Let me tell you my story of getting into the circle.

The first part is
about my return to Tumbr after a year-long absence. Many people have asked me about my initial motivation for joining the scene, what kind of training I received, what happened during that year, and why I returned. So I'll start from when I first joined. I hope you'll have the patience to read on.
First and foremost, I want to talk about my husband. Before we even met, he told me over the phone how (冫。) he taught me how to masturbate and how to fantasize, under his guidance.
At 27, I had my first time, and after that, I couldn't stop. After meeting my husband, we explored some things that were quite explicit for me, and I enjoyed them every time. Later, perhaps because we spent more time together,
we had sex less often. And he became obsessed with NTR (Netorare). He didn't mention it when we first started dating; he just read novels and watched movies about it. Until our wedding night, before he went to sleep, he sent me a message:
the gist of which was that he hoped that after marriage I would become someone who could be played with by other men, raped by men, and enjoy it. Seeing this message, I was angry, resentful, and disgusted.
On my wedding night, I silently shed many tears, becoming increasingly indifferent, and even thinking I was frigid. In the days that followed... He would occasionally mention that I was seeing other men, telling me how wonderful it was,
but I always refused.

The second part:
Until May 2018, after he begged me countless times, I agreed to give it a try. My husband started posting online looking for a cuckold.
He spent several days filtering through suitable and reliable dominants and recommended them to me. He told us to communicate ourselves, and if we got along well and had a good impression, we could meet in person. After a month of getting to know each other, I met my current master. We had dinner, slept together,
and established a formal master-slave relationship. My initial impression of dominants was that they were rough, stern, and terrifying.
But my master, on our first meeting, was gentlemanly. Gentle. Warm yet distant. At the time, my master also had two other submissives.
So... So many times I met with him, and then three more times. Under my master's guidance, the newbie experienced a series of training sessions including wax dripping, SP, 4P, and holy water.
Throughout the process, I slowly adapted to my new identity and enjoyed it with my husband.
Every time we came back from my master's place, my husband would eagerly kneel on the ground, begging to lick the genitals that my master had just fucked and dripped with.
Seeing his pleading look and my locked-up genitals, I could only spread my legs. The happiest thing was these few months with my master. Although there were conflicts and arguments, nothing was unsolvable. If there was, then we'd add more whipping...
Before this, I didn't like SP and couldn't accept holy water at all. I accepted holy water after the third meeting with my master (although I'm still not used to it).
During this time, my mentality... A great deal has changed. Thinking of my master, his warm lips and firm erection make my heart race, itchy and wet. I'm practically wet down there every day when we chat, longing for him, even during my fertile period. Later, I didn't feel any aversion to drinking his "holy water." I
even accepted being arranged for a foursome with his friends. I willingly did whatever he asked, including his suggestions of getting piercings and tattoos. I even fantasized about having his child. He made me realize I wasn't frigid,
but a truly deserving "little one." My relationship with my husband has never been so sweet. He's like a little puppy, caring for me meticulously, even giving me advice on how to cultivate and strengthen my bond with my master, telling me how to please him, and so on. After I got together with my master, he was locked up, and even the right to touch my body was taken away. He could only touch me when he sat on my stool while I showered. He couldn't even look at my private parts. If he secretly touched me at night, I would instinctively shake his hand away and feel disgusted, having no sexual desire for him whatsoever. At that time, all I thought about was my master; everything I had belonged to him. If someone else touched my body, I would feel guilty, feeling I had let him down. At first, I couldn't get used to my husband's subservient behavior and felt very awkward. Even giving him holy water was only done when he asked me to. Over time, I adapted to this change and began to enjoy being clung to by him, being pampered by him. The holy water was only given to him occasionally when he behaved well. Kneeling and licking my master's filled sips became his greatest reward, because only then could he touch me.

In the third section
, just as we were enjoying this love triangle, a sudden trigger appeared, catching me off guard. Because my husband had been locked up for so long, and his body and mind were not being released… During that time, all my attention was focused on my master, and I neglected my husband. During a trip, my husband, worried about being identified, removed the chastity lock. But anyone who's been with such a person knows that if a slave is locked up for a long time and suddenly released, the consequences are unpredictable. That night, my husband suddenly wanted to be with me. Given my current thoughts and feelings, it was impossible for me to let him touch my body, but due to my carelessness, he secretly ejaculated, thus opening the gates of hell. He began to indirectly demand... I acted as his submissive, and he made me lick him, give him holy water, and so on. These are things I only do for my master. And I've never even done licking for my master, so how could I possibly do it for him? After I refused, he started comparing himself to his master in every way, shouting and arguing, getting stuck in a hierarchy, wondering why a woman could do these things for her master but not for her husband. He understood the logic, but he just couldn't convince himself. Often, because of his sudden overthinking, we would have a week-long cold war. Later, he spoke less and less, and became increasingly... The more sarcastic she became, the less she would utter a single word for two or three days at a time. This prolonged ordeal nearly killed my husband and me. It wasn't until we went to the hospital that we learned my husband had severe depression. The sleepless nights were always long, and that period was particularly agonizing. Not only was my husband in pain, and my partner felt helpless, but I, caught between two men, also suffered greatly. It often felt like a tug-of-war, and I was the trophy in the middle of the rope, frequently experiencing a suffocating, tearing sensation. This condition was severely impacting my life and work. After struggling for a long time, I decided to break up with my partner. I thought that if I belonged only to my husband, he wouldn't be so conflicted. But the thought of separating from my partner was incredibly painful; sometimes I would unconsciously cry while walking down the street because I couldn't bear to, so I hesitated to speak up. But my husband kept urging me not to break up. He felt
incredibly guilty and remorseful if we separated because of him. Finally, my husband actively cooperated with his treatment, and I spent more time with him. The endless darkness finally dissipated. After a relatively peaceful period, 2018 came to a close. That's it. My husband stopped getting involved in the affairs between me and my master.

In
2019, the relationship between my master, my husband, and me was like a rollercoaster, sometimes plummeting, sometimes slowly rising, constantly fluctuating. You never knew what would happen next. One second my master and I were making love, the next second my husband would suddenly lose control and demand I break off all contact with my master.
That year, my master basically only had me as his slave. Of course, I was happy because my master had more time to spend with and train me.
However, the reality was that my master became increasingly busy. The daily chats from morning till night turned into brief morning greetings. Even more tragically, I'm an insecure person. Although my husband treated me better, I felt guilty. Slowly, my heart grew cold, and I slowly lost patience...
In May, I told my master I would no longer wait for him or contact him. My master realized something was wrong. He talked to me a lot, saying he had neglected something; even a close relationship still needs nurturing.
In June, I suggested to my master that we bring my husband along to start a training session. While my master and husband were still on their way, I arrived at the hotel, stripped myself naked, took nude photos, and sent them to my master, telling him that the little bitch was all clean and eagerly awaiting his arrival and enjoyment. When my master entered the room, I immediately snuggled into his arms, telling him how much I had missed him. He responded with his lips, his hands moving from my neck down to my chest and then to my private parts. By then, I was completely soaked...
My master said with satisfaction, "I love how horny you are in front of me." Then he patted me and pulled me to kneel down in front of the sofa. My master, who was sitting on the sofa, had already taken off his pants. What I had longed for was right before my eyes. Seeing my eagerness, my master said, "If you want to eat it, just beg me." I immediately swayed in front of my master and pleaded softly, "The little bitch really wants to eat Master's, please let the little bitch eat it." The master grinned wickedly, "Enjoy it..." Then my husband arrived, and the three of us went to eat. Seeing the master and my husband getting along so well made me feel happy. Back at the hotel, my husband knelt on the floor, serving me and the master. While bathing, the master gave me holy water and made me feed it to my husband. Then he used my husband as a stool, with the master sitting on him while I gave him. Finally, my husband licked me wet, and I begged for his wife's... The master thrust deeper and deeper, and I moaned repeatedly. At my husband's pleas, the master ejaculated his thick semen inside me. Finally, of course, my husband cleaned me up. The whole experience was wonderful (except...emmm, the master knows).
Section

5
: After our last meeting, my relationship with the master became increasingly close. I wanted to be by his side every day. My relationship with my husband also improved further. He no longer cared about our status; he was willing to do anything as long as I was happy.
So, in July, I took two days off to visit the master. On the first day, the master... my whole body was covered in erotic paper. Wearing a tail and a high-slit tank top, I went out to play and showed off. On the highway, he put my penis on the roof of the car and inserted a fake penis
into my vagina. With the car speeding up and slowing down, it bounced and made my legs tremble and I kept moaning. As soon as we got off the highway, I lifted my skirt and shook it, begging my master to fuck me. The car stopped by the roadside, and my master deliberately opened the window halfway, pressed me on the seat and fucked me hard, shooting his thick semen into the little bitch's uterus. Finally, the little bitch licked my master's penis, cleaning him up and showing a satisfied expression. After returning to the hotel, my master and I began to explore the mysteries together again. This time, my master finally went for my anus—because I don't like comparisons, I've always disliked anal licking, enemas, and the like. Before, my master had always been accommodating to my ideas, and as long as I was cute and obedient, I could get away with it. This time, I wasn't so lucky.
Now, thinking about that day, I still feel very embarrassed—after five or six enemas, my master comforted me to relax, and then slowly widened my anus: finally, he entered. That feeling was a mix of shyness and desire. Although it hurt, I wanted to go deeper, and that's how I gave my first time to my master. The next day, my master invited the three of us together with his friend. His friend didn't know much about BDSM, and seeing the lewd stickers all over my body, he thought I was too much and immediately started kneading and rubbing me. Throughout the whole process, I would send voice messages to my husband or call him to tell him what position I was in and how much I was enjoying it. Time with my master always seemed so short; the two days flew by. What we never dreamed of was that this separation almost became a final farewell. In fact, on the

first
day I was with my master, my husband was already a little emotionally unstable (since our marriage, my husband and I had never been apart for more than 24 hours). But to avoid affecting my state, he didn't tell me. The next day, his emotions completely collapsed. That
evening, my husband picked me up in his car, saying he wanted to talk to me in the car about his experiences from childhood. The gist was that he had never been affirmed and had never received love. After we got together, he wanted my affirmation and love, but I kept denying him and never loved him (details omitted).

The rain outside the car poured down harder, like my tears. My husband's words were like a sharp dagger, stabbing into my heart again and again. I wanted to reach out and hug my wounded husband, but the hatred in my heart wouldn't allow me to.
Since you think I've never loved you, only Wan Shan, and have completely rejected me from head to toe, and that I was only with you because you were good to me, then fine, I'll let you experience what "not loving" means.
I opened the car door, soaked by the heavy rain, and like an empty shell, I went home alone. I didn't know when my husband got home, or when he went to bed. I didn't want to know. The next morning, utterly despondent, I took a car and left Beijing.
When the host learned about our situation... I was very anxious, but he could only comfort me over the phone. My employer and husband also talked to each other, but it didn't help much; instead, it deepened the misunderstanding between us. My husband gave me an ultimatum, telling me to choose between him and my employer. In a fit of anger, I chose not to separate from my employer, but this only resulted in him harming himself. Before I even returned to Beijing, my husband came after me, hoping to talk to me face-to-face and make me feel better. During my absence,
he improved his mood considerably by chatting with a close friend in the industry over ice wine and coffee. After several nights of deep conversation, our relationship did indeed ease, and a week later, we returned to the

north
. I was heartbroken, and my husband was emotionally devastated. The lack of substantial solutions led to a renewed conflict. Unwilling to face the endless coldness, I accepted my friend's invitation to become a model and help with a piece of art. During the
shoot, I broke down emotionally and hid in the dressing room, crying alone. During this time, I learned to smoke and drink. After returning home from the shoot, my husband repeatedly asked me why I broke up with my employer. But my position and my employer's... It's clear that regardless of whether we're in a master-slave relationship or a lover relationship, after going through so much, everything we have now is hard-won, and we won't easily break up. Holding on is too painful. One night, on the verge of collapse, I burned four blisters on my arm with a cigarette. The next day, my husband found the burns. This grown man cried uncontrollably, I'd never seen him so heartbroken. He yelled, "I cherish you like my own flesh and blood, how could I let you suffer even the slightest harm?" Caught in a dilemma, desperate and helpless, I finally ran to my master to break up. My master agreed because he knew I was caught in the middle, in a difficult and painful situation, and I wouldn't do it unless absolutely necessary. In the end, my master left the community. ...Completely heartbroken, I deleted all contact information and contacts from the BDSM community and made my husband promise me he would never let me join again. These three people were thus completely removed from the community.
After leaving, my husband and I tried our best to get our lives and work back on track. Because the antidepressants had significant side effects, and the private doctor's guidance wasn't helping my husband much, we stopped the medication and tried to manage on our own. Every day at work, I would text my husband, keeping him updated on my schedule and activities, slowly rebuilding our trust. After dinner, we would go for walks and chat, and gradually my husband emerged from the shadows. My husband felt he owed me a lot in the past and hadn't done enough in many ways. My husband, feeling a sense of responsibility, began to change and treated me even better.
With his support, I also started trying to forget that person. Peaceful days continued until one afternoon when a familiar phone number rang. While walking with my husband, I told him about the call.
He silently finished a cigarette and asked if I had been waiting for his call. I didn't speak, which was my tacit agreement. He said that someone's call could ease my emotions and help me move on. He added that next time he called, I could listen but wouldn't tell him the conversation. Finally, through the call from my husband and his devoted companionship, all the wounds in my heart healed.

(Chapter 8)
My husband and I have deepened our relationship and love each other even more. We are life partners and work friends, and we've rediscovered our love amidst the everyday routines of life. Of course, the person I can't live without is my master, who pulled me out of the abyss. He and my husband together healed the scars in my heart and are my guides. Ironically, he still takes me to the hospital every month to treat my physical scars (cigarette scars and hypertrophic scarring). Life is always so dramatic; we've come full circle. I hope the new year
will bring a fresh start. After going through so much, our relationship—between my master and me, and between my husband and me—is even stronger. Through these experiences, we've found a way of getting along that suits us (maybe). Since reconnecting with my master, my husband no longer questions what happens between us, though I occasionally mention it. He also doesn't look at our chat messages, so we get along very well now. Many men with cuckoldry fantasies enjoy reading erotic novels, but they aren't actually cuckolded, just like my husband. After two years of groping in the dark, I finally saw a glimmer of light. I discovered that my husband wasn't a cuckold; his fantasies played a large part, and his pleasure largely stemmed from my pride. He enjoyed serving me as a slave, enjoyed my unbridled behavior, and enjoyed humiliating him. So, at the end of 2019, I decided to try something more intimate with my husband. Before we started, we discussed some issues. I asked him to carefully consider whether he preferred masochism or pleasure in sex. To avoid my husband comparing himself to his master again, we didn't discuss it with him this time.

We hoped for a fresh start in 2020.

[The End]

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Let me tell you my story of getting into the circle.

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