Young woman prey

"Caroline, now you understand, I need help."

O'Lingya returned to her chair, took a sip of juice, and then stared blankly at
the world outside in the sunset.

“This all sounds too mysterious, Oulinga. Why don’t you tell me what it’s all for?”

“I wish I could tell you, Caroline; but believe me, you’re
safer not to know.”

“Now, let’s get straight to the point. You want me to play a role in your erotic
performance , and then you want me to record your performance? Do I have that right?”

“Yes, more or less, you do.”

“Oh, you’re really bold, Oulinga. I thought you were talking about your single life. I told you that
massage method would be unforgettable, didn’t I? Sometimes, I really don’t understand you. Well then, I’ll
call my friend Ryan right away. He’s a regular at nightclubs, but I can’t guarantee he knows
anyone really useful. Even if we provide you with a nightclub, what about the recording?”

“What did you say?”

“Recording, darling. Do you have a camera?”

“Of course not. I think we can rent one.” “Okay. We rent a camera, but who’s going to use it? I’d go crazy

carrying a camera around the red-light district. ” She thought for a moment, then said, “Didn’t you mention a boy … Josh Mu? Didn’t he play with cameras?” 　　“That’s worth a try,” Olga agreed. “But I don’t know how to explain it to him.” 　　Caroline laughed, downing her juice in one gulp. 　　“Ouling, you’re such a fool! Tell him it’s art! Besides, have you ever seen a man refuse to watch a sex show?” 　　That afternoon, Caroline returned to the hotel with a list of nightclubs; she had already made arrangements for the evening’s performance. The first nightclub on the list was on Pigarley Street. “How do I look?” Olga asked nervously, fiddling with her black corset 　　that accentuated her figure. 　　“Like a real slut,” Caroline replied sourly. 　　“That’s good,” O’Lingya smiled. “That’s exactly the effect I wanted.” 　　“Ryan said that place is absolutely filthy, you should know that. I just want you to be careful, that’s all,” O’Lingya listened to her instructions, then walked towards the entrance of the terrifying Wild Rose nightclub. 　　“If you’re scared, you can leave now. Everything’s fine, I’ll take care of myself.” O’Lingya gave Caroline a challenging look, trying to appear brave. Caroline shrugged and replied, “It’s okay, I ’m here now, someone will protect you.” 　　Hearing this, O’Lingya felt much more at ease. 　　They knocked on the door for a long time without any response. They were about to leave to find another nightclub when heard footsteps inside. 　　“Excuse me, who are you looking for?” 　　“Oh, sorry to bother you,” O’Lingya said, forcing a smile. “We’re here for a job interview.” 　　“A job interview? We don’t hire here.” 　　“That’s strange,” Caroline interrupted their conversation. “My friend, Mr. Bluson, said your show tomorrow night needs some excellent girls. My friend is especially experienced in your line of work.” 　　“I understand,” he paused for a moment, then said, “Well, you’d better come in, but I ’m not sure our manager will see you. Our manager, Mr. Guberg, is a very important person.” 　　After passing through several doors, they were led into the nightclub by a burly boxer. 　　As they passed a row of pink satin chairs and several medieval tables, Caroline felt the nightclub’s decor was rather unrefined, like the boudoir of a 19th-century flamboyant woman. A giant plaster parrot lay on the ceiling , chained with gold, with a small swing around it, like a trapeze artist from a medieval circus. 　　The walls were covered with a layer of bright red silk, and hanging from it were portraits , shyly displaying their nudity to this indifferent world. 　　“Oliver is right,” O’Lingya exclaimed, marveling at this luxurious and fantastical “fairyland.” “It ’s a perfect place for frivolous entertainment.” 　　At the far end of the hall was a raised stage, with a long aisle extending ten to fifteen yards into the audience. Caroline nudged O’Lingya with her elbow and said excitedly, “Walk over there confidently, darling, they’ll only be able to see your upper body.” 　　O’Lingya giggled. 　　“Who cares what I’m wearing on my upper body?” 　　They arrived at a pink, sequined door. The burly waiter wiped his hands on the door before raising his hand to knock. He seemed a little timid, quite disproportionate to his size . 　　A soft murmur came from inside; clearly, the nightclub owner was displeased to be disturbed. 　　"What time is it, Alf? I told you I'm busy." 　　"Mr. Guberg," the boxer replied, "I've brought two very charming young ladies who say they'd like to participate in tomorrow night's performance." 　　"Tell them I don't need any more girls." 　　"But sir, they say they're very experienced." 　　After a long silence, the door opened, and a fat, bald man stood in the doorway, fastening his belt . O'Linga's gaze swept over his shoulder into his dimly lit office, where she immediately spotted a blonde, blue-eyed woman in fishnet stockings, shamelessly removing her skirt. 　　O'Linga gave the nightclub owner a seductive smile and said ingratiatingly, "We've been to many places, and everyone says Wild Rose Nightclub has the real deal on erotic performances." 　　The nightclub owner looked her up and down with interest. At that moment, the blonde, blue-eyed woman stood behind him, chewing gum and deliberately watching the two uninvited guests. Mr. Guberg touched his bald head and asked, "Are you English?"

“Yes, we’re both English,” Caroline hurriedly answered, pushing Ollina in
front of him. “Actually, it’s my friend who wants to apply; she’s more experienced in this kind of thing than anyone else.”

Ollina thought to herself, “You’re lying again.”

Caroline flashed Mr. Guberg a lightning-fast smile that could melt even the hardest rock.
She continued, “It’s absolutely right to have her on your show. At a Swedish nightclub, they call her
‘The English Rose.’”

At this point, the blonde woman maliciously retorted, “English women are cold.”
Ollina saw her blood-red lips and the yellow teeth within. The woman continued, “Guberg,
everyone knows that. You don’t want to hire a snobbish English woman who looks like she has no good intentions.”

“Shut up, Ingrid!” Guberg roared at her,
weighing . "So you'd call them a pair of snobbish, bad women, but they're beautiful and modern. Maybe those
gamblers just like to spend a little money to enjoy their looks. Besides, they're not cold-hearted; can you tell they're not
exactly docile, ladies?" He took the opportunity to pat Caroline on the back.

"I told you, only my friend applied," Caroline interrupted him uneasily.

Mr. Guberg shook his head sadly.

"Oh, what a pity! All we need is a duo. You two come together, otherwise,
we're not interested. Ladies, please."

Caroline and Ollinga exchanged glances.

"There's no other way," Caroline said.

“Just say yes, Caroline, for my sake.”

“Mmm.”

“You’ll like it.”

“If it were the Apollo nightclub on Hessman Boulevard, maybe I’d like it. But a
sleazy place like this, I’ll never like.”

“Maybe I should
tell .”

Caroline said helplessly, “Alright then, Ollinga. But you have to promise me you’ll never mention
it again.”

Ollinga smiled sweetly at Mr. Guberg, then gently pressed her fingertips to his lips. Standing
behind him, Ingrid glared at her jealously.

“Mr. Guberg, what would you like us to do at your show? We’ll do anything.”

Guberg turned to his blond, blue-eyed lover.

"Go and fetch Marco and Alexander. Hurry up, I haven't had a good time all day."

Ingrid reluctantly went out, and a few minutes later she returned with two muscular
young men covered in olive oil, dressed only in tight sportswear, their bodies glistening with
fine beads of sweat, perhaps from training.

Mr. Guberg instructed them, "Here are two 'English Roses,' take them and do with them as
you please ." He pulled over two chairs, sat down, and casually pulled Ingrid onto his
lap, his other hand already reaching for Ingrid's red polka dress. "They're here for tomorrow night
's performance. I want to see something truly captivating."

Olga didn't need to be told; these two young men were enough to arouse any woman's desire.
They were tall and strong, their skin a natural sun-tanned brown—so alluring! Her hand eagerly
slid over Alexander's body, feeling his smoothness, firmness, and elasticity. Her lips roamed over his
body , her tongue licking the salty sweat from his skin. A deep, urgent desire surged within her,
and she couldn't help but kneel down, kissing his crotch, clad in shorts. She could feel his excitement.

Behind her, she faintly heard Caroline's moans; perhaps Marco had aroused her in some mysterious
way , but Ollinga didn't care. She only cared about her and Alexander's pleasure.

Alexander remained motionless, like a statue, only the hard, erect penis between her lips telling her
he was filled with lust.

Ollinga was determined to conquer this outwardly aloof man. She unbuttoned his athletic shorts and pulled them
down. His penis stood erect, but she didn't immediately put it in her mouth. To his surprise
, she stood up instead and began slowly undressing in front of him. Finally, she was left only with
a bra , stockings, and garter belt. She knelt before him again, gently stroking his erect penis as if
handling a wounded bird. She kissed it sweetly again, then pressed her breasts tightly against his lower body, his
scrotum nestled against her cleavage. He finally moved, his first sign of pleasure.

Meanwhile, Marco and Caroline were also enjoying themselves...

Ollinga had conquered the aloof Alexander, and she was delighted. Her breasts continued to rub against him, and
when she sensed he was about to ejaculate, she pulled away, a long stream of hot, white semen
shooting onto the nightclub floor.

Mr. Guberg, sitting on a circular bench, witnessed their spectacular performance and applauded enthusiastically,
congratulating them: "Wonderful, ladies. No one has ever seduced my
Alexander . And your performance was so vivid, so exciting! Fantastic!"

Ingrid pouted unhappily, dodging Guberg's kiss.

“Guberg, I think they’re pretty useless, really ordinary.”

“What a pity! Ingrid, because I’m planning to hire both of them. So you’d better make do.”

Ingrid gave him a sly, smug smile.

“Well then, Guberg, you’d better make do too. If you hire these two English girls, I
’m going to lead the other girls on strike! And the boys too. What are you going to do, hmm? Without these actresses,
your show just won’t work.”

Olling sighed. Her plans were disrupted; things weren’t going as smoothly as she had expected
. It would be understandable to be rejected because of insufficient qualifications, but
to be fired because the boss’s mistress thought she was too sexy was unbearable for a girl: and it was also a waste of her
time.

She poured Caroline a glass of brandy, then sat back down and watched her drink,
stunned by her friend's drinking capacity.

"What am I going to do now?" she asked, her face clouded with worry.

"Try another nightclub, darling. We still have hope by tomorrow night."

"No, Caroline, there's no hope. Everything has to be ready tonight, or it's all over. You
wouldn't understand."

"How strange! Darling, you won't tell me what happened."

"I'm so sorry, I can't tell you, or I'll hurt you."

Caroline thought for a while, then an idea popped into her head.

"I'll tell you, Ollinga. Why don't we buy tickets tonight to see the porn
show at the Goober nightclub?"

"What's the point? We can only sit in the audience, we can't perform on stage."

Caroline laughed , throwing her

head back. "Haven't you heard of audience participation?"

Josh Mu leaned back on the bed, taking a sip of his wine.

“Oulingya, you are a woman unlike any other, a very mysterious woman.”

Oulingya lay down beside him, reaching out to embrace her lover, craving his caresses once more.

“Please believe me, Josh. If I can tell you, I will. It’s
better for you if you don’t know. Won’t you help me?” She stroked his side; she knew him better than he knew himself. “All you have
to do is sit in the audience and point the camera at me.”

“Alright, I can’t help but admit I’m confused, baby.” He turned his gaze to Oulingya, then pulled her
into his arms, his lips covering her eyes. “But I also can’t help but admit I’m excited.”

“Excited?” Oulingya suddenly rolled over, pressing her breasts against his head.

“I loved watching you tease that priest; I loved making love with you in the bathroom of the big museum
; I have no doubt I loved watching you slowly undress during a porn show. You know, when you see your
lover in another man's arms, you're often aroused by something.
You're a maddening woman, Ollinga, but I just can't get you out of my mind.”

“I'll come back to you,” Ollinga kissed him gently. “To stay with you forever,
darling .”

“I know you will, baby. How could I doubt that?” Josh’s hands were already expertly
covering her body.

“Make love with me one more time, Josh,” Ollinga sighed. At that moment, she
longed lie in a strong embrace, to be someone’s captive, to be pleased and teased by someone. She
couldn't always be so strong, always so alluring; sometimes she just wanted to be a little
girl , like the timid, innocent heroine in a romance novel.

This afternoon, she could relax in Josh's warm embrace, but tonight, she would
revert to being a "hunter."

As night fell, the Wild Rose nightclub became even more lively. A huge, eye-catching advertisement stood outside,
proclaiming: "Live erotic performances, absolutely thrilling! Performed by Ms. Ingrid and her sexy sisters."

Caroline and Ollinga showed their tickets and IDs at the door and went inside. No matter how opulent the nightclub's
decor, it was still a rather low-class entertainment venue, with very few female spectators besides the actresses
. Illuminated by hundreds of strange colored lights, the nightclub felt even more
uncomfortable .

On stage, naked actresses wore gilded square headdresses, adorned with delicate
pink feathers, and they moved back and forth. Below the stage, a group of waitresses in high heels, carrying champagne,
were followed by some drunkards. In a corner of the nightclub, the waitresses and drunkards were amused,
laughing and screaming as the drunkards splashed champagne on them.

Caroline and O'Lingya found seats not far from the aisle leading to the stage.
They sat for a while until the audience was full before the performance officially began. O'Lingya
looked to the other side of the nightclub and met Josh's gaze. He nodded. It seemed everything was ready.

Just as O'Lingya had predicted, the performance was as clumsy as the stage design. Ingrid, dressed in a satin
mini-dress, fishnet stockings, and a gold wig, looked like a
prostitute from a pornographic film. She sat astride a chair in the center of the stage, pretending to please the male dancers surrounding her with her
large . The drunks in the audience occasionally let out excited cheers, but you could tell
their minds weren't on her. Ingrid's performance was empty and unengaging. Meanwhile, her "
sexy sisters" were dancing a very simple, conventional dance with Marco and Alexander. This wasn't what Ollinga
considered "live pornography." She believed she did it better.

Ingrid stood up and walked to the end of the aisle, shoving a
drunkard off. She paused for a moment, then unhooked her black satin bra and tossed it
into the audience. She seemed oblivious to her two rivals sitting at the end of the aisle. In the instant her back turned to them,
Ollinga whispered to Caroline, "I think it's time."

Caroline's umbrella handle easily hooked onto Ingrid's ankle. Ingrid had no chance
to resist Caroline's sudden attack; before she could even cry out, she tumbled headfirst into the noisy crowd.

Mr. Guberg stood on the swing, watching in astonishment as his little star, Ingrid, was
harassed . He wasn't going to persuade them to give her up; it was clear that Ingrid was going to be "hired" by them for the entire night
. The performance was in chaos; Ingrid's "sisters" were confused and disoriented, and the handsome
male actors were without partners.

"Now it's your turn," Caroline said. "Walk up there confidently!"

Ollinga stepped onto the aisle without hesitation. She looked back in Josh's direction and saw
camera lenses flashing in the crowd. She said to herself: Okay, it's my turn!

Mr. Guberg stared in astonishment as he saw a sexy woman with blonde hair walk down the aisle.
She was still wearing the same outfit she wore to her job interview, and he recognized her immediately.

"That's 'English Rose.'"

Alf rolled up his sleeves and asked Mr. Guberg, "Sir, is it necessary to dismiss her?"

"No, let her be, Alf. She saved our show from collapse."

Olinga began her long, agonizing striptease, while
two representatives from the "Great Love Demon" organization watched with interest, discussing her.

"She's a magical girl," the officer commented. "Her performance is full of confidence, and her
body is truly a perfect exhibit."

"Oh, yes, but I still can't be sure this girl named Olinga is good material for the organization,"
the doctor sitting next to the officer replied. "She's young and beautiful, I agree with you. But I don't yet have
sufficient evidence of her ability to seduce men."

Now, Olinga was down to only knee-high boots, and the gamblers below were leering
at her. She brandished a small silver whip, deftly swatting away the gamblers who reached out to touch her,
then rewarding them with a passionate kiss on the whip's tip.

She teased her male dancers with her beauty and seductive skill until they were all
aroused. The actresses watched her performance from a distance, realizing they had encountered a vengeful
goddess.

Finally, Ollinga gestured for the audience to participate. She scanned all the men; everyone wanted to be
chosen for the stage, remembering that night at the De La Tambor Grand Theatre. After a moment, her
gaze fell on a tall, brown-haired man, and a murmur rippled through the audience. Ollinga thought, "He'll be willing
." And indeed, the man was willing, very willing.

The doctor, realizing Ollinga had chosen him, stirred, gave his companion a meaningful glance
, and then walked down the aisle. Ollinga watched him for a while, then bent down and pulled him up.
A few minutes ago, he was merely an audience member; now, he was participating in her performance, which was incredibly
interesting . Before long, he was her "captive," just as she had been to Laureus.

If the doctor had doubted her just moments before, it was merely prejudice; now, all doubts
vanished.

O'Lingya tried to focus on the magazine, but she couldn't forget
that .

Everything had gone smoothly. When she saw the messenger waiting outside the nightclub take the videotape from her hand
, she wanted to jump for joy, for she had successfully passed another hurdle. Young Josh was also
infected by her enthusiasm, and they had spent the night together. This morning, Josh left her to go to London to prepare for his
art exhibition. A faint sense of loss lingered in her heart; she was about to miss him terribly again.

And she had other things to do. Soon, she would receive her final task.
Only one task left! Her dream was about to come true. She couldn't, shouldn't, and absolutely had to not
fail . She thought of her revered and beloved father, who had left her many years ago, leaving her with an
unfulfilled wish. How she wished he could see her now: he would be proud of his only daughter.

The clock had struck nine, and she wondered if the messenger would arrive on time. Time seemed to crawl by! Like a
thick, yellow liquid dripping listlessly from a spoon. She sat in her armchair, closed her eyes, and tried to
calm her agitated heart.

A knock at the door nearly made her jump out of her chair; her heart pounded in her throat. She stood up,
smoothed her wrinkled clothes, and prepared to greet the messenger. She had locked the door that morning; with trembling hands, she
turned the lock, and finally, the door opened.

"Please come with me," the stranger commanded. His face was covered by a black leather cloth,
revealing only his eyes, nose, and mouth. He wore the same black cloak. For a moment,
Olinga thought he came from another planet.

"But why...?"

"Nothing," the stranger answered, his hand around her waist. "Today, you're mine
. You'll do whatever I tell you to do."
At first, Oulingya was confused, not knowing what was happening to her.
She only regained consciousness as the large black sedan drove through the streets of Paris. This was her final test:
a crucial trial that would ultimately determine whether she could join the "Great Love Demon" organization.

Oulingya lay quietly in the back seat, motionless. Blindfolded, she couldn't tell
where she was being taken, fear relentlessly gnawing at her heart; the helpless, lost
fear often felt by women.

The man's words echoed in her ears: "Now you're mine.
You'll do whatever I tell you to do. Every moment today, you will be my slave. The only thing I can't control about you is your
own fear..."

What did these words mean? Was she about to face some challenges blocking her path?
The car turned around and sped along a cobblestone street. O'Lingya's thoughts drifted back to her teenage years.
At nineteen, she and some friends had kidnapped a teacher from their school to raise money for a party.

Of course, they were overjoyed to have him. He was young and handsome, and
his terrified state only fueled the girls' desires.

He had been blindfolded, just like she was now, and hadn't been told what to do with him. Now,
O'Lingya deeply understood the disorientation he had felt then—not knowing where he was, not knowing who he was with.
Perhaps soon, he would even doubt who he was.

They had originally planned to tell him it was all a joke, and they really had thought so. They even planned to find
a secluded spot, remove the blindfold, and offer him champagne and chocolate until his friend, the head of his school,
ransomed him. But keeping the truth to him seemed more interesting; let him believe he had truly been kidnapped.

O'Lingya lay anxiously and helplessly in the back seat of the car, feeling a deep sense of guilt. She desperately wanted to tell him…
He was completely captivated, yet also deeply drawn to his terrified expression. She knew his entire body was tense;
even the slightest torment they inflicted on him elicited a violent reaction.

You could torture someone to the point of agony with a feather. A real torment. He wept in agony as they pricked his exposed skin with the tip of
a feather. They licked him with their tongues,
gently bit him with their teeth, giving him a taste of exhilarating, unbearable pain.

They all made love to him. Despite feeling deeply disturbed by the sight of a man suffering in such pain and helplessness, Oulingya
joined them. He was stunned by what was happening to him and then began
to weep sadly. They had possessed him as men rightfully possess women. Their only
reason was their own pleasure. They believed they had done everything perfectly, without anyone noticing.
He, too, remained completely unaware of the kind of girls who had kidnapped him.

Later, someone finally came to "ransom" him; they released him, still blindfolded, and sent him back to school. He
didn't tell anyone
what . Soon after, he left school, and they never saw him again, only to later hear that he had found a new
job but was fired again because of an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student. Oulingya often wondered
if their actions had deeply influenced him.

Now, Oulingya finally experienced the feelings hidden behind the veil. When the wheels rolled over a gravel
road and stopped, she felt the moment she had been dreading had finally arrived. They had reached their destination.

A pair of strong hands pulled her out of the car, pushed her across the gravel road, up a few stone steps, and through a
heavy door that slammed shut behind her. It felt like the door of a church.

The room was cold and damp, as if uninhabited. Where was this place? An abandoned house,
or unused warehouse? Footsteps entered the room; then the stairwell descended, descended, descended, until they
reached a damp, cold place. Oulingya heard the sound of a key unlocking a lock behind her. She felt dizzy and
trembled uncontrollably, realizing just how vulnerable she truly was.

"Welcome, Oulingya," came the same cold yet mesmerizing voice. "We're glad
you're here, in your place of fear."

"I don't understand. What do you mean by my place of fear?"

"Shut up! You may only speak with permission. Violation of the rules will result in three lashes."

Instantly, Oulingya felt a sharp pain, like a whip lashing her back.

At the same time, the room filled with a cacophony of voices. How many? She couldn't tell; the
echoes made it impossible to make out a single complete sentence.

"Indecently assault her."

"Make him experience pleasurable pain..."

"Enslave her."

"Injure her."

"Frighten her."

"Please!" Oulingya cried, turning her face toward the source of the voices. "Please remove my veil."

"Poor, lovely Oulingya," came the deep voice of the one who had first spoken to her. "She wants
us to remove her cloth." A sinister sneer erupted around Oulingya, sending a chill down her spine.
"But my dear girl, that would be detrimental to our experiment and would ruin our pleasant atmosphere."

"Look, Oulingya, this is the Land of Fear. You will encounter the deepest terror here. We'll help
you turn terror into pleasure, shall we? Let's begin now, shall we? You'll feel a burning heat all over your body,
very , very hot, like being roasted by fire."

Instantly, Oulingya felt a ball of heat envelop her and heard the howling of flames and
crackling sounds. How could they have such abilities? Were they real flames, or was she being hypnotized and hallucinating?
Fear repeatedly told her that this was real fire. She tried to back away, but a pair of strong, powerful hands
gripped her tightly, and she screamed in terror. She could feel the flames burning on her body, thick smoke filled
her lungs, and terrifying images made her delirious.

"It's fire, Miss. Hell of fire. Do you remember how afraid you were of fire since you were a child? Do you remember the day you
were locked in the warehouse and the straw caught fire, and you desperately thought you would die?"

"Please, don't, no!" O'Lingya gasped. The heat continued to rise, forcing
her to confront the memory she had been avoiding. She had hoped that the memory would never resurface.

"Fire, O'Lingya. The raging flames and billowing smoke, do you feel hot?"

Fear gradually broke her will, and suddenly, the situation changed. Something touched her. It was a
hand. Something damp and cold pressed against her skin, gradually warming up and slowly heating up until
it ignited, like rubbing against a flame.

"Feel the flames licking your body, O'Lingya. It feels wonderful, like being in hell."

Hands, hands all over her body, caressing, comforting, exciting, and painful. She wanted to
be free from the pain, yet she knew she had to endure it.

Finally, just as she felt herself about to collapse, the pain vanished, as swiftly
as . A damp air once again seeped into her bare skin.

"Hold it, Oulingya. Hold on and feel its power."

The handcuffs on her wrists were removed, and something was placed in her hand. She immediately recognized it and
began to tremble.

"Are you afraid, Oulingya? Afraid of snakes?"

"No, never."

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to grasp the winding object. The snake coiled its hot, dry
body around her wrist.

"A cobra, Oulingya, a single drop of its venom can kill. You're afraid of snakes, aren't you?
Don't a snake to kiss your lovely body? Snakes love you, Oulingya, you don't know
how wonderful it feels when they kiss your neck."

Oulingya struggled against the temptation. Why were these people so adept at exposing the deepest
fears in others? She had been afraid of snakes since she was very young. She had spent many unsettling moments with one of its cousins.
In the afternoons, a rather unpleasant boy named Richard always turned his bedroom into a zoo.
The walls were lined with containers of all sizes, emanating a nauseating, rotting stench.

At first glance, you'd think the containers were empty. But upon closer inspection, you'd find a coiled or
wriggling lizard peeking out from under a flat stone slab; or a red
spider with fat legs covered in a clump of tawny hair; and of course, a snake, peacefully lying on a
warm sandy bed. Perhaps a locust would slowly fly past a green gecko,
unaware of its impending death. All of this was for observation. O'Lingya, however, felt as if she were being
watched from a glass container, not as a snake or spider.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Richard held a green-legged tarantula in his palm,
stroking it gently, like a listless boy petting a pet's mouth. “Of course,
you have to be very careful when they mate. You can’t let a male and a female stay together for too long.”

“Why not?” Olga asked curiously.

“They’ll eat each other.”

He handed the spider to Olga, but she was too scared to take it. “Don’t be like a frightened kitten,”
he mocked. “It doesn’t bite very hard, hmm, no need to be so careful.”

“So, what are these?” Olga changed the subject, pointing to another container.

“Black venomous snakes,” Richard said maliciously. “Want to touch them?”

“No!” Olga refused loudly; but Richard ignored her strong protest and reached into
the container to grab the fattest, oldest venomous snake.

"Why aren't you wearing gloves or something?"

Richard laughed smugly. "Only amateurs wear gloves. Besides, they don't bite me. We're
very close. I raise them, and they give me all their love, don't they, darling?"

He caught a smooth, black venomous snake, letting its body gently coil around his wrist, then he
gently stroked its head. The snake looked content.

"Come on, touch it. You're not afraid, are you? Girls are so timid, you're so useless."

This rebuke deeply wounded O'Lingya's pride. She reached out to touch the snake's head. To her
surprise , the snake's head was so hot and dry, not the cold and slimy one she had imagined. This encouraged her, and she
began to gently pat the snake's head. The snake closed its eyes, as if in ecstasy.

“It likes you. You can hold it if you want.”

“Oh… okay.”

O’Lingya cautiously reached out and took the snake, letting its body wrap around her hand
like . She didn’t want her cousin to laugh at her again. The snake was warm and heavy; she could feel its
life pulsating like a giant engine.

Soon, the snake became heavier and heavier.

“I’m tired. I think you should put it back.”

She reached out and handed the snake to Richard; but just as Richard reached for her, the snake opened its eyes,
its gaze filled with hostility. Richard didn’t have time to remove his hand, or perhaps he was too complacent to notice the snake
’s he grabbed its head.

Its jaws snapped open, its sharp fangs piercing Richard’s unsuspecting arm. He screamed in agony,
clutching his arm, but O’Lingya was helpless.

Then, the snake closed its eyes again, sleeping peacefully in O’Lingya’s hand.

The doctors did everything they could to save her cousin Richard's life; it was all too late. From that moment on,
Orinya developed a morbid fear of snakes.

Now, here she was, a venomous snake coiled around her arm.

"Let it caress you, Orinya. It wants to explore you, to smell you."

She knew she had to obey. But what could she do? How could she bear
the fear of a snake's kiss? Suddenly, her father's image flashed into her mind. He smiled, placing his strong arm on
her shoulder, comforting her.

"You can do anything, Orinya. Anything, as long as you believe in yourself, because I trust you."

She was startled, then easily grasped the snake, its body coiling around her arm. She pulled her arm
close to her body, and the snake's head began to lazily explore her entire body. Its soft, slippery head caressed her
abdomen , then moved upwards to touch her full breasts. Every moment she anticipated the snake flicking its venomous tongue,
giving her a fatal kiss.

But the snake seemed content and languid; perhaps it had no intention of harming her at all. Gradually,
Oulingya began to feel a strange urge as the snake's body touched her skin. The cobra looked so
provocative, exploring its partner's body with the keen interest of a lover.
When its warm, dry head slid against Oulingya's skin, she felt a surge of excitement for the first time.

Just as she was lost in thought, she felt something touching her genitals. A hand? But it was
rough . It was a gloved hand, rhythmically and somewhat mechanically stroking her labia. Yet
it was so incredibly pleasurable. She couldn't imagine that in such a strange and
dangerous environment, she could experience such exhilarating pleasure; she felt her abdomen tighten and her legs
become wet.

"Feel the snake's love for you, Oulingya. Accept its kisses on your abdomen, breasts, and neck."

"Yes," Oulingya gasped, the gloved hand leaving her genitals, fingers beginning to
penetrate her vagina. "Ah, yes."

"Feel the snake's head entering your body." As it spoke, fingers had already probed her vaginal opening; the sensation was
so wonderful that she was soon certain it was the snake's head between her legs, making love to her. How great and
dangerous love is. Nothing is as intertwined as love and death.

The snake's head gently, rhythmically caressed Oulingya's breasts, and she was somewhat dazed. A sense of
peace began to seep into her subconscious: perhaps the organization didn't intend to harm her at all, but merely to frighten her and
test her endurance. But what would they do with the body if they accidentally killed her? People...
Questions would certainly arise. The snake was safe; its fangs had undoubtedly been removed. She had heard that snakes' fangs were often removed in
zoos or circuses. She willingly let the snake caress her body,
completely absorbed in the pleasure.

Gloved fingers moved in and out of her vagina, the snake's head rhythmically stroking her breasts,
occasionally playing with her nipples. She was completely lost in ecstasy; she had long forgotten shame, knowing that so many
lustful men were watching her from a dark basement in Paris. She could endure it all, and she was certain
she could overcome it.

Just as her passion reached its peak, the fingers were withdrawn from her body. She let out a groan, still unsatisfied, only
to be met a sharp jeer.

"We won't let you off so easily, Eurynja. Not nearly enough; you'll have to prove your
abilities ."

A strong arm removed the snake from her body. Without the warm touch of the snake's body, she felt a sudden sense of
loss, loneliness, and her body grew cold and trembled. A lingering sensation stirred her greedy
clitoris, and she couldn't help but place a hand on her abdomen, then slowly slide it down to the soft area between her legs.

"No! Absolutely not!"

A whip lashed her bare back, an arm roughly yanked her hand away, and
twisted her arm behind her back. The unexpected pain forced her to submit.

"You can only do that with permission, understand?"

"I...yes, I understand."

"What are you, Oulingya?"

"I...I don't know."

"You are my slave. You are nothing. From now on, you will call me master, and I will
treat you like a slave. Do you understand?"

"Understood, master."

Oulingya stood silently before her master. Through the thick veil, she couldn't see him, so she
lowered her head, appearing obedient.

"Are you afraid of pain, Oulingya, my slave?"

"No, master," Oulingya said resolutely. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“You’re lying,” a rough finger pinched her nipple hard, and she let out a soft
cry of surprise. “No one on this earth is unafraid of pain.” He paused for a moment, “but some of us
welcome it, understand it, and skillfully use it until it eventually becomes pleasure.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You may speak only with permission.” A light slap landed on Olinga’s cheek, and she fell silent.

“Now I’m going to remove your blindfold, slave. Don’t run away, or you will be severely punished. For the rest of today
, you will serve me and my friends, understand?”

“Understood, Master.” A

gloved hand clumsily untied the knot on the blindfold and then removed the silk scarf from Olinga’s eyes.
Suddenly seeing light, Olinga blinked uncomfortably.

The room wasn’t the basement of an old church she had initially imagined, but rather the ruins of a red-light district.
The low, arched ceiling and the flickering light from candles and flashlights filled her with dread; she felt as if she were
in a Gothic setting. Graves and tombstones were hidden among the crumbling ruins, and
strange human figures on the ceiling grinned at her.

Four men sat in the room, all masked and dressed in tight leather, which both intimidated and
unsettled . They sat around a medieval tomb, its flat ceiling resembling a dining table laden with
cups and plates, as if a banquet was being held. The men's concealed identities deeply enraged O'Lingya. Contrary to her timidity, she
spoke against her master's orders: "Why don't you show your faces? Is it because I recognize you, or are you
afraid of being discovered?"

A thin cane, like a whip, lashed across O'Lingya's shoulder blade, causing her to cry out in pain.

"I'm telling you, slave, shut up!"

"Yes, Master."

"Don't let it happen again. You are my slave now, and you may speak only with my permission."

"I understand, Master."

The man who brought her here looked her up and down, then chuckled dryly.

"No, my angry lady, you don't know any of us. We
've never , and we never will. It's fate that we only met once, but I believe it will be the most
unforgettable meeting." He stroked the red whip marks on Oulingya's back with his gloved hand. "Don't you
think this pain is just adding some spice?"

Before Oulingya could answer, he turned away: "There is a secret, inhuman
love between us, my dear slave. Soon you will understand a substantial truth: desire is an anonymous,
pure need, constantly evolving and changing. Knowing your lover is not crucial
; what people do stems from desire itself."

He returned to the table and continued to offer his insights to the other three men who had been sitting silently at the table:
"The desire for life is a kind of desire, slave. Desire, for all of us, is a deeper, more
subtle kind of desire. It's just that we all have an inescapable patience. Even if our sexual desire is satisfied,
our longing for sex remains. Ultimately, desire goes with us to death, to the grave. Let
us explore the limits of every desire, until death takes away all our desires, shall we, lovely
slave?"

Olinga stood silently, bewildered and deeply uneasy by this speech about death and desire.

"Are you willing to explore that desire, slave?"

"Yes, master."

"Excellent." The master clapped his hands and sat down at the grave table. "We need a wake-up call, slave. You'll
find some wine on the floor over there. Pick up a bottle and pour it for us."

Olinga walked in the direction her master pointed. It was pitch black ahead. She bent forward, spiderwebs occasionally
catching in her hair, and realized she was at an altar.

The altar was only slightly larger than a small room, just enough to accommodate a shrine and three or four worshippers
.

However, it is evident that no one has worshipped here for many years; a thick layer of dust has accumulated, and the altar has become a pile of decay.
Wood.

O'Lingya walked cautiously into the altar. A candle flickered behind it, and she noticed
a whitish object beside it. She picked it up; it was a card that read: "

Desire is the only supreme truth. Worship desire!"

She nervously turned around and suddenly saw neatly arranged wine bottles against the wall. She went over, uncorked
one, and prepared to pour some out. These guys even knew to aerate the wine before the ceremony—quite civilized!

But which bottle should she choose? Clearly, this was a test. Although O'Lingya was quite proud of her knowledge of
fine wine , how could she possibly guess her master's thoughts? Hadn't he repeatedly emphasized the fickleness of desire?
If she offered him advice, perhaps he would change his mind.

She glanced at the bottles. Twelve different wines, no label, but definitely top-quality. Some were
aged for many years; some were newly made, even quite rough. One was a well-sealed, dark red wine; another
was a pale wine with a herbal aroma.

Finally, she chose a bottle of wine from Villa Mouton, 1986. Picking up the bottle, she left
the eerie altar and returned to the dimly lit room. The host and his friends remained motionless,
waiting for her.

She approached them and handed the bottle to the host.

"Have you chosen?"

"Yes."

"I believe it's a good opportunity for you. Pour it."

The host watched intently as Olinga poured a few drops of the rare liquid into his crystal glass. He then held the glass
up to the light, smelled it, and took a sip. Olinga held her breath, expecting the host's wrath, for she
assumed he would be dissatisfied with her choice.

To her surprise, the host put down the glass, nodded, and gestured for her to continue pouring.

"Very good. Excellent color and flavor."

These words filled Olinga with pride; she forgot that excitement should be tempered with reason. As she
poured for the host and his guests, a small drop spilled from the bottle, landing on the leg of a guest wearing leather trousers.
The guest cried out in dissatisfaction, "You careless, heartless wretch! Look what you've done!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Lick it off, just one more drop," the master commanded.

The guest grabbed Oulingya's head and dragged her to her knees on the floor. She licked the remaining wine, making sure
it was clean.

But even after she finished, the guest was still not satisfied; he wanted to continue punishing her.

Lowering his head, he unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, then picked up a wine glass and deliberately
poured all the wine on it, causing it to condense on his testicles like pale red dew.

"Lick every drop, slave," the master commanded.

Oulingya used all her skills to suckle the guest's manhood. She had to please him, to stop him from being angry.

His manhood tasted good, the strong flavor of the wine mixed with the taste of his semen. She tasted his
bodily fluids with her tongue, slippery with a hint of strange saltiness. Fear and excitement clashed within Oulingya; she felt
a wetness between her legs. She suddenly wished the guest would push her down onto the floor or table, straddle her, and then
penetrate her.

To Oulingya's astonishment, a few seconds later, the guest's testicles suddenly hardened,
spurting . Some sprayed onto her face, some onto the guest's own black trousers.

Soon, she noticed several men standing up, surrounding her, each one furious. Her heart
clenched, a mixture of surprise and excitement. She hadn't wanted to experience desire, but here, in
this strange and terrifying place, all her defenses crumbled, leaving only desire, a powerful
desire to be possessed. These desires broke down her willpower. "Look what you've done, slave!" he roared

as she looked at her master with a complex gaze, a mixture of fear and excitement . "Punish her, punish her now!" one of the guests yelled, grabbing her hair and making her writhe 　　in agony . 　　"Whip her, or use the nine-tailed cat?" 　　They easily lifted O'Lingya up, making her kneel and hunch over the grave, her head bowed obediently. 　　She was prepared for the first lash, wincing in pain. Like the fear of holding a venomous snake close to her chest, what did a few more lashes matter? 　　As the lashes intensified, raining down on O'Lingya, her thoughts drifted back to a Swedish mountainside , to the scene of making love with Ras in the snowdrifts. They had emerged from the steaming bathroom, steaming, and run straight into the snow, collapsing into the soft snow. They were burning with desire. The cold of the snow and the heat of her body seemed so contradictory. 　　It was springtime, and the bright sunshine on the mountainside seemed to watch them roll around in the snow with pleasure. The robust ski instructor, panting heavily, was immersed in this extreme pleasure and discomfort, while O'Lingya was too excited to breathe . Her body felt like it was on fire, even though she was so cold, so very cold. 　　Ras entered her body lightly and skillfully, and she suddenly felt wet and yearned for him. As they merged harmoniously , this burning intensified, like a blazing furnace. Finally, she forgot the cold, forgot the snow, forgot the discomfort, completely intoxicated by this exciting, magical symphony . 　　Now, as the nine-tailed cat rose and fell, striking her body and leaving red marks, she felt similar burning. A heat that penetrated deep into her soul and radiated outwards, making every nerve ending sensitive. Her thoughts were chaotic; she no longer thought of resistance. She felt as if she were bathing in the rolling sea, with a complex excitement. 　　Sounds surrounded her, weaving a net of sound, but she paid no attention. Only pleasure was real ; this momentary pleasure. 　　Suddenly, a new excitement arose, sharp and acute. For a moment, she barely realized what was happening . Soon, she realized that the Nine-Tailed Cat's handle had slipped between her legs and touched her sensitive area. She twisted her body to welcome this lovely intruder, and as her genitals throbbed slightly, reaching an exciting climax, she moaned with pleasure.

Happiness, ultimate happiness.

"So be it, my lovely slave."

Olinga tried to break free, but the chains held her firmly, the iron rings embedded in the ancient brick walls of the cemetery
suspending her.

"Struggling is futile, my dear. The chains are strong, I've locked them."

"But... what do you intend to do with me now?"

"What do you mean, my dear? Well, it's all over! My work is done."

The master and his guest extinguished the candle and flashlight, turning and walking up the steps leading outside.

"Where are you going?"

There was no reply, only the faint light of a single candle illuminating the dim room. Finally, the master stepped onto
the last step, turning to Olinga one last time: "We must face fear, my dear
slave . Use it; explore it; enjoy it."

He raised his hand and extinguished the last candle, pushing Olinga into the darkness. As the heavy door
slammed shut, fear began to gnaw at her heart. He was gone, leaving her alone. The solitary candle and
fear kept her company in the darkness.

The room was dark and cold; Oulingya heard insects buzzing somewhere in the darkness. She tried to calm
herself, reassuring herself that this was just part of the test, but a terrifying voice kept echoing within her
: Why did they leave you here? Did they forget you, leaving you to
die in this godforsaken place?

Time passed, and she lost track of how long she had been missing. A biting chill enveloped her, raising
goosebumps . She was so alone and helpless; no one even knew she was here. Was all this because of
her arrogance and greed? Would this torment only end when she died and rotted away?

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Oulingya never cried, not even here,
in this place where no one could see her.

A sudden light illuminated her, and she could hardly adjust her eyes to the lantern.

"Light the candles and the flashlight," a completely unfamiliar voice said, and Oulingya wavered between hope and
fear . Was someone coming to rescue her, or to continue torturing her? Had her test
ended?

The candles lit, gradually illuminating the dark room. Oulingya found seven men standing before her,
dressed in suits and ties, ordinary-looking men, seemingly on their way to a business meeting. Oulingya recognized
one officers—the messenger—but the others were strangers.

"Goodnight, Oulingya."

The seven men formed a semicircle around her.

"Are you going to untie me now? My arms are practically hanging off."

"Very good, very good."

"Have I…have I satisfied you, passed the test?"

The organization members smiled and nodded.

"You did very well, Oulingya. We are deeply impressed by your enthusiasm and talent. And, in the face of danger
and fear, you remained calm. For example, your handling of the cobra was most memorable."

"But it wasn't dangerous. You removed its fangs, didn't you?"

"No, Miss Oulingya! It was a cobra with its fangs still attached. Of course, you won't encounter
this situation again."

Oulingya felt nauseous; she hadn't realized how close she had come to death.

“A member of the organization never fears danger, Oulingya, I think your father taught you that. Now, my dear,
before we approve your entry into the organization, you must overcome one more challenge.”

“Another challenge? Wasn’t I told you I only needed to complete seven tests?”

“My dear Oulingya, the process for entering the organization is meticulously planned, I believe you understand.
All candidates, before being allowed to enter, must not only
satisfy us with their skills, courage, and endurance, but they must also have the ability to self-deny.”

“This is your task, my dear.” The officer explained, stepping out of the shadows and gently placing his hand
on Oulingya’s breast. “We will use all our skills and talents to stimulate your body. But you, my dear
, must endure. If you show any sign of desire, you will die. Are you willing?”

Oulingya’s thoughts were in turmoil again. What was happening? She had overcome so many obstacles, come so far,
how could she still not escape the shadow of death? Fear gripped her. But she knew that in this final trial,
she could not fail. There was no turning back.

"I'm willing," she replied, "I'm not afraid."

Hands reached out to her body, fingertips burning with desire. These hands knew every
inch , every path to ignite her desire. She had nowhere to escape, no way to avoid their caresses.

Oulingya bit her lip, silent, until it bled. She knew she had to suppress the surging desire
within her . But desire overflowed like a burst dam, drowning her, swallowing her whole.

Those words echoed in her mind again and again: death or self-denial, death or self-denial.

Such a cruel, unchosen choice, suddenly, she understood what she had to do. She
opened her eyes, and in the flickering dim light, cried out, "Die! If death is the punishment for pleasure,
then I choose death! I refuse to deny my desire!"

Instantly, the men withdrew their hands, removing them from her trembling, yearning body.

"Let me be happy before I die! I have the right to be happy."

They untied the iron rings suspending her and placed her on the grave platform. Their hands, tongues, and sharp
fingers returned to her body, arousing her desire. She groaned and
cried out . Now, she longed for the climax of pleasurable desire. She truly understood
that the stranger's words were true.

Anonymous, pure desire was all happening to her in this moment and in this place. Soon, she would
suffer the consequences of her greed, but for now, desire was her true master.

She was completely immersed in everything happening to her; the fear of retribution could not stop her now. She only
felt pleasure. In a strange way, she conquered fear.

She lay sprawled atop the grave, limbs outstretched, for a long, long time, blissfully ecstatic.
Then , to her surprise, she was gently lifted and placed on the ground. Laughter erupted around her.

The officer spoke first: "Please accept my heartfelt congratulations, Miss Olinga."

"Congratulations… what do you mean?"

"Miss, you don't yet understand the momentous decision you've made. You see, Miss, a true
member of the organization always puts desire before negation, even at the cost of death. Your father is proud of you,
Olinga."

"You mean…?" "

Ah, Miss, welcome to the organization, to become a member of the organization."

Sitting on the plane to London, Olinga reflected on the events of the past few days, a
smile .

It had been an eventful week, everything she had hoped for had happened. Soon, she would
land , where Josh would greet her. This was the happiest choice she had made since her life returned to normal.

She kept toying with the gold ring on her right hand: the ring symbolizing the "Great Love Demon" organization. She
recalled Josh's last words to her before he left for London for his first major art exhibition: "You
've taught me so much, Miss O'Lingya. Before I met you, I was just a mischievous
boy who knew nothing. I feel I have so much more to learn from you."

A happy smile crept onto her lips as she recalled Josh's words.

Now, with the guidance of the "Great Love Demon" organization, O'Lingya would teach Josh any
knowledge a man might need.

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