Marrying into a Demon's Den

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My name is Rongzi, and I was born into a poor tenant farmer family in Japan. From the age of six, I worked tirelessly day and night for many years, moving from house to house with various local gentry. Day and night passed in this way, and thanks to God, I grew to be seventeen. Despite the hard work, my face, figure, and skin were still quite good. An uncle found me a husband for a wealthy samurai in Kobe. His parents were deceased, and he had a wife. He wanted to buy a pretty, gentle, and capable girl as a concubine. The dowry was very generous; in our impoverished area, it was enough to support the whole family for several years. There was only one condition: I could not have any contact with my family afterward.

Everyone knew that for a farmer's daughter like us, being a concubine was just a euphemism for being a servant. At least being in a samurai's house meant a life of security, even as a servant. For families like ours, even if we sold our daughter, what other hope could we possibly have?

So, in the early autumn of that year, I went with my uncle to Kobe, my husband's family home.

My husband's family was indeed extraordinary, befitting a samurai family. They lived in a large house with several courtyards, and employed a male and a female servant. In the courtyard, there was an ancient stone incense burner and tall pine trees, clearly passed down through generations. I really didn't understand why they would go to such lengths to buy a woman from our remote hometown; girls here would be fighting tooth and nail to become their maids.

My husband was no different from what I had imagined, in his thirties, very tall and imposing, carrying a sword at his waist, quite dashing. His first wife was dignified, clearly of noble birth. After performing the deepest kowtow to my husband and wife, I was accepted.

My wife said that now that I was in their household, I had to follow their rules. I naturally replied respectfully, "I will obey your orders." So she ordered a servant to lead me to a small, dark shed jutting out from behind the main house. The room was cramped and dimly lit, with piles of stones and hay on the floor, and rolls of hemp rope scattered about. Just

as I was wondering what was going on, he suddenly said, "Excuse me, this is the old lady's order," and immediately began stripping me down to my underwear. He moved so fast that before I could struggle, he had already tied my hands behind my back, dragged me to a pillar, forced me to sit on the ground, wrapped my breasts around his waist, and tied me securely to the pillar. I screamed and kicked, but he then spread my legs apart, pulled them back, and tied them to the pillar as well. Now my legs were spread wide, my toes barely touching the ground, but my private parts would have been completely exposed if not for my underwear. I tried to scream for help, but he gagged me with a strip of cloth.

At that moment, an old woman came to me. The servant withdrew. She took out a pair of scissors and cut my underwear. This left my private parts completely exposed to her. I groaned in shame, wondering what she was going to do to me.

She took out another box, opened the lid, and this time my groans turned from shame into fear. Inside the box was a whole set of large and small brass phalluses! She took out a medium-sized one, rubbed it a couple of times, and slowly inserted it into my private parts! I tried desperately to twist my body to avoid this cold thing, but the ropes binding me prevented me from escaping. I could only watch helplessly as the old woman slowly inserted this huge thing into my body. My genitals were very dry and painfully swollen. The old woman was thrusting forcefully inside me, and I realized that she was checking if I was a virgin. But no matter how hard she tried, I didn't bleed. I didn't know why. Of course, modern people might say it's because of excessive exercise, or that some people have naturally thicker hymens. But how could I have known back then? Thinking about it now, it was probably because I was working too hard in the fields and it broke. I wanted to protest, but my mouth was gagged, and I could only groan softly. The old woman's expression changed slightly. She packed her things and left, leaving me alone there. My lower body ached terribly; I was tied to the pillar and couldn't move, and that cold, throbbing penis was shamefully still inside me.

Tears streamed down my face. I had a strong premonition that my days ahead would be incredibly difficult.

I remained tied up like that until after dinner the next day. My husband finally approached me with a stern face. I looked at him longingly, hoping he would untie me. He did, but before I could even move my aching arms, he grabbed the rope and bound me tightly again. He wrapped it tightly around my chest several times, and then crisscrossed it around my body and neck. He was very strong and showed no mercy. My breasts were squeezed until they swelled even more, and my nipples hardened instantly, a strange sensation spreading throughout my body. Looking down at myself, despite years of labor, my skin was still fair and my body was quite well-developed. Having no experience with men or women, I knelt naked before my husband, who was practically a stranger to me. My ears burned, and I couldn't help but let out a shameful moan.

My husband grabbed my hair and dragged me outside, cursing, "You slut, how dare you lie to us! You unclean woman, how dare you even step into our house..." I managed to plead my case, explaining that I hadn't had any relations with other men, but how could he believe me? It was true that there hadn't been any virgin blood yesterday; I had no way to defend myself. He cursed and hoisted me from the rafters, the rope digging even tighter into my flesh. Suddenly, I felt a tearing pain in my skin. My husband grabbed a bamboo whip and lashed it across my body. I struggled desperately, crying out my innocence, but he only lashed harder. The whip struck my arms, back, and legs without mercy, some of it landing on my bound, swollen breasts, the pain feeling like they were about to burst. I began to plead with him to spare me, but he ignored me until the bamboo whip snapped in two with a crack, at which point he temporarily stopped.

Only then did I hear a soft female voice: "Husband, let it go, don't bother with this wretched woman. I need to say a few words to her." So, I, already nearly unconscious from pain and shame, was roughly grabbed by the hair and dragged before my mistress. I struggled to lift my head and see her face clearly. She was beautiful and elegant, befitting a woman from a wealthy family. We were both women, yet I was now naked and covered in wounds. I had no strength to lament the injustice of life; I only vaguely hoped that she would have some compassion as a fellow woman and say a good word for me to her husband, sparing me further physical suffering.

She stared at me intently for a long time before finally speaking. Her voice was melodious, but her words were firm and resolute: "In our household, behavior like yours would normally warrant execution; no one would pity you. However, I'm sparing your life because of your youth. From now on, you'll be a servant, so you must obey your master's orders and learn our household rules well. Don't speak or move recklessly."

With each sentence, she stabbed me hard with the hairpin in her hand. I was already almost numb from the pain and didn't feel much discomfort. When she finished speaking, she emphasized her words and stabbed my nipple with the hairpin. This time, the pain was so intense that I almost jumped up, but my body was still tightly bound, and my hair was held firmly by my master's strong hand, so I could only twitch involuntarily.

The mistress then said to the master, "Husband, she's yours now anyway, I won't hold it against you."

The master seemed to be aroused as well, and he pushed me to the ground in front of the mistress, making me kneel. I could feel his huge penis thrusting into my body. My vagina was still very tight from the first contact with his penis; it felt like my lower body was about to burst. He then pulled on the rope behind me, forcing me to arch my back and move back and forth. I couldn't move, only able to let him thrust in and out of me. When he finally finished and released the rope, I collapsed to the ground, limp.

The master ordered the servant to drag me back to his small woodshed, forbidding him to untie me. It was early autumn, and the night was already cool. In the drafty woodshed, I lay naked and bound on the cold ground, the wounds on my body throbbing with pain, my lower body aching from the first time with a man. I knew I would never see a glimmer of hope in this house, and I couldn't help but secretly shed a few more tears for my fate.

I was bound in the woodshed for three days. Food was brought to me once a day, but they didn't untie me. I could only lick the leftovers from the servants' meals like a dog. On the fourth day, the maid finally untied me and ordered me to do heavy housework.

I thought I was now a servant too, and that as long as I did the housework well, I could live peacefully here. But I was wrong. They bought me from afar for another purpose besides satisfying their master's physical needs. The mistress of the house was skilled in body painting, and she found my body to be fairly plump and my skin to be decent, so she used me as her canvas. Coincidentally, the master also enjoyed rope bondage, so naturally I became her model.

Almost every day, the mistress would call me over, and I would be naked, spread-eagled, and tied to two special wooden stakes. First, I would be splashed with cold water to wash myself clean, and then she would apply paint to my back, buttocks, and even breasts. After she finished her work, sometimes I would be left hanging there, waiting for my master to return so he could personally tie me up in his preferred style. More often, however, I would be tied up in a conspicuous place by the male servants according to my mistress's instructions, so that my master would see the surprise she had carefully designed for him when he returned. At first, I was often bound hand and foot, my mouth stuffed with hemp seeds, and tied to a wooden stake in the passageway to kneel and greet my master's return. As their mastery of binding increased, I would also be hung from the roof beam, one leg dangling high, barely able to support my weight on one foot. Later, the binding of me extended outdoors. I would often be tied up and submerged in water, or tied to a pine tree. The rough trunk of the tree made the painted designs even more vibrant and aroused my master's interest even more.

When my master was in a good mood, he would bind me even more carefully. In addition to the routine binding of my arms and chest, he would also tie knotted ropes around my genitals, then tie me in a certain position, either hanging up or tied to a pine tree. The master would then drink with his mistress, enjoying themselves while watching my bound body gradually respond to the ropes. My genitals would slowly secrete fluids due to the friction of the knots. They would mock my "loss of virginity" and my "licentiousness." These bondage sessions usually ended with the master raping me, who was powerless to resist, in front of his mistress.

[The End]

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