But at the time, it was all in vain.

Chapter One: The Cold Master Intends to Take in the Pretty Slave, the Clumsy Girl Helplessly Bound
Today, I met my master.
Since that person left, I've reverted to my old habits, frequently logging onto BDSM websites, looking at those blood-pumping pictures and videos, chatting idly with acquaintances and strangers in chat rooms, forever wavering between my inner desires and reason. Finally, I decided to find a real master.
Luckily (or unlucky?), without much trouble, my master appeared. With a determined bite, I decided to meet him.
Naturally, I made many preparations beforehand. In our QQ chat, my master remained polite and courteous, not in a hurry to meet and train me, only discussing our thoughts on BDSM. Trust slowly grew, as if I were about to meet an old friend. We agreed to meet in a public place, so if things didn't feel right, I could leave immediately. I got a new SIM card, took my ID out of my wallet, changed into clothes and shoes of no particular brand, and set off. My
master appeared. I'm not a very imaginative person, and before meeting him, I hadn't imagined what my master would look like. I knew I shouldn't have too high expectations of online acquaintances. But my master exceeded my expectations. He looked to be in his early thirties, tall and strong, with handsome features, and most importantly, a calm and trustworthy demeanor.
He was carrying a black bag... could it be...? When we decided to meet, he said he wouldn't force me; I could choose not to acknowledge him and leave quietly. But if I was determined to "train" him, he would bring the necessary tools. Thinking about this, I couldn't help but blush.
"Hello, shall we go?" my master asked, his voice as calm as his personality.
"...Um, sure." I hesitated for a moment, clearly understanding his implication. Since I was here, why not give it a try? I lowered my head, feeling him take my hand, and involuntarily followed him.
It seemed my master was quite familiar with this area; we hadn't walked far before entering a hotel. I secretly glanced at it; it looked pretty good, with a four-star sign. It seems that according to online acquaintances, the higher the star rating, the safer the hotel, right? The hardware and soundproofing will be better... Hmm? What am I thinking?!
Entering the guest room, the host closed the door, and the atmosphere in the sealed space suddenly became heavy. I stood frozen at the doorway, unsure what to do.
The host walked to the sofa in the living room and sat down (the host had ordered a suite, which was quite spacious). He looked up at me and said, "Come here." His voice was cold, completely different from before.
I quickly went over. Shouldn't I kneel down at this point? Yes, kneeling down is the right thing to do.
"Hmm? Quite clever." He secretly glanced at the host, a hint of a smile on his face, but why was he still so cold?
"Go get that bag. I didn't tell you to stand up, crawl over and get it!"
Uh... it seems the training has begun. A faint excitement rose in my heart. I crawled over, got the bag, and handed it to the host.
"Take it off."
This word, usually carrying a sexual connotation, sounded completely different coming from the host's mouth. It was devoid of any desire, just a straightforward command. I slowly undressed—shoes, socks, shirt, jeans. Why was the weather so warm? Why couldn't I wear more layers? After taking off two layers, I was left only in my underwear. I looked up at my master questioningly. His gaze remained indifferent, as if saying, "Continue." I gritted my teeth, unhooked my bra, and then took off my panties.
A flash of admiration crossed my master's eyes, before returning to boundless indifference. He opened the bag and began to show me the tools he had prepared one by one. A nine-tailed whip, a hand slap, a vibrating egg, rope, leather handcuffs, leather leg irons, a blindfold, nipple clamps, several gags, several vibrators, anal plugs…anal plugs?! Good heavens, this seems a bit too much… My body stiffened.
My master arranged these tools on the coffee table, glancing at me mockingly with each item he picked up. Why did it feel so much like a game of cat and mouse? After taking them all out, my master paused slightly, seemingly considering which ones to use on me first.
“There are some other things that are inconvenient to bring out, we'll talk about them later (later?!). I remember when we were chatting, you said you longed for bondage, whipping, and spanking, so let's start with those
.”
The master picked up a rope and began to wrap it around my body. Soon, I was bound in a turtle-shell style. Having frequented the bar in the compound for so many years, although I'd never even experienced online BDSM, my theoretical knowledge was quite extensive. The master's ability to create such a style in such a short time clearly showed his skill. The thin cotton rope made my skin bulge, especially my sensitive lower body, which felt extremely uncomfortable from the friction of the rough rope. Next came the handcuffs and leg irons.
“Go, into the bathroom,” the master commanded. Moving around made me even more aware of the turtle-shell bondage; even the slightest movement sent waves of numbness and tingling through me. The chains between the leg irons were short, making it difficult for me to move into the bathroom.
Standing in front of the large mirror, I could hardly believe it—was this really me? Red ropes crisscrossed my snow-white skin like a spiderweb, my hands bound behind my back, emphasizing my shapely figure. My master clearly saw the surprise in my eyes, whispering in my ear, "Do you think you're beautiful? Don't forget, this is a gift from me. How should you express it?"
"Thank you, Master," I said sincerely.
"Good, there's an even bigger surprise to come." My master stroked my face, my lips, my
breasts . The mirror reflected a tightly bound naked woman and a well-dressed gentleman, the atmosphere ambiguous.
My master carried me into the bedroom, placed me on the bed, and gently blindfolded and gagged me. Instantly, the world went dark. The unknown filled me with fear and curiosity, and my body trembled. "Don't be afraid, trust your master," I told myself. At that moment, my master whispered the same words in my ear.
With my sight gone, all my senses became abnormally sensitive. Despite the thick carpet, I could still hear my master walking around the room, and even feel the slightest movement of the air.
My master's hands landed on my chest, kneading and occasionally attacking the most sensitive tips. I felt my face gradually heat up, my thirsty skin constantly craving more caresses, yet even more caresses seemed unable to satisfy me. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my left breast, encountering trauma at the very moment I most craved gentle caresses. Then, the same pain returned to my right breast. Oh, I know, it's those nipple clamps, such delicate and lovely things causing such pain. But soon, perhaps due to numbness, the pain gradually subsided and became bearable. It turns out that time can heal all pain, whether physical or spiritual, just like that person, gradually fading into the distance, and haven't I gone through the same thing?
While I was lost in thought, the pain in my nipples suddenly doubled. Ah, it was my master gently fiddling with them, how cruel! It hurt even more than when they were clamped, making me involuntarily let out a soft groan from behind the gag.
"Does it hurt a little? How about this?" The tone was still teasing, but a buzzing sound came from the master's direction. Soon, something touched my lower body; at first, it was tingling and numb, but gradually, the feeling turned into pleasure, as if an electric current radiated from that source of pleasure throughout my body. Gradually, even the pain from the master's occasional flicking of my nipples became a stimulus, increasing the speed of my descent. Ah, no, please let me go
! I want to escape, but bound tightly and held firmly by the master's strong arms, I had nowhere to run, only to fall, fall and fall. Just when I thought I was about to reach the bottom, the vibration stopped. Why, why! Why now! I made a muffled sound from my throat, expressing my dissatisfaction.
"Not now," the master said coldly. "When is up to me, not you. Only I can control when you are happy and when you are in pain. Now, it's time for pain."

The second time, the master wielded his massive hand, testing his skills, and the obedient slave suffered greatly.
The blindfold was removed, the gag was taken out, and light returned. Only then did I realize my earlier indulgence and feel ashamed.
Before I could finish feeling ashamed, the master deftly positioned me on his lap. I've always been
interested in spanking, and I'm naturally familiar with this classic position, but I've always been pampered at home and have never been spanked. Are most people who like sadomasochism those who haven't experienced hardship? This topic is worth studying…
"…I'm asking you, tell me yourself, how much?" Huh? I had actually been distracted and missed the master's question. Damn it!
"Let me think... 30, no, 20, okay?"
"Okay, then 30!"
"Ah, I meant 2... ah!"
The master ignored my protests and his giant hand slammed down. Ouch, this was no joke. The most embarrassing thing was that my hands were locked behind my back, and all my weight was on my soft stomach. I had to support my legs to balance the weight, so my buttocks naturally became the easiest target. Each slap brought a burning pain, gradually spreading from slow to fast. I originally had a bit of a strong sense of self-sacrifice and wanted to grit my teeth and endure it without uttering a sound, but the pain seemed to never stop, only getting more and more intense, until I could no longer bear it. I couldn't help but cry out.
The master didn't stop my screams, but just kept slapping me, sometimes left, sometimes right, sometimes light, sometimes heavy, choosing the location at will, letting the palm prints cover every inch of my skin.
After what I thought was a hundred years, this punishment finally ended. Luckily, the room was quite soundproof, otherwise I probably wouldn't have been able to leave.
"How was your first spanking experience?" The master's voice came from behind me.
"It hurts... it's burning." I said aggrievedly.
"That's because I wanted you to feel pain. Looks like you haven't had enough. What's next? A whip or a slap?"
Was he asking me? It didn't seem so, I'd better keep quiet.
"Okay, then a slap. You tell me how many times?"
"Uh... 20..."
"Is 20 enough? How about 40?"
"..." Oh my god, I know, if I say less, it's pointless if I'm not approved.
"But I want you to know beforehand that the intensity of the slaps is far greater than a slap, and I'll put a gag on you because I prefer the sound of being stopped. So, if you find it unbearable, you can take this off, it's our safe word." The master said, tying the gag strap behind my head
and something soft in my hand. Uh, it seems...it looks like...it's like a latex penis. I had no choice but to hold it tightly, my heart filled with fear of the torture to come, and perhaps a little bit of longing. Was it really that terrible?
Thud, the first blow landed on my buttocks without warning. Ouch! It hurts! It felt like my skin was broken and bleeding. I couldn't help but reach for my buttocks with my handcuffed hands.
The second blow didn't come for a while. I turned my head to the side, but I couldn't see my master's expression. I only heard him say coldly, "Want to cover it up? Will you take it off yourself or should I do it for you?"
I considered for a moment, and then obediently moved my hands away. "Very good, add 10 strokes." Uh...
two! This blow was much heavier than the first one, meaning my master was a little angry. This time, of course, I didn't dare to cover it with my hands. I had to suppress the urge to struggle and endure the blow.
Obviously, my master was very satisfied with this. The next few blows were similar to the first one. Although they hurt, they were still within a tolerable range. I groaned softly, afraid of giving my master more reason to punish me.
...Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... I felt I couldn't hold on any longer. My legs trembled, and my body struggled uncontrollably.
...Nineteen, twenty... Just as I gritted my teeth—no, I bit down on the gag, waiting for more blows—my master stopped. I couldn't believe it. Was it over? I didn't know whether to feel relieved or regretful. My master seemed to pick something up, and suddenly, something was inserted into my body, vibrating incessantly, causing the still-unfastened tortoise shell bindings to produce a strange sensation.
Twenty-one... The blows came down mercilessly, but then came my master's caresses. His large, slightly cool hands stroked my burning skin, slightly easing the pain. But when I craved more, all I got was another blow. Between anticipation and endurance, I finally counted to thirty.
The next blow didn't come. My master just gently caressed my skin. Was he plotting something again?! As the pain subsided, the stimulation in my lower body gradually became clearer. After the overwhelming agony, my senses suddenly sharpened, and even my breathing stirred the ropes binding my entire body, producing an unparalleled pleasure. My breathing became rapid, afraid that I might accidentally let out a groan.
My master's hands stopped, and I thought I heard a soft sigh, "Ready." Before I could even understand what was happening, a new round began. This time, there was no time for me to catch my breath between each slap; the pain accumulated exponentially, no, multiplicatively. I no longer cared about any restraint and struggled with all my might. If it weren't for the gag, I'm sure my screams would have attracted the police. In my struggle, the ropes tightly binding my lower body no longer brought pleasure, but cruel torture to my most delicate and fragile flower.
Fortunately, this suffering didn't last long. One of my master's hands began to caress my buttocks again, while the other hand reached to my chest, caressing my breasts, occasionally casually touching my nipples. Combined with the vibrations in my lower body, it made me feel itchy inside. Just as I was craving more, my master withdrew his hand. Sigh, it seems my torment isn't over yet.
"For your first punishment, you did quite well, but that's also because I only used light to moderate force. Now there are five more strikes left. I'll use more force. If you can't take it, you can use the safe word. Okay, I'm starting." My master's voice was calm, but why did I feel a chill?
*Smack!* I couldn't help but scream. So this thing, barely 30 centimeters long and less than half a centimeter thick, could cause such pain. It seems my master had been lenient with the previous strikes. Should I let go and stop this torture? In that torrential downpour, I didn't have time to think; I only knew to grip the thing tightly. But now, I have a choice—should I let go?
*Smack!* Another strike. I almost gave up, but ultimately didn't let go. "I can do it," I told myself. "Just a few more. If I really can't take it, I'll use this weapon again." Time and again, I finally endured this ordeal and persevered.
It's finally over. Although the pain hasn't lessened, at least I know it won't increase.
My owner gently lifted me from his lap, making me stand up straight, as if I were a fragile object. After gazing at me for a moment, he raised his hand and wiped away the tear stains on my face. Tear stains? I actually cried? How embarrassing. I should be like a brave heroine, not a crybaby.
“Very good, you will be an excellent masochist. Now, this is your well-deserved reward.” His voice held a gentleness never before seen. He lowered his head, kissing my forehead, my cheeks, and then down to my chest. His soft lips sucked, sometimes gently nibbling, sometimes teasing with his tongue. The tenderness after the storm made me tremble slightly. Just now, when I lay on his lap, I could feel his hardness. Now, was it really going to begin?

Chapter Three: The Nine-Tailed Whip Dances in Torture, Three Ropes Tightly Bind the Beauty.
Just as my body went limp and swayed, my master stopped and raised his head. In his eyes, I saw desire, his and mine. Why not continue? I was ready, even eagerly anticipating it.
My master continued to tease my nipples, his other hand gently caressing my lips, whispering in my ear, "Don't rush, don't be greedy for a little pleasure, you deserve more." As he spoke, the gentle caress turned into a clamping grip on my cheek, and the itching on my chest transformed into the pain of being tightly pinched. My body trembled again, this time from pain. Was this the so-called reward? My master's logic was anything but simple. The
tortoise-shell bindings were finally removed, but they left purplish marks. How long had it been since we entered the room? An hour? Two hours? Later I realized that time had passed much faster than I had imagined.
Next was the thing beneath me, covered in my bodily fluids when it was removed. My master looked at me with a teasing gaze as he removed it, seemingly unable to hold it properly, letting it slip back in several times. I blushed, glaring at him with what I thought was anger. So, he feigned innocence, letting it in and out several times before finally removing it from my body.
Then, he began to study the gag. Why haven't I drooled a single drop after lying down for so long? Haha, luckily I'm smart! As someone with a slight case of mysophobia, how could I do something as unrefined as drooling? That would be so disgusting!! My secret is to push the gag out as far as possible, then I can basically swallow my saliva as usual, and then quickly put the gag back in my mouth... Of course, this secret was later discovered by my master, which naturally brought me severe punishment—a punishment I'd rather forget! But that's another story. At the time, my master was fooled by me. Since I had lost my great function of making me drool, the gag was temporarily abandoned.
He used cotton rope, then hemp rope. This time, my master used a high hand bondage (I haven't reviewed this in a long time, please point out any mistakes, thank you). My arms were raised to the highest point, my shoulders ached terribly, but my chest became even more erect. Because my desire had nowhere to be released, my nipples remained erect, becoming increasingly rosy. Since the target was so obvious, the nipple clamps reappeared. No problem, I'd get used to it after a while.
"Go, lie down by the bed." With my master's help, I finally got into the position he wanted. Oh my god, the focus was once again on my poor buttocks! Could it be?! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my master pick up the nine-tailed whip. If I'm not mistaken, let me mourn for my buttocks for three minutes.
"Since you said you wanted to try bonding, spanking, and whipping, let's experience them all together.
Of all the whips, the Nine-Tailed Whip is probably the lightest. The others are quite long and inconvenient to carry, so we'll try them later (!! I did try them all later, and I'll write about my experience then). Same as always, how many times do you want?"
"..." I hardened my heart: "30."
"Okay, 30 it is. But your butt has already suffered quite a bit today, and further beatings might injure it,
so I'll let you off the hook. 10 on the butt. Also, 10 on the breasts and 10 on the genitals. The safe word is still the same."
The master resumed that cold tone, with an air of absolute authority. As a lamb to the slaughter, how could I dare to say no?
Walking behind me, the master seemed to test the waters with a few swings in the air. My muscles tensed, waiting for the whip to fall.
Snap! The expected pain added another wound to my already tormented butt. I shouldn't struggle anymore. The nipple clamps touching the sheets were excruciatingly painful, but it was okay, it was only ten lashes, I wouldn't die. Without realizing it, I felt like I had suddenly grown up.
Silently counting to ten, I breathed a sigh of relief. Behind me, my master let out a soft "Eh." I waited, but there was no further response
. After a while, "Stand up." My master's voice was normal. I obediently stood on the ground, waiting for the next ten lashes.
What I hadn't expected was that the ten lashes on my breasts included the nipple clamps. Even without the gag, I still didn't dare to scream, perhaps wanting to preserve my pride. With each lash, I could only hiss and gasp for air; all I could do now was clench my teeth.
My master seemed to be deliberately trying to knock the clamps off during these ten lashes, each one aimed at my nipples. I desperately wanted to bend over and escape this ordeal, even for just a second. But I dared not, afraid of suffering even harsher punishment.
Ten more lashes. It was May, the room was air-conditioned, and I was completely naked, yet beads of sweat glistened on my skin.
"Lie down on the bed, get into position." Get into position, oh, it was the poor thing's turn… I plopped down on the bed, but then jerked back up due to the excruciating pain in my buttocks. Glared at by my master, I carefully lay down, spread my legs, and groaned, "This is awful!"
My master didn't rush to do anything, first playing with my breasts. His palm rubbed my nipples, which were still incredibly sensitive from the recent injury, causing both pain and itchiness; the two rosy points quickly hardened again. Then, my master reached down; they were already wet. Suddenly, he lightly patted them twice, eliciting a gasp from me.
My master straightened up and began to wield the whip. This time, besides the pain, there was something else. Dozens of leather strips covered all the sensitive areas, the whip's tip often reaching unexpected spots. My lower abdomen grew increasingly hot, yet I had nowhere to vent it, only craving more whippings, which I considered a form of caress.
This time, the ten lashes seemed to end in the blink of an eye. I grumbled in dissatisfaction, but when I looked up, I saw my master's penis was erect. Heh, my master seemed to have discovered my secret, and somewhat embarrassed, he casually gave me another lash: "What are you looking at? Haven't you had enough?" I quickly turned my head away, sticking out my tongue.
The whipping ended, but my master didn't untie me. Instead, he threaded another rope through the mattress and tied my legs apart. This trick was quite practical, since not every bed has a frame to use. Next, my master quickly stripped off his clothes. Wow, he had a pretty good physique, especially his wide-open... uh, my master seemed to have warned me that if I didn't want to be whipped, I shouldn't look around! Before I could turn my head, my master had already pulled my hair up, making me sit up, and shoved his penis into my mouth. I didn't even notice, and suddenly I was given a deep throat, almost choking. Even so, tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't dare to be negligent and immediately used all my skills to serve him diligently. My master was very clean, with no unpleasant odor whatsoever, only a faint scent of shower gel, which I could tell was Dettol, a brand I also liked.
Actually, before meeting him, I had seriously considered this issue, but I was too embarrassed to say it. Was I supposed to say to my master, "Dear master, because I'm a bit of a clean freak, please wash your penis beforehand"? Fortunately, now a weight has finally been lifted off my shoulders.
I was licking diligently when my master pulled away and made me lie down again. He examined three or four vibrators for a while, finally choosing one of medium thickness, which relieved me. The vibrator went in easily, but I didn't realize how powerful it was until I turned it on. Deep inside, I couldn't tell which part of it was rotating, and I couldn't tell if it was uncomfortable or pleasurable. The tip outside was touching my clitoris, making me want to twist my body and try to escape. But my master took out a rope and tied me to the mattress around the waist. This time, even that little bit of movement was gone, and I could only helplessly endure the vibration and rotation below.
My master wasn't idle either. He moved the vibrator all over my body while sucking and licking my breasts. But whenever it got to the crucial moment, he would either remove the vibrator or bite my nipples hard. I couldn't help but moan, my face burning. All the pain was forgotten, and I almost said "Give it to me."
Finally, finally, my master showed leniency, allowing the pleasure to build up smoothly, rising higher and higher until it finally erupted. "Ah~!" I trembled, tensed, and twisted, drowning in an unprecedented orgasm.
However, after the unprecedented orgasm came unprecedented pain. The vibrator was not removed; it continued to vibrate and rotate. My clitoris, incredibly sensitive after the orgasm, could not withstand such intense vibrations. I struggled frantically, but was held firmly to the bed, my legs unable to move, left to endure the torment. Each vibration brought endless spasms, and I screamed "No!" tears streaming down my face.

Chapter Four: The Dust Settles on the Master and Slave, Like a Unpolished Jade Revealing Its Heart's Voice
Orgasm, pain, another orgasm, another pain—I don't know how many times this cycle repeated before I regained consciousness. My lower body was somewhat numb, the ropes leaving deep marks on my body from the struggle. I gasped for breath, watching my master sitting on the sofa watching a silent television; the light from the screen reflected on his face, flickering, obscuring his expression.
"Hmm..." I shifted slightly, hoping to get his attention.
"The performance was intense, I was almost considering stuffing your underwear in your mouth. Luckily, the soundproofing here is pretty good." The master walked over, looking down at me.
"I..." I opened my mouth, only to find my throat dry. Forget it, I'd better shut up.
The master started untying the ropes, then ordered me not to move, and went into the bathroom. I was feeling a little uneasy when the master returned and told me to turn over. I did as he said, confused.
Suddenly, I felt a cold sensation on my buttocks. "Ah!" I couldn't help but gasp.
"Don't move, apply a compress. Go back and use some antiseptic shower gel, there are a few broken skins."
"Uh..." I secretly turned my head, and sure enough, my once snow-white skin was now red and swollen, with a few faint, darker lines. It didn't hurt too much. How ruthless!!
The cold towel quickly warmed up, and the master tossed it aside, carefully examining my buttocks. This is bad! "Did I pique his interest again?" I quickly tried to make conversation. "Master, do you... need...?" I glanced at his crotch as I spoke; thankfully, it was only half-erect, which was quite cute.
"Ahem, we made some kind of agreement before we met, but it seems someone has forgotten. Let me think if I should help her remember." The master turned to examine the pile of tools on the coffee table.
"Uh..." Right, when we discussed the meeting, I repeatedly confirmed that there wouldn't be any actual sexual intercourse, and now I've completely forgotten! How embarrassing!
“However…” Master finally turned his head back, seemingly without any intention of using any torture instruments: “It’s been almost half a day since we met, and this seems to be the first time you’ve called me ‘Master.’ Have you decided to acknowledge me as your master? I hope you’ll think it through before you answer.”
I was stunned for a moment. It seemed I was right, but in my mind, when I knelt naked before Master, it already meant I had acknowledged this Dom. In the days before meeting him, I had read those stories of “girls being tortured and killed while playing sadomasochistic games” and forum posts where submissives cried out about Doms they met online who disregarded their feelings. I couldn’t help feeling afraid. But
now , all my unease had vanished. Although it was my first real experience, I could feel that Master was showing mercy and considering my feelings. Moreover, since the beginning of the training, Master had been pushing me to climax wave after wave while he himself was suppressing his desires. I doubt many boyfriends or husbands could do that, right? I’m really lucky to have met such a Dom. Better to kill the innocent than let the guilty go free!
Thinking of this, I got out of bed, knelt before my master, my face flushed, but I resolutely began to serve him. His penis swelled rapidly in my mouth, filling it completely. I tried to recall all the techniques of oral sex, my tongue lightly touching the round head, occasionally gently probing the opening at the front, teasing the tender mucous membrane. Along the shaft, I slowly moved downwards, pressing slightly on the protruding vas deferens (
please correct me, I've always thought it was the vas deferens, is it?), until I reached the testicles. I took them in my mouth, one, two, gently sliding them, then turning back, circling the groove again and again.
My master seemed a little surprised at first, but quickly relaxed and began to enjoy my service. I heard his breathing quicken, and his penis throb slightly in my mouth. Suddenly, I wanted to be mischievous, so I lightly bit his glans, very lightly, almost just a graze. The master grunted, his penis throbbed, and he glared at me angrily: "Fine, you asked for this." With that, he grabbed my hair and began to thrust, attempting deep throat. This was terrible; I couldn't vomit, and I couldn't escape, so tears and snot streamed down my face, my throat muscles contracting incessantly.
I don't know how many thrusts he did, but his moans grew louder, and his penis grew even thicker. Suddenly, a rush of heat shot into my throat, and I choked, coughing uncontrollably, not even having time to clean myself. By the time I remembered, he had already finished… This was terrible. I knelt trembling on the ground, but the master grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. My eyes were expressionless, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. After staring at me for a moment, he released me and said, "Go take a shower. That's enough for today; we should all go home."
What? It's over just like that? Feeling a sense of loss, I mustered my courage and asked my master, "Master, is there something I did wrong? Please tell me, I will try harder..."
"No, I'm tired. That piercing, demonic sound was exhausting. Besides..." He smiled at me,
"There's plenty of time."
Oh, plenty of time! That seems to be the most beautiful phrase I've ever heard! I quickly said "Thank you, Master," and got up to take a shower.
Back home, my whole body ached, but I couldn't resist turning on the computer to see if my master was online. Sure enough, he was online. I quickly sent him a big smiley face: "Hello, Master!"
"Hmm, good girl. Does it still hurt?"
"A little, but it's okay!"
"I've been waiting for you. I think it's better to say some things online, because when we're face-to-face, I'm the dominant and you're the submissive. I say what you want to say, and you do what I want to say. But online, we're equals, and I want to hear your opinion so that it can be more perfect, don't you think?"
Uh... the atmosphere seems a bit serious. I replied, "Yes, that's right."
"I asked you a question, and you still haven't answered it."
Question? Oh, that question about recognizing a master, right? I also became serious: "Master, I am honored to have a master like you. I hope to be your submissive. I am willing to accept everything you impose on me, joy or pain, it's entirely up to you to decide."
"Very good. But before we finalize things, I want you to understand that what I'm about to inflict on you won't be as simple as it is today; it might be far more brutal. I think you've already sensed today's training; I was focused on you. Because neither of us knows if there will be a second time, I want a girl who loves BDSM to have at least one real experience in her life, and a beautiful one at that. So, I controlled myself throughout today. But if it's a master-slave relationship in the future, it might be completely different. If I'm willing, I'll push it to the extreme. Are you willing?" "
..." I hesitated. Scenes of torture I often saw in Insex and Spider-Man short films began
to replay in my mind. Should I let go now, or step in without hesitation? The pain and pleasure I just experienced today, the intoxicating, involuntary feeling, and most importantly, the ability to wholeheartedly trust and rely on someone—how long has it been since I've had that? Fine, let me take this gamble! "Master, I do!" These three words, usually used in marriage proposals, came out so resolutely to me: "However, I have a question for you..."
"Go ahead."
"Do you have other submissives?" This question had been nagging at me for a long time.
"Yes, I do. I used to, and I still do."
Oh... although I had already guessed this answer, I still couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Come to think of it, such skillful bondage techniques, such perfect control and restraint—how could a novice submissive possess that? Such a submissive shouldn't be someone I can monopolize.
"But from our chat to today's meeting, I've developed strong feelings for you. Although it's only our first session, I've already seen potential in you, like a rough gem. The more it's polished, the more surprising and exciting it becomes, attracting me to explore it further and discover what treasures lie hidden within, even though the polishing process will be incredibly painful."
These words strengthened my resolve. After today's training, I felt the same way. Every time, I didn't know if I could endure it, countless times I wanted to use the safe word, and countless times I held back,
forever struggling with myself. Is this the feeling I've been longing for? Only now, finally, I have a master who can help me achieve it. I'm an extremely curious person, and I also want to know my limits.
"Alright, you can think about it some more. You have a week until our next meeting to consider. If you change your mind, you can tell me during this time. However, if that's the case, I also hope you can undergo another training session. I will show you what the ultimate is."
Uh… even though I knew I wouldn't change my mind, I was still greatly tempted. The ultimate?! Perhaps I should experience what the ultimate is first, and then tell my master that I've always wanted to be his sub... But wait, I shouldn't risk my life!

Chapter Five: The Little Slave Girl Enters
His Home, the Hot Master Reveals His Treasured Collection. My master was very busy with work, so we didn't meet again for a month. This time, my master was taking me to his home. Starting from the city center, about 30 minutes later, we entered a townhouse community. No wonder everyone says that playing SM requires money; you either need a hotel or a detached house to use, plus those expensive tools... Sigh, economic base determines the superstructure.
My master's home was a very typical bachelor's style, with only black, white, and gray colors, occasionally accented with red, which only highlighted his tough and cool temperament. The furniture style was a bit like IKEA, but not so childish. Oh, right, it must be Scandinavian style! I was still curiously looking around, not noticing that my master had already started closing the windows and drawing the curtains. Suddenly, the once brightly lit living room darkened, and the dim light shining from somewhere created an atmosphere reminiscent of a dungeon.
The master looked at me with a half-smile and said, "What, waiting for me to make my move?"
Ah? Oh! I hurriedly and clumsily stripped off my clothes, kneeling obediently before the master. Thankfully, the carpet beneath me was soft—was it wool...?
The master produced a red collar from somewhere, complete with a long chain. This time, I snapped out of my daze and quickly leaned closer. The master put it on me, examined it, and seemed fairly satisfied: "Come, let me show you around."
"Okay!" I was about to stand up when the master's voice turned stern: "Did I tell you to get up?"
Oh... so that's how it is... Before I could even realize what was happening, I was already being whipped on the backside. When did the master pull out a whip?! Unlike the nine-tailed whip from last time, this whip was much simpler, with a thin handle and only a small flat tip. I think it was called a riding whip, haha. Aside from startling me, it didn't seem to hurt too much. (In fact, my initial feeling was wrong; this whip later became my biggest fear, causing me considerable suffering.)
So, with the collar on and the chain in hand, the owner occasionally cracking the whip as we toured the house, I began my visit.
The owner explained that he occasionally stayed there on weekends because it was far from the city center and relatively quiet. Every building in this complex was a semi-detached villa, and the other unit in this building seemed unoccupied. Furthermore, during the renovation, the owner specifically requested double-glazed windows… This was clearly a threat, wasn't he implying that I was helpless and had no one to turn to?
I followed my master, dizzy and disoriented—no, crawling, going up and down stairs. I wanted to lie down on every bed I saw, but I still couldn't figure out how many rooms there were… Finally, we were back downstairs. Luckily, the house seemed to be regularly cleaned; my hands and knees weren't dirty.
This time, my master finally allowed me to stand up, but seeing his scrutinizing gaze, I preferred to stay crawling. His eyes were clearly calculating where to start with me!
Fortunately, it didn't take long for my master to make a decision. He took out two red ropes and began wrapping them around me. First, he had me put my hands behind my back and tied them in a simple, elaborate style similar to a high-level bondage, just one line above and below my breasts. Then, he took another rope and started working on my back, seemingly carefully binding my hands behind my back. After finishing, my master led me down the stairs. Apparently, several ropes had been hanging from the second-floor railing sometime earlier! Several ropes were tied to my hands behind my back. My master pulled hard, and I involuntarily straightened up, my hands tensing towards my shoulders. My shoulders immediately ached and hurt, and I couldn't help but groan softly. To avoid further pain, I began to whine to my master, "Master, can you be gentler? It hurts so much!"
"Hehe! This is what you call pain? You're already begging for mercy? Didn't you want to be a martyr? Don't try to bargain with me anymore, or I'll hang you like this for two days!"
Huh? If I'm hung like this for two days, I'll lose my arms. So, I obediently shut up, and my master continued to pull his ropes. To alleviate the pain in my shoulders, I had to stand on my tiptoes slightly. Although I dared not cry out again, I still looked at my master with pleading eyes. My master looked around and saw that it was about time. He tied the rope to the stair railing next to him, then pulled up another rope, lifted my left leg, folded it at the knee, and secured it with a rope to form a right angle with my right leg.
Actually, I'd seen this kind of thing in SM movies and photos countless times, but only when it happened to me did I truly understand the humiliation of wanting to disappear into the ground. I've always been proud of my body and haven't considered nudity shameful, so I can undress in front of my master quite easily. But this position completely exposes my most vulnerable parts, like waiting to be slaughtered. Even someone as bold as me couldn't help but blush with shame.
My master finally finished, walked around me, seemingly quite pleased with his work, and then pulled back the curtain in front of me. Ah! So this was the walk-in closet he'd described—it was actually a whole...
A mirror on the wall! To my surprise, I saw myself struggling helplessly among the ropes (actually, I had secretly struggled while being tied up, but it was completely futile...). My weight was borne by my tiptoes and my hands bound behind my back, and with each breath, my body swayed involuntarily, struggling to maintain balance. The red leather collar around my neck and the dangling silver steel chain had become strange decorations. At that moment, I was beautiful!
Suddenly, my master stood beside me, admiring my reflection with me. When our eyes met, they were full of admiration and praise. I lowered my head and whispered, "Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome, it's what I should do."
My master seemed suddenly inspired, running up and down several times, bringing all sorts of strange things, scattering them all over the floor. Various sizes and colors of dildos, some electric, some manual; a dozen leather whips and hand slaps (it seems my master does have a preference for whipping...); all kinds of candles, and countless other things I didn't recognize
. My master stood before this pile of things, deep in thought. Good heavens, was he going to make me try them all over the next couple of days?
After much deliberation, he finally chose the lightest item—a feather! He gently brushed my face with the feather, whispering in my ear, "My sweet little slave, let you enjoy this first." As he spoke, his hand and the feather moved downwards, brushing across my chest. The soft down gently caressed my skin, like the softest tongue, making me tremble uncontrollably. The feather tips teased my nipples, causing them to stand erect in a trembling motion, particularly dazzling against my snow-white skin. The stiff shafts of the feathers always pricked my soft body at the most intense moments, eliciting moans, yet clearly my desire was growing stronger. I had forgotten the soreness in my shoulders, closing my eyes and completely savoring the subtle caresses on my skin.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my nipples. Looking down, I saw that my master had just clipped a clip there! In the dim light, he laughed like a devil: "Feels good? Here, have one here too." He pinched my nipple, then mercilessly clipped another clamp onto it. I plummeted from the peak of desire, my brow furrowed. To my amusement and dismay, the clamps had bells on them; a slight shake produced a clear, ringing sound, making me tremble as I breathed.
To my further surprise, my master reached down and touched my genitals, catching me off guard (of course, bound like that, I had no room to dodge; it was just instinct). "Tsk tsk tsk, you're really sensitive. So much fluid in such a short time. It's a waste not to be a sub!" he said, showing me his hand. Sure enough, my bodily fluids lingered between his fingers. How could I possibly be at a disadvantage? Without hesitation, I replied, "Master's methods are truly brilliant. Before we even got to the point, this humble servant almost lost her virginity. I've only aroused Master's burning desire; I'm so sorry!" Master looked down and, sure enough, his tent was erect again. Master wasn't angry. He lifted my chin with one hand, looked into my eyes, and still had a teasing expression: "Alright, I just like mischievous and stubborn submissives. Don't disappoint me." He casually adjusted the clip on my left breast, and I was instantly in so much pain that I couldn't speak. Master quickly picked up a hand-held paddle from the ground, pulled up a chair, and sat down behind me.
Compared to this, the hand-held paddle I had tried at the hotel last time was practically a miniature version. This one was square and looked extremely thick, probably 40 or 50 centimeters long, as wide as a man's palm. I couldn't help but shiver.
The first blow landed without warning. I blurted out "Ah!" before the burning pain in my buttocks overwhelmed me, before I could even think about the consequences. My master sat there leisurely, seemingly swinging the racket at will, yet each strike was excruciating. With each slap, I forgot my predicament, desperately trying to move my only controllable right leg, wanting to get as far away as possible, oblivious to the throbbing pain in my shoulders and arms. In the vast space, the heavy thud of leather hitting flesh, my screams, and the crisp metallic sound of bells blended into the background music of an infernal hell.
After a dozen or so slaps, perhaps because I was running further and further away, making it inconvenient for my master to slap me, she seemed a little impatient: "Is this how you act as a martyr? I don't object to screaming, anyway, your screams are quite pleasant, and no one around can hear you. Don't run away anymore!"
I looked at my master with teary eyes and whispered, "It hurts...!"
"Don't run away! Your master gave you this, so you have to endure it! And you've even learned to talk back!" My master seemed a little angry, stood up, and stood behind me. "It hurts? Then what do you call this?" My master reached out and grabbed my breast from behind. I had a premonition that my master was going to do something, and a chill ran down my spine: "Master, I'll be good, I'll endure it, I won't run away..."
"No, if I don't teach you a lesson, you won't remember." Saying that, my master fiddled with the two clips on my nipples.
After clamping them for a while, my nipples, which had been somewhat numb, started to hurt terribly again with this movement. I couldn't bear to look at my miserable state in the mirror, so I turned my head to the side.
"Turn around!" My master's stern voice rang in my ears, accompanied by a tight pinch on my nipple. I had no choice but to turn around, looking at my master and me in the mirror, along with my poor breasts.
Under my master's hands, my breasts were twisted into all sorts of strange shapes, and every movement pulled on the clamps on my nipples. Learning from my previous experience, I dared not scream, dared not move my body, and could only quietly inhale through my teeth.

Chapter Six: First Trial of Love, Candle Burns to Ashes, Tears Dry
Finally, the clanging stopped, and my master let me go, returning behind me to pick up the paddle (is this considered letting me go? -_-!!...). Looking at my uneasy reflection in the mirror, my master said, "There are still twenty more strokes to go. Count each one out for me. Don't scream, don't run away, otherwise... you'll know what the consequences will be."
"Yes, master," I answered softly, but my heart was filled with trepidation. Judging from what had just happened, I probably wouldn't escape... *
Smack!* "One!" I struggled to control my body, no matter how hard my arms pulled on the rope behind my back.
*Snap!* "Two!" Actually, seeing my master raise the paddle in the mirror, I had already tensed my muscles, but it was all in vain.
*Snap!* ... *
Snap!* "Fourteen!" My voice trembled uncontrollably, my buttocks burning, probably already bright red.
*Snap!* ... *
Snap!* "...Ah, ten, eighteen!" After letting out a cry of pain, I realized my mistake and looked at my master with trepidation. His indifferent poker face remained unchanged. Had he not heard me?
*Snap!* "Nineteen!" *Snap!* "Twenty!" After enduring the last two blows, I collapsed, panting, as if that would lessen the pain.
My master stroked my skin from behind, his slightly cold hands gently easing some of the pain. I wished he would continue stroking me like that forever. But why was my master starting to take off his clothes? I turned my head in slight panic, but my master said nonchalantly, "You did quite well just now. I originally thought you wouldn't last ten strokes, but you only cried out when it was almost over. So, this is a reward from your master." Uh, so my master is very perceptive, while I was still foolishly secretly pleased... So, is this the consequence my master was talking about?
While I was still lost in thought, my master's thick penis had already penetrated my body. It had been wet for a while, and his entry was effortless. "Mmm!" I couldn't help but let out a soft moan. Being tied up like this made me so vulnerable to being violated. My master was much taller than me; he only needed to lift my waist to move in and out freely. Although each movement inevitably strained my aching arms, the fullness and pleasure in my lower body spread throughout my body. The sound of the bells on my chest and my uncontrollable moans intertwined into a lewd symphony. My master forced me to look up at myself in the mirror. My face was flushed, whether from joy or shyness, I couldn't tell. My master remained nonchalant, occasionally nibbling at my earlobe and neck, causing me to struggle.
The pleasure gradually intensified, and my moans grew louder. At that moment, my master reached for my chest. After a series of crisp bell sounds, I winced in pain, but dared not cry out; every muscle in my body tensed. Perhaps the sudden tightening of his lower body brought pleasure to his master, for he, who had been silent until now, began to breathe heavily, and the speed of his thrusts increased instantly. His fingers skillfully explored my clitoris, teasing it subtly.
The powerful movements of his master inside me, the waves of pleasure from my clitoris, and the less unbearable stinging in my chest, which became another kind of stimulation, all contributed to my rapid climax. I writhed wildly, my empty hands trying to grasp something, but I could only clench my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, a soft cry escaping my throat. A few seconds later, the afterglow of the climax gradually faded, but his master mischievously flicked my clitoris, causing me to scream again, my body trembling uncontrollably.
When I had almost calmed down, his penis withdrew from my body, still proudly erect. I looked at him questioningly, wondering why he hadn't released his clitoris on me. As if guessing my thoughts, my master lifted my chin, looked into my eyes, and said, "The game has just begun, the best is yet to come..." He loosened the rope suspending me, and thank goodness, I could finally put my heels on the ground, no longer bearing my entire weight on my toes.
Then, my master turned to face me and said, "I've already rewarded you, now it's time to punish you, since you did make a sound. Now you have a choice: do you want to be punished again, or do you want me to punish your breasts?" Good heavens, I couldn't help but ask the heavens in disbelief, is this what they call giving me a choice? Knowing I couldn't possibly choose that board again, they might as well have just said "breast punishment" (forgive me, Japanese SM movies are just too advanced...). I glared at my master, annoyed, and said, "Thank you for the reward, Master. You're tired, so don't bother with that board." "Hehe, you chose this yourself." My master's hand reached for the two clamps: "Look down, I want you to see how you're punished."
My master gently grasped the ends of the clamps and pulled them outwards. What excruciating pain! The clamps gripped my nipples tightly, slowly sliding outwards under the pull, gradually elongating my delicate nipples. I held my breath in agony, my breasts arching forward. Suddenly, my master released them. I let out a soft "Ah!" and with a clinking sound, I finally saw my breasts return to their normal shape, though the clamps were still attached to the tips.
But the suffering wasn't over. My master found a chain, attached it to the ends of the clamps, and resumed the game. That wretched master! I wished he would just pull the clamps off completely; a short, sharp pain was better than prolonged agony, much better than this constant pulling and loosening that left me in agony. My master seemed to be enjoying himself, pulling the chain taut, applying only a little more force each time. My breasts became flattened cones, beads of sweat appeared on my chest, and my groans gradually turned into cries of pain.
Finally, the two clamps were pulled off, but the pain far exceeded my expectations. It felt like my nipples were ripped off along with them. I screamed and doubled over in agony, as if that would protect my poor breasts. My master was startled and quickly came over to check. After confirming that my nipples were still intact, he pinched them hard again. (It was later revealed that my master was particularly interested in breast torture and whipping, and even made several torture devices himself, which I will describe later. I can't help but praise my master here. Sadomasochism is actually a test of imagination, and my master always understands the psychology of a submissive, always pushing my psychological boundaries, while always being unpredictable. He is skilled at using combinations of various tools and homemade torture devices. Even though I have seen so many photos and movies, there are still many I have never seen before. Of course, while enjoying the spectacle, I also suffered quite a bit.)
Next, my master took two red candles. Although I knew these should be low-temperature candles, the memory of being burned by candle wax as a child still sent chills down my spine. My master lit both candles at the same time and dripped them onto my suspended thighs. The scalding candle wax dripped onto my skin, hot but bearable. Afraid of displeasing my master, I feigned a frown and groaned a few times. My master remained unmoved, continuing to drip wax onto my thighs. When there was nowhere left to drip, he turned to the soles of my raised feet. This time, besides the heat, the dripping wax also had a slightly itchy sensation, an itch that ran from my toes to my heart. This time , my groans were more genuine.
Then, my master began to work on my breasts. My previous experience with dripping wax reassured me, and it made me fully understand how difficult it was for actresses in movies to perform, because at a distance of more than a meter, the wax dripping was almost devoid of heat. But watching my delicate breasts being ravaged by the candle still made me uneasy. The first drop of wax, less than 20 centimeters from my skin, still brought a burning sensation. Before I could even groan, the wax that had been accumulating in the candle dripped down, instantly staining my chest a bright red, except for my nipples. The internal heat continued to burn me, and I screamed, but dared not struggle too much, afraid that moving my position would give my master a new excuse (as it turned out, my master always found an excuse...). When I calmed down a little, my master cupped one of my breasts. I guessed what he was going to do and pleaded, "Master, no more, please don't, please, I really can't take it anymore!" My master grinned wickedly, "Don't want it anymore? Try it, just a little bit, it'll feel good. If you really don't want it, just say 'safe word
,' and I'll stop immediately." #^#%@ What safe word? When we established our master-slave relationship,
my master said the first time was an experiment for both of us, and once we truly entered this world, there would be no safe word
; everything would be a gift from my master, and I would have to accept it all. Now he's talking about safe words!
When one plan failed, I devised another. I deliberately used a sweet, cloying voice to say, "Master, I'll listen to you, but it really hurts! Please, Master, have mercy! If you burn me, I won't be able to serve you anymore." A mischievous glint flashed in my master's eyes. "Alright, then serve Master well until you're burned." My master lowered his head and began sucking on my nipples. His nimble tongue sent shivers down my spine. Once both nipples were erect, he said, "Alright, now that you've served Master well, you can do whatever you want." With that, he poured candle wax onto my nipples. My nipples, still moist from the gentle licking, hadn't fully calmed down and were extremely sensitive to the burning pain. Plus, the distance was only about 10 centimeters, so I could almost feel the heat of the flame (but actually, my master let me off the hook; the moisture left after licking greatly reduced the temperature my skin felt, and besides, it was a low-temperature candle. Thinking about the ordinary birthday candles my master used later... I still shudder when I recall it now). I resisted the urge to struggle and instead pressed myself against my master (considering I was using a combination of seduction and feigned injury...), emitting moans similar to those of a Japanese adult film actress (use your imagination), while painfully pleading, "Master, I'm a good girl, I'll gladly accept anything you give me, as long as you're happy!" My master remained unmoved, continuing his assault on the other nipple until the candle burned out. Sigh, what a waste of my acting skills...
Thankfully, after the candle-dripping activity ended, my master let me down. As soon as the ropes were loosened, I collapsed to the ground, partly because my limbs were numb from being suspended for so long (about three or four hours), and partly because the crying, struggling, and orgasm had taken a lot of my energy. My master let me rest for a while and asked me to bring him food (actually, it was just the sandwiches and milk I prepared that morning :p) to serve him, but he wouldn't let me remove the candle from my chest. Good heavens, why did he have to make me so smart? I already guessed what my master was going to do next, but I preferred not to know; ignorance is bliss…

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