A fleeting romance

A

Fleeting Romance

(Part 1)

The maids were all young and beautiful, wearing low-cut blouses that barely covered their chests, revealing

alluring cleavage. With each step, their full breasts trembled gently. Their lower garments were

less like skirts and more like long lace draped over their hips, the hem barely reaching their thighs, exposing half their buttocks.

Their black pubic hair and the fleshy cleft within the tufts of hair were faintly visible.

Among these maids, one girl was the most striking. She wore a black mesh bra, so tight it

almost dug into her flesh, with holes at the top of each cup, revealing her nipples, areolas, and a small section of her breast

protruding from the holes, jutting forward like a pair of strange eyes. Below, she

wore nothing but thin black silk threads wrapped around her waist, embedded in her flesh, connecting to a small triangular piece of fabric covering

her vulva. Her fine, soft pubic hair and entire buttocks were exposed. She was dressed like a torture device; whoever designed it

was a genius, a genius of violence and pornography.

If anyone attracted more attention than this girl, it was me, I felt that the moment I came

down . Not that I was naked or dressed more provocatively than her—

no, I was wearing the most conservative long white nightgown, so loose it didn't show my figure, the neckline reaching my chin,

the hem covering my feet, the sleeves extending past my fingertips. On this hot floor filled with strong liquor, cigarettes, and naked women, I

slowly descended the stairs carrying a teacup, quietly asking the maids for hot water—the water dispenser in my room

was broken, I couldn't make tea.

I sat down in a corner with my teacup, the men's gazes still lingering on me. When all the women are naked

, the one who is clothed is the most arousing. Those gazes were like barbed whips lashing at me; I knew

in their minds I had been stripped naked and gang-raped. I didn't care. Women are meant to be fucked or fantasized about by men

, at least here. The men who hadn't actually fucked me soon shifted their gaze to

the girl in the shackles, focusing on her nipples and buttocks. I sipped my hot tea while watching her.

She was very young, only seventeen or eighteen, slender, with short hair, a round face, round

eyes, and a sweet, dove-like appearance. She had olive skin, a slim waist, long, straight legs, and

a round, pert bottom. Her breasts were well-developed and would have been beautiful in their natural state, but now her nipples

were bruised and purple from the shackles of her bra. What fascinated me most was the pure yet desperate

look on her face—the kind of expression a virgin would have when pleading with her abuser but still being violated. She

must have been raped. The thought made my heart race. I wanted to see what that scene was like,

who would be the one to violate her? Was it the genius who put those shackles on her?

The girl carried two cups of coffee upstairs on a tray. I asked the waitresses for the evening's program and

found that there was an event in the large living room on the second floor. That's where she went. So, I followed her there with my teacup.

The large living room was at the far end of the second-floor corridor. There were a dozen or so naked men, the guests, and about twenty

women, some completely naked and some half-naked, serving them. The guests were gathered in twos and threes, some thrusting on top of

the women , others taking a break, exchanging experiences and preparing for the next round. A girl was riding

on a guest's stomach, swaying back and forth, emitting moans that rose and fell. As soon as the girl put down her coffee, a

guest grabbed her hair, pulled her between his legs, and made her kneel down to perform oral sex on him. Another guest

walked behind her, lifted her buttocks, ripped off the small triangular piece of cloth covering her vulva, and thrust his penis straight

in. Her figure was swallowed up by the two men; I could no longer see her, only the two men's

bodies surging back and forth.

A guest picked up his coffee, grinning, and asked the girl in his arms to feed him. The girl dipped one of her nipples in

the coffee and then brought it to the customer's lips. The customer put the nipple in his mouth and smacked it loudly.

The customer next to him asked, "How is it?" He said, "It tastes great." So they sat on either side of the girl, and she

took turns dipping both of their nipples in the coffee and then putting them in their mouths. I really admired that girl;

the coffee was made with boiling water. Were her nipples made of flesh or silicone?

Another customer, holding his second cup of coffee, took a sip and shouted, "Add some milk! Add some milk!"

A robust woman jumped out, ripped off her bra, revealing a pair of round

, enormous breasts with two large, dark red nipples standing proudly. She held one breast, nipple facing

the coffee cup , and squeezed hard, a stream of milk shooting into the coffee. With each squeeze, a white spurt gushed out,

and the men and women around her cheered. She bowed in thanks, and with each bend, her

wet vulva glistened in the light.

Then two women dragged a large sack into the middle of the group, something struggling inside.

The men and women's eyes suddenly lit up, and they excitedly crowded around. I remembered—it was

the weekend , a special program—they were going to gang rape a virgin, and the first man to have her would have

the largest penis among the guests. I suddenly felt weak, not wanting to watch anymore, yet unable to move my feet.

The sack opened, revealing long, black hair and a beautiful, panicked face. At first, she

seemed to try to escape, but after looking around, she just curled up in the sack, sobbing softly.

A woman with large breasts grabbed her hair and pulled her out of the sack, revealing two delicate pink

nipples and a tuft of pubic hair, a snow-white body struggling. She landed on the ground, then jumped up

and tried to rush outside, but the women laughed and formed a circle around her, trapping her. Meanwhile, the guests had already begun

measuring and comparing whose penis was the biggest.

The girl in the shackles came out, still wearing that strange bra, carrying that small triangle in her hand.

Seeing me, she expressionlessly called out, "Big Sister." I hummed in response, touched her swollen, purplish-red

nipple with my fingertip, and said, "Go to my room, take this off, take a hot bath, ask them for some medicine to reduce the swelling,

and just say you asked for it." The girl's face suddenly turned red, and she whispered, "Thank you, Big Sister," before walking away. Her short hair was

permed into wavy curls, as if she had grown pubic hair.

When I turned back to look at the living room, four women had already grabbed the virgin's limbs, pinning her to

the ground in a spread-eagle position, her legs wide open, her flawless virgin territory exposed to everyone's

gaze. A woman with ample breasts sat heavily on her chest, pressing her down so she couldn't move.

I imagined what it would

feel like The victorious guest swaggered forward, like an invincible general.

The girl pinned to the ground sobbed. What a foolish girl! Crying would only make her lower body dry,

and then penetration would hurt. The woman sitting on her chest exclaimed, "Look closely, this is truly a genuine,

untouched product!" The general laughed, "Judging by how scared she is, she's a virgin." He bent down

, and the onlookers crowded closer, bending over and craning their necks. I couldn't see the girl, only hear her

continuous sobbing, the sound growing higher and higher, then thinner, until a piercing, agonizing scream. I

closed my eyes, feeling something wet welling up from my lower body, and involuntarily sighed. Women

are just holes, fleshy sheaths, for men to wear on their penises for pleasure. Men like these

sheaths to have pretty faces and full breasts, and a shy membrane so they can bleed when they pierce it,

ensuring they are the first owners. Men are nothing but swollen penises; their life's

work is to constantly insert into these holes to seek pleasure and to constantly possess new sheaths. The world

is nothing more than an old prostitute's vulva, loose, cold, occasionally secreting a little fluid, and men relentlessly

fill it with their penises, yet it can never be full.

The general stood up; his enormous penis, which had appeared out of nowhere, had shrunk to a small strip. He held up a

blood-stained white cloth, and the men and women around cheered again. The women released the girl who wasn't a virgin.

She stopped running and curled up on the ground, crying incessantly. The second customer pressed down on her; she neither resisted

nor struggled, only sobbing. The customer flipped her over and penetrated her from behind,

not using her vagina, but her anus. The girl screamed in agony again. When the third customer

approached she couldn't scream anymore, because he was using her mouth.

I stood at the entrance to the large living room, thinking that this girl might die today, when the feeling of being watched by a man

returned. I knew there was a man watching me from behind. Normally, I wouldn't pay attention, but this man

's gaze was different; it wasn't a barbed whip, but a gentle invitation, a tender and supple restraint,

a polite invasion, and my lower body was wet. I turned around.

A tall, handsome man stood not far away. He politely asked, "Would you like to come to my room and

pour me a drink?"

I said, "Sure." I heard my own voice sound hoarse and weak, like that of an overindulgent old prostitute.

I followed him to the third floor, then took the elevator to the ninth floor. The ninth floor was the VIP suite, unlike the first, second, and third floors

which were so unrestrained and arrogant. The hallway was quiet and clean, all the doors tightly closed, keeping any excitement inside.

Outside, there was complete silence, with only a faint floral fragrance wafting through the air.

He unlocked a door with his key, and as soon as I entered, he immediately locked it from the inside. Going to the VIP room was a dangerous

thing; many VIPs had strange fetishes. So women summoned by VIPs usually registered at the front desk. But

the door was already locked, and I couldn't get out.

He sat down relaxed on the sofa and gestured for me to pour him a drink. I placed the teacup in the corner by the door,

took a bottle of red wine from the wine rack, poured it into a glass, and then carried it on a tray. I walked to him, knelt down, and

presented the wine with the tray held high above my head. I knew my appearance was as elegant and beautiful as a princess, my demeanor as noble and

dignified , but my actions were as humble and lowly as a slave. He looked at me with some confusion, remained silent for a moment, and asked: "Have you

forgotten something?"

(II)

Forgotten what? Ah, I remember now, any woman specifically requested by a guest to serve wine

must first take a small sip, leaving a lip print on the rim of the glass as the start of a night of passion. Some guests would

cover that lip print with their own lips while drinking. I smiled and said: "I'm sorry." Just as I was about to make amends, he said it was alright,

picked up the wine glass slowly took a sip, and said, "You can do it with your mouth.

" I said I had never done it with my mouth before, but I was willing to try, though I was afraid he would feel uncomfortable. He looked at me with increasing confusion

. Someone my age and appearance should have mastered every skill imaginable, yet I couldn't use my mouth,

not even to pour a drink. He paused for a moment, then asked, "How many men have you slept with here?"

"One," I said, "just one."

This answer must have deeply affected him. He downed his drink in one gulp and said, "Come on."

I followed him into the bedroom, where there was a large bed and an exquisite dressing table. He stood

in front of the dressing table, looking at me, and said, "Take off your clothes."

I unbuttoned my long nightgown. It fell to my feet like a withered snakeskin, revealing a pure

black . He took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes, and scrutinized me closely. I knew my figure

was alluring and seductive; against the backdrop of the black lingerie, my skin was as white as milk, radiating a pearly glow, as

warm as jade, and as fragrant as a rose. He smiled and said, "Take off the bottom first."

I took off my underwear, revealing my dark, curly pubic hair. Many women here shave their pubic hair, but I never do.

My pubic hair was just the right amount, like lush spring grass. Some women have too much hair, like wild grass; others have too little,

which is uninteresting. He asked me to come forward and help him undress. Underneath the shirt were light brown skin and full muscles. I folded

his shirt and placed it on the chair next to me, instead of just tossing it around like other women do. Then I

knelt down and unbuckled his belt, revealing white cotton underwear. He was already fully aroused, his erect

penis exuding a hot and fresh scent, reminiscent of a Saint Bernard or a fine horse with a soft muzzle.

His penis was right in front of my face. It was the first time I had faced a man's genitals so closely, and

I blushed involuntarily. The dark red penis indicated that he was a frequent sexually active man. He gently rubbed his hot

penis against my face and stroked my ears and neck. Finally, he pulled me up,

unhooked my bra, and involuntarily gasped.

My breasts are beautiful; no woman here can compare to them in shape or texture. My nipples are

a tender pink, slightly darker due to their erection. He held one of my breasts in his right hand,

rubbing the nipple against his palm—it was a little itchy, a little numb. The snow-white flesh filled his hand, and he gently squeezed it,

saying, "Look, you're practically made for me!"

He wanted to kiss my lips, and although I didn't explicitly object, I hesitated. He wisely stopped

, turned me over, and made me face down towards the dressing table. I saw my face in the mirror:

my hair , my complexion slightly flushed, but my expression was calm.

He stroked my vulva, and soon it was soaking wet. He massaged it with varying pressure, then suddenly inserted a

finger deeply, pulling it out covered in fluid. He smeared the fluid on my

lips , like applying lip balm, and I tasted my own skin—it seemed a little sour. Then he asked, "

Do you want a condom?"

I paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "That thing looks like the one you use, doesn't it?"

He said, "I mean, would you like to use the one with patterns and little spikes on it—but I want to

touch . I believe you're clean, do you trust me?"

I just smiled. As he spoke, he had already inserted a small white pill into my vagina

. I had heard that the pill could prevent pregnancy and add a lot of pleasure, but I had never used it before. Due to my

body temperature and fluids, the pill began to melt, and my vagina immediately became itchy, as if a thousand ants were biting me. I

couldn't help but groan, clenching my lower body and shifting my center of gravity between my legs, trying to use this slight friction to suppress the

excruciating tingling. But the itching inside became even more intense. That itchy and sore feeling was like a blue electric current,

shooting upwards from my vagina, hitting my heart, and piercing my nipples. My breasts also began to itch,

as if something was about to spray out of my nipples. He rubbed my breasts with his hands, which felt very comfortable, and I

couldn't help but say, "Harder... harder!"

He kneaded heavily, teasing my earlobe with his tongue, while his penis merely rubbed against the entrance of my vulva, not

penetrating. I felt my vulva was already wide open, juices dripping out, my lower body yearning for that

thick, hard invasion, but this damned man was only teasing me! I heard his breathing become heavy and rapid

; he was also holding back, wanting me to completely submit—I couldn't help but admire him a little: how many men

still had such patience and willpower at this moment? Then I'll submit!

Even if my mind doesn't submit, my vulva has already submitted. My buttocks unconsciously rubbed against his

abdomen , my vulva searching for his penis—a man is a meat stick, a woman is two mouths,

one above, one below—strictly speaking, only the lower one—that's a woman, the most authentic

woman , lustful, awakened by self-indulgent thoughts and the effects of drugs—my open mouth, dripping with saliva, wanting to

swallow that hot, burning meat stick—usually asleep, my face, breasts, and thighs maintain a ladylike

posture , saying I've been insulted if a man touches me, but when my lower mouth awakens, my whole body becomes wanton,

to hell with chastity and propriety! I spread my legs, eagerly hoping to swallow one meat stick, two,

three… to swallow all the men in the world! That's the happiest thing!

Look up. He whispered in my ear.

Look? Look at what? I saw a slut in the mirror, her face flushed and dazed, her eyes watery and unfocused,

her whole body a flushed pink with excitement. A man's hands were mercilessly squeezing her breasts, yet she

laughed , seemingly enjoying herself. He suddenly grabbed one of her hands and placed it on her lower body. Oh, good,

so wet, so hot. She wanted to insert her fingers herself, but he wouldn't let her, only keeping her hand outside, her palm

covered in fluid. Then he placed that wet hand on her breasts, letting her knead

them —she was still laughing, giggling. What a slut! "

Do you want it?" he whispered in my ear.

I didn't answer, but the slut said sweetly, "I want...give it to me...

what do you want?" he asked, kneading my breast with one hand and my clitoris with the other.

I felt like I wanted to pee, but I couldn't; I just trembled all over. This wicked thing! I

thought, I won't give in! But the slut gasped, "I want...I want..." She reached for the man

's penis, wanting to shove it into her mouth and chew it fiercely.

But he dodged, only urging, "What do you want?

I want you to fuck me! Fuck me!" I heard the slut shout, "Please fuck me quickly!"

The moment she finished speaking, a thick, hard penis thrust into my vagina. It was hot, very hot. I couldn't help

but let out a soft "oh," and before I could react, he began to shake me violently. He pulled my waist and

slammed me against him, and I, in rhythm with him, thrust my hips towards him. I heard the slapping sound of his thighs

hitting my buttocks, and the gurgling sound of water coming from my vagina was very pleasant.

I couldn't help but scream again at this sound, and then my vagina contracted rhythmically, as if a switch had been

flipped , and gushes of water gushed down. I lost consciousness in that instant—because his foreplay was

so thorough, and with the effect of the aphrodisiac, I reached orgasm after only a few thrusts.

(III)

He picked me up and threw me onto the bed, then pounced on me. When the orgasm had passed, he pressed down on me,

his penis inside my belly. He didn't ejaculate, and it was still thick and big, like a vicious

red snake crawling into my belly. This snake had first crushed the ants that bit me, and now it was going to wreak havoc inside my body.

He looked at me with satisfaction, brushed the messy hair off my face, kissed my cheek, and asked breathlessly: You

do this often, right? But you're very tight down there.

I said yes.

He asked: Is it comfortable?

I said yes. I smiled at him, knowing my smile was alluring and captivating, conveying my

submission and flattery.

"Hmm?" He leaned over me, holding me tightly, biting my ear, and asked, "Do you like it?" "

I love it!" I moaned in response, trying to spread my legs to ease the discomfort of my erection. I knew

he wasn't finished and was about to come again, while I, having just climaxed, needed time to prepare myself.

He suddenly thrust in hard. It hurt a little, and I couldn't help but gasp. "

Does it hurt?" he asked.

I said, "Yeah, you're really good."

He smiled and began to move slowly. His penis was really big; I had just ejaculated too quickly and

needed a rest. With just a little teasing from him, I immediately felt it again. I arched my back and said, "Excuse me,

could you put a pillow under my waist?"

He placed the pillow under my waist and said, "You're pretty strong too!" Then, still breathing deeply, he continued

to move . Each thrust went very deep, reaching deep into my lower abdomen, with a slight, gurgling sound as the fluids were stirred.

I closed my eyes and let out a wanton moan, stroking his chin, neck, and nipples with my hands, and gently

scratching his back with my nails. His penis was hard, and I was using the softest part of my body to fight against it, wrapping it layer by layer with my

wrinkled flesh. My beautiful mouth was sucking on his hard desire, trying

to draw his life out of it. But his desire was like an iron, viciously trying to smooth out every fold of my flesh.

My lower body was still squelching and squelching, more and more fluid flowing out. He suddenly stopped and said, "Do you

like it?"

I said I liked it. I opened my eyes to look at him, saw the expression on his face, and knew he wanted to hear what I had to say. "Your

cock is so big, it's killing me." I said, "But I like it, I like you fucking me." "Fuck me hard. I like you so much

! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

He looked at me, still kneading my breasts with his hands, and gently swirling his tongue around my nipples, saying, "Your

breasts are very nice, and your hole down there is very nice too—what's it called again?"

"That's called a cunt." I said.

"Right, that's called a cunt." He said, "What's it used for?"

I sighed: "It's used to hold your cunt."

He laughed: "Then what are you?"

"A cunt." I said.

He laughed again, leaned down to kiss my face, and said, "It

's really funny that you're so pretty, yet you say things like that—why don't you call me a pervert? I'm going to fuck you!"

I said, "Fuck me, fuck me louder, I like the sound."

He thrust his penis deep inside me, and I felt like I was being pierced through. His penis reached all the way down

my throat, and I tried to scream, but only a muffled sound came out.

"You slut!" he said, thrusting violently, the impact against my hips making a slapping sound, and the bed creaking and shaking. I clamped

my legs around his waist, my vagina around his penis, and struggled to lift my body. "Do you like it? Do you like it?"

he asked breathlessly.

"I like it! I like it! I like it so much!" I said, hearing myself moaning, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. His cock

thrust in and out of my belly, swaying from side to side, then circling, each movement as fierce as if it wanted to kill me

. I felt the flesh in my lower abdomen being melted by his movements, and my vagina was gurgling and sputtering, like

a meat broth being simmered. That cock was amazing! Like a mace! Rushing and pounding inside my vagina! I

desperately tried to tighten my vaginal muscles, trying to trap him! But he was still so menacing! So good! So good! Fuck me harder

! I couldn't help but say, almost crying. He touched my body hard, squeezed my breasts, and panted as he shouted.

That sore and swollen feeling came again, and I knew the orgasm was coming. My body arched back, and I screamed as

I desperately pressed my vagina against his lower abdomen, until it was against his testicles and could no longer be swallowed; his penis was also thrusting all the way to

the deepest part of my vagina, impacting that mysterious switch. I heard myself scream, as if I had been

pushed off a cliff by his penis and then fell off the cliff, moaning as I fell,

spurting .

He hugged me tightly, his body trembling a few times, accompanied by satisfied sighs. Then we held each other

motionless , letting the fluids from our lower bodies flow, turning from warm to cool. The smell of semen

filled the air, like bleach, more like coconut juice, a chilling scent reminiscent of a cave in a primeval forest,

exuding the dampness of moss, a woman with snow-white skin bound, full breasts, legs spread wide,

a wild beast roaming within her lower orifice—I looked at him, and he looked at me.

"Beast," I whispered.

"Slut!" he whispered too, kissing my earlobe.

His hand rested on my breast. I reached down to his genitals and lightly

traced his scrotum with my fingertips. He shuddered, gasped, and said, "That feels so good!"

I traced it again, and he grasped my hand, saying, "Don't do that! I'll get hard soon—you ca

n't take it !"

I rolled over and pressed myself against him, my hands continuing their movements below. He initially resisted, looking into my eyes,

then relaxed and said, "Whatever.

"

(IV)

I kissed his forehead, his eyes, and his cheeks. He wanted to kiss my lips, but I turned my face away and

continued kissing his ears, lightly licking his earlobes with my tongue. He let out a soft "ah," his body trembling, and he sighed softly

, "Little vixen! So comfortable!"

I continued kissing his neck and his nipples, which were dark red, the same color as his penis. I

lingered on those two nipples for a long time, gently sucking and gently biting them. He couldn't help but reach for my

breasts . I kissed my way down to his lower abdomen, where he was already erect again. I

kissed his scrotum, and he cupped my face tightly, trying to guide my lips to his penis, but I still turned my head

away.

I sat on his chest, like a woman with large breasts sitting on a small virgin. My

vulva was just as wet and hot. He smiled, stroking my waist and legs, then moving upwards to my

breasts, lightly pressing my nipples with his fingertips. The nipples contracted and hardened immediately upon stimulation, then slowly relaxed,

then contracted again. I moved down a little, sitting on his soft lower abdomen, leaving a

wet mark on his chest, shaped like a mouth. "

Come on up!" he murmured.

I wouldn't! I wanted to get my revenge! I wanted to torture him too! I rubbed my vulva against his lower abdomen

, and he laughed, saying, "You naughty thing! Come on up!"

I told him, "Turn around!"

I leaned over his back, kissing down his spine all the way to his buttocks. With each kiss...

He was trembling all over, trying several times to roll over and throw me off. I said, "Don't move!" Then I gently rubbed my nipple against his

back and asked, "Do you like it?" "

I like it! Your nipples are cool!" He said, "It's so exciting! I want to fuck you!"

I hugged him tightly, writhing on top of him, and breathed into his ear, "Really? Really?

I want to fuck you!" He said, "Let me fuck you now!"

I still touched his scrotum with my hand and asked, "What do you want? What do you want?"

He suddenly rolled over and pinned me down, his penis about to thrust against my lower body. I slightly dodged, and he missed.

He was both angry and amused, and said, "Okay! Let me fuck you once! I'm begging you, okay?"

I said, "Lie down."

He lay flat on the bed, and I sat on his penis. My vagina immediately swallowed the entire shaft. Even though my lower body was already fully wet and aroused,

such thick penis still felt swollen; the glans

was probably touching my cervix. I trembled slightly, clenching my fists, feeling the fluid flowing out along his penis.

He became even more excited, thrusting his hips upwards and saying, "Faster!"

I slowly made circles with my hips, his penis moving inside me, the trapped beast

surrounded by , in complete darkness, surrounded by wet, hot flesh on all sides, a cage he couldn't escape. He

breathed heavily, rubbing my lower abdomen forcefully, saying, "Good! Faster! Faster!"

I stopped and asked, "What? What faster?

You little slut!" He laughed and cursed.

I bent down, thrusting rapidly back and forth, rubbing his penis quickly inside my vagina. He held my waist,

helping me push, slamming me hard against his penis, making rapid "ah ah" sounds like a Japanese samurai.

I heard my own breathing was just as rapid. I went crazy, my buttocks jerking back and forth, twisting left and right, leaping up and down,

trying every possible way to let his cock touch every corner of my vagina. My vagina was poisoned, itching unbearably,

only a man's big cock could cure it. Grinding, rubbing, rubbing, slamming, water gushing out, my vagina making sucking

sounds, fuck! Fuck! What a great cock, so hot and big, it's about to burst my cunt! Fuck me!

Don't you want to fuck me? Fuck me until I'm ruined! Fuck me with your cock! Fuck me! If you don't fuck me,

someone else will! Why not fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me like a dog! Isn't my face pretty? Aren't my breasts

full? Isn't my cunt hot and burning? Why not fuck such a good cunt? Look, how beautiful my

pubic hair ! I'm wet again! My pubic hair is all wet! Our pubic hair is all wet!

I let out a hoarse cry while panting. He rubbed my clitoris with his fingers, his eyes gleaming with a strange light,

his face flushed with excitement. I sat up and began to stroke his penis, what a beautiful

vulva ! Such white skin! Such big breasts! The rapid movements made my breasts tremble, my bright red nipples

dancing before his eyes. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and breathed through his open mouth! "

Look at me!" I whispered, "Look at me!"

He grabbed my nipples violently, as if trying to tear them off my body. His face was contorted with rage

, and I knew mine must be too. But I didn't care! I kept stroking him so quickly! My

vulva loved that big penis! That tongueless mouth that seemed to scream was beautifully swallowing and spitting out his shaft! That

mouth was the master! The devil hidden between my thighs! Spread my legs and you can hear her giggling! Fuck her!

Fuck her with your penis! Hot and wet cunt! She wanted to melt that penis! She tried to dissolve it into water and drink it down her throat

! But it was so hard! It wouldn't dissolve! But it didn't matter! She bit it! Suckled on it! Licked it!

Spitting it out and swallowing it back in! She couldn't bear to let it go! That indestructible little cunt! Still laughing! Still moaning!

Still dripping wet! Still shouting, "What a great cock! Your cock is so amazing! Fuck me faster! Oh, so amazing

..."

I bit a strand of hair to stop myself from shouting; I violently rubbed my breasts as if they weren't

my own flesh. I struggled desperately on his penis, like a beast caught in a trap, opening my mouth and tearing at the spear

piercing my body. The spear pierced my vagina, lifting me up, I leaned back,

thrusting my breasts high, then bent over and shook, trying to break his blade. The sight was too alluring for him. He grabbed me and

shook me violently, as if trying to break me apart so he could see what my cunt looked like. Finally, he jerked away,

and the friction inside my vagina reached a fever pitch. A sudden jolt ran through my lower abdomen, and something exploded. I

screamed, and I heard him scream too. Then I was blown to pieces. I exploded right on his glans

. My vagina exploded. Gushes of vaginal fluid gushed out, and sweat shot from every pore. Not sweat, but

semen—I was his semen! I was shot into the air like semen, falling like fireworks, landing

on him, mixing with his sweat, slowly solidifying, solidifying into two shells, a penis, a

sheath. The penis was inserted into the sheath, the sheath cooled, the penis softened, squeezed out by the sheath,

dripping wet .

He breathed heavily, rolled over, picked up his watch from the bedside table, and said: "Two hours!"

I hummed softly: "What?"

"You've been with me for almost two hours." He laughed and said, "No woman has ever slept with me three times in a row."

I smiled seductively and reached out to touch his groin again: "Want a fourth time?"

He laughed loudly: "Save it for next time."

He got up to shower, and I got off the bed, my legs giving way and I almost fell. I sat on the floor to rest. He came out of

the bathroom and asked: "Do you need to shower?"

I said no, thank you.

He helped me get dressed and then took out a wad of large bills from his wallet. I saw that his

wallet was full of cards; he was probably the kind of person who used cards and rarely carried cash. He probably

gave me all the money in his bag; it wasn't an astonishing amount, but enough to pay many prostitutes.

"Ah, no!" I said, "Customers with long-term rooms don't need to pay; it's all included in the room fee." "

I know," he said, "I just wanted to leave you a souvenir, but I don't have anything else on me right now except money."

I said: "Okay then." I took a bill from his hand.

He said: "Would you like to leave me a souvenir too?"

I said: "I don't have any money on me!" "How about I give you this money again?

I want something else!" he said, stepping forward to unbutton my clothes, pull down my underwear, squatting down, and bringing his face close to mine.

He touched my genitals, then suddenly jerked his head back. I cried out. He looked at me with a smile, biting two or three of my

pubic hairs between his teeth.

I smiled and turned to leave. He asked: "Next time I come, will you come again?"

I said: "That's hard to say."

He said: "Then I'll go make a reservation now, you come with me to the front desk."

I said: "You can't make a reservation."

I walked to the door and picked up a teacup. The tea was already cold, with a layer of oil floating on it. He turned my shoulder and said: "But

I want you again next time."

I looked at him deeply: "You've got the wrong person. I'm not like those women. Today I'm

with —I've never, ever sold myself."

(V)

I stopped at the door of my room and quietly opened it. There was no one in the hall, but I could hear

the sounds of men and women laughing and joking from the bedroom, mixed with low sobs and moans—it was the girl in the shackles. I had originally

wanted her to rest in my room, but it seemed that instead of finding a moment of peace, she had become the object of my amusement. I

really didn't want to go in. After thinking for a moment, I poured the cold tea onto the carpet by the door and went downstairs listlessly to get some

hot water.

Downstairs, it was a bustling scene. Guests were drinking and chatting, with pretty girls sitting beside them.

Waitresses moved back and forth serving drinks and cigarettes to the guests. A guest would casually touch one of their buttocks, eliciting

a flirtatious glance and a "How disgusting!" Sitting at a table by the door was a completely naked girl, her face full of

grievance . Every girl sitting at that table was called a "milk bucket." She had to sit there all night

as a free gift; guests could use her to relieve themselves as soon as they entered. Usually, it was

girls who were punished by being made "milk buckets," because after a night's work, her vagina and anus would always overflow with

semen, flowing out white, like milk. Of course, although the lighting here was dim and not many customers

were willing to do private business in full view of others, tonight's "milk bucket" was a very attractive girl with

a good It seemed that the excellent "freebie" had attracted many customers to enjoy the free service, as there was already

a lot of sticky fluid on the table. A customer who was drinking walked over, and the girl had no choice but to bend

over . The customer loosened his pants, took out his penis, and inserted it into the girl's vagina, beginning to move with relish. I remembered

that the girl was popular with many customers because of her outstanding appearance and good skills in bed. Although she was usually a bit arrogant,

everyone tolerated it. I don't know what taboo she had broken tonight, but she was actually punished to be a "milk bucket."

I didn't want to trouble the busy waitresses, so I poured myself a cup of hot water. After the customer had ejaculated all his "

milk " into her hole and left satisfied, I went up to the "bucket" and asked: "Who did you offend?" I thought that if I

found out what happened, I could at least plead for her. It's such

a waste . I truly feel sorry for her. She won't be able to take any work for several days; she might get sick, and her reputation will

be ruined because of her work as a milk bucket maker.

When she saw me, her lips trembled and she burst into tears, saying, "Sister, I know I was wrong. Please say something for me!"

I said, "What's wrong? Tell me clearly so I can speak up for you."

She just cried, and her crying attracted the attention of many people. Two young men with dyed red hair and earrings walked over with

smiles , saying, "Little sister, what's wrong? Let your big brothers comfort you, okay?"

As they spoke, they started to take off their pants. I had no choice but to walk away. These pretentious types are the most troublesome, and here

, the customer is always the priority. I wasn't afraid, but I was worried that the milk bucket maker would suffer.

The two guys, one after the other, started anal and oral sex, shouting and yelling as they did so, which

annoyed the customers who were quietly enjoying themselves. I pulled a waitress behind the counter, pointed at the milk bucket maker, and asked, "What's

wrong with ?"

(67)

The waitress looked at me with a look of surprise, then exclaimed happily, "Big sister, you're here!

Don't go! I'll tell the boss right away!"

I grabbed her: "Don't go yet—tell me what she did wrong first?"

The waitress said disdainfully, "Her! Humph! She's finally gotten what she deserves! I've disliked her for a long time!

So ! She really thinks she's some kind of rich young lady! Bah! Little slut! My sisters and I have all planned

to persuade as many customers as possible to sleep with her! Tonight, we'll fuck her cunt raw!"

As she spoke, she wrinkled her nose and made a funny face, then smiled smugly, as if she could already see a rotten

cunt, and that she had made a huge contribution to destroying it.

I said, "Sigh, what exactly happened to her?"

She shook her head: "I don't know! I only heard that she offended the boss. Big sister, think about it, among the thousands of

sisters here, who doesn't treat our boss like God?" Who does she think she is, daring to offend even God? She's got a death

wish !

I thought, as long as I don't offend the guests, things will be much easier. I said, "Those two are really annoying. Get

them out of here so they don't disturb the other guests.

" The waitress agreed. I then asked her for the key to an empty room—I was still leaking fluid from my lower body, and I

needed to clean myself up. The waitress looked for a room and said, "There are no empty rooms, only one. The guests just left, and

we haven't had time to clean it yet."

I said, "That's alright."

She gave me the key. The room was indeed messy, still lingering with a strange smell of male semen and female vaginal fluid mixed

together . The sheets and pillows were a mess, a torn pair of underwear hung on the wall lamp, and crumpled

tissues were everywhere. I turned on the shower and used a feminine wash to clean myself. The minty coolness instantly soothed my burning genitals

. My pubic hair looked clean and lovely amidst the pile of white foam. I gently rubbed it with my hands,

recalling the man's earlier attempt to leave a souvenir on my body,

and couldn't help but feel a little self-admiration. The water hitting my clitoris sent a tingling, numbing shiver through my body. I squatted on the floor, panting softly, touching my swollen labia majora

, feeling a bit worried. The best place to plead for that milk bucket would be on the bed, but I had just

been battling with a stranger for two hours; where would I find the energy to deal with another beast?

I cleaned myself up and went downstairs. The milk bucket lay listlessly on the table; the two

handsome red-haired men were gone. I sat at the bar drinking tea, looking quite out of place. The waitresses smiled...

They talked to me, asking why I was in such high spirits, staying out so late. I asked them what time it was, and they all

chimed in , saying it was almost midnight.

Almost midnight! For them, the nightlife was just beginning. For me, it was already late. I

'd never stayed out this late before. I've always believed that staying beautiful requires plenty of sleep. I usually

go to bed before 11 p.m., but tonight… I slammed the large bill the man had left me as a souvenir on the table and said, "

A pack of cigarettes, please!"

The waitresses exchanged glances and then chimed in, "Sister, you must be joking! How could we take

your money?"

I said, "Okay! A pack of cigarettes, please!"

The cigarettes were in my hands. I didn't know much about cigarettes, but I knew it was an expensive brand. I pretended to casually unpack

them, which not only concealed my clumsiness but also made me appear languid and alluring. I

squinted , my mouth slightly open, looking a little drunk. The lustful gazes of men lingered around me again. I knew some of

them wanted to light my cigarette, strike up a conversation, and then take me to bed. I smiled slightly, imagining

a penis nestled between my labia, just like the cigarette between my lips now. The penis was hot, and the cigarette was

burning.

A hand removed the cigarette from my mouth, a kiss landed on my ear, and an intimate voice said: Good girls don't

smoke.

The warm breath on my ear made me weak all over. I sighed, my body becoming wet again.

I turned around and was already in his arms, my tongue sucked into his mouth, my breasts held in his

hands —this lord of the pleasure palace, this genius of designing torture devices, this

king of countless mouths, vaginas, and anuses that could penetrate penises, this devil who concocted milk buckets, this ever-changing beast—the waitresses all

bowed respectfully and called out: Boss.

I leaned softly against the bar, smiling at him: I'm not a good girl.

He released her, lit the cigarette, took a drag, and slowly exhaled a wisp of smoke, still

whispering in my ear: "Compared to a scoundrel like me, any girl is a good girl. But you were really naughty today; I've been looking for you for a long time.

Come on, come upstairs with me."

I pointed to the milk bucket: "What happened to her?"

He smiled indifferently: "She said bad things about you—so I'm punishing her."

I said: "Why bother? You're making an enemy of mine—I'm not happy about this."

He glanced at me, walked to the milk bucket, and plunged the red cigarette butt

into . The milk bucket twitched, letting out a soft, almost crying, moan. He stubbed out the cigarette at her anus and said:

"Get out."

The milk bucket hurriedly climbed off the table. As soon as she left the table, her shame seemed to return. She

covered her breasts and genitals with her hands, lowered her head, and walked quickly towards the stairs, glancing at me as she passed, her eyes filled with resentment

. I sighed, unable to utter a few words of comfort—she reeked of semen,

making me feel nauseous. "

Come upstairs with me now," the beast said, toying with a half-smoked cigarette, the butt smeared with semen from where he'd touched the milk can's

anus. He tossed the cigarette aside and came over to caress me, his fingers

teasing my anus through my clothes. I knew he had a penchant for delicate vulvas and beautiful anuses. He'd penetrated

many people's anuses, men and women. Although I never anally sex with him, he often

orgasmed in the anuses of other women, then ejaculated into their mouths. He said

those sluts should taste the flavor of their own assholes, otherwise they'd really think they smelled good.

I said, "Not today, I'm on my period."

"What?" he asked softly, his hands still kneading my breasts through my clothes. "Really?" he said, his eyes full of

suspicion

. I laughed: "Why would I lie to you?" "Give me a reason!"

I laughed. "Yeah, what reason could there be—unless you don't want to sleep with me today for some reason!"

Strange idea! I said, my smile a little forced.

He pulled me into his arms again, kissing me, his tongue swirling in my mouth, carrying the smell of smoke,

entwining . He held me tightly, so tightly I could barely breathe. The waitresses chuckled nearby; their

boss rarely showed affection to me in front of them.

You know what? He finally released me, his breathing rapid, pressing my hips against his. I could already

feel the hardness of his swollen organ. He said, "She said you were in another man's bed,

so I punished her by making her work as a milk bucket."

My heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong! No one saw me go to the room with that man, there were no security cameras in the hallway,

no one should know about this; and when I left the main hall, she hadn't even started work yet. She must

have just said it casually. After all, these girls, who entertain different clients every day,

harbored a subconscious malice towards me, this oddity who only dated one man . Perhaps they secretly hoped that one day I

would sleep with many men, that men with far more experience than themselves would use me for their sexual gratification, so they would feel a little more balanced?

So… he whispered in my ear, “Come with me now, prove to me that you haven’t sacrificed my feelings for

other men.”

“No.” I said, “I’m on my period.”

His arms around me stiffened. He stared at me coldly: “You’re lying to me!” “

I’m not lying to you.” I said.

“You didn’t have this period last month!” He moved closer to me, coldly saying: “Do you dare let me see?”

I struggled in his arms, but couldn’t break free: “I’m not lying to you—why should I show you! I’m

not selling myself here! If I don’t sleep with you, are you going to punish me by making me a milk bucket?”

A thunderous boom rang in my ears, followed by a burning pain on my cheek—he slapped me

! It was the first time he had ever hit me! In front of so many people! In front of those penises that paid to penetrate my vagina and those

cunts that had been thoroughly fucked! I was so angry I couldn't say a word! I only heard myself screaming, and then I realized

he was pulling up my clothes and pulling off my underwear, and I was fighting back against him without thinking. But how could I possibly win against

him? Taking off a woman's clothes was his specialty. He pushed me down onto the bar table, and with a tearing sound, my

underwear was ripped. My desperate struggles were completely useless; my thighs and vulva were exposed to his...

Before me lay those stinking, fleshy sticks and rotten cunts.

I glared at him venomously—ten years! From the moment he tore my hymen to the night I

slept with that man, a full ten years! Only him! Only he had seen and touched my body! But

now , he openly exposed me to this lewd atmosphere! I glared at him fiercely—as if I were

a virgin pulled out of a pocket and gang-raped!

My pants were clean, and his face still held a cold smile. The maids also wore mocking expressions; they were thinking

I was about to lose their boss's favor and were preparing to kick me while I was down, to make things worse.

You see! I found the loose thread, pulled the cotton wadding out, and threw it fiercely at his face. The tampons soaked with menstrual blood

were bright red—I wasn't lying to him. Just now, while showering, I unexpectedly discovered streaks of pink amidst the white foam and

dark pubic hair. Touching them, a patch of blood dissolved in the water appeared on my palm.

My monthly troubles had returned, and

this time it was much earlier than usual. He was stunned. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, I burst into tears and ran out. He chased after me. As I rushed out the door, I

bumped into two customers. One said, "You bitch, you're asking for it!" The other said, "This chick's nice, hey! Don't go!

Come back and have a couple of drinks with us!" I ran onto the street and flagged down a taxi. As soon as I got in, I yelled, "Drive!"

The driver leered at my thighs: "Where are

you going, baby?" I yelled, "Anywhere, just drive faster!"

I wrapped myself in my pajamas, tears streaming down my face. The driver kept glancing at me as he drove, his eyes constantly

scanning my thighs, as if he wanted to see right through my clothes. I saw another taxi

chasing after me in the rearview mirror. I said, "Shake him off!"

"Okay!" the driver said, taking the opportunity to grope my leg while shifting gears. He drove incredibly fast,

constantly heading towards secluded and dark places, probably trying to take me wherever he wanted. As he drove, he said

, "Miss, what's wrong? Did you get angry with someone? Ugh! There are just some bastards who don't know how to care for

women! I despise those kinds of people! You have to be considerate to women, like me…would you like to come to my place and rest?"

I said, "Drive your car!"

He stopped the car instead, smiling as he put his hand on my shoulder, saying, "Alright! We've shaken off the cars behind.

Let me have a ride, I won't charge you. If you think it's too cheap, tell me a place, and I'll take you there."

As he spoke, his hand reached for my chest.

I snapped, "You dare!"

He glanced at me sideways and said, "If you don't want to—then pay the fare." He put his hand on the steering wheel

and looked at me mockingly. I was wearing pajamas, and although they had two pockets, they weren't for carrying money. This bastard

was so brazen because he assumed I had no money. I didn't have any cash on me, but I couldn't resist reaching into my pockets, as if a miracle might happen and

I'd pull out some. I was trying to figure out how to deal with him when, sure enough, a large bill appeared in my hand. My

surprise was no less than the bastard driver's—it was a souvenir from that person!

The bastard driver reluctantly took the bill, examining it from all angles, flicking and squeezing it, saying, "It's not fake, is it?"

I said, "Let's call a policeman to check."

Just then, a black Daimler screeched to a halt beside us, and the man from the VIP room got out

. He opened the car door, snatched the bill, tossed a counterfeit bill to the bastard driver, and said to me, "This is

a souvenir for you. How can you pay with this?" He then gently tugged at my sleeve and said, "Come with me."

I got out of the taxi, and the moment my feet touched the ground, my legs went weak, and then I knew nothing more.

When I woke up, I found myself lying in bed, covered with a blanket. I wondered where I was. The room was elegantly and luxuriously decorated

, without a trace of vulgarity. The man from the VIP room sat beside me and asked, "Are you feeling better?"

I said, "What happened to me?"

He said, "Nothing much, I just suddenly fainted. I guess I was too emotional."

I asked him how he caught up with me. He said, "I just drove out of the garage and saw you rushing out the door—there

are so few women dressed like you here. I wanted to call out to you, but you were too far away—so I just

followed your car—who are you hiding from?"

I turned my head away, tears streaming down my face.

He said, "If you want, you can stay here with me. I live alone anyway, and I have plenty of empty rooms."

This man's mansion was indeed luxurious, in the suburbs, with both indoor and outdoor swimming pools, as well as a greenhouse and

garden. But I wasn't surprised—people who could afford long-term private rooms in that establishment were no ordinary people, and he

seemed more like a powerful figure. But how could he manage such a large house all by himself?

Someone came to clean it every day. "But since you're staying here, I didn't let them come—I guess you don't really want

others to know you're here with me, do you?" he said.

He arranged a room for me, probably a place he used specifically for

his pleasures when he brought women back from outside. Because I was injured, he acted like a gentleman for almost a week,

not . On the sixth night, he asked me: "May I come to your room tonight?"

I said: "I never lock the door."

He smiled. He came that night, and in the darkness, he pressed down on me like a volcano, his hot body

and heavy breathing. He bit my ear and panted, "I've been so pent up! Today I can finally—

" I let him strip me naked, spreading my legs to receive his thick cock. He thrust in quickly,

then pumped violently without restraint. My vagina immediately filled with a wet sound, my screams were excited and intense, and I

quickly reached orgasm, collapsing beneath him. He gently bit my nipple and asked: "Want more?"

I held him close and whispered, "Yes..."

He breathed into my ear and whispered, "I really love your pussy, so wet and hot...

I love it too..." I whispered, "You're so good... I love it when you stay inside me... stay inside,

don't go ..."

He turned on the bedside lamp, and in the soft light, I saw fine beads of sweat on his broad chest. I gently

stroked it, and his gaze lingered on my chest—my full, white breasts,

round delicate pink nipples. He leaned down and kissed them passionately, then

withdrew from my vagina.

I was slightly startled. My passionately throbbing vagina suddenly released that hot, swollen penis, and let out a...

With a soft squelch and a series of puffs of gas, as if in protest, he sat on my chest.

Looking up at his tall, muscular body, a bittersweet feeling welled up inside me, along with an almost servile

longing . I couldn't help but close my eyes and groan, thinking of the virgin pinned beneath the woman with ample breasts,

the virgin just dragged from a pocket to be gang-raped.

What was she thinking as she looked up at that woman's wanton back…?

"What are you thinking?" he whispered, cupping my breasts in his hands, his penis

moving while his thumb teased my nipples.

A large mirror was embedded in the ceiling above the bed, reflecting my own dazed, intoxicated expression, my fair

skin flushed slightly. His skin was also flushed, a result of surging desire. I teased

his nipples too. He laughed and asked again: "Your expression is strange… What are you thinking?"

I imagined myself as a white silk ribbon spread on your bed… I murmured, you raped

a virgin on me, and her blood stained me red… Then you raped another virgin, and her blood stained me

red … You raped many, many virgins, and their blood turned me into a red silk ribbon… You

washed me in water, but no matter how you washed, I couldn't wash myself white, and finally I became this pink. Then you raped me, which is

like raping many, many virgins at the same time, while hearing them crying and begging for mercy beneath you… If I begged you

for mercy, would you spare me?

Due to the sweat, my cleavage emitted sounds similar to the wetness of a vagina. His buttocks pressed tightly against

my chest, rubbing back and forth, his penis thrusting, the deep red glans peeking out from between my breasts, pressing against my

face. I had never played such a game before, and I stared at that glans with fascination. Its shape resembled a mushroom, but where could

a mushroom be so passionate and fierce? Or perhaps it's like some small, cruel beast—smooth, irritable, man-eating

, capable of burrowing into a woman's vagina and biting her to death… I gently pressed my fingertips against his engorged, glistening

glans ; it was hot, soft, and hard. He moved forward, bringing the glans to my lips, but I turned my head away to indicate no.

He laughed: Why would I rape you? I want you to willingly sleep with me… He panted as he parted

my legs again, and the beast burrowed into my belly and began to bite me. I couldn't help but moan, and he

excitedly whispered in my ear: Shout it out!

I heard my own voice swirling high and low, without rhythm or meaning. I didn't know

what he was doing, nor what I was doing; I only felt a throbbing, aching sensation in my vagina. I was trembling, convulsing,

unconsciously pressing my hips closer to his lower abdomen. He suddenly lifted my legs high onto his shoulders,

raising my buttocks. His beastly thrust into my opening, biting into my

tender flesh with each bite, so fierce yet so pleasurable. I screamed, my vulva screamed too,

gushing out fluids and hissing.

He stopped and stared at me, and I stared back at him. He looked down at my vulva, at the mouth sucking his

penis, at the labia tightly gripping it. He took a deep breath, stroking my pubic hair and swollen

vulva , then pinching my nipples with his fingertips—a gentle torture, an electric current running from my nipples to my vulva,

and my vulva slowly flowing again. He slowly thrust in and out, my whole body twisting with the movement.

Harder , harder… I whispered, pleading. Then he lunged down, and I couldn't even groan, only

letting out a muffled sound in my throat. A cruel glint flashed in his eyes as he gripped my breasts tightly with both hands,

as if to crush them, the flesh squeezing out between his fingers. He said, "Do you want it?

I want it! I want it!" I said tremblingly, a sweet trepidation, like a slave girl being favored by her king, filling my heart. He

was my mighty and powerful king, and I was just a lowly slave girl, my lifelong glory nothing more than satisfying his

momentary . Ceremony, only for the instant pleasure of ejaculating semen. Servants

searched for beautiful virgins for him across the vast land, and no matter how hard they tried to escape and hide, they were all eventually captured and sent to the harem.

Here, they were no longer human, but beautiful genitals collected only for a swollen penis,

cunts waiting to be raped for the pleasure of a cock. They were stripped naked, their hands bound, forced to kneel on

the ground , their buttocks raised high, exposing their untouched genitals. Thousands upon thousands of fresh cunts

lay naked, waiting for the king's selection in the resentment of the disfavored and stale cunts. I was among them, mingling in this

heap of succulent flesh, amidst countless perfect breasts and thighs. I was merely a real cunt, devoid of shame

and emotion, filled only with desire and lustful fluids. The king arrived. I couldn't see him, but I knew the scepter he held

was shaped like an erect penis, its glans a deep red gem, burning like fire… The king arrived,

wandering and observing in this sea of cunts, watching the small slits split open between those white, beautiful buttocks, like

strange flowers with two white, round petals, tiny red stamens, and bulging mounds of flesh

and fluffy hair around them. He chose a flower, and with that penis-like scepter, he touched my vulva. The ruby

glans pressed against my entrance, both hot and cold. I trembled, powerless to resist, too overwhelmed by despair and

fear to feel the pain of the ropes digging into my flesh. The servants deftly placed me on his bed. I was just

a cunt, gazing up at the mighty and robust king. Only now did I see that the king was an erect penis with a shiny, purplish-

red glans. Ignoring my cries and pleas, he tore my hymen apart, like

prying open a flower bud petal by petal. With each petal opened, nectar flowed from the stamen. Finally, the bud bloomed, wet and

sweet, juices flowing freely, flesh and blood a mess. He didn't care, only caring to pound my tight vagina until it was thoroughly ravaged, finally

ejaculating deep into my flower...

ejaculate... ejaculate... I heard my own delirious murmurs amidst my moans and cries, my eyes as

wet as my cunt, tears streaming down.

"What?" he asked, leaning over me. "

I said I ejaculated."

He said yes, I ejaculated. Seeing my tears, he surprisedly cupped my face and asked, "You didn't want me to ejaculate inside

you?"

I still mumbled incoherently from deep within my throat: "I'm willing... I'm so willing..." Through my teary eyes, I

fantasized about a virgin being ravaged by a king, raped, again and again, almost dying in bed, while in the harem...

The women were bowing and worshipping naked before the towering statue of the king, their buttocks raised high, crimson stamens glistening with nectar between their white

petals . The statue was a magnificent penis, a

majestic cock standing tall in a sea of cunts…

I opened my eyes and saw the beautiful, languid body in the mirror, my breasts still full and firm,

but with purplish marks. He kneaded my waist and abdomen, lowering his head to kiss me, but I turned my face away. "

Why won't you let me kiss you?" he said. "You won't even kiss me down there?"

I smiled slightly: "I've never kissed a man's thing before."

He buried his head between my breasts and asked: "Want more?"

I asked: "Can you still?"

He said: "You'll have to wait a bit. Sigh, I'm over thirty now, unlike when I was in my twenties,

I could get back up immediately after ejaculating, back then I could have it five or six times a night." He lay down on his side, smiling at me, his penis limp and

hanging down. "Sigh," he said, "If only our ages were reversed, you'd be in your thirties and I'd be in my twenties, both at our peak

, then we could go at it until dawn!"

I smiled and said, "I can't imagine what it would be like to have sex with a man ten years younger than me—I

prefer men much older than me. Physical strength is secondary; skill and feeling are what matter.

" "Is he much older than you?" he asked softly. I remembered telling him that I'd only

been with one man before sleeping with him. I didn't understand why he suddenly asked this.

"Yes, he's ten years older than me," I said softly, closing my eyes. "

You really like him?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe," I said. "We've been together for ten years. I was only sixteen when we first slept together.

He was very energetic then, wanting it all night long, until dawn. So back then, I was afraid

to sleep ; even when I couldn't finish, he still wanted more. So he often went to sleep with other women after he'd had me...

" His hand lingered on my back as he asked, "And now?" "

Now? He still wants other women, and more and more." I sighed. He slept with other women

while —first one, then two, then three, and now he's always with

seven or eight at a time. "

You actually agreed to this?" he asked, surprised. "

Why would I mind?" I replied lazily and coldly. "Haven't I slept with other men too?"

He gasped, remained silent for a long time, then asked, "So you slept with me out of spite?"

"I don't know!" I said sullenly.

"Do you regret sleeping with me?" he pressed. "

If I regretted it, I wouldn't be here now." I said, turning over and lying face down on the bed. He laughed happily

, his fingers slowly sliding down my back to my buttocks, gradually probing between my thighs.

I continued to close my eyes, enjoying the teasing. What position would my imagined king use? "

Your expression is beautiful," he said. "What are you thinking about now?"

I smiled with my eyes closed: "I'm imagining you as a king, and me as your slave, being raped by you."

"Oh?" he said. "You're talking about that again—do you like being raped?"

I like the feeling of being conquered by a strong man. I said, willingly.

His fingers moved more and more wildly on my genitals. He said, Yeah, you don't seem very proactive

—so, how am I going to rape you?

Just like this! I smiled and opened my eyes, and he pressed heavily on me, not caring whether I lived or died, and

fucked me hard.

He pressed down on me, his swollen penis pressing against the entrance. He asked, "Like this?"

I nodded. His body was so heavy; if we weren't on a bed, such pressure would probably be very

uncomfortable.

He pushed his penis into my vagina. But I was dry down there, a little astringent, a little painful.

He used his hands to pry open my vagina, his glans rubbing back and forth at the entrance, and he said, "If I were a king, I wouldn't be

so rough—I would love you very gently."

No—no! I said, don't be so gentle, just thrust it in hard, don't worry about me…

He hesitated for a moment, and then thrust in hard. It felt like a knife had been plunged in. I

trembled gasping for breath, feeling the sharp, cold blade piercing my flesh. It was as if I had never had a vulva; it was as if that

knife had brutally cleaved a fissure between my thighs. This must be what raping a virgin is like—

tearing apart their perfect bodies, creating a vulva within them with a penis. Yes, my vulva

wasn't natural; it was a cunt created by a penis…

With that brutal insertion, I immediately became wet. He thrust forcefully against my back, each stroke pounding

deep into my vulva, cutting the fissure deeper and deeper until he split me in two.

I sighed with his rhythm, displaying the most humble submission of a female slave.

He stood up and pulled me by the waist, making me assume a horse-riding position. I looked down, seeing my two

round breasts suspended in the air, my long hair cascading onto the bed, like a female animal in heat. I thought of those

sows waiting to be vaccinated in the spring, their bodies clean and white, their tails swollen high like large steamed buns. And

now he was gently kneading the flesh around my vulva, which must be especially alluring because of the swelling.

(

8)

It's so beautiful! He whispered, slowly inserting again, all the way to the deepest point, and then slowly

withdrawing completely. Then he spread my vulva open again and gently inserted himself.

He did it so gently, and the room was quiet, unlike before when it was filled with panting, moaning,

shouting , and the slapping sounds of flesh hitting flesh, but this had a different kind of charm. This slow movement made

even the most subtle sensations very obvious. I saw my two nipples trembling slightly, my vulva swollen and sore, and the

rich nerves were more sensitive than usual. Then a churning sound of viscous fluid arose. He dipped his fingertip in and

said, "Wow, so much water..." Because of the wetness, his penis slid in easily. When he pulled out, my

vagina made a series of popping sounds, "plop plop..." In the quiet room, these two sounds

were particularly loud and stimulating. I savored every sensation he gave me. My opening was stretched open,

the glans probed in, and then his entire penis filled my vagina and pushed deeper. At this moment, he gently rubbed back and forth a couple of times.

This made my whole body weak and wet, and then he pulled his penis out. My stretched-open vagina

reluctantly giving his large penis a sucking sensation. He took a breath, clearly

enjoying it too.

In this gentle embrace, my vagina quickly became satisfied, and I felt my lower body almost numb from the soreness. "That's enough,"

I said. "

Is that enough?" He leaned down, kissing my back while grasping my breasts, and before I could answer, he suddenly

began to thrust violently. I was terrified, and before I could even scream, my vagina was already gushing out.

For a moment, I knew nothing. When I came to my senses, I heard myself screaming in panic, but it was all

over . He had released me, and I collapsed limply onto the bed, looking at him with a mixture of anger and amusement. He

looked at me with pride at the success of his final prank, his pubic hair and penis soaking wet.

We slept in each other's arms until dawn. Looking at the clock, it was already noon. There were plenty of

ingredients , so lunch was easily prepared. Then he dressed smartly and went out, telling me to relax in the house and

wait for him to return.

I dialed a number, but it took a long time for someone to answer. A woman asked sweetly, "Hello?" At the same time,

I heard many women's laughing and the sound of the television. I slowly hung up the receiver.

I felt tired and went back to my room to sleep for another two hours. When I woke up, I was still alone in the large house

. Perhaps I had played too much the night before; the drowsiness lingered. I took

a very hot shower in the bathroom, my skin turning red from the heat, but I was still sleepy. He wasn't there, and I wouldn't be too unrestrained in someone else's house,

so I was extremely bored. I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which was full of fruit, carrots, and tomatoes. I picked

some out, washed them, diced them, put them in a large glass bowl, and mixed them with salad dressing. Just then

, I heard the sound of a car parking outside, and a moment later he came in. "Hi!" He said, and handed me a red rose.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, "So beautiful!" But my hands were covered in salad dressing, so I couldn't take it.

"Ah—" he tucked the rose into my hair and said, "Are you cooking?" "Great! I want to try some!"

he said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around my waist, deftly slipping his hand under my skirt.

"Ugh—" I cried out, unable to suppress my laughter. He tickled me, "No—no—" I laughed until

I couldn't breathe. "

Okay, I'll stop teasing you," he said, already pulling down my underwear, then kneeling down and kissing my thigh

. "

Ah—" I cried out involuntarily, wanting to stop him, but afraid of ruining his expensive

suit with the salad dressing on my hands. He pulled down my skirt too, but laughed, saying, "You do your thing, I'll do mine"—he

buried his face between my legs, and now I couldn't do anything; under the intense stimulation from below,

all I could do was close my eyes and moan. His tongue touched my vulva, and I almost jumped up.

He picked me up and placed me on the table, which was covered with cups, plates, and bowls. With a flick of his hand, the beautiful porcelain pieces

clattered to the floor. I couldn't help but let out another "Ah!" of regret, but he was only concerned with spreading

my legs to taste my vulva. "

I've been thinking about you all afternoon!" he slurred, breathless with excitement. "I want to savor your

taste!"

I lay on the table, indeed like a dish. I closed my eyes, spread my legs, and felt his hair brush against

my inner thighs. A sudden, indescribable warmth welled up inside me, a pleasure so intense I almost fainted. He took my

clitoris into his mouth and sucked on it, then gently bit that tiny, extremely sensitive spot. It hurt a little, but

mostly it was a series of electric shocks of heat that almost made me faint. I almost couldn't hold back my urine,

and cried out softly, "Don't do this! I can't take it!" He kissed down my labia majora, still gently sucking and

biting . I involuntarily squeezed my legs together, and he rubbed my thighs hard, finally slipping his tongue

inside my vagina.

I never imagined a man's mouth could be more stimulating than his penis; those delicate licks, sucks, and nibbles caused a

flood of pleasure. So good! I murmured, gradually craving more vigorous movements.

He lifted his head, pressed his body against mine, and kissed me.

My heart skipped a beat! He kissed me! He was kissing me! I felt a sense of loss; in ten years,

only one man had touched my lips, and now he was kissing me too!

But I was numb. I didn't pull away from his lips as quickly as before. So kiss me!

You've already fucked my cunt, what's wrong with letting you kiss my mouth too?

Wasn't I myself the slave girl who longed to be raped by a king?

Rape me… rape me… I murmured intermittently during his passionate kiss. With two quick rips, he

tore my clothes, like prying open an oyster or peeling a lobster at a table,

revealing my snow-white, tender flesh.

He kissed me as he unzipped his trousers; the fabric of his suit was soft and warm, but the buttons were cold and hard,

rubbing painfully against my skin. But I didn't protest—what right did a female slave about to be raped have to complain

? He sucked my tongue into his mouth, and I tasted a strong, delicious flavor—it was my

vaginal fluid . Then his beautiful, warm penis thrust in vigorously…

I thought of the milk buckets, those girls placed on the table for guests to enjoy for free. Sometimes I would

sit behind the bar and watch them being used repeatedly by different guests. Now I lay on the table like them,

providing comfort to a restless cock. I understood why that genius of pornography and violence had put the milk buckets on

the table. Fucking a cunt on a table had a different kind of pleasure than in bed; no need to take off clothes, just insert

a cock , as simple as rape, it was so pleasurable!

Rape me, rape me… I urged in his ear. He violently flipped me over, and before I could even settle down,

he thrust into me wildly. He rubbed my clitoris hard, spread my vulva, and I

reached orgasm in a near-painful pleasure.

He used a small wine glass to catch the fluid flowing from my vulva—a mixture of vaginal fluid and semen—

and poured it into the bowl of fruit salad. He placed the salad over my chest, then bent down and licked it, saying, "It tastes

good."

"How disgusting!" I chuckled softly, watching the cool, sticky salad spread across my breasts and lower abdomen.

"Let me feed you." He said, biting off a small piece of pineapple and bringing it to my lips. I ate it, then sucked his tongue into

my mouth, and we kissed passionately for a long time. "

Let me make some drinks, do you drink?" He took out a bottle of XO, shook it at me, and had me

place my buttocks on the edge of the table, legs wide open, just like before. He brought the bottle close to my crotch, placed the glass

under my vulva, and let the

liquor flow down my genitals and into the glass. I laughed at this wicked game. He then let the liquor flow down his penis—this glass was for me.

I looked at his silk suit, which was truly unusable, covered in sweat, liquor, and salad dressing. He

nonchalantly took off his clothes and pressed himself naked against me, both of us

slippery from the salad dressing all over us. We both burst out laughing, then playfully licked the food off each other.

We cooked dinner together naked, making love while cooking. He thrust into me from behind while I was chopping vegetables

, resulting in uneven, crooked pieces. While he was cooking, I hugged him from behind,

massaging his back with my breasts while holding his penis, causing the vegetables to burn. Finally, we microwaved

steak and hamburgers. He sat down, pulled me into his arms, his penis inside me, and I wrapped my legs around his

waist—we ate dinner like that. By the time dinner was over, it was completely dark. "

Now let's have some fun in bed," he said. "Would you give me oral sex?"

I looked into his eyes and, for some reason, nodded with a smile.

He led me to his bedroom, instead of my room as yesterday. We

washed off the mess first; I took a shower, and he took a bath. While I was showering, the phone rang

. He told me to wait for him in bed, then answered it while soaking in the tub.

I don't know how long I waited—when you're feeling aroused, even a minute feels long. I lay on his bed,

a king-size bed, silk sheets, fluffy, soft pillows, dim lighting, with a TV

and stereo facing the bed. On the screen, a man and a woman were having sex, the woman's body writhing wantonly on top of the man. He was on

the phone I had muted it; otherwise, the sound from the speakers would have been incredibly detailed and realistic.

He came in, his penis limp, probably from talking on the phone for too long. I smiled and stretched out my limbs on the bed.

He stepped on top of me, spread his legs, and knelt on my chest, his soft penis dangling near my mouth. He touched my lips with

the head I hesitated for a moment, then opened my mouth, letting him insert it.

Cool, soft, a small piece of flesh, but incredibly elastic…

He gasped: So good—so good…

I teased the little worm with my tongue, and the startled beast swelled up in a rage, my mouth

overflowing . He thrust in and out of my mouth, the head of his penis hitting my throat. I felt very uncomfortable.

You really aren't very good with your mouth. He pulled his penis out, saying, "Don't use your teeth, it hurts!"

I laughed, "I told you I don't use my mouth, but you insisted on putting it in.

Didn't you and that guy use your mouth either?" he asked, gently rubbing his hot penis against my face.

I didn't understand why he wanted to know how I did it with that guy. But it didn't matter, I said, "

Yeah, he's all sorts of tricks with other women, but with me, he only does it down there, just in different positions."

I held his penis, gently licking the glans with my tongue, then kissing my way down to his scrotum

. He seemed to enjoy it, and I was happy about that. Just then, the phone rang again. "

Oh my god," he said, looking down at me, not intending to answer. "

Answer it," I said, "It might be something important, I'm not going to disappear."

He sighed, picked up the receiver, and sat up against the headboard. I put a pillow behind his back for comfort. He smiled and gave me a thank you look,

then pointed to his crotch and winked.

I leaned down and took his penis into my mouth again, just as I heard him laughing on the other end of the phone: "I'm in

my room... and there's a gorgeous woman lying next to me..."

A woman was on the other end, laughing, clearly not believing me. As he spoke, he reached out and stroked my

face . I looked up at him; he was looking at me with a mischievous smile, muttering "uh-huhs" to the other person

. Then his face gradually turned serious, and his hand stopped moving. I figured he didn't need any disturbance now,

so I smiled and pointed to the door, indicating I was outside. He nodded.

Outside the bedroom was a small living room, a very private space, perfectly reflecting the refined and

sophisticated . There were portraits and some brand of cigars. One photograph caught my eye: him and a

beautiful, elegant woman. It was an old photo; they were both young and vibrant.

He came out: "Sorry, I kept you waiting." He stood beside me, looking at the photo with me, saying, "This is a photo of me

and my ex-wife, taken right after we got married. She was the one who called just now."

I said, "Oh."

He waited a while, and seeing that I didn't ask anything, he coughed and said, "You really have no curiosity about me!"

I said, "A woman who asks too many questions is annoying, besides, about us...you...

I like you because sometimes you're a lot like her." He said, "Your expressions and mannerisms are very similar..." He sighed and said, "I

divorced her because she couldn't have children, and also, she was very cold in bed..."

I still didn't say anything. He kissed me gently, for a long time, very tenderly, even affectionately. Then he

cupped my face and gazed at me, whispering, "Sometimes I really can't believe—you're so perfect, too perfect—

are you really a person? And have I really met you?"

There was a bitterness in his eyes. I think he saw a bitterness in my eyes too, either

my own or a reflection of his. "

Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked softly.

I smiled.

He hugged me, rocking me gently, as if soothing a baby to sleep. He said, "I know—you're

unhappy —because I said you're like her.

" I said calmly, "I'm not unhappy, and I'm not perfect either." "Do you like children?" "Yes, I

like them very much." He said, "I want a boy in the future, then another boy, then a girl... The girl has to

be very beautiful, so that when she grows up, everyone will turn their heads when she walks down the street..."

I said, "In the future?"

He said, "Yes, I'm getting married soon."

I said, "Congratulations."

He didn't say a word, then suddenly picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. He placed me on the bed and pressed down on me, but

his position was opposite to mine, so his penis hung on my lips while his head was buried between my thighs. He

sucked intensely on my vulva, and I swallowed his deep red penis into my mouth.

I suddenly felt like crying. The stimulation of lovemaking wasn't as intense as before. I just wanted to hold

him, hold him gently, and stroke his skin and hair; whether he wanted to have sex with me was secondary.

He turned around, supporting himself on his elbows, and held me tightly as he entered me. Both of our genitals were

well-lubricated with saliva, and he quietly slid in. His head was buried in my shoulder. We were truly

whispering sweet nothings. His hips moved vigorously between my legs, and I bit his ear, suppressing

my moans.

He paused, propped himself up, and slowly, gently thrust in and out. I pursed my lips, not opening my mouth no matter how rapid my breathing became

. He looked at me inquisitively, his lower body rubbing against mine, yet we

looked like distant strangers. We were indeed strangers, only our genitals were familiar with each other's.

I looked down and saw my full, rounded breasts, my flat stomach rising and falling rapidly between two snow-white mounds

, my oblong navel like a seductive eye

against the snow, and then a beautiful tuft of pubic hair, my thick, wet, dark red penis moving in and out

.

He suddenly laughed: "She knows I never bring women into this room, so she doesn't believe what I just

said."

"You lied to her, and you're happy?" I asked.

"Not really." He followed my gaze to our genitals, moving in and out. He said: "Before I

divorced her, I slept with other women. I've said it before, I wanted five or six times a night. She knew she

couldn't satisfy me, and she turned a blind eye. Later, I felt very sorry for her, so I stopped." I

didn't really care if she could have children, but my family valued it a lot. So we got divorced. I was forced into it too

.

In and out, the slippery, wet sounds, the squelching, the fluffy pubic hair pressed tightly against the flesh.

We did it calmly, while calmly talking about his ex-wife.

I said: "So you didn't want her anymore."

He laughed: "Maybe. A man and a woman, no matter how deep their feelings are, if they don't do something in bed,

the feelings will fade. Besides, I need a child, I need an heir."

I spread my legs wide, wrapped them around his waist, and sighed: "It's a pity I can't see down there."

He said: "That's easy, wait a minute."

He took out a digital camera, had me spread my legs, took a picture of my vulva, and then

showed it to me. The picture was very clear; I could see a wet, crimson area and closed folds of flesh. He inserted his penis and

took another picture. Watching my own vulva like this, I couldn't help but laugh. "And there's more!" he said, recording a scene with the video function

and then showing it to me. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, closing my eyes and saying I didn't want to watch.

He plugged the camera into the TV and played it, then made me lie face down on the bed, directly facing the scene of the penetration.

In front of me was a live broadcast, and below was the action. But it was the first time I'd seen my own genitals so closely,

so I decided to look openly: because of the penis's movements, it was incredibly swollen; to say it resembled a flower was an understatement—

it was more like two segments of a ripe orange, though smoother and more delicate than an orange, and undeniably arousing the desire to bite.

When the penis was pulled out, some of the flesh inside the opening was turned inside out, and a drop of vaginal fluid

flowed along the edge, meandering down the flesh and disappearing off-screen.

He touched my vulva with his hand, then brought it to my lips; his fingers were wet with the fluid.

I obediently licked his fingers. He pulled out his penis, pulled my head down to his crotch, and gently

smeared the glans around my lips, as if applying lipstick. Then he said, "Lick!"

The penis that was pulled from my vagina had a fishy, pungent smell,

a smell that matched his excited, commanding tone. Like wasabi on sashimi, rape should be brutal. I obediently

opened my mouth, slowly cleaning my own fluids with my tongue. The television screen still showed the penis

going in and out of my vagina; it felt like there were two of me, simultaneously serving a king.

He suddenly pushed me down and ejaculated. Several streams of milky-white, slippery fluid sprayed onto my breasts.

With each ejaculation, he closed his eyes and breathed softly. I watched his satisfied expression with interest; it was my

achievement .

The semen quickly turned transparent on my chest. He gently wiped it with his hand, like applying moisturizer. I

remembered a saying: a man's semen is a woman's best beauty product. But

what is the purpose of women's elaborate beauty treatments?

"Don't have a girl." I gazed at his long, slender, white fingers and said, "Please, don't have a girl."

His finger paused for a moment, then began circling my nipple again. Why?

No matter how beautiful a girl is, in the end she's sleeping under a man—can you tolerate your daughter…?

I looked at him and said nothing more.

(The End)

He looked at me thoughtfully and said, “You have a problem with your life? What's wrong with being a woman?

You get raped.” I said.

He smiled, handed me the digital camera, and gestured for me to delete the pictures. He was

a cautious and considerate person; if such things fell into the hands of a third party, it would be a huge

threat , even though he hadn't taken a picture of my face. Looking at these pictures, I suddenly felt nauseous, extremely

nauseous. The hair, skin, organs, and smells—everything was disgusting…

It's not only women who get raped, and it's not only the body that gets raped. He pointed to

my head and said, “Where is true freedom? Who can truly live as they please? Aren't we all

living under the coercion of someone higher up than ourselves?”

Clutching the digital camera, amidst my nausea, the cold, metallic feel of its casing seemed far more

appealing . I smiled: "Being a man, at least your body won't be raped.

" "Oh, that's true." He nodded. "Then let's enjoy our limited time being raped by others."

"Take your freedom." He took five photos of women from the bedside table drawer and placed them in front of me. Young and beautiful

women .

My potential fiancées. He said, "Choose one you like."

I rubbed my chin against the camera and laughed: "What's this? It's not like I'm getting married."

He said: "I'm only getting married to have a child. What difference does it make to me? They're

all from similar social classes and have decent looks. I just want to get married. If we're talking about sleeping together, I'd

rather be with you.

" My heart skipped a beat, and I said: "I've stayed here long enough, I think I should leave tomorrow..."

He paused: "If I ask you out, would you still be willing?"

"No problem." I said, thinking for a moment about whether to ask him to meet me on a certain day in his VIP room.

He laughed and straddled me again. I said: "Ah, no, I want to sleep."

On the day we were supposed to meet, I arrived at the shop early. The waitresses looked at me with a mixture of respect and fear,

and at the same time, a relieved expression. I knew they hadn't had an easy time while I was away

—their boss, my genius, was a man prone to taking his anger out on others.

My bedroom door was ajar. I quietly entered, and heard the sounds of a man and woman making love inside. I had expected

this scene; it was a veritable human battlefield. I counted at least

ten women in the room, each completely naked, and the genius was having sex with one of them—the

girl in the shackles. The other women stopped laughing and got up as soon as I entered, slipping out one by one.

The genius continued with the girl, saying, "You're here?"

The girl glanced at me, her face streaked with tears. She looked much more haggard. I remembered how I had

also .

Under my watchful gaze, he released the girl, who immediately jumped off the bed and fled in panic. But I still noticed

the burns and whip marks on her chest. "

You seem to be doing better than before while I was gone?" I asked.

"Are you still angry?" He reached out to touch my face, but I turned my head away.

"Okay," he said, "I'll go wash up and then come back clean to apologize."

The bathroom was running. I checked my watch; an hour until our appointment in the VIP room. "

That's enough," I thought.

He came out, drying himself with a white towel. I sat watching him. He walked over to me and asked, "

Where have you been all this time? I've been looking everywhere…

I was in another man's bed," I said.

He laughed: "You're lying—you wouldn't do that. Are you still angry with me?"

I said, "It would be pathetic if I weren't. Would you want someone in your bed to be so lowly?"

"Oh!" he said, "Looks like you're willing to sleep with me today." He then came to hug me. I looked at the wide bed

with a displeased expression. He understood, tore off the sheets, and took a clean set from the closet to change. I

just sat there watching him do this mundane thing. "

That's enough!" he said, "I've done all this myself, and you're still not satisfied?"

I saw his genitals were already erect, sticking out in mid-air like a Gestapo saluting a Nazi.

I maintained my cold expression. He walked up to me and knelt on one knee: "Still not satisfied?"

This action surprised me. I thought I shouldn't push this dangerous beast too far, so I

slightly curled the corners of my mouth, as if to say I was smiling.

He picked me up and put me on the bed. "I knew you would forgive me!" he said, pressing down on me.

The clean sheets had a fresh scent. I took a deep breath, and he kissed me. I held his

neck , savoring the sensual pleasure this skilled beast could bring me. Habitually, I

parted my legs; when a woman lies on her back, it feels good to have something between her legs.

Our tongues intertwined, coming and going like two warring monsters. Even with hatred, even with unforgivable

feelings, I was still captivated by this pleasure and desire. "

I've missed you so much these past few days!" he panted. "You just left and disappeared without a trace, it really made

me angry!"

"Really?" I asked coquettishly, "Do you really miss me?"

He kneaded my breasts: "I really do—I really want to rape you!"

"Then why don't you do it yet?" I asked with a smile. Everyone has weaknesses, and so does he.

This beast, who had seen countless women and remained unmoved by any lewd behavior, was still unable to resist my

slightest provocation. He simply shoved his red snake into my lower abdomen, but his vital spot was still in my hands. Sure enough

, he became agitated, tearing my clothes, his hands roaming over my body, squeezing hard at the same time. I

laughed, and the more I laughed, the more excited he became, bending down to greedily suck on my tongue. I heard his breathing quicken,

and mine quickened as well. He kneaded my vulva, then inserted a finger.

I gasped softly. Today was a special day for me; it was slippery and hot down there. He certainly felt it.

His fingertip touched that sensitive spot, and I arched my back to show him that I liked it. He finally

couldn't hold back any longer and pounced on me. My tongue was in his mouth, and his penis was inside my vagina.

"Harder, harder!" I urged, because I was so wet down there that even though his penis was very large,

I could barely feel anything. He was clearly enjoying it more than I was, kissing me as he said, "You're so tight down there.

We haven't done it for over ten days, have we? I'm going to loosen you up today!"

I giggled. He turned me over, so I was lying on my side, one leg down and the other high on his

shoulder, so he could clearly see how his penis was exploring my vagina. This position

was indeed stimulating. He pushed in a little, and I cried out. I didn't know where he touched, but I trembled all over,

almost unbearably pleasurable.

I instinctively struggled, but he held me tightly around the waist, not letting me change position, and then thrust hard into

the depths of my vagina again and again. I didn't know if my cries were crying or laughing; I was almost

losing consciousness . This genius truly understood the female body. He watched with glee as I struggled helplessly under his advances

, asking, "Do you like it? Do you like it?"

With each question, he thrust deeper, and I cried out in surprise and laughter, "No—no—I'm going to die—he's turning..."

He positioned me, placing my legs on his shoulders, my body curled up, my vulva gaping open towards his face.

This position was amusing to me; if his position was even slightly off, I would feel a

tearing . But I usually found it pleasurable because the stimulation was so intense, I was willing to

risk the pain to let him do it this way.

He thrust in and out, rubbing his penis against the walls of my vagina, then thrust in hard, and I

would , harder

...

Okay, let's see who can beat whom today!" He said, then flipped me over, like pancakes

being cooked in a pan. I chuckled again, thinking of a water heater that boils a

whole kettle of water in a few minutes after being plugged in. I felt that his thing was a great water heater, inserted into my wet vulva

, boiling me up in a few minutes.

I lay prone, our most frequent position,

a position I remembered doing with that man in the VIP room not long ago. This position was the most primal, the most lewd, the one that best brought animalistic pleasure. He pulled my buttocks

against his hips, the sounds of slapping and churning like mud in a swamp. "Come on! Come on!"

he said, thrusting fiercely until I climaxed. I rubbed my buttocks against his lower abdomen, hoping his

penis would stay inside me.

Wet fluid dripped down my thighs. He sighed and stroked my back. I

smiled and deliberately said I wanted more. He kissed me, checked his watch, and said, "You go to sleep for a bit, I'll come back and have

some fun with you."

He got dressed and left. This was his usual routine; he was going to meet some important guests and

wouldn't be back until late at night. I lay on the bed, quietly waiting for him to leave. As soon as he left, I

immediately got up and went to the bathroom. I squatted on the floor, waiting for his semen to slowly drain out. Then I quickly showered,

cleaned myself, changed my clothes, and went to the VIP room on the ninth floor for our appointment.

The man was waiting for me. We embraced and kissed passionately as soon as we entered. He quickly took off my

clothes , and I quickly took off his, then we lay down on the bed. He wanted to play with my vulva first, but I wouldn't let him.

I was afraid he would find out I had just been with someone else. I held him tightly and said, "I want it—I want it—" He couldn't disobey

me, so he quickly penetrated me. The thick, delicious penis made me moan wantonly, arching my back and letting him

caress and kiss me eagerly. He thrust a few times forcefully and put my legs on his shoulders. I reached out and touched his

penis , saying, "It hurts a little, move it a little further.

" It was another intense stimulation, both sore and swollen. He looked down, watching the friction of flesh against flesh, the sound of water,

the gasping of air. Everything was so similar; wasn't it the same with every man? I dazedly stroked his hair and said

, "Pick me up."

He picked me up, and I clung to him, my vulva against his penis—it was so beautiful! His glans

was pressing against my most sensitive and stimulating spot. I wrapped my arms around his neck,

wriggling , while he lifted me up, then I fell back down, landing heavily on his penis. The

stimulation was indescribable; my breasts pressed against his chest, two mounds of white flesh being squeezed and kneaded, while the deepest,

most wonderful part of my vulva collided with his glans under the weight of gravity, my juices flowing freely. Our lips

and tongues intertwined, sometimes he swallowing my tongue, sometimes I taking his. Finally,

he put me on the bed and shouted as he ejaculated.

Ejaculation… I watched his strong body tremble with this animalistic instinct, and my heart soared. My vulva

swallowed him like a swamp, and I loved it.

My arms were sore, and I lay there lazily. He asked, "Do you mind if I smoke?" I said, "Whatever." He lit a

cigar , exhaled a puff of smoke, and looked at me with adoration, as if seeing my body for the first time with a fresh and intriguing

expression. He kissed my nipple, pretending to burn me with the cigarette butt. I gave him a coquettish glare, and he

smiled as he bit my lip. "

Would you be my woman?" he asked. "If you're with me, I can arrange a house for you..."

I looked at him silently. He nodded: "Ah, of course, you certainly don't lack houses or money now.

So, tell me, what are your conditions?"

I asked: "Are you really willing to do anything for me?"

"Of course!" he said, "I've never been so infatuated with any woman. If you asked me to marry you now

, I might even agree.

" I drew a circle on the ceiling with my finger: "Okay! You destroy this place, shut down this shop, and I'll be

with you!"

He looked at me in surprise: "Why?" "

Because I hate it! I hate everything here!" I said with a smile, "I hate this place to death!"

He stared at me quietly, then asked again: "Why?" "

Because he raped me." I said, "The owner of this place, the proprietor of this shop."

He took a long drag on his cigarette, frowned, and thought for a moment before saying, "I understand—so you're his

woman . I should have known. You were here, and you'd only ever been with one man. I'd heard rumors that he kept

a wonderful woman, and it's true. I really envy him… Why did he rape you?" "

I don't know." I lowered my eyes, turned my back to him, and buried my head in my arms. I was only sixteen that year,

on my birthday. I bought a new dress, dark green, silk. On my way home, I passed a

coffee shop. For some inexplicable reason, I went in—I never drink coffee, but that day I was in a good mood, and the shop looked quite elegant

. I ordered a coffee, and after I finished it, problems arose. I don't know

what , but I couldn't move my limbs, though I was still conscious. Then he appeared, carried me to a room,

and raped me. I was terrified, but I couldn't move or scream. He locked me in that

room for over a month, raping me every day. I hated him so much then. But I couldn't fight him off,

and I didn't have the courage to die. So I just dragged it out. A month or two passed, and I got used to it. I let him

do whatever he wanted to me. After a while, I did whatever he told me to do, and eventually, I became his woman.

Ten years passed like that… He even recorded the first time he raped me. Even now,

before he wants to have sex with me, he watches that video with me while he's doing it, saying he really wants to rape me again…

"So you still like him a lot, right?" he said. "Ten years. Even if you were enemies, even if he raped you, you

'd still have some feelings for each other. Men and women who have slept together, unless they're really awful, will care about

each other. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stayed with him for ten years, and he wouldn't have kept you by his side for ten years.

And you enjoy the feeling of being raped so much, doesn't that have anything to do with him?"

"I don't know!" I muttered, biting my pillow. "Sleeping with him is one thing, hating him is another.

I also hate this place, hate everyone here, men and women, they're all so annoying..."

He laughed: "Including me?"

I said: "I hate those people who pay money to treat women like playthings.

But I didn't treat you like a plaything." He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I like sleeping with you, I like

being with you, that has nothing to do with this place." To be honest, he was a very capable person—the law

explicitly prohibits prostitution, but do you know why this place is becoming more and more prosperous? Because those who make the laws

all have private rooms here. Do you know how much tax this store pays to the government every year? Do you know how much money he

spends ? They're reluctant to shut it down. Besides this store, he's involved in

real estate, stocks, hotels, supermarkets, telecommunications, oil… To shut down this store would mean

shutting down all the territory he's involved in, but do you know how many high-ranking figures' interests would be affected?

I don't know! I said coldly. I only know he bribes, smuggles, traffics people, colludes with a bunch of

men , makes a fortune, and then plays around with women, and I hate all that!

He laughed: I told you, it's not just the body that gets raped—even if you hate it, you have to

accept it . If I really fight him, maybe I have a better chance of winning, but more likely it will be a lose-lose situation,

and then someone else will profit.

So… I turned my head and looked at him gently. We won't be together.

A month later, I met up with the man in the VIP room again. He asked me to go to his mansion in the suburbs. A car

was driving out. I glanced at the license plate and knew he had just met with an important person. He greeted me at the door,

beaming.

"You don't look well," he said. "What's wrong? Were you tired on the way?"

I smiled. "I am a little tired, but I'm very happy. When are you getting married?" "

Not yet," he said, "We're preparing for the engagement ceremony."

He led me into the room, this time with servants bringing drinks.

I cut to the chase and told him: "I'm pregnant."

He jumped up: "What!" He rushed over and grabbed my shoulders, staring intently into my eyes, his gaze a mixture of shock and joy

: "It's mine? Is it mine?"

"Maybe," I said. "Last time we met, I chose the exact date because I wanted a child too.

I haven't slept with anyone since that day. Now it's confirmed, I'm really pregnant!"

He stared at me, dumbfounded: "You're something else!" "Yes! I'll cancel the engagement right away, and then we'll get married. It'll probably take

several months , but it should be done before the baby is born.

" "I didn't plan to marry you," I said. "I only came to tell you because the child might be yours."

That day, I did it with him first, then with you—whoever has the final say on whose child it is depends on who's more assertive.

But if the child is mine, can I just let it go? He gripped my hand tightly, refusing to let go even for a second.

But you already refused last time! I said, you can't meet the conditions I set for us to be together. You

said neither of us can truly live as we please. I don't want to force you into a bitter struggle for

someone else's benefit —I like you very much. I'm happy about this fleeting affair between us, and I only hope this

little bit of fate can lead to a good outcome. Since I'm going to be raped anyway, and I can't resist, why not enjoy it a little?

You're getting revenge on me! He cupped my face and said softly, "You're getting revenge on me!"

I didn't. I smiled, "I'm just a woman, like you said, I'm just

enjoying my limited freedom after being raped by you men!"

He stared at me blankly, finally letting go: "I regret not agreeing to you that day—but now it

's impossible to hold onto you anymore. But you have to promise me, if the child is mine, you must, you absolutely must tell me

!" I will take responsibility.

I smiled again. The child is not his, nor anyone else's; the child is mine. I

will never hand the child over to him.

Leaving the man in the VIP room, I returned to my own room. It was daytime, and the shop was relatively quiet.

To my surprise, the genius was there too, and he was alone; there were no other women.

He sat quietly in front of the television. On the screen was a girl, limp and lifeless

, with an expression of pure despair—the kind of expression a virgin would have when pleading with her abuser but still being violated. But she

didn't plead; she couldn't speak. The camera focused on her eyes, dazed and pained, then on her developing

breasts, a beautiful shape, lovely nipples; with careful nurturing, they would one day become a pair of full, round

, irresistible breasts. Then came her waist, her flat stomach with a long, round navel, a patch of fluffy, curly pubic

hair, and finally her vulva, where a penis was frantically thrusting in and out, bringing with it a mixture of blood and foamy

vaginal fluid. A man bent down and kissed her lips, biting her nipple, then pressed himself against her, thrusting and ejaculating.

Then the man's fingers pried open her lower body; the camera showed her ravaged vulva, his fingers inside,

coming out smeared with blood, vaginal fluid, and semen—a complete mess.

A scene I recognized; it was me ten years ago, and my genius. He rewound with the remote, then

redialed .

"I really want to rape you again…" he whispered. "

Why not?" I calmly retorted.

He smiled: "Where have you been? I haven't been able to find you for another month." "

I'm pregnant." I said, "I'm going to have the baby, so I won't sleep with you anymore. There are plenty of

women ; you won't be lonely.

" He turned sharply: "Is the child mine?" "

I don't know." I said, "That day I slept with you, and I slept with another man. Whose is it?

It depends on who's stronger."

He smiled strangely: "The child must be mine. Must… because I won't have any more children."

"What?" I looked at him in shock. "What did you say?"

He pulled my hand to his crotch: "Here, I can't take it anymore—I don't know why, that day I

saw you go to the ninth floor, saw you go into another man's room, and once it was confirmed that you had indeed

slept I couldn't take it anymore. This is probably God punishing me, I've slept with too many women,

I've slept with every woman I could in my lifetime, so now I can't… That day I originally wanted to discuss marriage with you…

…Ten years, we've been together for ten years, why not stay together forever? But now it's not

possible …"

I knelt in front of him and unbuttoned his pants. Yes, his penis was limp, facing my face,

drooping dejectedly . I opened my mouth and took that small piece of flesh into my mouth. He never gave me oral sex, nor breast sex or

anal sex. He said he would do those things with other women, he only did it with me, because he said I should be

different from those women. Those women fawned over him, but I was raped by him.

He let out a soft "ah," but it wasn't erect, still just a soft, cool little piece of flesh, a dead little

beast. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. "

We're getting married," I whispered. "That's good, then you won't go after other women."

He chuckled softly: "How can I marry you looking like this—why did you sleep with other men?

Why did you rape her?" I asked. "You always say you've only ever raped me, but

you raped that other girl too, didn't you?"

He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise, then burst into laughter: "So you were jealous! You were actually jealous of me

! All these years you've hated me with a vengeance, and now you're jealous of me! Just because I slept with her

?" "Yes, I slept with her! Because I thought she looked a bit like you, that's why I was interested in her! Didn't you

ever notice that I only get really emotional when I'm with you? Why do I want

more and more women in the room when you're not around? Because my interest in them is waning, and I need increasingly stronger

stimulation to do it. Only with you can I get normally aroused, which is why I haven't wanted to let you go for the past ten years!"

"I've only ever raped you in my life, because only with you did I feel such an urgency to get my hands on you. I

was afraid someone else would snatch you away… Now it's all right, I can't touch you anymore… You can leave me now.

The man you found is quite good, go to him…

Let's get married!" I shouted, "I'm still yours, you're just too tired, you'll definitely be able to…

But you have to let that girl go. If the child is yours, consider it a good deed for him!"

He nodded wearily: "That girl… her family owed high-interest loans, she was being chased, and had no choice but to

come to me. I settled her affairs, and she stayed here to earn money for me. Her first time was with

me. When I put her on the bed, she didn't want to, but she didn't dare resist me, she was like that…

But it was also meaningless, she didn't dare to hate me like you do, no matter how I tortured her, she wasn't like you, so

I didn't like her at all…"

He picked up the phone and gave a few instructions. A little while later, the girl arrived, wearing shackles, trembling with fear.

He waved his hand: "Your older sister pleaded for you, so you don't need to come anymore."

The girl looked at him in surprise, then at me. I said: "Go, and never come back."

The girl lowered her head and whispered: "Thank you, older sister..." Then she looked at him and said: "Thank you, boss."

She left. We stared at each other blankly for a moment. I asked: "When do you want to get married?"

He said: "Think about it some more."

I said: "I've made up my mind, I don't need to think about it anymore."

He touched my face: "Then you decide. I'll listen to you on this. And don't worry, no matter whose child it is

, I'll treat it well." "No matter whose child it is—" I said, "I must have a boy, I won't let it be raped

like I was . "

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A fleeting romance

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