[Composition of the object]

#1 Water Chestnut
In Guangdong, besides mooncakes, there's a traditional custom of eating taro, water chestnuts, and pomelos during the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Eating water chestnuts during the Mid-Autumn Festival is said to make children smart and clever. The most common way to eat water chestnuts is to boil them in water
, then peel them and eat them as a snack.
Water chestnuts resemble ingots; they are green when small and mature to a dark red color, ready to be harvested. Their shape is such
that both the head and tail are upturned. I've never eaten water chestnuts. Their dark, solid, and shiny appearance makes me
dislike them completely. When I was little, my mother would occasionally "give me water chestnuts" when I was naughty, meaning she would tap me on
the head. Maybe that's what made me stupid! Perhaps eating more real water chestnuts would make me smarter, but the truth
is, I'm quite stupid.
When Yang Sao took out the water chestnut, I think I must have turned pale, but I still managed a forced smile, deftly pulled
down my faded jeans, and whispered, "Could I use this for a bit...?"
Yang Sao leaned against the sofa and laughed, "Right away."
After three years with him, I still tried this futile request; how stupid am I? I
threw the jeans far away; I wanted to keep wearing them anyway. Being naked wasn't embarrassing;
underwear was never an issue here, in this attic. I knelt with my back to Yang Sao, sticking my butt out high. Back then, this
perfect angle was the result of Yang Sao's hard training—it was incredibly difficult.
I took a deep breath, trying to relax my lower body muscles. His cold hands touched my buttocks, sending
a chill down my spine. I dreaded his coldness. I quickly mentally prepared myself; I'd taken three days off this month, with
two more days of grace... but there was still a week until the end of the month...
His sharp, cold fingers scraped my closed anus, immediately pulling my attention back to reality. Sometimes I hate my
body, it's not horny enough, uh, maybe I'm just too slow to warm up! I always feel like I'm dying before I even react,
maybe this is proof that I'm a born masochist?
His fingers spread my anus, and I was already trembling with pain, quickly pleading, "Gently...please..." See,
I'm doing something pointless again.
Yang Sao's heavy body pressed down on me, this feeling, the feeling of being pressed down, I still can't get used to it. Struggling
to support myself, I glanced at the clock on the wall, nine o'clock at night...
His fingers went in, and I immediately twisted my waist uncomfortably. The intestinal walls squeezed against the foreign object invading, I quickly took a deep breath
and loosened my anus, but he mercilessly dug and scraped my tender, warm anus, the pain making me tighten again.
Hearing Yang Sao's sneer, I calmed down instead. At worst, I'd just change jobs again, but I'm still quite satisfied
with my current job...
Something hard, smooth on the surface but with sharp edges, squeezed in.
Perhaps it was the moonlight that was too round and full tonight, or perhaps the water chestnuts reminded me of my childhood, or perhaps
I simply hated water chestnuts. In any case, my body reflexively struggled violently. How violently? The water chestnuts fell
out, their hands were pulled away, and I lost my kneeling position. After struggling for a moment, I thought I should
change jobs.
The cold hands touched my sweat-drenched body again, and I didn't foolishly beg anymore.
Instead of supporting my body with my hands, I reached towards my anus and pried open my vagina, prying it open with great force, inserting my fingers and
spreading my anus.
The water chestnuts squeezed in again, and I used all my mental energy to control the muscles in my lower body. I thought the bomb disposal experts in movies
must feel something similar to me when they're working, right? The difference is, they wouldn't make the same noises as me, would they?
"Ugh... um... ah!"
I knew I was bleeding, warm liquid flowing down my inner thighs.
Three water chestnuts inside me.
I felt like I'd been pulled out of water, my whole body soaked in cold sweat, panting.
Yang Sao picked me up. At 176cm, I'm not short, but he
carried me up to the rooftop as easily as if I were a child.
A cool night breeze blew, and from here, I could see the lights of countless homes around us. I quite liked the city lights; they resembled
a sky full of stars, small yet thousands upon thousands illuminating the world.
Although the vibrations of climbing the stairs caused more bleeding in my groin, I still had the mood to appreciate the
night view. That's just the kind of person I am.
Yang Sao held me naked as we lay on the sun loungers.
The bright white moon hung in the sky against the dark backdrop.
Mid-Autumn Festival, truly a day that evokes many thoughts.
I remained motionless as he held me. The feeling of the wind on my skin was far more comfortable than his rubbing and pinching
. His fingers were still cold; I knew this was just the beginning, so I tried to save myself, enduring the excruciating pain in my rear,
twisting my body to rub against him. The sooner I died, the sooner I was free—I understood that principle. After twisting for a while, he
slapped my cheek. Hmm, good sign, finally a reaction.
Under the beautiful moonlight, I was equally beautiful.
Three bloodstained water chestnuts embraced beside the sun chair leg.
Two overlapping bodies violently embraced on the sun chair.
"Ah ah..."
Reunion under the moon, I think this is the meaning of the Mid-Autumn Festival?
When his body is cold, he likes to go crazy. In the past three years, I have understood this.
The night
is long.
#2
"Your mood is always flying, you want to chase after everything, want to grasp a little comfort.
You always like to wander in the crowd. You are most afraid of the taste of loneliness.
Your heart is so fragile that it will break at the slightest touch.
You always need many people to accompany you. You are most afraid of the darkness every day.
But the sky will always darken, and there will always be parting. No one can accompany anyone forever.
And the taste of loneliness is something everyone has to face. It's not just you and me who will feel tired..."
The stereo played a melodious song called "Who Will You Think of When You Are Lonely." I quite like it and spent
some of my savings to buy this CD.
The song somewhat reflects my feelings. I am indeed a little afraid of the dark, not of parting, but of meeting again, of seeing Yang
Sao. To be precise, I was afraid for the first two years after I arrived. Now, although I don't feel it anymore, subconsciously I'm still a little afraid of
the dark.
"A-Xia, come here."
Even with the loud, melodious music filling the attic, I could still clearly hear Yang Sao calling my name
—a deep, emotionless male voice. After three years of hearing it, my body had obediently accepted the commands of that voice.
I approached him and knelt down. He was using a computer; I glanced at it—it was all alien scripts and programs, just like his
perverted nature.
He touched my genitals with his foot, and I immediately pulled off my jeans. He used to forbid me from wearing clothes,
but over the years he'd gradually let me. As long as I took them off promptly, he wouldn't say anything. After all, I'd
caught a cold a few times in winter from not wearing clothes, and he was afraid of catching it from me, half-dead. Besides, we sometimes exchanged saliva,
increasing the chance of him catching it—and of course, I was happy to infect him.
When he saw me put on my jeans, he simply said, "No underwear."
Humph! What underwear was he going to let me wear? That was incredibly stupid. Perhaps a hint of disdain showed on my face, so
my fate is best left unmentioned.
"...When you're lonely, who do you think of? Do you want someone to keep
you company? Only I can understand your joy and sorrow. Let me walk with you one more time..."
He thrust hard, and I groaned. I couldn't help but admire my own foresight; I had applied
lubricant hours earlier. My moans and groans, combined with the music from the stereo, sounded rather pleasant. He rode me
, thrusting in and out. I spread my legs wider for him to do it. He whispered in my ear, "Nice song."
I hummed softly in response. He was clearly not satisfied, because he pounded into me so hard that even with lubrication,
my tender bud couldn't withstand his violence. My anus burned with pain, and I quickly whispered to soothe him:
"Yes...not bad..."
It was a dismissive lie that even an idiot could hear.
Maybe subconsciously I wanted to die, though I wouldn't admit it, but who cares? True feelings are never
something that would appear in this attic, like underwear.
He chuckled, thrusting harder. My back was already raw from his rough handling, and before he was even finished, it was screaming
. I endured it. I
was confident that if I were to fill out a resume, endurance would be listed as a strength.
Patience is golden, as the school taught.
This time, Yang Sao went on for a while; even after the record was repeated, he wasn't finished. I was drenched in sweat, struggling to
move my legs wider, almost to the point of self-torture. That's why I say I subconsciously sought death, death beneath a man, ha!
I think he heard my laughter because he was deep inside me, then he flipped me over, and I screamed. I really don't
understand why he could hear me even with such loud singing, which makes him a pervert. And, unexpectedly, my screams
matched the singing perfectly. Well, actually, I wasn't screaming very loudly because I was completely exhausted.
The act of swallowing and releasing his penis head-on meant my body was about to fold. This difficult movement is what made my
waist even thinner...
Finally, during the seventh song, when I could no longer utter a sound, he ejaculated inside me like a sprayer
, hot and gushing. Sometimes I felt his fluids were warmer than he was. In a daze, I heard him say
, "When I'm lonely, I'll think of you."
I don't know where I got the strength, but I cursed, "Damn it!" Lonely? What a terrible adjective, no one would
describe Yang Sao like that, humph, Yang Sao is definitely not human.
"You have the strength to curse?"
I remained silent, the male organ inside me hadn't receded, I could feel it swelling little by little, I thought I should fawn over him
, "I'll think of you too." Hmm... if I really said that, my fate might be torn to pieces
and scattered all over the world. I think I have that much intelligence, silence is the best response, besides, I really
didn't have the strength to speak.
He did his thing, I passed out.
He wasn't such a generous person after all, passing out was too easy for me, he pulled away and woke
me up with an electric shock. This method of waking me up is uncivilized, but very effective. My body remembers it deeply, and then
I dare not faint again next time. This time it was only because I hadn't endured it for too long, whether it was electric shocks or Yang Sao's rough handling.
After not being fucked for several weeks, I did need some review, just like schools need exams to check learning outcomes
. I am good at exams, but I feel like I'm walking on thin ice when I'm being fucked, and I can't do well no matter what.
Yang Sao dragged me from the living room into the room, and the singing became a little distant, as if it was being repeated, playing the first song.
"...Your heart is so fragile that it will break at the slightest touch, and it can't withstand the slightest breeze..."
I bled, I had been fucked for too long, and no matter how much lubrication and semen there was, it was useless. I had been grinding too much, and I would eventually run out of steam.
"...But the sky will always darken, and there will always be partings. No one can stay with anyone forever..."
The reason I bought this record was because of this lyric: No one can stay with anyone forever.
#3
It's a pity that there is no golden cage like in a mansion, only an attic and a rooftop. It's not too big or too small, at least
it's not too difficult for me to clean. Yang Sao isn't afraid of cleaning staff, of course, but he is afraid of
me, naked, so I have to clean it myself.
What I like most is its height, the top floor of the fifty-plus stories, jumping off would definitely kill me. The view is also really good, high,
far, reaching the sky, the sky seen on a clear day is really beautiful, very beautiful.
I yearn for the boundless and clean sky, and I think Yang Sao feels the same way, after all, we are all dirty things,
it's understandable that we like things with light. What we can't have is always the best!
The attic has a living room, a suite, and a kitchen. Three spaces, limited escape routes, this must have been Yang Sao's
consideration, right? It's very similar to the furniture in a normal family home: TV, computer, bed, table,
chairs...
I think only the bed is a little special, I was tied to the bed for three months when I first came, it's
quite difficult not to be familiar with it. The large iron bed was immovable, no matter how hard I tried. After a
month of struggle when I first arrived at the attic, I fully understood this—the bed was nailed shut. There were iron chains at the four corners, chains that had absorbed
so much of my blood, though I used them less now. During those three months I was bound to the bed, those chains were practically
a part of my body. Now, Yang Sao occasionally uses them when he goes berserk.
Frankly, I don't think Yang Sao really liked this bed; when he got on me, he mostly did it haphazardly.
At most, he uses the living room table, then the rooftop, then the floor; he rarely uses the bed—a rather strange habit.
I wouldn't be foolish enough to ask him why; I may be slow, but I'm not an idiot.
Just as he seems to dislike beds, I don't really like tables either.
Under the light from the table's chandelier, I lay sprawled out, flat on my back. I remember him saying,
"A delicious dish, I like it."
The reason I dislike tables is simple: the corners and solid wood of the table hurt me terribly when they bumped against me. Yang Sao doesn't
care if the person beneath him gets bumped; he has me as a cushion! Every time after he finishes, I'm half-dead
from his ministrations, covered in large bruises. Sometimes the pain is so bad I can't work, so I
smear all sorts of bruise-reducing medicine and medicated bandages on myself. Yang Sao can't stand the pungent smell and slaps me a few times, so I don't dare use them anymore. But
the bruises take a long time to fade, seriously affecting my work. So I stayed in bed. When he wanted to have sex with me, it naturally happened
on the bed; he wouldn't drag me all the way to the table. Sometimes when he called me, I'd answer "on the bed," and gradually I
avoided the table too.
Actually, I should like this bed. Because this bed has the strongest scent of me, whether it's blood,
sweat, or bodily fluids. If it weren't for Yang Sao's scent, I think I would like it. In this attic, this
bed is the one I feel most comfortable with.
The door opened, and Yang Sao walked in. I quickly threw the book I was holding far away, nimbly grabbed
the lubricant on the bedside table, and clumsily squeezed it into my anus. Only a little came out before Yang Sao was already naked.
His strong body walked towards me. I seized the last bit of time and squeezed hard—ah! He slapped it away
… The lubricant made a perfect parabola, falling into the corner. Damn!
Perhaps my frustrated expression angered him. When he pressed down on me, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them to my head.
Only when the heavy chains wrapped around me did I stupidly realize the gravity of the situation. I hesitated, wondering if I should struggle. Alas, my reaction
was far too slow; Yang Sao had already handcuffed me.
Yang Sao's memory wasn't very good—or rather, his memory was poor in a specific way. Once the chains were on, he would "forget
" to untie them, sometimes for two or three days, sometimes for over a week. I thought, "I'm going to be absent from work again..." My resentment
probably infected Yang Sao; he had sex with me for a long time. I noticed he was taking longer and longer. The previous two years he'd
finished quite quickly. Was this a sign that I was no longer attractive to him?
Was this a good thing or a bad thing?
These were my last thoughts before I closed my eyes.
My eyelids were heavily glued shut. I finally managed to open my eyes, but my whole body was paralyzed. I remained frozen for a while before
slowly feeling the pain throughout my body. I lay on my side in a V-shape, my legs unable to close. They weren't tied, but
the tearing pain was so intense I couldn't close them. I didn't torture myself by trying; I'd have to
stay open anyway. My hands and lower back ached terribly, like I'd been run over by a truck—though I wasn't actually, the feeling
was similar.
Trying to ignore the sticky feeling in my rear, I moved slightly. Whew, thankfully nothing was inserted. Pretty optimistic
of me, right?
The door opened, and I stiffened. I recognized the person—I'd never seen him before.
He was a boy about my age, with a baby face, so I guessed he was younger than me.
Handsome, about my height, and dressed in high-end clothes, unlike me who only had two pairs of ripped jeans.
We stared at each other for a while. Strangers were rare in this attic; in the past three years, I'd only seen them a few times,
mostly while lying down, like now.
Judging from his clothes, he didn't seem like someone who'd come to help me clean, and he didn't look like a doctor. Finally, I decided
to break the silence: "Uh... could you help me untie these chains?"
His baby-faced man, devoid of any emotion, paused for a moment, then calmly told me, "Yang said I can't untie them."
Of course, I imagined Yang Sao chuckling and ordering, "Don't untie the chains." Hmph, tied up it is
... but... "Could you clean me up?"
He laughed and said, "Wash me? Sure." He pulled out his belt and ripped off my lower garment.
Damn, another inhuman. He positioned me on my knees and then thrust in, still wet with Yang Sao's remaining fluids.
"Ahhh!"
It was hard to suppress the screams; my half-dried passage couldn't accommodate the intrusion. Soon, my blood lubricated
his movements and my hoarse cries. It was also quite fast; I was too exhausted to scream anymore.
Compared to Yang Sao, the baby-faced man finished quickly, which was quite touching. After he ejaculated, he remained still; I dared not move, nor
could I. I lay quietly for a while when the unfamiliar ringtone sounded—it was the baby-faced man's cell
phone. He pulled it out, rolled off the bed, and as he pulled away, I couldn't help but groan; it really hurt!
He found the phone and talked to someone: "Hmm... I understand..." But his hand traced my spine, sweeping down my neck and back
, making me shiver. While on the phone, he twisted my side, and I cried out in pain
. I heard him say, "Hmm, very slim waist," he paused, "very tight..."
My heart sank. Was he talking to Yang Sao?
I heard the baby-faced man ask, "Are you downstairs? Oh..."
The word "downstairs" shouldn't have been mentioned in front of me. I hoarsely called out, "Yang Sao!" The
baby-faced man finished his conversation, hung up the phone, came over, grabbed one of my ankles, and chained it to the foot of the bed.
I was back to how I felt three years ago when I first arrived. How nostalgic.
This baby-faced man, I later learned, was named Bai, the second man to sleep with me.

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[Composition of the object]

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