Hunting for Beauty 1 (More to come, but I won't post anymore if you guys don't upvote)

Chapter One.

The man's hands were large and powerful, like bear claws. As his supple fingers slid across Ou Lingya's body, she trembled with excitement; he had aroused her desire. His lips covered hers, his tongue entering her soft mouth. Ou Lingya responded passionately, anticipating
.

She reached out to caress the man, slowly finding his thick, erect member beneath his trousers. He was incredibly alluring, and another wave of pleasure washed over Ou Lingya; she was about to experience ecstasy again. She glanced around, hoping no one would disturb them. Just as she had planned, the elevator stopped safely
between the two floors. It would be more than half an hour before the engineers passed by again; enough time for a little excitement.

Oulingya released the man's arms from her grasp and expertly unzipped his pants. He opened his mouth without resistance… Oulingya thought a man like this would be used to and comfortable with her way of making love. He then began to pant as he felt Oulingya's
soft fingers slip inside his pants, pulling out his erect penis.

"Great, baby!" Oulingya whispered, gently stroking his penis. "You're feeling good. Now let me see if you can feel even better."

She appraised her "trophy" with satisfaction. It wasn't very long, but that didn't matter, because it was thick and erect. When she first experienced that ecstatic sensation there, she doubted whether she would have the energy to fully enjoy this alluring "trophy." Oulingya's lips drew near
it, encircling it, and he couldn't help but groan, pulling her head into his arms and convulsively rubbing her hair, uttering incomprehensible babbling.

Oulingya couldn't understand his babbling at all, but what did it matter? She wasn't here to have a polite conversation with him. She stuck out her tongue and licked the tip of the young man's penis, tasting the semen secreted within—a salty flavor. Although she desperately wanted it,
she didn't want to rush things. She wanted a short, exciting journey with him—one that would drive her wild and intoxicating, but first, she needed to prepare him.

Her hand slid down his penis, grasping his two spherical seminal vesicles, pressed tightly between his thighs. The vesicles lay beautifully in her palm, full and moist, like tropical fruit. This sensation excited her; a warm, wet liquid flowed between her legs
, and her genitals twitched with desire.

Oulingya teased the young man for a while longer, wanting to intensify his desire until it became uncontrollable, while she herself reveled in it. She repeatedly refused his penetration, despite his attempts to satisfy his desires and reach orgasm. He was a little
annoyed , and a hint of disappointment crept in, but his annoyance and disappointment didn't deter her, because she understood: the longer this game went on, the more pleasure he would enjoy when she finally "took pity" on him.

When Oulingya sensed the man was somewhat exhausted, her mouth finally accepted him. She saw his genitals glistening, covered in saliva mixed with his own semen. This wild, fiery English woman wouldn't let him leave so easily.

"Cheer up, lad!" O'Lingya commanded. "Look what I've brought you."

Her hand reached to her waist, pulling up her shirt to reveal a pair of red shorts, so short they clung tightly to her hips, even her dark brown, curly pubic hair peeking out from the edges. O'Lingya quickly pulled down the shorts and kicked them off. She smiled slyly, the shorts brushing
against the young man's face, revealing her moist, fragrant genitals. The young man closed his eyes, lost in the woman's scent.

"Oh, God..."

O'Lingya leaned against the elevator wall, standing with her legs apart. One of her hands slipped between her legs, caressing her labia and clitoris. Before the young male elevator operator was a "blooming flower," and he couldn't help but feel aroused in the moist, beautiful "garden." Ou Lingya laughed lasciviously
, now truly ready to enjoy her pleasure…

As she lured the man to witness her various acts of pleasing him, the man's gaze was lewd yet somewhat displeased, while she felt triumphant and ecstatic. She knew how much he wanted to throw this shameless, frivolous woman onto the floor and take her,
but something seemed to be holding him back—this wasn't hard to guess. After all, this young lady was a popular guest at this prestigious Parisian hotel, while he was merely an ordinary employee. At the slightest provocation from O'Lingya, this kind young man had no choice but to obey.

However, if he could see through her thoughts, he would find his fears utterly absurd and ridiculous. She simply wanted some physical pleasure from him. And conquering such a decisive and charming man was a pleasure in itself. Besides, there was no harm in letting such an
energetic young man be tempted by a woman.

Now, the poor young man stared wide-eyed, somewhat dejected. He lowered one hand to touch his groin, but Ou Lingya shook her head sternly and pushed his hand away.

"Darling, you can't do that! Understand? In a moment, you'll be mine: I promise you, I'll make you incredibly happy!"

Ou Lingya leaned against the elevator wall, her other hand's soft, nimble fingertips gliding over her two protruding nipples, caressing and kneading them, unable to contain her excitement. Through her wide eyes, she saw the man staring at her longingly, like a dog. Excellent! Perhaps, it's time!
"Young man, do you want me?" she asked slyly. "Let me experience your tongue first."

The man accepted its teasing without hesitation, eagerly pressing himself against her feet, his face between her legs, feeling the warmth and moisture... It was already evening, his face resolute and excited. His hard, erect penis finally pierced her body, a slight discomfort making her
tremble.

"Lover, be gentle."

But Ou Lingya was still immersed in every minute of pleasure, she liked this man's somewhat rough caresses. This young man might think he knew a lot about making love with women, but the truth was he was just a novice. It seemed no one had taught him how to slowly guide a
woman to the next level; he lacked that skill.

Alright, he had to become a student and receive special instruction from Ou Lingya.

Ou Lingya held his hand, gently but firmly guiding it, teaching him how to arouse her desire. "Here—yes, right here. Touch here, with your hand, gently, like stroking the petals of a flower. Now, put your fingers in… Oh, perfect! Bit my
nipple , but… Oh… so gentle… Ah… Oh…"

Her student was so eager that she was a little dizzy. Her orgasm came too suddenly and dissipated too quickly. It was a pity that she had hoped it could last longer. But it didn't matter; there would be other opportunities, in other places, with other men. And this
man —she wasn't willing to let him go home before she had satisfied herself.

Thinking this, Oulingya felt another surge of excitement, and desire welled up within her; waves of lust rolled and surged within her...

"Oh...yes! Conquer me..."

She spread her legs as wide as she could, pressing her back against the elevator wall to welcome his sliding tongue. His tongue tip darted back and forth, rubbing against her labia…

“Ah, Kings!”

She grabbed his head, his gaze burying deeper and deeper, pressing harder and harder against her vulva; the pleasure continued. Her vaginal fluids flowed into his mouth. He sucked greedily, like a voracious beast…

Exhaustion, mingled with the lingering warmth of excitement, washed over her, and she slid down, lying on the carpeted floor, her knees spread, her alluring lower body fully exposed. Her desire for sex wasn't fully satisfied; she craved a second, even a third. Who could say
how many times it would take? Because Oulingya was an unusual young woman: a woman who sold her entire life to lust.

The floor was hard, making Oulingya feel uncomfortable, yet when her buttocks touched the wood shavings, the floor was irresistibly alluring. Her genitals received renewed stimulation, and she reached out her arms towards Jin Jiesi—the young elevator operator.

"Lover, take me, take me now!"

Before she could utter a second cry, the young man grabbed her waist and lifted her until she was flat on the floor. Her shirt reached her waist; her bare buttocks pressed heavily against the hard floor. He was by no means a fashionable sex man; but when he laid her down and attacked her "blooming flower,"
he was filled with a primal, wild desire.

Jin Jiesi thrust into her thirstily, in and out repeatedly, and she let out pleasurable moans... He was charming, and she was glad she had kept him waiting for so long. He wouldn't have lasted much longer, but she was almost there too. Even with this thought, the slightest touch
made her feel intoxicated and her heart swayed.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, responding promptly to each of his powerful thrusts. Her buttocks were chafed by the hard floor, but she liked the slight discomfort; it only brought her new pleasure.

"I'm going to cum, oh my god!" Jin Jiesi whispered. Ou Lingya felt his penis growing harder inside her. Then, a warm stream of white semen shot into her vagina, and Ou Lingya reached another orgasm, convulsing as she gripped him…

Just as the orgasm slowly subsided, and Ou Lingya considered their next move, the elevator lights flickered with a click and a ring.

"The elevator's fixed, get up!" Jin Jiesi muttered, jumping up in a panic to straighten her clothes.

Oulingya, however, remained calm. She stood up from the floor, brushed off the dust, pulled down her shirt, and took her shorts from the elevator door handle, deftly stuffing them into her handbag. Oulingya then quickly tied her golden hair into a ponytail. Undoubtedly, she looked
presentable and poised. Only her flushed cheeks betrayed a secret: something had just happened between the elevator operator and this striking British lady in this very elevator.

The elevator was descending to the first floor, and Jin Jiesi grew increasingly anxious. Oulingya blew a kiss to his genitals

, then swiftly tucked them into his pants, zipping them up and buttoning them, like she was handling a child.

"Just stand here, don't move!" she laughed. "Nobody will know, young man, if you don't want them to know."

Just then, the elevator reached the ground floor with a creak, and the doors opened. Without turning her head, Oulingya walked straight into the hotel lounge. The travelers crowded towards the elevator, each with a vague question in their minds: how could there be damp white
spots ? What were they? This was the only question Oulingya left for everyone to ponder. The elevator attendant followed Oulingya.

"Ah, dear lady! Everything is fine. I'm so sorry about the elevator—this has never happened before! Oh, by the way, are you satisfied with your room? I personally chose it for you.

You'll enjoy many beautiful views of Paris through the window."

The male waiter's face was slightly flushed. Ou Lingya found him amusing. She was engrossed in ordering a morning newspaper, wondering if he would be satisfied if she weren't a sexy blonde with blue eyes. Would he smell the odor in the elevator? That was an intriguing
thought , and a slight smile involuntarily crossed her face. Perhaps later…

“Oh, yes, thank you. The room is very nice, but there’s a problem with the showerhead in the bathtub. Could you have it fixed as soon as possible?”

“Of course, miss. I’m very sorry about that. Perhaps I could change your room.”
“No, thank you; there’s no need for that. I’d like to go back to my room and rest now. See you later, sir.”

She stood up and stepped back into the elevator, convinced that her swaying hips had once again caught the young man’s attention. If he was also attracted to her, the showerhead would be fixed much faster; she was certain of that.

Her room number was 618, on the sixth floor. The scenery was indeed beautiful—a row of stylish villas outside the window, and the Poisson Bridge in the distance—but O'Linga hadn't come to Paris to admire the scenery. She undressed and lay on the bed, and the question that constantly plagued her came to mind again. She
made a decision immediately…she would succeed—no matter the effort, she would succeed. Although O'Linga had a foreign name, she was born and raised in England. Her father was French, and her mother was English. Her mother died when she was very young, and she grew up with her father. Her father—Oliver—was a remarkable banker. In England, he was known as a cultured philanthropist, but later, his financial acumen was replaced by an unusual skill: Oliver was also a charismatic adventurer, becoming the object of pursuit for ladies and
lustful . Oliver became addicted to this game of pursuit, admired and flattered by society, no longer the banker he once was.

Beneath his seemingly successful life lay a hidden sorrow: neglect of one person—his daughter, Orinya.

Oliver had once been an arrogant young man, confident he could do anything. When he heard about the mysterious "Great Love Demon" organization, he knew he had to join it at any cost. No one had ever openly expressed a desire to become a member—
because all its activities were extremely secretive—but its members were said to be the most experienced and stimulating sex addicts in the world. They were passionate about it, and would even risk their lives for it if necessary.

Oliver's life was completely changed when he discovered this mysterious organization. He immediately had a new goal: to pursue this mysterious organization no matter what, and to be prepared to undergo its rigorous trials until he became a member.

He searched for ten years, and finally, his dream became a reality. One night in North Africa, a man in a formal suit met him and asked Oliver if he still wanted to join the "Great Love Demon" organization, giving him seven tasks to complete. He successfully completed the first six tasks, but failed the seventh. They abandoned him immediately, and he lost all contact with the organization. Because in their organization, there are no
second chances.

Oliver was devastated and some say he later died from excessive grief.

One day, young Orinya sat beside her father, listening to him recount his glorious past and how he almost became a member of that organization.

"Dad, one day, I will join the 'Great Love Demon' organization!" O'Lingya declared loudly. "I will become a member, and on that day, you will be proud of me."

But Oliver shook his head.

"My child, you are brave, but you must give up this foolish idea. No woman has ever joined this organization."

O'Lingya opened her bright, emerald-like eyes and gazed at her father.

"Then I will be the first," she declared.

So, ten years later, O'Lingya arrived at this very luxurious Parisian hotel, awaiting the opportunity she had longed for. Legend has it that the headquarters of the "Great Love Demon" organization is located in Paris. Perhaps after so many attempts, she will be lucky enough to find it; perhaps this time she will succeed.

"Wait, observe, listen," her father told her in the weeks before he died. "Be patient. If you're ready, he'll summon you. Even if he doesn't, you must wait quietly." Easier

said than done, O'Lingya thought. But she wasn't good at waiting. Once she saw what she wanted, she'd go to any lengths to get it, especially anything sexual. She was sexually admiring, and since men adored her, she could steadily follow her desires.
For the past few years, she had served as an agent for an international businessman, business dealings that provided her with ample time for pleasure. She had a vague feeling that she might be about to accept a challenge "given" to her by an organization. Why, oh why, hadn't they contacted her yet? This was her
third visit to Paris in recent months, but still no news.

Fortunately, she had always had work. Tomorrow she was going to work at a small private art gallery, where she had acquired some works from unknown artists at auction. But what should she do after that?

She touched her body, and couldn't help but think of the handsome elevator operator and his captivating physique. He was charming; she wished he were beside her now, wishing she could see his alluring muscles and the outline of his erect penis in his trousers. He was incredibly virile
; she wanted to bite him again, reliving that moment in the elevator…

Instinctively, she reached between her legs, relaxing them. Another wave of pleasure washed over her, remembering the joy of the afternoon in the elevator. Her right hand reached for her breast, beginning to knead her nipple. Her nipples were extremely sensitive and full. They needed to be touched and kissed; even the slightest summer breeze would
arouse .

O'Lingya rubbed her fingers between her labia for a while, and it became wet again…

Her fingers then touched her small clitoris, which had become hard and aroused, ready to be caressed. She didn't know what it would feel like to rub her genitals raw, so she inserted a small silver ring into the most sensitive part of her vulva. Her friend had done this before and told her it felt wonderful
. Oh, it was still an adventure she had never experienced. Perhaps she could try it when she returned to England.

Instantly, pleasure washed over her entire body, overflowing. Her breathing quickened, her fingertips instinctively rubbing her genitals back and forth.

How she longed for an endless night, a night of endless lovemaking. Even if her lover was cruel, she would still beg for his mercy. She was a horse, to be "ridden" by her master, regardless of night or day.

"May I come in, Miss?"

Ou Lingya suddenly opened her eyes, turned her head, and saw a man standing outside the door. A dark-skinned and muscular man, about thirty years old, he hesitated, one hand on the doorknob, the other carrying a canvas tool bag. In the sweltering July heat, he was shirtless, still wearing
blue jeans.

So, this must be the sprinkler repairman! She also glanced at him sideways, looking him up and down. Hmm…not bad, firm buttocks, broad shoulders, muscular arms. He wasn't very tall, but the bulge in the front of his jeans suggested he was a real man. Perhaps her
pleasure wasn't over yet.

"Oh, miss, I'm sorry, if you're resting, I'll leave—"

"No, no! It's nothing, come in. I'll show you what's wrong with the showerhead."

She slowly got out of bed, convinced this young, handsome Frenchman had plenty of opportunities to feast his eyes on her naked body—one he'd never seen before. She wondered how long he'd been standing there, whether he'd seen her arousing herself. She picked up a bathrobe from the chair and casually draped it over herself. But the bathrobe had no
belt, and with each step she took forward, it billowed up, revealing the curves of her breasts, her long, smooth thighs, and the gold-red rolled-up thong.

O'Lingya gave the repairman a mysterious smile; he was nervously swallowing, his hands gripping the toolbox so tightly his knuckles were trembling. O'Lingya couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if his strong hand reached for her thigh.

"Here, sir," she said, leading him into the private bathroom, which was dimly lit and windowless. As they passed the bathroom door, her silk-robed buttocks brushed against the young man's jeans; she wasn't mistaken, his manhood was hot,
hard and throbbing.

He was a little reserved, and she could sense his fear. Oh, if she wanted him, she'd have to break this silence.

She slipped into the bathroom and reached for the showerhead, her silk bathrobe immediately opening to reveal her shapely, golden-brown breasts, the result of her frequent sunbathing.

She turned on the showerhead, but nothing came out.

"You see? No water, the showerhead's broken. Can you think of anything?"

"I think... I'll try."

He crouched down, toolbox in hand, checking the pipes. O'Lingya trembled with excitement. Looking down, she saw a head of brown curly hair, small curls clinging to his brown neck. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his physique well-defined. She longed to touch him, kiss him, caress him
…

Unable to resist the urge, she reached out and gently ran her hand across the back of his head. His skin was hot, dry, and vibrant, like someone who had spent a long day under the sun returning to a cool night, seeking pleasure.

At her gentle touch, he paused, looked up, and stared at her suspiciously. Oulingya smiled, a strange little flame flickering in his dark brown eyes; she knew he understood.

The repairman lowered his head again, seemingly oblivious to what had happened, continuing his inspection of the pipes. Oulingya felt a pang of frustration. She wanted to tease him, she wanted to rip off his clothes, to force him to make love to her. But everything had gone wrong. Perhaps he was a reserved person, but she instinctively sensed that this young man knew a great deal
about the game of lovemaking.

He explained to Ou Lingya, "A faucet... what do you say in English?... 'Clogged'?"

"Yes, clogged, is the faucet clogged?"

"Yes, so you have no water."

"Can you fix it?"

"Maybe... I'll try."

He stood up and moved toward the showerhead. Ou Lingya gazed at him with desire; his movements were poetic, his muscles strong and powerful, and with such a beautiful, muscular back, he must have an irresistible allure. After a while, he stepped back, proudly extending his arms.

"It's done!"

"You fixed it! Oh, thank you so much!"

O'Lingya kissed his cheek gratefully, her right hand sliding down his body, taking the opportunity to touch his firm buttocks.

The repairman shook off her touch, reached for the showerhead, and hot water sprayed down, flowing onto the floor. It was hot, O'Lingya thought, a cold shower might be better, especially since she was currently unbearably hot. Besides, she really wanted to take a bath, and it would be a waste to waste so much water.

She quickly took off her bathrobe, which slid to the floor, leaving the repairman speechless, his brown eyes wide open. He was probably more than twenty-five, but he looked like a guilty high school student, as if it were his first time seeing a woman's naked body, but he was afraid of being caught by the female principal.

"I have to try it myself," she explained.

She stepped into the bathtub, and the repairman stood there, staring at her, unsure whether to stay or apologize and leave. He had never seen a woman like her before.

No one suspected it was no coincidence; as her hand reached for the showerhead, she trembled with excitement, almost believing she hadn't meant to. Just as she expected, the young repairman took the bait.

"Miss!"

he cried, standing behind her, his arms around her waist, trembling as well. She responded to his touch, guiding his hands.

He whispered in her ear, kissing the back of her head and caressing her golden breasts. They intertwined, heading deeper into the bath. He reached out and turned the showerhead to its maximum setting, the water cascading over them like rain from a tropical rainforest.

Ou Lingya's back was pressed against his chest; she could feel him. She turned to face him, repeatedly rubbing him with her fingertips. He was lost in pleasure… and so was she.

Her nipples hardened, erect, and her vulva secreted fluid, mingling with the falling water…

She moaned urgently, "Take off your clothes!"

He reluctantly released her and stepped out of the bath. Instantly, she was filled with desire again… She didn't turn around; she didn't want to spoil the moment. She turned her face towards the spray, closed her eyes, and let the water flow over her face and chest.

A few seconds later he was there, pulling her close with a mixture of eagerness and tenderness.

"I want you," he said urgently.

"Give it to me..."

He parted her buttocks, and she anticipated his penetration, but he didn't. A bar of soap slid between her legs and rubbed back and forth skillfully, the sensation sending shivers down her spine, a flame of desire engulfing her entire body...

"Oh, yes! Give it to me, hurry, give it to me..."

He caressed her expertly, one hand stroking her breasts, the other reaching into her vagina, rubbing it just right, bringing her to the peak of pleasure again and again.

She reached orgasm once more, her body convulsing, a stream of fluid flowing from her genitals, the soap inside her sliding out and falling into the drain.

Exhausted, she leaned against him, moaning. But he still had plenty of energy for her; her passion invigorated him. He quickly entered her again…

O'Lingya moaned happily, letting the pleasure spread through every cell of her body…

After all, today had been a truly blissful day.

That evening, O'Lingya lay lazily on the treetops of the hotel, watching television absentmindedly. The television was showing poorly dubbed period dramas, game shows, and endless meetings. Since her last visit, French television programming hadn't improved. The elevator
operator and repairman had given her some pleasure, but that was hours ago. O'Lingya was incredibly bored; she longed for a man by her side.

Then a program caught her attention. It was a program about a local magazine. She turned up the volume and listened carefully.

"Tonight, at the Dramatic Theatre of Montmartre, the controversial hypnotist Mel will be performing. His performances have caused a great sensation in major European cities. The performance starts at eleven o'clock, and there are still tickets left, one hundred and fifty francs each..."

Eurydice thought happily, "That's for me." She turned off the TV, got out of bed, and prepared to head straight to the Dramatic Theatre of Montmartre.

Chapter Two

: The Heart of Montmartre – The Dramatic Theatre of Montmartre Tambourine was already packed with enthusiastic spectators—young gentlemen and their giggling girlfriends; middle-aged couples seeking a different kind of fun; and even some very aristocratic gentlemen and their jeweled,
elegant wives. Meyer's hypnotic performance had become the talk of the town in Paris.

After paying 150 francs, Eurydice walked through the aisle straight to the audience. She was glad her seat wasn't too far forward; she'd heard that these hypnotists could indeed lure the audience onto the stage. In fact, a friend of a friend of hers had once been dragged out of the audience and, in a daze,
confessed to being a hen. Thinking of this, she couldn't help but chuckle, finding a comfortable seat and settling down. She was flanked by a middle-aged woman and a lean young man in an oversized evening gown.

The lights dimmed, the curtain slowly rose, and a fat, sweaty conductor appeared on stage, telling a series of tedious jokes that elicited a chorus of nervous laughter. O'Lingya felt cheated, as if she had walked into a British men's club. But this clown-like
figure continued to stir the audience's emotions, encouraging them to relax. Soon, the people in the room began to stir excitedly. Even O'Lingya had a strong feeling: what kind of person was this great Meyer? A true genius, or a con artist?

Finally, the lights in the room dimmed again, and Mel appeared under the bright white spotlight on the stage. O'Lingya felt inexplicably excited. Tall, dark-skinned, and with a melancholic expression, Mel knew exactly how to create visual effects for his audience. O'Lingya then noticed that
more than the audience were women. They were frozen in place, as if nailed to the spot; perhaps Mel was using his unique masculine charm.

The show began with a pure induction performance. O'Lingya gradually became agitated. How did she end up in such a sordid place? This was a performance designed to make you want to get close to your unmarried aunt!

"Now," Meyer announced, "the moment we've all been waiting for—audience participation time—has arrived. My assistant, Anneck, will now announce some audience seat numbers. Anyone whose seat number is called, please come up on stage."

No worries, Ollinga thought. If someone happens to call my number, I'll just sit here nonchalantly and watch others' comical performance.

"G platoon, French 75mm cannon," the lovely Anneck announced—this petite woman with slightly dark skin, a full bust, and a charming smile.

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the theater. Ollinga saw a middle-aged man, his face flushed but beaming, being pushed to his feet by his family and friends, push his way through the crowd and onto the stage.

Meyer was going to play a game with his audience. He knew what his audience wanted—vulgar, scandalous stuff, and most importantly, something embarrassing. They'd read some magazines and watched his television interviews. Well, they'd have to wait a little while—but he was sure they'd think it would
be worth it. By the time the audience entered the theater, he'd already seen everyone on television and had chosen his targets with extreme care. He wouldn't let them leave disappointed.

With effortless ease, Mel brought the red-faced man into a trance-like state, making him remove his coat and shirt, stand upside down, and utter strange cries. The audience erupted. They were restless. They knew the real show was yet to come. Then, others came up on stage one after
another. A young girl initially giggled incessantly, but after Mel hypnotized her and told her she was a bird demon, she became quiet. Numbers were called one after another, and Ollinga grew increasingly irritated. She decided to get up and leave the theater.

"Row T, Goddess of Rescue," Anneck announced in a voice, holding up a black card with gold lettering. For a while, Ollinga was unaware that all eyes were on her. Before she knew it, several hands had pushed her to her feet, leading her unconsciously to the stage.

Mel greeted her with a devilish smile. When their eyes met, O'Lingya instantly lost her confidence, her legs went weak, and she almost collapsed into the hypnotist's arms. Just as she was drifting off, she felt Mel's hands on her back, probing, exploring, admiring. He removed his hands
, and she stood beside him on the stage. She kept repeating to herself that she didn't want to be hypnotized; no one but herself could control her mind.

"Relax," a low voice said somewhere deep within her brain. "Relax. You know what to do."

Amazing! These words immediately resonated within her, and an overwhelming weariness washed over O'Lingya, leaving her weak and powerless, yet utterly unafraid. Suddenly, she realized everyone in the theater was staring at her, so she forced an extremely unnatural smile towards the audience, feeling smug
about being the center of attention.

"Look at me, O'Lingya. Look into my eyes." She stood there blankly, surprised that this man knew her name. Instinctively, she looked up at Mel's face. Soon, her thoughts became hazy; she wanted to look elsewhere, but couldn't. It was as if her gaze was nailed to her
face, her bones stiffening. However, Mel's eyes were ordinary, brown eyes—she remembered them very clearly; she had seen those eyes in the portrait in the hallway. But now, those eyes were like burning green flames.

As she looked directly into Mel's eyes, images formed in her mind. These images were so seductive that soon she lost all sense of where she was.

She saw a naked woman dancing before a tall, black man; his genitals were clearly erect. The two images were indistinguishable; in the mystical world of Orinya's mind, she herself was dancing naked for Mr. Mel. This mystical world
quickly vanished as her mind was completely occupied by the virile hypnotist. Secrets, dreams, desires—was he planning to implant all of these things into her brain? She tried to resist, but it was useless—her body wanted them.

A distant voice spoke to the audience, as if from another world. Light-years flew by.

"Now, Miss O'Lingya, an audience member is here to amuse you. This beautiful English lady will give you the sexiest performance, and I hope you enjoy it."

O'Lingya felt the man's voice was powerful and irresistible—fluent, sweet, and not cloying. Without any reason, she knew she was willing to serve this man, to become his plaything. She felt her body disintegrate little by little, flying out of the window.

"Take off your clothes for me, O'Lingya. Just for me, let me have it."

Although O'Lingya knew she was naked in front of hundreds of audience members, she still felt as if she were only with Mel. As she took off her coat and unbuttoned her semi-transparent, tight-fitting top, Mel's unique charm enveloped her completely. Then, a sea-green
shirt slipped off the stage. She was left wearing only an unbleached satin jumpsuit in the style of the 1930s. As she heard bursts of laughter, heavy breathing, and jeers, she began to hesitate.

"Take it off, Oulingya. Seeing your naked body is my greatest wish. Show your body to me alone, okay?"

She obediently complied, so naturally, without guilt or fear. She knew this perfectly well. She was undressing Mel; he wanted to see her completely naked. He had that right, without question.

Slipping off the straps, she gracefully removed her sexy lingerie. Then, without stockings and high heels, Oulingya stood naked on the stage, awaiting her master's next command. The colorful lights flashed across the faces filled with longing, dazzling her; the sounds from the audience
confirmed that people were expecting something.

"Sit down, Oulingya."

Her legs touched a cool wooden chair. She sat down, knees together.

"Spread your legs, Oulingya. I want you to show me your most tender, deeper, alluring part."

She consciously spread her knees, and the crowd stirred again. Oulingya calmly displayed her most intimate and alluring part; pink, moist, and surrounded by wrinkles.

"Spread them wider, Oulingya, I can't see clearly. I can't see the key parts."

She spread her legs forcefully.

"Good, very good, now, Olina. I'm going to put something in your hand. I hope you'll use it to please yourself; if you're happy, I'll be happy too."

He gestured to his blond, blue-eyed assistant, who handed him a whip handle made of stiff leather. This thing had been used to caress and bite the flesh of many naked beauties during Mel's late-night performances. Of all the women Mel remembered, he preferred this beauty before him; she was an
excellent target—receptive and provocative. He could sense her inner desire: the most basic, and the most intense. This unrestrained blond, fair-skinned beauty—he was glad he had chosen her on instinct the moment she entered the hall. Intuition told him that by using Oulingya
, he could fully express his deepest and strongest desires.

He placed the whip handle in Oulingya's hand; she seemed unaware of its nature, but she caressed it as if she were caressing a lover's body.

"This is the tool that will bring you pleasure, Miss Oulingya. Use it skillfully, and the effect will be even better. Follow your feelings; as if my hand were on you, arousing your desire."

Oulingya naturally parted her labia, like opening a clenched fist to display a precious treasure. Her pink clitoris shone like a priceless pearl.

A powerful desire caused Oulingya to insert the whip handle into her vagina, and from somewhere in the audience, a man's painful groan echoed.

Lust quickly consumed O'Linga's entire being, but the voice guiding her wouldn't allow her to achieve pleasure so easily. Before this, Mel had never placed much hope in this whip handle, but now he wanted it to continue; he hoped O'Linga would not only make him famous in Paris, but also in the Western
world.

"You're about to reach climax," a low voice said. "Put your fingers inside your vagina, deep inside, smooth and hard, yes, closer."

"Yes, oh, yes..."

As if plunged into hell, O'Linga complained of her unsatisfied desire. Could a few pokes in her vagina really arouse her? How cruel Mel was! He wanted to keep her sexually starved.

A clear, sweet liquid flowed from her body, staining the chair she was sitting in. Her female parts were so fitting, the insertion and withdrawal of the whip felt wonderful.

"You can stop now," Mel commanded. Although every nerve ending in her body was clamoring for the pleasure to continue, she obediently stopped, sitting passively, awaiting the next command. Mel

paused, scanning the audience. Good, very good. He saw several men lost in their own pleasure, and even a couple making love right there in their theater seats. The woman was sitting on the man's lap. Excellent. At this rate, by the time he and Miss Olinga finished their performance,
the entire audience would be immersed in ecstasy. He suddenly felt a surge of gratitude towards the young woman, whose audacious and passionate sexual behavior had made her famous.

"Oulingya," he whispered in her ear, "I want to tell you something about yourself. Would you like to hear it?"

"I...will...hear,"

her voice was so dazed, as if it came not from her lips but from a celestial realm.

"Listen, Olinga, you're a prostitute. Okay, tell me, what are you?"

"A prostitute, I'm a prostitute."

"Yes, Olinga. You're a lowly prostitute who loves your profession, and tonight you'll be the busiest prostitute. You're so popular, do you know why?"

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

Come, let me tell you. Olinga, you're the most popular prostitute in this brothel because you're willing to do anything—everything your clients ask of you, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Are you happy to serve your clients? I imagine there are many clients waiting for you."

"Yes."

"Are you willing to do anything?"

"Yes."

Without another question, Mel smiled contentedly. The last obstacle was gone. He now knew for certain that O'Lingya had become a mating animal, willing to perform anything at her behest. He scanned the audience once more, for this show needed other people with potential.

Judging from the excited expressions of the men—and of course, the women—there would be no shortage of eager participants. But he hoped his chosen ones would possess the talent to use their imaginations.

His gaze settled on a man in the third row ahead. The man was desperately trying to persuade his girlfriend. His trousers were off, and he was pulling his girlfriend's hand toward his crotch, while his girlfriend blushed with embarrassment and struggled to pull her hand away. It was truly shameful—this young man was
courageous , and Mel believed O'Lingya would surely like his stubbornness.

"Who wants to come up and be my partner?"

Several hands went up; a burst of laughter erupted as friends or colleagues tried to push their reluctant partners out of their seats. But Mel was only interested in the young man in the second row who had been rejected by his girlfriend. Using all his charm, he finally managed to get the young man's attention
.

When the young man's gaze fell on Mel, Mel was certain the young man was up to the task.

Enraged by his failed attempt to rape his girlfriend, the young man stood up and strode towards the stage. He didn't even bother to go back to his seat and put his trousers on.

He climbed the steps, and Mel greeted him with the warmth of someone reuniting with a long-lost son, taking the opportunity to stare into the young man's eyes and subtly implant some erotic suggestions into his subconscious.

"What's your name?"

"Um...Juston. Juston."

"Okay, tell me, Juston, do you often get excited by erotic fantasies?"

"I...yes."

"Tell me, what do you plan to do with the beautiful Miss O'Lingya?"

Juston hesitated for a moment, but due to the effects of hypnosis and the frustration of being rejected in his pleas for sex, he glanced meaningfully at his girlfriend and replied, "I hope she can satisfy me with her mouth." The young man was trembling uncontrollably, but it was easy to see that it was due to excitement. Encouraging words came from the audience behind him.

Mel then turned his gaze to his most proud guest.

“Look, O’Lingya—this is your first guest. He wants you to please him with your mouth. Do as he says. Making him happy is your greatest wish, and doing so will bring you pleasure. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

The thought of putting the young man’s genitals in her mouth excited O’Lingya. She moved her knees and began kissing Juston’s naked body. She was already out of her mind, only instinct guiding her mouth and hands. She reached into Juston’s open trouser zipper to touch his
testicles. The testicles were round and heavy, and they were taut as she weighed them in her palm and stroked them.

She opened her lips and took the object into her mouth, slowly sucking and savoring it. The salty taste of the liquid stimulated her tongue, and she simply pressed her tongue against the increasingly swollen base of the man's penis, using her mouth to enjoy the same pleasure and excitement of possessing a man.

She sucked with relish, because Justin's pleasure was her pleasure. His testicles, filled with semen in her mouth, became even more swollen and stiff, and Ou Lingya felt her pleasure spreading and expanding throughout her body, a heat rising in her lower abdomen, reaching all the way to her hard clitoris. Finally, Justin let out
a of submission, and Ou Lingya excitedly burst into tears. As Juston ejaculated a stream of white semen into her throat, her first orgasm caused her vagina to tense.

The entire audience applauded and cheered—except for Juston's girlfriend, who stared at the stage in disbelief.

On stage, Ollinga remained kneeling passively, like a sincere penitent, willingly enduring unimaginable asceticism.

The other "guests" of Merle did not disappoint him. The second guest—a wrinkled German man with dueling scars—offered to whip Ollinga. Ollinga knelt before him, and he beat her back and half her buttocks until they were red. Yet, with each whip, she
felt an indescribable pleasure.

The third guest demanded that Olinga spread her legs again and straddle him, as if he were her mount; Olinga, too, wanted to shout out without restraint in her excitement. Meyer watched them, suddenly consumed by jealousy and anger: Olinga was his invention, his creation, why should anyone else
enjoy his achievement? This thought burned within him like flames.

He wanted to possess her. She had to…

“Lower your hands and knees, Olinga. Let me have you alone, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Take me.”

Following Meyer’s instructions, Olinga lowered her hands and closed her legs. In her mind, she was a she-wolf in heat, waiting for her companion to possess her. Making love together is far more enjoyable than entertaining oneself alone.

Mel eagerly unbuttoned his trousers, revealing a stunningly beautiful sight—seven inches long and perfectly round testicles. The audience erupted in screams. The women wept, begging Mel to give them a chance to perform with him, to do whatever he pleased. But
Mel's eyes were only on Ollinga.

He swiftly and smoothly entered her body. O'Lingya felt as if a wolfhound was pressing down on her, his hard penis thrusting into her roughly. She twisted, trying to turn over, but an indescribable pain held her captive. She didn't want to move; she wished to live forever in her dream
, forever making love without waking.

Mel skillfully straddled O'Lingya, transmitting a thousand arousals into her brain through his devilishly alluring black eyes; he derives pleasure from her, and she responds harmoniously, like a violin in perfect harmony with a masterful musician.

With a groan of ecstasy, O'Lingya finally surrendered to pleasure. She straightened her back, accepting the boiling life-giving fluid that Meyer ejaculated. As the climax gradually subsided, she collapsed on the stage, panting and drenched in sweat. The curtain slowly descended.

She forgot about the audience, forgot about the atmosphere in the audience seats and foyer that was gradually building to a climax. The guests were like a group of slaves encouraged by their master, completely immersed in the sensual pleasure.

Of course, she also ignored the three angry figures in gray raincoats who were walking solemnly toward the stage.

"Mr. Meyer."

Meyer stood up unsteadily, stuffing his still taut penis into his pants and buttoning them up.

"Um, what is it..."

"The military police."

A commotion broke out in the crowd. A man wearing an old blanket hat and holding a military police arrest warrant spoke up: "I think we've had enough of your so-called performance, Mr. Mel. You'd better come with us to the military police station." He glanced at O'Lingya again: "We also need to take this young lady to ask some questions."

O'Lingya was terrified when she saw the two uniformed military policemen who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to cover her naked body. The two military policemen were clearly unable to resist O'Lingya's charm, and under the guise of a search, they began to grope her
body —a little too late, O'Lingya thought, a feeling of contempt rising within her.

She struggled to break free from their groping and turned angrily to the older military policeman: "Have you finished with me, sir?"

The military policeman's face flushed red, and he feigned a cough.

"Shut up! Damn it," he commanded gruffly, while simultaneously putting on a stern face to hide his embarrassment. "Take him away!"

O'Lingya clearly remembered what happened next. She was handcuffed and sat in the back of the black prison van with Mel—her first thought was: this man wasn't panicked by what was happening. His smug smile made her feel he could salvage the situation. After all, he
hadn't yet become infamous.

Upon arriving at the station, they were publicly humiliated, then taken to separate cells to await interrogation. As Mehr was led away, he turned and gave O'Lingya a seductive smile: "This is a supreme honor, miss. If you were to begin your career in a professional theater..."

O'Lingya sat in her private cell, staring dejectedly at the empty walls. Everything that was happening was completely unexpected, and she had decided to leave Paris. She had planned to spend a quiet evening at the theater, but now she was sitting here, being molested in public—
and might even be thrown into jail. She had heard terrifying stories about French prisons. She considered whether she could gain a glimmer of hope by seducing the inspector. But this thought, as sudden as it had appeared, was quickly dismissed. Her body couldn't save her either. All she could do
was wait for trial.

The next morning, she was brought to court and stood before the judge. She wanted to know where Mel was—she quickly realized that he, of course, had bribed someone and escaped. Even a string of legal provisions had no effect on him. O'Lingya wanted to kick herself a few times for her lack of foresight regarding the benefits of this ancient method of
bribery .

The judge was a gaunt, emaciated man who made no attempt to hide his displeasure at a young woman stepping onto the bench. Of course, O'Lingya didn't have a chance to go back to the hotel to change into something decent. She was still wearing the stained and wrinkled coat and miniskirt she had worn the night before. Last night, she
looked so sexy, so alluring; but this morning, under the cold lights, she resembled a lowly prostitute.

She gave the judge an extremely seductive smile. But she clearly saw that he was unmoved. The judge stared at O'Lingya through his thick glasses for a moment, then sentenced her to five days in jail. O'Lingya looked dejected but unsurprised.

Everything was as expected. Just as she was leaving the courtroom, on a whim, she turned and threw a long kiss at the judge.

The judge was speechless; he retracted his sentence: "I will punish you more severely, miss. I will sentence you to a month in jail, not five days."

O'Lingya lay sullenly on the low pine bench. That was her bed. Prison life was like that, monotonous and devoid of interest. Many times, she dreamt of the Great Love Demon Organization.

She remembered being led into the prison through two heavy doors, the expressions of the female guards looking at her. One of the guards—an Algerian with a head full of curly, straw-like hair, a smile playing on her lips—scanned her.

"Come here," the guard snapped harshly. "Take off your clothes!"

Reluctantly, Olinga removed her coat and skirt, trembling in her overalls, feeling humiliated and angry. She looked up at the guard, pleading for mercy. The guard rejected her with a cold gaze.

With a soft sigh, O'Lingya removed her jumpsuit, instantly exposing her alabaster breasts and the intimate area between her thighs. The female guard openly and greedily admired her body.

"Go over there," the guard said, pointing to a door at the back of the room. O'Lingya passed through the door and entered a tiled bathroom with a row of showerheads, but no curtains, no screens—in short, nowhere to cover herself. Perhaps this was their intention; they wanted to
humiliate O'Lingya. She couldn't help but complain about her fate, while wondering what Mel was doing tonight.

The guard handed her a bar of soap and a brush, pushed her under a showerhead, and turned on the tap. She couldn't help but shiver: Wow! It was cold water, icy cold. The water spraying on her felt like thousands of fine, sharp needles piercing her delicate nipples. She tried to jump off the tap, but the female guard pushed her under the spray.

Her hands gripped her like iron clamps, pinning her hands behind her back, rendering her immobile. Water cascaded down her face and nipples like a waterfall.

"We've heard about your scandalous past."

"Since you enjoy making up stories so much, and seem to enjoy it so much, why don't you try learning from us and prove you're still useful?"

"Be smart, miss. You're under our jurisdiction now."

A burst of maniacal laughter surrounded her; were it two or three voices? It felt as if countless hands were groping her body, fingers searching for her most intimate parts.

She opened her mouth and bit the back of a soft hand; immediately, an angry voice, a mix of French and Arabic, vibrated in her ears. She was slapped hard across the face and shoved aside, crashing against the bathroom wall. The smooth tiled wall offered no grip
, and her body slowly slid down until she finally fell to the floor.

Those hands were on her again, restlessly groping her.

"Stop! Stop right now!"

O'Lingya shook her dizzy head, and through her blurred vision, she saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing by the door.

The female guards quickly moved away from her; like a group of startled customers, they slipped away from the acting steward.

Mr. Davaro silently entered the bathroom and turned off the tap. O'Lingya struggled to her feet. The acting steward handed her a piece of paper.

"Dry yourself off, miss. Here, though you are a prisoner, we are not savages. I guarantee you will not be subjected to that kind of mistreatment again."

O'Lingya smiled gratefully at Mr. Davaro, catching a glint of greed in his eyes. Hmm, very good, she thought, he would be a useful ally.

Only two people remained in the bathroom: O'Lingya and Davaro. She reached out and closed the door, ensuring security and privacy. Then, with remarkable elegance, she lifted the bath towel, which rustled softly onto the tiled floor.

"Miss, you...?"

She placed a finger to his lips, a response to his puzzled expression. Next, she placed her hand on the front of his navy blue trousers, smiling as she touched the area covering his swollen testicles. As she unzipped the trousers, his entire body tensed, followed by a
heavy . Oulingya had freed his tense muscles from their confinement, igniting his full desire.

She knelt before him, taking his penis into her mouth to express her deep gratitude. The next morning, O'Lingya was reading an old novella when she heard the key click and the door to her isolation cell opened.

"O'Lingya, get up and get yourself ready."

O'Lingya was startled. A visitor? Apart from Chris, who worked at the art museum, no one knew she was in Paris and imprisoned. Her mind raced, wondering if it was Mel, having been released from prison, taking pity on her and intending to bail her out of this hellhole. Impossible. Why would he save
a woman he had temporarily borrowed—especially just to please his audience—and cause her trouble?

Filled with doubt, she followed the female guard through the dark corridor towards the reception room. Two prisoners were scrubbing the floor. As she passed them, she noticed them exchanging furtive glances, whispering, and giggling. Did they know about her affair with Davaro in the bathroom?
The female guard led O'Lingya into the reception room, then turned and left, closing the door behind her. She would wait outside for O'Lingya to speak with the visitor.

A blond, fair-skinned young man sat at the long table in the center of the reception room. O'Lingya didn't recognize him. He smiled and greeted her.

"Hello, Miss O'Lingya," he said, kissing her hand.

"Sir, who are you...?"

"Ding Valen." He sat down and gestured to another chair. "You don't need to know my real name; you can call me Ding Valen."

"How did you get here? I don't know you."

"Yes, Oulingya, you don't know me. But I know you." He paused. "We all know you."

"You?"

"Yes, the 'Great Love Demon' organization."

Oulingya felt a wave of bewilderment—was it excitement or fear, or both? Finally, she had found the Great Love Demon organization—but here, when she had offended public morals and been sent to prison. In short, this meeting was unbelievable.

"I can tell you are your father's biological daughter," he observed her closely. "Unfortunately, he lost in the final duel. But you must understand, the 'Great Love Demon' organization has its own discipline, and no one is allowed to violate it. We have been watching your every move, Oulingya. We are
very satisfied with what you have done."

"But, that means..."

"Yes, Oulingya, prepare yourself to accept the test of the 'Great Love Demon' organization!"

======================================================
Are there any girls or young women who want to enjoy sexual pleasure?

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Note: I'm from Wuhan!

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