[A married woman's confession]

I'm 1.67 meters tall and weighed 50 kilograms the year I got married. But to satisfy his

vanity, my husband always tells others I'm 1.70 meters tall. It's clear I'm not a truly skinny girl, but

I've always been quite confident in my figure. Four years ago, I would always scrutinize my slender, fair waist in the mirror while showering

. Conversely, my breasts were always small and pointed, with nipples that

were always soft like peach buds. Even during orgasm, they were like that.

My husband is strangely obsessed with my ankles, saying they're as thin as deer's and he

can —of course, that's just a lie. During sex, instead of holding my thighs, he bends my long legs back

and holds my ankles. K City is a mild city. In summer, I like to wear floral maxi dresses, but to appease

my husband's taste, I always go barefoot in thin-strapped sandals with clear nail polish. After we got married, I

constantly picked fights with him, but when I was alone, I would silently look at my shapely, snow-white insteps and

fantasize about Xiao Tao's large hands touching them, feeling the warm, honey-like moisture seeping through the silk

lace .

I studied agriculture and forestry and went to work at a tropical plant research institute after graduation. I wasn't a good employee;

I didn't do much all day, and of course, there wasn't much for us to do there. My family background allowed me a

relatively comfortable life; at least I didn't have to worry about making ends meet—that was an unspoken fact. In our circle, the fact

that I didn't get involved with lounge owners or smuggled car dealers was enough to make my father

proud .

I drove a Japanese car that a friend had lent my husband to work every day. The

night my current owner made his move, I was on the ring road, with few cars around. An Audi cut into my lane, and a few minutes later it

suddenly slowed down. I instinctively slammed on the brakes, and a Mitsubishi Jeep behind me bumped into the back of my car, not too hard.

All three cars came to a stop. If I were a well-trained police officer, I might have realized that the car in front

shouldn't stopped. The middle-aged man who got out from behind, who had been stern-faced, smiled sweetly at the sight of a pretty young woman

. Phila played it all very convincingly; he was an important cadre of my master, a man from T Island. Later, he

had tormented me quite perversely for a week straight.

He said, "Excuse me, miss, I'm willing to pay for the repairs." The people in the Audi walked up behind me

, chatting and laughing, but I didn't pay any attention. Then I felt a light prick on my buttocks, and before I could even feel a little

strange, I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was lying on the concrete floor with my hands behind my back. Looking at my bare chest and the

dark pubic hair peeking out from the edge of my smooth abdomen, I almost thought I was having that kind of erotic dream again. But

compared the men next to me seemed too real; they were staring at my body with undisguised interest.

My face flushed; this was truly the first time since I became an adult that I had been naked in front of a man other than my husband.

I twisted my body on the ground, my wrists tightly handcuffed behind my back. I noticed my feet were also locked together with a

gleaming silver shackle. I started thinking about the car accident, followed by

news reports of carjackings, rapes, and murders. I figured this was going to be my turn; I'd most likely be raped, and in this state, I'd probably

die .

My heart was pounding, and I was sweating profusely. But I managed to control myself. With the composure

a young woman could muster in that situation, I asked, "Who are you?"

It didn't really matter who they were; I just felt I had to say something. The old man in the middle began to speak,

telling me who he was and where I was. For the first time, I stared at

the master who .

He told me about his brother, who had been arrested in the country six months earlier, and how his brother's men had infiltrated the police.

After that, he personally returned to the country and made efforts everywhere, finally deciding to kidnap me in desperation.

He told me he would suggest to my father and husband that they ask his brother to find a way to get him released. He said that as long as

his brother could be rescued, he would never harm me. Now, he just needed my help to record a tape.

The other two men helped me up as politely as possible and unlocked the handcuffs behind my back.

The skin had been rubbed raw, and I only felt the pain when I saw the blood. They pressed my knees down, forcing me to kneel, and I

obeyed. Then someone handed me a newspaper from that day, gesturing for me to hold it to my stomach below my breasts

to show that I was indeed alive that day. The newspaper wasn't in American English; my master was always cautious.

A new man came in and recorded me with a handheld camera, making me read a short passage, the gist of which was that

I was terrified and, if my father valued my life, I should do as the kidnappers demanded. The camera circled my

naked body.

The shackles on my feet were also unlocked. They only brought a nightgown; nothing else. I silently

wrapped myself in it in front of the men. This was a spacious basement with exposed concrete walls.

After walking barefoot up a dozen or so steps, a beautifully designed three-story building appeared before me. The American

sunlight was intense and dazzling.

I had been held captive in a guest room on the second floor of the villa for eight days. The suite had an ensuite bathroom, and

neatly arranged . The only person I saw was the maid who brought me meals; she even changed my sheets every day.

On the ninth day at noon, they took me back to the basement. A man who seemed to be a leader ordered, "Take off

your clothes , strip naked." Later I knew he was A-Chang.

I felt the blood rush to my face, but I didn't move. A-Chang didn't say another word; he just

punched me in the stomach, and I stumbled back two steps and sat down on the ground. A-Chang stepped forward and calmly kicked my stomach, his face

expressionless, like a machine with precise rhythm.

I tried to block his kicks with my hands, but how could I possibly stop them! I couldn't take it anymore and shouted repeatedly, "I'll take them off,

I'll take them off myself, I'll strip naked." He seemed not to hear me at all, and kept hitting me until I rolled into a corner and curled up in a ball

before stopping.

I stripped off all my clothes there, my entire flat stomach now completely bruised.

"Shoes!"

I pulled off the flat cloth shoes they had given me. It turned out that the iron door to this basement led to several more

chambers, and even a girl like me could tell that the innermost room was a place for torture. In the center of the room was a

gleaming stainless steel countertop, next to which sat a small gas stove, several large buckets, and some chains.

The ropes hung down from the roof at varying heights, and numerous

iron rings . The cement floor had just been washed and was still wet, but the black, patchy marks on the walls were probably

dried blood.

I was terrified; my stomach and back, injured by A-Chang's kick, were aching terribly. When someone said "Kneel down," I

knelt without resistance. Only then did I see the gloomy old man, my master, who had been sitting in an old rattan chair at

one end . I faced him directly.

"Your father is in the hospital. Don't worry, he's faking it. He's not answering the phone or seeing guests. Your

husband has also taken a long leave; he's handed over all his cases. He's also applied for a transfer to another department. My brother

has been transferred to a different detention center; we don't even know where he's gone. The case file will be handed over to the prosecutor soon."

He said slowly, "Your father is really determined."

Girl, how many people in the past opened their eyes every morning and the first thing they thought of was how to kill us

brothers , but in the end, it wasn't us who died. We've just built up a little foundation—this time, my brother is really

going to die. My master paused for a moment. Ah Chang, come on.

They easily pulled me up, but they ordered me like cats playing with mice, "Stand up and

lie !"

I was a young girl, completely naked, surrounded by five or six fierce-looking men.

What could I do? Perhaps I could only cry out loud. I bit my lip and forced myself to climb

onto the platform, trying not to make eye contact with the people around me. The steel surface was cold and piercing.

Later, my master told me that he did admire my composure that day. "There were so many

women and they didn't even touch her, yet they made such a racket, like killing chickens and ducks."

They spread my hands and feet wide and strapped them to the edge of the platform, and everyone started taking off their clothes. I

turned my head to one side and closed my eyes—my love!

They touched my body, my genitals, and pinched my nipples hard.

"Little bitch, your grandma is too small." A naked body pressed down on me, kissing

my lips with a heavy smell of smoke. He then thrust into my vagina without any preparation, and I struggled to twist

my hips to avoid him. His penis poked and prodded at my opening for a while before withdrawing, and laughter erupted around us.

I felt him pull open my trembling labia to test the position of my opening, and then this beast forced

several fingers together into my humiliated, tightly closed opening. He used all his strength;

only one finger went inside my vagina, while the others were stuck in my tender opening. I think he tore my

lining. I screamed in pain and rage. He actually bent

the finger , his nail digging into my flesh, and then, he pulled it out—I wasn't a sixteen or

seventeen-year-old virgin; I was married. Sex was a sweet thing for me and for the one I loved.

I wasn't just willing; I longed to spend the whole night with Xiao Tao, even on the floor.

A little seed was already growing inside me, but I never knew that sexual relations between people could be

so brutal. I dared not struggle anymore, letting him try again, waving his penis around. Finally, he

groaned, his thick organ forcefully thrusting to the very end of me. I only felt pain.

He moved and moved, groaning uglyly. When he stopped, I could feel his burning flesh trembling slightly.

"Ouch, ouch, it's coming out, it's coming out!" he cried, louder than my painful sobs.

"Damn it, you stink like a piece of wood," he cursed as he moved aside.

The second, the third. By the fourth or fifth time, the man below was clumsily trying for a long time.

"Little Xu, your mother didn't teach you how to do this, did she?"

"This one isn't as big as your mother's, haven't found the hole yet?"

"Shoot it into the whore's belly button."

Many voices laughed lewdly. I slightly opened my eyes. The one hunched over on top of me was a boy who looked no more than

fifteen years old, his round, childlike face flushed red, his small chest covered in sweat. My heart

skipped a beat, and I knew things were bad.

This little guy knew nothing; his third thrust was only halfway done before he completely messed up. He still thought

all women were like this. Those despicable old men noticed immediately.

"Here it comes, little slut, you're in heat!" "Really, your little thing's all perked up." "I never would have guessed,

this gentle young lady's clitoris's sticking up like a little cock!"

"Her ass's turned up like a monkey's!"

I easily slid the next penis inside, then wrapped it tightly around me, thrusting hard,

thrusting, and thrusting again, I just couldn't stop! I trembled and cried out with the man on top of me,

I knew my lower body was undulating like waves in this beast. My Tao Tao—do you know

what kind of suffering your wife, who never provokes anyone, is enduring?

How can a woman feel such pain, such shame, and at the same time crave their flesh so much—

When this man ejaculated, I was like a madman, my betraying body taking only a dozen seconds to bring down the

next one, and then I lost most of my senses. But I knew they kept climbing up.

I opened my eyes, shivering, a large splash of icy water bursting on my face. My trachea

was sore and painful, full of water, I couldn't breathe. Later, someone said, "That's enough selling, get down."

I stared at this person, blankly pondering the meaning of his words for a long time. I wasn't intentionally

disobeying him; I just couldn't react at all. I watched as the belt in his hand swept across my breast

, and I saw a bright red gash appear on my white flesh, but it felt like just a bump,

not very painful. I wasn't particularly scared either.

I let them lift me up and put me on the ground; it turned out that the restraints on my hands and feet had been removed. I knelt

limply on the concrete floor, and they grabbed my hair and pulled my upper body straight up. Only then did I

see the filthy semen dripping from the inside of my thighs, some dried and some still slowly flowing, mottled and

adhered to the dirt, and a streak of blood branching into several forks on my calf, the ends dissolving into the mucus and turning into

blood streaks. There was a torn opening on one side of my labia majora, from which the soft, grayish-white fluid continued to flow.

The ground slid down from the gaping hole I could no longer close, landing with a "thud," leaving a few shimmering strands of hair draped

among my pubic hair.

My master stared at my face; I think he must have seen something that pleased him: disheveled black hair,

dirty sweat and tear stains, and my bitter, resolute eyes. My mind was distant and numb then, and he

uttered a judgment that still chills me to the bone when I think back on it: "You will be fucked like this by my men every day

until you can't do it anymore, then you will die."

"Unless my brother is released, and he chants Buddhist prayers a few times a day," my

master said, picking up his teacup and standing up from his chair before leaving. After a moment of silence, A-Chang lifted

my chin and asked, "There are still about ten brothers on shifts up there. Has your policeman husband fucked your little asshole?"

I wasn't finally alone until the next morning. Before leaving, they handcuffed my hands again and

nailed a long chain of iron bars to my feet, the links thicker than my index finger.

I lay on the cold ground, eyes wide open, mind blank, not thinking of anything, and didn't move an inch all

morning . A large puddle of sticky liquid slowly seeped from under my buttocks, and I felt

blood flowing at the same time. My lower abdomen felt like it was stuffed with a sack of wood chips, bloated, heavy, and numb; even if I wanted to move,

I couldn't muster any strength. But I didn't feel much pain in either the front or the back.

No, my husband had never done this. That night, many people probably spread my buttocks and ejaculated inside my

large intestine, but I had no memory of what should have been a very painful first time. My consciousness never fully returned after the climax of passion

that day .

After I finished writing the above sentence, the master coughed, signaling me to stop. As before,

he watched me intently as I organized paragraph after paragraph of text.

This was a new game he devised to humiliate me, forcing me to write my own tragic story. I probably

started in December, but now they tell me it's 2001.

The previous long day ended late at night: everyone was relentlessly torturing my swollen

vulva, which A-Chang had beaten. Finally, they dragged me into the innermost iron door of the basement, a space of about twenty square meters

used by the owner to imprison people he disliked. Half of the room was divided into small cells like a cage, and the other

half had five or six square iron covers on the floor.

Xiao Xu lifted one of them, revealing a square cement pit, only about sixty centimeters long and wide,

and slightly deeper, perhaps eighty centimeters. There was a covered drain at the bottom. I

knew this pit well; I had spent a quarter of the past four years in it.

Xiao Xu was now a handsome nineteen-year-old. I think he often realized that my body was his

first, which sometimes made him even crueler to me than A-Chang. He maliciously called me "Naked Butt Sister."

"Naked Sister," he said with a grin, "you'll be staying in there for a while. Put this

in there; it'll be your only comfort."

This scoundrel even brought down that "wooden husband." I took it, bent my knees slightly, and

inserted the wooden stick into my body. My vagina was throbbing, but it was still moist, so it went in relatively easily.

He was going to handcuff my hands behind my back.

There were two ways to stay inside: one was to sit all the way down, bending your legs and squeezing them against your chest; the other was to kneel first

and then sit on your heels. Either way, when the iron lid came down, you had to lower your head.

From the side, you could imagine yourself as an "h" or "z" shape, except the top half of the vertical stroke of the "h" was

folded over. Then came complete darkness. Your limbs had virtually no room to move; you had to

remain in the same position until the next time someone opened the lid.

It was completely dark and silent, with a rubber mat around the edge of the lid. Ventilation was only possible through the gaps in the drainpipe, and it

was incredibly difficult to breathe. Combined with the hot climate of the US, it was unbearable. They would

open the lid once a day to give me some water, and if they wanted, maybe feed me a few bites of food.

Without this, I would die. However, not cleaning the pit wouldn't kill me; during long-term imprisonment,

I might only be washed once a month, which also served as a bath. You can imagine what it was like inside

the pit .

They only dragged me out last night; my entire body was numb and completely devoid of feeling.

To make sure you can read this part today, the master had his two maids soak me in warm water in the bathtub all

night, and then he diligently massaged my entire body, finally loosening my joints a little.

And this was only a little over a month. One summer, I was imprisoned in this pit for six months straight, only released when

someone wanted to use my body for pleasure, and of course, they had to scrub me clean first.

In that situation, I quickly lost my sense of time. I had no idea whether

a year or a day had passed in complete darkness. The only remaining hope was that a man would think of having sex with me, allowing me to

stretch my limbs and breathe some fresh air.

My master said, "You don't even remember the first time your shriveled, walnut-like little ass bled?

Ah Chang . Use that a few times, and think about it yourself."

Today, Xiao Xu replaced Ah Chang and stayed by my master's side. From the beginning, he made me insert that stick

into my vagina. Whenever I wrote about being raped, they would say, "Stop and poke it a few times; that'll

make it more interesting to write."

I struggled to stand up, holding onto the table. Sitting was strictly forbidden in public; I could only

kneel with both knees on the ground. After all these years, the calluses on my knees had become as thick as the soles of my feet. Today, my master made a special exception

and allowed me to sit on his chair and use his large table, because I was too weak to kneel steadily anymore.

I lay on the ground with my buttocks raised high, twisting my body as I inserted the stick into my anus and began manipulating it. Then,

I mumbled like a mantra, "Ouch—ah—so hard—so fierce—the female slave

can't take it anymore—my pussy is all wet—ah—ah—I can't take it—please."

I'd performed this trick for them countless times, but they still watched with great interest.

Men are so boring in places like this. I kept thrusting until the master was satisfied. "Alright, let's go back to the beginning and continue writing."

Going back to the beginning. After being gang-raped for a day and a night, I lay in the basement until the afternoon, then was dragged out of the villa

's yard and made to walk naked, chained, to the soldiers' camp at the foot of the hill in broad daylight. In just

those few hundred meters, the iron rings of the shackles chafed my

delicate were riddled with splinters and pebbles.

I spent the night there, and was taken back to the villa in the morning. This continued every day until the tenth day. My

master placed some restrictions on his soldiers, arranging for about twenty men each night, twenty minutes each,

meaning a group of over fifty men could take turns on me four times over those days. During the day, the villa's bodyguards did

as they pleased.

By about the third day, I was completely indifferent to the endless thrusting of their penises. I lay on

the bed or the floor, almost instinctively spreading my legs, watching them climb up and

slide down one by one with boredom. Anyone wanting anal sex would pat my buttocks and make a gesture, and I'd roll over and assume the perfect position; for

oral sex, I'd climb on top and take them into my mouth. Sexual desire and orgasm were, of course, out of the question; the sensation

was probably comparable to daily bowel movements.

Turning a woman into a prostitute is incredibly easy. No matter how sensitive and shy she

once or how well-educated she was, for a woman,

after having sex with twenty different men twenty times, adding one more or a thousand wouldn't make much difference.

In a few days, even becoming a prostitute would be difficult. My vagina and anus had been rubbed too many times by men; first they

became red, swollen, and congested, then completely ulcerated. A man's penis would pierce in like a red-hot iron bar, then be

pulled out, dragging my flesh and blood along with it. After just a few thrusts, I'd faint from the pain, and he'd continue, forcefully, until the

pain woke me up. Fortunately, most men, seeing the blood, would let me suck it out,

but there were always a few who simply enjoyed doing it in the blood. I don't remember if it was the ninth or tenth day, but

the master announced to the soldiers in the camp that he would reward anyone still willing to use my vagina and anus. That day, I

cried until my voice was completely hoarse, and I couldn't make a sound for five or six days.

During those days, I probably did everything a woman could do for a man. The strangest way was something I

had never heard of, never done, and never even imagined was possible. Someone actually thought of and

actually did ejaculate inside my bladder. He tried very hard to insert his penis into my urethra,

tearing . I really didn't know my urethra could expand so much.

Although it hurt a lot, being penetrated in my urethra was a strange feeling, especially when he pulled out,

it was a bit like being suddenly released after a long wait.

After ten days of this, I was bleeding from both front and back, and finally I was allowed to lie quietly in the iron cage in the basement

for a few days, receiving injections of the latest generation of antibiotics every day. After that,

I never stopped taking the medication, and it continues to this day. Otherwise, if I were rolling on the ground every day with my skin and flesh torn and bleeding, I probably would have been infected

long ago , my bones rotting into a pool of pus and blood.

Ten kilometers from my master's villa, Lazhen was the administrative center of this district. A highway ran through

the town, with three brick buildings on either side. One was the district government office, another was a military barracks

where my master's other half lived, and the third, at one end of the road, was a school built with my master's money.

The rest were all ordinary houses built of bamboo and wood. Theoretically, my master should be performing

his duties here, but most of the time, Phila was here as his representative.

The two-and-a-half-ton farm truck drove for about an hour on the mountain road, until it reached an open space on one side of the town

. This place always attracted many villagers from various villages who came to do small business; it was a spontaneously formed market.

The bodyguards, dressed in local ethnic clothing, pushed me, naked, directly to the ground. After resting for a few days,

my body recovered somewhat. My hands were cuffed behind my back, and a large wooden sign hung around my neck that read

: "I am a female Wagong, I am a bitch." The Wagong were

an armed political force from a region slightly west of here. Defeated by government forces a few years ago, they had changed their name to the Wa Ethnic

Self-Defense Army .

The Wa Ethnic Self-Defense Army had a bad reputation locally, with frequent rumors of robbery and murder. Someone

shouted to the crowd, "We're from Moyan Village. This woman is the mistress of the commander of the Wagong Third Detachment.

We've captured her. We've brought her to the district to make her suffer and let everyone vent their anger."

They made me stand against a tree trunk, binding me tightly with rope. To torture a woman, pricking her

breasts was inevitable, and they didn't need anything thick or hard. A girl's nipples were too sensitive and delicate;

they had already prepared thin steel wire. I can never describe

the agony of having such fine thorns pierce the soft, moist nipples of a young girl, like tiny plants . It wasn't just the surface of my skin and flesh that was stimulated;

it was so fine, so resilient, able to slide along a woman's lactiferous ducts all the way to the center of her breast, deep into the

tightly packed glandular cavities, and then even just a gentle turn, a light poke—if you're not a woman,

you can't imagine the torment one suffers. I can't even say whether it was pain, itching, or a

burning sensation; I only felt my very being, deep inside, convulsing and twisting, unable to utter a sound.

"Please, please—" I pleaded breathlessly, "Fuck me, don't prick me anymore

—I'll do anything you want! No, I can't take it!"

They liked this, pulling the wire out and putting it back in, pulling it out again, piercing it again,

endlessly . The delicate muscles on my chest writhed like tiny worms. First came tears, then

cold sweat. Saliva clung to my lips, urine streamed from my legs, and even my vagina convulsed, secreting

a sticky fluid.

At that moment, I would have done anything, truly, anything. But no one wanted me to do

anything ; they just wanted me to suffer.

A large circle of people stood around, like they were watching a circus performance. My head hung low on my chest, my

eyes closed. "When will all this end?" Opening my eyes, I saw my small breasts, tightly

gripped by , trembling beneath the wire.

"Stop, dear brother, dear uncle, oh, stop for a moment!"

They stopped. "Little bitch, wanna try something different?" I just wanted to catch my breath, so I

nodded .

The new trick was bamboo skewers. Someone had already shaved a bunch, about two inches long. They lifted my breasts with their palms and

forcefully stabbed them into my areolas, leaving only a small tail sticking out. They took another skewer, turned it slightly, and stabbed it

in again. Four or five skewers surrounded my nipples. This was just the beginning. I watched helplessly as

the small skewers circled and filled both of my breasts. They now looked like a pair of bloody

little hedgehogs , so pitiful.

They untied me, and I sat under a big tree, dazed, feeling nauseous. A-Chang held one of my hands and looked at it. "Such

neat and tidy hands, you've read so many books, but you've never dug cassava before, have you?"

My nails were carefully trimmed, very sharp, and hadn't been ruined by them in the past ten days. The pliers could

grip them very firmly. He bound my slender, white hands tightly to the tree trunk, starting with my right

middle finger. Achang gripped the pliers and pulled hard, and I saw my fingernail detach from the flesh at its base,

revealing a half-circle of blood.

Achang shook the pliers, then pushed them back, and I screamed. He pulled again, and

only bleeding flesh remained at the tip of my finger, along with a piece of skin torn away.

Achang showed me the fingernail, still attached to the blood vessels and flesh, threw it away, and then clamped down on my index finger. He didn't spare a single

finger . Then he told me, "Just wait, bitch, this afternoon it'll be your hind paws' turn."

At noon, I was forced to kneel alone under the blazing sun, my hands cuffed in front of me, blood dripping from the tips of my ten fingers, my breasts,

studded with bamboo skewers, resembling two small hills planted with saplings. Two naked local

boys ran up to me, staring curiously at my chest. One of them touched the bamboo skewer stuck in the center of my

nipple and asked in Mandarin, "Doesn't it hurt?"

The bodyguards rested and ate under the shade of a tree, leisurely preparing for another round in the afternoon. Following Achang's

orders, I sat on the ground with my legs stretched out and my hands tied behind my back. The townspeople, who had nothing else to do,

gathered . Toenails are hard to pry open, but that's no problem for Bamo. He simply used an ordinary fruit knife

to pry open my toenail, and then easily pulled it off with pliers. He pulled one off, and I

cried out,

This time he left my two big toes. He rummaged on the ground for a while, looking for two

bamboo skewers first forcefully inserted them into my toenail, then casually used the pliers in his hand to drive them in one by one.

My heart pounded in my throat with each thrust. I couldn't help but open my mouth, and what came out was bitter, acidic water from my stomach.

Now, chatting and laughing, they casually looped a thick wire

around the base of my big toe, where the bamboo skewer had just been inserted, and tightened the joint with pliers. It was already very tight, but they kept twisting it round and round until the wire

was completely embedded deep in my flesh, and then they went to tie it to the other big toe. In the intervals between my cries of pain, I

heard a cracking sound in my toes; I didn't know if it was the bamboo nail or my bone that was breaking.

The loose wire joint was wrapped with the hemp rope and used to pull me up the tree, one foot hanging on

a branch on one side, and the other on the other. Until the top of my head was off the ground.

The two toes that bore my entire weight felt like they were broken; my face was flushed

red , but my whole body was chilled, and sweat poured into my nostrils and eyes like a stream. Someone

was roughly rubbing my exposed genitals with their rough hands. Their sharp nails

began by scratching between the plump flesh of my thighs, then moved down to the labia majora. The sensation of being caressed while hanging upside down sent

shivers down my spine. They laughed, then a belt snapped across my genitals. "Oh

my god!" I screamed, my body twisting involuntarily. "My feet, ouch—my feet!"

I cried out a second time.

They paused, letting me fully experience the pain throughout my body, and then, just as I calmed down a little,

they . A dull, throbbing pain, driving me mad, made me scream again. They continued to beat me

until I had no strength left to scream. Incontinent urine overflowed and flowed into my mouth, while my stomach acid and

saliva soaked the tips of my hair.

When I woke up, I was lying on the ground. I was horrified to see that my big toes had been

stretched halfway, and I felt my vulva had been split in two. It wasn't dark yet, and my suffering

wasn't over. The bodyguards laughed triumphantly, telling me the next time would be even worse, but I

no longer had the strength to be afraid.

This time, my two big toes were twisted together with wire, and I was hung upside down again.

My head, hanging limply downwards, was half a meter off the ground, and my chest was less than a meter off. Achang's leg struck one of my breasts squarely

. My whole body swayed backwards, slamming heavily against a tree trunk. At the same time, I arched my back with

astonishing strength: my breasts! My soft breasts, pierced by a thousand arrows!

My body swayed back towards Achang, who then kicked my other breast. I spent that

night in Lazhen's military camp. Everything else paled in comparison. The most miserable time was when the soldiers

grabbed me by the neck, forced me down onto the edge of the bed, and raped my anus. My breasts, already oozing

juice like rotten fruit, were squeezed flat in the middle, and I could feel a dozen bamboo tips writhing inside.

I was kept in Lazhen for four days. Every morning, they took me naked to the market and

tortured for four days. On the second day, they whipped my entire body with bamboo strips, piercing my flesh with broken bamboo

slivers. On the third day, they pressed red-hot iron bars into each of the wounds caused by the bamboo whippings, claiming it was to stop the bleeding.

By that night, I had become a bloody, mangled mess, and no man would touch me anymore.

So they dragged me to my knees, tied me tightly against a tree trunk, and spread my legs apart on either side of the tree. A small

stool , with an alcohol lamp on it, the flame of which licked my vulva.

Oil droplets sizzled and dripped from my labia majora as they were roasted, and

sweat poured down my forehead. They roasted me until midnight, then turned me around in the second half of the night. Thankfully, by then my

vulva was only numb and not painful. This time, they made me kneel down, hugging a tree, with my buttocks exposed. After adjusting

for a while , they placed the alcohol lamp just high enough to burn my anus.

On the fourth day, Achang only needed a wire brush. He gripped it and scrubbed heavily 　　from my torn chest down to my thighs. In just one stroke, the gleaming bristles were covered with strands of broken tendons and bits of flesh.

Then, Bamo, guarding a wine jar, poured locally brewed liquor over me. I screamed and writhed in pain

, and none of them could hold me down. Eventually, they drove four wooden stakes into the mud and bound my

limbs to them. They could then easily pierce every wound with sharp wire and soak

my rotting flesh in the liquor.

All I can remember about the following days is the endless, maddening pain. And

then, one night, I suddenly awoke from my stupor for a few minutes and saw a very bright

star in the sky. I wondered why, but the events of the past few days must have been recorded by our master. If Dai Tao

saw it, I wondered how heartbroken he would be. "I'm sorry, Xiao Tao," I thought, and then I drifted into a hazy, confused state

.

In the videos my master later showed me, my eyes were always tightly closed. Whenever the branding iron burned my flesh

or liquor was poured on me, I writhed like a caterpillar, making muffled "

woo-woo" sounds.

When I regained my memory, I was lying in a guest room of my master's villa. My master had his doctor, Dr. Huang,

treat my wounds very carefully. He used the best burn ointment to barely save my labia majora. When my master came to see me,

I struggled to my feet and knelt naked on the floor in front of the bed.

"Take good care of yourself, A-Qing," my master said kindly. "In ten days or half a month,

when you can walk again A-Chang will accompany you to visit a few villages outside. Lazhen alone isn't enough."

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