Life without limbs (1)

Published at: Liuyuan Forbidden Bookstore
Word Count: 16271
Chapter 1

I was lying in a dimly lit room, on a hard wooden board. I was exhausted, truly exhausted. My whole body felt like it was falling apart. Even without the usual restraint, I didn't want to move anymore. As always, I was naked. In the stuffy room, even a wisp of air coming through the crack in the door felt cool.

"Today should be almost over!" I thought to myself. Yes, I'd been trapped in this dimly lit room all day, completely unaware of the time. I was just counting the men who had come in today… probably… probably about ten hours. Just counting wasn't enough to be accurate. I'd been fucked by at least twenty men today.

Lying flat, I couldn't see the door, but hearing the sound of it, another man must be coming in.

"Oh! I'm late today!" he sighed, shaking his head as he approached. He was definitely late today. I was exhausted after being fucked by twenty men, and afterwards, I wasn't cleaned up at all. I was covered in saliva, sweat, semen, and all sorts of filth, and it didn't look appetizing at all. It's a wonder he paid to come in so late; he must have been incredibly horny.

This place is... what, I think it's called an "entertainment venue." Many girls like me are fucked in different rooms all day long. This isn't a nightclub for the rich, nor is it a brothel for the common people; it's just a place for poor people to have sex. The "company" (that's what I heard them call it) moves frequently; the rooms are mobile, built wherever they go. Sometimes it's next to a mine, sometimes next to a military camp, sometimes next to a factory. Anyway, it's always a place with a high concentration of male labor and a lack of women—that's our company's business opportunity. Therefore, almost every man who comes in is dirty.

This guy, like all the other men this month, is a coal miner. They don't go to shower immediately after work; they come to us first. Since we'd get dirty anyway, they figured we might as well finish and wash later, so we got even dirtier.

By this time, I was covered in coal from the men's coal collection, and I was as black as they were. I hadn't cleaned myself all day. First, I thought: the next person would be covered in coal anyway, so I might as well wash later. Second, I couldn't wash. I couldn't wash not because I was tired, or because I was restrained by something, but because I had no hands or feet. Please don't misunderstand, I wasn't born like this; I've had times when I was a normal person.

At that moment, the man who had just come in pulled down his pants without a word, took out his penis, and inserted it into my body. One hand held my waist, and the other groped and kneaded my now completely black breasts. I felt nothing; even if I did, I was too tired to moan anymore.

Looking at the only light in the room above my head, in the swaying light, I recalled the past. When I was little, my parents died. I don't remember how they died or what they looked like. Anyway, some time after I became an orphan, a man took me away. I had no other relatives, and he seemed like a good person at the time. It was a place with many girls around my age, and many people like the man who took me, taking care of us, giving us food, shelter, and clothing. As children, we had no idea what the future held. We only knew that we were safe and secure in this moment, and that was enough. By the time I was seven, I had lived there for quite some time. We didn't go to school or study; we just played with each other every day. They never gave us any toys, and the girls never fought over anything. Every day was like this, aimlessly running and jumping. Races, long jumps, rock-paper-scissors, even friendly shoving... those were such memorable times.

However, that year, something very important happened in the lives of us girls. I will always remember that day; without saying a word, they grabbed several of us and chopped off our hands and feet. They didn't even take the girls away from where we couldn't see them; instead, they brutally chopped them in front of all the girls. You might think that witnessing such a thing would be a nightmare for such young children, but looking back now, I don't think so. Lacking knowledge, we had no idea what that felt like; we were simply terrified by the cries of our companions in pain… until I myself was captured and my hands and feet were bound with rope. Like the other girls, I was stripped naked and bound tightly to a thick wooden board, spread wide—which now seems like a chopping board.

At that time, my arms were only about the thickness of an adult man's index finger and thumb when they were linked together. The man who managed us every day had no expression on his face, not even a hint of malice in his eyes. He picked up the knife that had already chopped off many of my companions' hands and feet and slashed straight at my shoulder joint. It hurt terribly, and the moment the bone broke was even more painful. Before that, I had never suffered such a severe injury, never seen myself bleed so much. I even felt myself clenching my fists in tension, and as I tried to struggle with my arms like I had a second ago, I realized that the red hand was no longer responding.

My legs had been severed some distance below my buttocks, probably at the level of my vulva, because whenever I stood up, my vulva would always touch the ground. The pain of losing my limbs is unforgettable; I always thought I wouldn't feel any pain like that. But I discovered that the future would be more painful than any reality.
At that moment, I came to my senses because the man who was having sex with me was pinching my nipples hard. More than pain, I felt a numb sensation.

"Hey! Scream! You can't even scream when you're being fucked, you filthy hole!" he yelled, spittle flying everywhere.
I was already very tired and didn't feel anything. Plus, I was reminiscing and forgot about the customer's feelings; I was really sorry. So I made a couple of polite moans, enduring the soreness in my lower back, and once again squeezed his penis with my vagina.
"Ah...! Ah...! Ah...! Ah...! Ah...! Ah...! Hmm...! Ah...!"
I cried out incoherently, lost in memories once more. The night our hands and feet were chopped off, I saw Aunt Zhang weeping as she bandaged our wounds. A group of men managed us, but it was a group of women who truly cared for us. Each of them looked after a small group of little girls; the one who looked after mine said her surname was Zhang, and we all called her Aunt Zhang. She raised us all; she fed us when we were young, bathed and dressed us, just like our mother. I had never seen her cry so bitterly, as if she were more heartbroken than if she herself had lost her hands and feet.

"Hmm... Hmm... Hmm... Hmm..." My cries grew weaker and weaker. The penis inside me stopped after a round of thrusting, throbbing slightly, before ejaculating inside me again. I don't know how many times this has happened today; I can no longer feel that warmth deep inside my body.

"Bitch, lick it clean," he said, pulling his penis out and bringing it to my mouth.

I had his penis in my mouth, sucking and licking the remaining semen as it went soft. Men love doing this; they know we're not doing it willingly, but they always call the woman they're fucking a slut. It seems he's too full of work grievances, so even late at night, he comes to us to vent.

"Don't spit it out, I'll leave after I pee," he said, and then he started urinating in my mouth. A stream of urine filled my mouth, that familiar taste, salty, always cloying. Several people had urinated in my mouth today; sniffing my own mouth, I realized it really smelled like a public toilet. I basically drank it like water, since lying here, I couldn't get water myself. They don't care what the customers do to us here. Some like to have sex with us, some like to beat us, some come specifically to use us as toilets, and some even come specifically to see how people without hands or feet survive. In short, they pay once and "use" us for half an hour.

After the last drop of urine was gone, he put on his pants and left.

Chapter Two.

"Snap!" The overhead light went off, finally off. This was the only time we knew—the day's work was over. A moment later, someone opened the door and led me back to my lodgings. It was night outside, but still brighter than the closed room. A man slowly walked over, his face familiar. He placed one hand on my shoulder blade and the other on my waist, lifting me up.

I didn't like constantly calling them "men," but they hadn't actually told us how to address them. I could only distinguish them by appearance. The men didn't manage us in groups, and there was no hierarchy among them; it was as if everyone was the same.

"Phew..." I let out a long sigh. I'd been lying down for almost the entire time. And this plank bed had no pillow, so lying flat was incredibly uncomfortable. I breathed heavily again; lying on this plank felt like even breathing was suffocating. Being upright made the feeling even more pronounced—the sensation of semen flowing out of the two holes I pointed to. Inside my rectum, I even had to pull hard to drag them out. Even though I no longer hated them, I wouldn't consider them beautiful. The man started to untie me from the board. I wore a collar around my neck, the chain attached to a buckle under the board, supposedly to prevent guests from carrying us away. Wearing a collar wasn't necessarily an insult; it was just that we had nowhere else to fasten it. He unlocked the lock with a key, then unfastened the buckle on my collar, freeing me. Then, carefully, he lifted me by the waist and carried me away.

Usually, they would carry us whole, but not since we came to the coal mine. They had to carry many girls by themselves, and they didn't want to get covered in coal dust. Turn right after exiting, pass a row of identical rooms, then turn right again to reach the side of the building, which was the back alley where we cleaned. The autumn wind was particularly chilly at night, especially for my nearly numb body; the autumn wind brought not only cold but also an indescribable discomfort. In the back alley, Aunt Zhang was already bathing the other girls. The other girls in the same group were gradually brought in. Everyone was tanned, and after a day's "work," it was rare for us to exchange a bitter smile. There were five girls in the group; originally, there were fifteen.

I remember after the day they cut off our hands and feet, many girls died. Some died from blood loss, some from infected wounds, and some died from accidents that wouldn't have affected normal people (like falling from a height where one could stand on their knees, collapsing, etc.). In the end, not many survived with me; only about half, or even fewer, remained. Until I was nine, we lived a life of darkness, because a group of girls without hands and feet couldn't be exposed, so we lived a semi-escapist life.
I remember my wounds being bandaged, lying on the ground for months, completely immobile. A six-year-old child should have been able to use the toilet, dress themselves, and eat by themselves. But in those years, I and the other girls relearned how to get up from lying down, how to move our bodies slightly while enduring the pain of our wounds, how to eat without our hands, how to bathe, and how to lie down upright without bumping our heads. Back then, we would also cry together. From then on, we never wore clothes again, not because we didn't want to, or because they shouldn't. It was simply that without Aunt Zhang's help, we simply couldn't wear clothes. When I was little, I always dreamed that one day I wouldn't need anyone to take care of me anymore, that I could cook for Aunt Zhang and the other girls myself, and even make beautiful clothes for myself. How could I have known that everything could have remained unchanged… no, it should be that everything changed so much, I couldn't have predicted it.

Aunt Zhang poured hot water into a bowl, took a towel, soaked it, and vigorously scrubbed me, bit by bit, removing the dirt and restoring my skin's natural whiteness. Every girl here had skin as white as snow, because we had been locked in a dark room since early morning, only coming out at night, and hadn't seen the sun for a very long time—how could we not be white? Aunt Zhang had been running around since the afternoon, cooking and preparing hot water. Now, after setting out dinner, she was still diligently scrubbing us. I don't know how to thank her enough. After

scrubbing us, Aunt Zhang lifted my back and placed me in a basin of warm water. She scooped up a spoonful of warm water and poured it over my head. It felt so warm, as if all the day's fatigue had been washed away with the water. Aunt Zhang then gently bent my remaining thighs to align with my body, so I could sit on the basin like a normal person. I still have a buttocks, I can sit, but my hip joints no longer obey me. As always, she used her fingers to reach deep into my genitals and carefully scoop out the semen little by little. Then she turned me around, pointed at my anus, and dug out the semen there as well. Aunt Zhang then grabbed my hair, from the top to the ends. I have waist-length hair, and every time Aunt Zhang reached the ends, her hands would turn grayish-black. After we finished washing, Aunt Zhang dried us one by one with a towel, which was still gray in the end. Coal ash is such a disgusting thing.

With the help of several men, we moved from the bathing area to the eating area. It was at the back of the building. I was placed on a chair, waiting to be fed. Sometimes I think it's really good to be a person without hands and feet, because I can do more things than normal people, so they have to help me. That feeling of being fed is something normal people can't understand. We don't eat much each day, mainly because we don't have hands and feet, we rarely move, and we don't consume much energy. Besides, we're always full. Sometimes guests come not for sex, but also to use us as toilets, urine as water, feces as food. We only eat one real meal a day, and that's already enough to fill us up. Aunt Zhang picked up a bowl of food, came to me, and fed me spoonful by spoonful. I was full after just a few bites. After shaking my head to indicate that I was full, Aunt Zhang turned around and went to feed the next girl.

I turned to a man eating and said, "Brother, could you please take me to the restroom?" He immediately put down his bowl, picked me up, and carried me there. We weren't their hostages, nor were we slaves; we were people who had always lived with them. If they weren't so inhumane, if they hadn't done this to us, we would all be very, very good friends. Now, we usually ask them to do things that require our hands and feet. They are like our hands and feet.

He placed me on a toilet, a real toilet, and came in to watch. It wasn't malicious spying, but because I couldn't clean myself.

"Ugh..." With a muffled groan, the stool that had been accumulating in my stomach all day finally came out. Along with the stool, I was also urinating. I was used to urinating and defecating in front of others, even strangers. Since we lost our hands and feet, we hadn't worn clothes, and from the beginning, I hadn't known what shame was. Now, in front of a man in the restroom, I actually felt a little sorry. It's mealtime now, and he's only just put down his bowl when he has to watch me relieve myself. He's not like me, used to being able to eat after defecating. I really feel bad for him. But this is part of his job.

After I finished using the toilet, I looked up to signal him, and he took out a tissue to wipe my genitals. Then he picked me up, flushed the toilet, and carried me back to my sleeping area as I requested. Dinner had just ended, and before bed, the girls and I would usually watch TV for a while, sometimes with the other managers who had also finished eating. This was our only free time each day, and also the time when various people from the company would gather together. People gradually filled up in front of the TV; after dinner, the men would carry the girls over and sit down together. Many were already paired up, probably having planned their evening's activities. I had eaten early and sat near the front, but no one was beside me. Whether I was healthy or had lost my limbs, I rarely talked to others, mostly just playing with the girls. Perhaps since becoming an orphan, I no longer believed in human relationships. And even when with many people, I rarely spoke. Just like right now, I was only focused on the screen; a drama was playing! The scene was breathtaking, with shimmering lake and swaying trees, where the protagonists strolled and whispered sweet nothings. I didn't crave love or a partner; what truly captivated me was the freedom of walking in such a beautiful place.

Soon, a man approached me. Knowing I wasn't talkative, he simply held me quietly around the waist, waiting for bedtime. Since we stopped wearing clothes, this was practically the only time I'd been in contact with fabric. The fabric now felt incredibly uncomfortable, perhaps because they all wore only coarse cloth, but its contact with my body was particularly unpleasant, especially when it touched my severed limbs.

When it was time to sleep, the building's doors and windows were locked, and all the lights went out. The men immediately pushed down the women beside them; what had previously been a place for resting and watching TV had instantly become a battleground for over a hundred couples. There were far fewer managers than girls, so not every night the girls were taken advantage of. Therefore, we were happy to accept the occasional night of companionship. Moreover, unlike the guests, the managers didn't need to worry about the time, allowing us to slowly enjoy the process of lovemaking as well.

In the pitch black, I couldn't see the man before me, but amidst soft moans, my lips were pressed against his. Perhaps only someone who lived with us every day would kiss a mouth that had once held the excrement of other men. I felt his tongue slip inside, and I returned the kiss passionately. Yes, at this moment, I was enjoying the true pleasure of sex. He sat up, pulled me into his arms, and held me tightly, letting me feel his burning body temperature. My lower body was already overflowing with desire, but he wasn't in a hurry, still caressing my body with one hand, especially my breasts, which were exactly the size of his palm. He gently grasped, kneaded, and played with them, as if intentionally leaving me unsatisfied.

Every time this happened, I would think of my (our) first time. That year, I was nine years old, and the injuries from my amputation, both physical and emotional, had almost healed. But I was always puzzled as to why, before those days, Aunt Zhang always seemed reluctant and unwilling when feeding us. I never knew where food came from, nor did I know that food would run out, but Aunt Zhang wasn't worried about food shortages. During that time, our bodies began to change, or more accurately, we started developing. Our breasts began to swell, our buttocks became rounder, and our waists became thinner. We also started growing hair and menstruating. I remember when I was in severe abdominal pain and bleeding, I kept asking Aunt Zhang what was happening, but she was too embarrassed to answer.

It's funny to think about it now; a nine-year-old girl shouldn't be developing so fast. They added sex hormones to our food every day, which were essentially aphrodisiacs, and this also accelerated our physical development. Aunt Zhang felt guilty towards us, which is why she did this. But we were just children then and didn't understand; we only knew that we often felt hot all over and had a very special need. Then one night, one of the men took me to a room. He put me on the floor and started taking off his clothes and pants, letting me see a man's penis for the first time. He knelt down, lifted me from under his arms, and gently rubbed my small nipples and slightly swollen breasts with his hands. It felt very comfortable. In fact, because of the aphrodisiac, I would turn over every night and rub my nipples against the floor because I found it made me feel good. My genitals would also feel itchy, and I really wanted to… but no, I didn't have any hands to masturbate. I could only drift off to sleep from the stimulation of my nipples. Then the next day, my genitals would always be soaked, and I often thought I had peed without realizing it.

I never thought that being gently touched by someone would feel so good. My eyes had automatically closed up without me even realizing it. I wanted more. I twisted my body and leaned forward, hoping he would touch me more, not just my breasts, but my whole body and genitals. He then sat cross-legged, lifted me up and placed me on his lap, and kissed my lips. He put his tongue in my mouth, and I, unaware of his intentions, followed suit. As I closed my eyes and let him caress me, a sharp sensation shot through my lower body. He supported my back with his left hand, while his right hand reached down to my genitals, massaging my clitoris with his fingers. Without hands, I had never experienced such direct stimulation of my sensitive area. I felt a liquid slide from my vagina, which he caught in his hand. He raised his hand, letting me see the silky, slippery liquid in his palm, which made me blush with shame for the first time. He put his fingers in my mouth, letting me taste the flavor of my own genitals. If I had hands, I probably would have tried this many times already.
Chapter 3

I saw him put his erect penis, which now seemed to be of normal size, but as a child I always thought it was enormous. Especially when he was about to insert it into my vagina.

"Ah…! Ah… no! Ah!…" A tearing sensation came from my lower body. Not just my lower body, but I felt as if my entire body, from my vagina to the top of my head, was being torn in two. I couldn't help but cry out. Since losing my limbs, no matter how difficult the adjustment to life had been, I had never cried for years. I thought then that no pain could make me cry anymore; how naive

I was. Because of the abundant vaginal lubrication, the man's penis entered completely without any obstruction. Instantly, I felt a sense of fullness throughout my body, accompanied by the gradually subsiding pain in my lower body and my own rapid heartbeat. The man began to thrust.

"Ah...ah...um...ah...ah...um...ah...ah...ah...ah...ah..." I began to moan rhythmically. After the extreme pain, the friction between my genitals gave me great pleasure. Was it because of the drugs? Or because of myself? I don't know.

"Ah...ah...um...ah...ah...um...ah...ah...ah...ah...ah...ah...um...hum..." With each thrust, my heart raced faster and faster. I looked into the man's eyes; his expression hadn't changed from the beginning, but because his penis was inside me, I always felt a connection between us beyond the physical. It was as if I had given him something very important. Looking into his eyes, feeling his power, I quickly reached my first orgasm.

It felt a lot like urinating, except that at that moment my body used all its strength, concentrating all its energy...

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Life without limbs (1)

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