaving only the nipple, then around my waist, behind my back, past my anus, and meets the end of the rope at my vagina from my buttocks, ties a knot, and inserts it into my vagina.

I'm writing this in such detail because now, if no man comes to fuck me, I feel very comfortable being bound like this. Of course, if a man comes to fuck me, I have to untie it.

Then I take a green cucumber with many thorns and insert it into my vagina and anus, the cucumber pushing the hemp rope knot deep into my vagina.

This is something I do every morning when I go to his dormitory. At first, he was interested in having me spread my anus and vagina so he could insert it. Recently, he's become obsessed with tying me up with hemp rope, so I have to do it myself. My initial motivation was to use a cucumber to widen my anus, because my anus was too tight to accommodate his penis, so I had to start with a cucumber. However, the cucumber I used grew very slowly, and it was only slightly larger than before.

After doing all this, the running signal sounded in the fucking area, so I hurriedly put on my shirt. Just as I was about to put on my pants, he handed me a white skirt. I didn't have time to argue and had to put it on. The skirt only reached my knees, revealing my fair and jade-like calves. There was no time to beg him to change out of such a short skirt, so I had to run out of his dormitory.

While running and fucking, my breasts bounced up and down with my running, causing the rope to rub against my delicate and sensitive skin and my already swollen nipples as always; the cucumber also moved quickly in and out of my anus and vagina with my steps; and the large and rough knot in my vagina moved back and forth with the cucumber and my steps, stimulating my delicate vaginal walls like a large glans.

As usual, my vagina was overflowing with vaginal fluid, and my face was flushed like a red apple. But unlike before, the filthy fluid wasn't absorbed by my pants; instead, it flowed down my thighs, running unimpeded from my smooth, straight legs to my ankles and into my shoes.

My face was burning with embarrassment, and I was terrified that the students behind me would discover what was happening. At first, I just silently prayed; later, I had to pretend to be excited and jump occasionally to shake off the fluid. But I didn't dare jump very high because my skirt was short, and I was afraid of exposing my thighs.

And so, I finally endured the difficult early morning sex. By difficult, I don't mean that the rope and cucumber stimulated me. It was indeed very difficult at first, often leaving me so weak that I would fall onto the students in front of me. But now I've gotten used to it. I can enjoy the stimulation while running, and my hands can even pretend to unconsciously adjust the cucumber that's about to fall out or the slightly loose rope. What I mean by "unbearable" is the unbearable feeling of my vaginal fluid flowing down my calves and being noticed. Actually, this time the amount of fluid was only moderate.

Several times, especially the first few times, I was so stimulated that I produced a large amount of fluid, and I had to pretend to be uncomfortable and go to the toilet. As soon as I entered the toilet, I would run into a small stall, not even closing the door, and vigorously masturbate, one hand inside my vagina and the other pinching my nipple.

Once, he waited for me in the women's restroom. I knelt on the dirty floor like a prostitute, licking his penis until it was hard as he was eating the cucumber that had been pulled from my vagina. Then I wrapped myself around him like a spider, my vagina holding his penis, twisting my body wildly.

But this time was different. Although there wasn't a lot of fluid, my pants weren't absorbing it, so my legs were wet, making it easy for someone to notice. I had to run into the toilet and wipe myself clean with toilet paper.

**********

...

The handsome man and beautiful woman captivated the entire class. I'd overheard them gossiping about us, saying I was pretty and he was dashing, that we were a couple. What they didn't realize was that I was just a bitch waiting for him to fuck me.

I held my textbook, reading aloud as usual. He stood for a while, then sat down, pretending to rest, but his hand lifted my skirt, grasped the cucumber inside my vagina, and thrust vigorously. I paused, my face turning bright red, my voice becoming extremely suggestive and seductive. My deskmate later told me that I exuded the allure of a mature woman.

Sensing something amiss, the students looked up, but the teacher's desk blocked their view. They only saw me, maturely sexy, stuttering, and the respectful Mr. Lin looking at them with a serious expression.

Seeing the students staring at me, I panicked even more, my reading becoming increasingly incoherent. Finally, I couldn't continue, just staring at the book with tears streaming down my face, my mouth agape. The students assumed I was crying out of shame and didn't think much of it. Actually, I cried because I was so humiliated in front of my classmates. What was even more humiliating was that one of my legs had secretly lifted up, and I was rubbing it against the cucumber that was inserted into my vagina and the hand holding it.

Soon, he told me to go back, then stood up and began to speak passionately.

I walked down from the podium in shame and sat down in my seat under the gaze of my classmates. I wanted to rest quietly for a while, but the itching sensation in my body made me secretly reach under the table, lift my skirt, and vigorously masturbate with the cucumber.

To avoid being discovered by my classmates, I deliberately raised my head, pretending to listen attentively to his lecture, while my hand was inside my skirt, forcefully pulling the cucumber in and out repeatedly. Not content with the cucumber's thinness, I even reached directly into my vagina, digging and probing vigorously, as if I wanted to shatter my own cunt.

At that moment, my male classmate lewdly handed me a note that read: "Just now, you exuded the charm of a mature woman, just like my mother who cried after I fucked her." I didn't even look at him, not out of disdain, but because I couldn't care less, as my head was held high, enjoying the waves of pleasure emanating from my lower body.

Then he looked at me with a smile, seemingly aware of my secret. I felt even more ashamed. All the humiliating things I had done before were forced upon me by him, but now I was masturbating willingly in class. Thinking this, my face burned, and my heart screamed "No!" but my hands moved even more violently, seemingly in sync with my shame. I reached orgasm, and thick vaginal fluid sprayed onto my hands, flowing out, wetting my skirt or dripping down my thighs onto the floor.

My mouth was slightly open, my nostrils flared rapidly, my eyes were watery, and my expression was a mixture of pain and pleasure, a blend of inner anguish and post-orgasmic satisfaction.

He probably noticed I had reached orgasm and suddenly called on me to answer a question. I didn't even hear the question clearly; my head was buzzing. He asked again, and this time I heard it clearly, but I didn't know what the question was. Perhaps my brain hadn't received the signal from my ears yet. He deliberately acted angrily and told me

to leave, then told my classmates to read their books. But he led me to the girls' restroom, lifted my skirt, pulled out a handful of vaginal fluid, smeared it on my face, and lewdly asked me what it was. I told him the truth, filled with shame, but even more so with a decadent pleasure and an itchy pussy. My voice was seductive and cloying, my eyes watery. At that moment, I must have exuded a mature charm, like a bitch who had been fucked until she cried.

Seeing me like this, he became even less polite. Without even taking off his clothes, he pulled out his penis, lifted my skirt, and fucked me hard in a toilet stall, calling me a bitch as he went.

I responded fiercely, my body and soul immersed in this frenzied thrusting. I responded to him, telling him I was a bitch, a slut, a lowly whore, a… “As long as you fuck me, I’ll be whatever you say,” I said finally. My legs were tightly clamped around his buttocks, my arms wrapped around him, my breasts, bound by rope, pressed tightly against him, my nipples massaging his skin.

Finally, I climaxed, but he continued thrusting vigorously. I instinctively swayed my hips in response, while the rest of my body leaned softly against him, panting heavily, my eyes tightly closed, savoring the afterglow of my orgasm. After

what seemed like an eternity, I climaxed again, and he continued thrusting, even faster than before. I cried out, begging his huge penis to fuck me to death. I clung to him tightly, like clinging to a large tree, motionless, letting his penis enter and exit my body, and also my heart. For some reason, I suddenly remembered a quote I had once read: "You entered not only my body, but also my soul." His vigorous thrusting now made me, weak after my orgasm, feel as if my soul was being expelled from my body.

The fourth orgasm (including the one from masturbation—yanse's note) finally arrived, impacting my weakened body through my sensitive nerves. I tried to stiffen my body, straighten my neck, toss my hair back, and open my mouth weakly, but no sound came out. After the climax, I felt like I was dying again, instinctively wanting to lean on anything that could support me. My limbs clung tightly to him, trying to keep my body from slipping away from this only thing I could rely on.

Lying on top of him like a dead person, I felt so tired. Suddenly, I felt that if he continued to fuck me, I would die immediately. I cried, begging him in a low voice, promising to grant him any request, calling him master, praising his penis, praising his skill; belittling myself, sincerely cursing myself as a slut, a bitch, vowing to be his bitch for life, begging him to fuck me every day. When I said these words, I didn't think much; they just came out of my mouth without any thought or consideration.

He was satisfied and finally ejaculated, his pent-up semen spraying into my uterus, sending shivers down my spine. My body throbbed with pleasure, and I uncontrollably climaxed again, as if my uterus had broken free from my brain's control and was deciding for itself whether to release vaginal fluid. To my shame, I also felt a warm sensation at my urethra, and a stream of hot urine shot out, splashing onto my skirt and his clothes.

Neither of us paid attention, or rather, we didn't have time to. He was holding me tightly, feeling my tight vagina, my warm uterus, and my slippery vaginal fluid. I felt like I was dead; aside from my brain, my whole body was unconsciously leaning against him, limp as if boneless, letting the vaginal fluid and urine release the pleasure within me.

After a while, he put me down, leaving me on the dirty ground, sprawled out like a dead bitch. Then he left, like a customer of a john.

I lay there for a while, my body recovering somewhat, thinking that class was almost over and many people would come. So I slowly got up and walked out of the bathroom.

Where to? I asked myself.

To the classroom? To let my classmates see me covered in filth from being fucked?

Back to the dorm? But the old lady at the gate definitely wouldn't open the door.

There was only one place left, I told myself.

Go. A voice inside me said, "You've already promised to be his bitch for life. Go, go stick your ass out, spread your cunt, and beg him to fuck you."

I mechanically walked towards his house, my mind blank, only knowing that I was already a bitch, and there was no need to think about things a human should think about. This sentence is still my belief to this day.

He was indeed waiting for me at home, having changed into clean clothes, coldly watching me push open the door.

I closed the door, knelt on the ground, swaying my high-raised ass, crawled to him, devoutly kissed his feet, repeated my vow word for word, then lifted my skirt, spread my cunt with both hands, and devoutly begged him to come and fuck me. Although I do these actions often now, and even more obscenely, skillfully, and arousingly than before, I no longer feel the heartfelt devotion, the inner excitement, or the completeness of the action.

He looked at me with satisfaction, rubbing his foot against my face. I obediently stuck out my pink tongue, licking the tip of his shoe, looking at him with a flattering expression, my buttocks swaying earnestly.

He made me change my

clothes and told me to come here to find him after each class, like today, spreading my lewd little pussy open and waiting for him. ********** ...

**********

...

He often didn't come back, so I often didn't get up until the bell rang for class, running towards the classroom while rubbing my knees, enduring the stimulation of the cucumber in my vagina and anus, and the hemp rope.

Therefore, regardless of whether he came back or not, I was always late. The few times I wasn't late went like this: Once, it was the first time he didn't come back, and I left just before class started, but I was still late. He saw me return from the office before the bell rang. When I came in after the next class, he was already back, holding a plastic jar. He made me lift my skirt, smear the sticky, cream-like stuff inside on my vagina and nipples, pulled the cucumber out of my anus and vagina, and then let me go.

I wasn't late for that class, and I didn't think much of it. I've said that a dog shouldn't think about things that humans should think about, especially things that its owner should think about. But at noon, I couldn't hold back anymore. My vagina was itchy, constantly leaking vaginal fluid, my whole body was burning hot, and my mind was filled with images of my owner's big penis. So, I ran to him desperately, begging him to fuck me. But he refused.

I knelt before him, cursing myself with every vile and obscene word, trying to please him with every action I knew, even spreading my anus and begging him to insert it. He watched me indifferently, like a female dog in heat. I was desperate, writhing on the ground, reaching both hands into my itchy vagina and scratching desperately, but the itching only intensified.

I clung to his legs, crying and begging him, repeatedly swearing to be his bitch for life, to always obey him, until he finally nodded in satisfaction. Like a mad dog, I pulled out his penis and thrust it all the way into my vagina, making a sound of pleasure, my body writhing wildly like a dancing water snake. That day I climaxed four times, each time with unbridled pleasure, each time with ecstasy. A few

more times, Luo Zhangwei came to see me. He was the principal of the elementary school in my sister's village, and had taught me for a year.

He came because my brother-in-law had been arrested as a counter-revolutionary, but at the time I had no heart to care about him. A dog shouldn't meddle in human affairs, and I adopted that as my motto.

Luo Zhangwei, the elementary school principal and one of my current owners, knew I was coming to see him, so he didn't punish me for not waiting for him. He's humane, after all.

The last time Luo Zhangwei came to see me, he was delivering a letter from my sister. I had to write back to her, albeit with some lies. So I told him to come pick it up at noon, but he said he was going to treat me to lunch. I needed to ask my owner's permission, so I didn't immediately agree.

After I finished writing the reply and told my owner, he generously agreed. At the time, neither of us thought it would be our last meeting. Perhaps he wasn't worried about me running away, because he still had my photo; and I never thought about running away, not because of the photo, but because I had sworn to be his bitch for life.

That day was truly unexpected. Luo Zhangwei quickly discovered my secret. His caring words reminded me of my brother-in-law. I was never liked by my parents growing up; only my brother-in-law had ever truly been kind to me. So I told him my story, and then, through his arrangements and efforts, I dropped out of school, escaping the humiliation of my masters. Dropping out

of school didn't bother me; after all, I was a capitalist's daughter, and I wouldn't need to study for long anyway. As for escaping the humiliation of my masters, that should have been a happy thing, but I couldn't be happy because I had new masters, two of them. Escaping the humiliation of one man only to fall into the humiliation of two men was hardly a happy thing.

As for what happened afterward, every day I was naked or tied up, waiting for my masters to come. Then I would kneel on the ground, my buttocks raised, waiting for them to insert their penises into my vagina or anus, letting them ejaculate comfortably. Finally, I would lick them clean, send them away, and continue my lonely life.

I didn't know what the ending would be; I only knew that they came less and less. Before, the two of them would often come together, but now they only came about twice a week. What about the future? Maybe they won't come. Who knows?

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There were also thrilling and passionate emotional lives during the Cultural Revolution.

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