Unforgettable Sex Slave Life of a Female College Student

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I am 20 years old this year. As a girl, I am extremely promiscuous, almost perverted, because I particularly enjoy being abused, raped, and gang-raped. Of course, these things are very dangerous; one wrong move and you could lose your life, so most of the time, I take care of it myself.

I am still in school, and to enjoy my life safely, I rented a house off-campus. The rent is cheap because it's in the suburbs, and the house is large, with a bedroom, study, kitchen, bathroom, and what makes me happiest is that there's a very clean basement. The house isn't too far from the school, but it's not too close either; it's a 20-minute bike ride. The nearest neighbor is at least 50 meters away. I think if I were cornered in the house by several big men and raped or gang-raped, even if I screamed my lungs out, no one would hear me. This thought immediately made my lower body tremble, so much so that I was shaking while signing the contract.

I moved in one Friday evening and immediately began decorating my beloved basement. I have two beds, one for sleeping, and the other—a self-punishment bed. The bed isn't big, more like a recliner, but the sitting area is narrow. A thick dildo stands on it, and a short distance behind it is a small cone-shaped object with a chain of five steel balls attached to it. This is for abusing my anus. Do you know why I don't use a dildo? I'll let you in on a secret: because my anus is still a virgin! I hope that one day, someone called a master will punish me by grabbing any thick stick and forcefully shoving it in, deflowering my tender anus with the most brutal force. So now I'm very protective of my anus, rarely eating dry food and drinking plenty of water to minimize urination there.

Because of rent, I have very little money left. I can't afford an expensive massager, and the cheap ones break easily, so I simply won't buy one; making my own will be more fun. I like to put things around me into my vagina, imagining myself being played with, feeling my limits and reaching orgasm. I also often use vegetables like eggplant, cucumber, carrot, and banana, but they feel slippery and not very stimulating. Later, I found a wooden stick, shaved it smaller with a knife, and deliberately made it uneven in thickness, even bumpy. Later, it became a regular in my vagina. Although I cherish my anus and don't want it to be too loose, I still abuse it when I'm sexually aroused. I have a pink beaded chain that I made myself. Each bead is one centimeter in diameter, and every ten beads there is a larger one. When I press the larger one into my anus, it hurts a lot and is difficult, but it's convenient for me to know how many beads have entered my rectum. The chain is very long, about one meter. I've never put it all the way into my anus. Every time I put in about 70 beads, it starts to throb. Although it's not very painful, I still don't dare to continue. But I swear, one day, I will ruthlessly stuff it all in. The last beaded necklace was a blooming fake peony, about the size of a fist, pink with three green leaves. Its base was connected to the last bead in the necklace, also the largest. When I inserted the last bead into my anus, a large peony bloomed on my anus—how beautiful, how lewd! But one wish remained unfulfilled.

My life as a sex slave—meeting my master—I've described much earlier to help you understand my lewdness and prevent surprise at why I would willingly become a stranger's sex slave.

Not long after moving, summer vacation began. I told my family I was going on a trip with some friends, giving me two months of free time. Hanging up the phone, I felt an overwhelming surge of lust almost overwhelm me. Half-closing my eyes, I thought, if there were a dozen giant men here, I would have two months of paradise. As I lay in bed pondering how to arrange my life, my eyes fell on the computer screen. I remembered someone—an online friend I met in a porn chat room. At the time, neither of us spoke. Later, he asked me why. I said there was nothing I wanted to talk about there. I countered by asking him why he didn't chat there. He said he was the same as me. He said he liked sex, but he liked training sex slaves even more, enjoying sadomasochism. He said it gave him a great sense of accomplishment. After he finished speaking, I was jolted, and then I ejaculated. Later, we talked a lot more. We were very similar; we disliked bloodshed and injury, and we preferred methods that aroused both of us. The only difference was that he was the sadist, and I was the masochist. Back then, we desperately wanted to meet, but he said he was a sailor and could only stay in one place for six months at a time. His current place was half a day's drive from my home, and I was still in school, unable to leave. Now that I'm on vacation, I have plenty of time, but I don't know if he's left yet. I quickly opened my email, wanting to write to him, hoping it wouldn't be too late. Unexpectedly, I received a message from him as soon as I opened my inbox. It read, "You slutty little slave, do you still remember your master? This much rest should be enough, right? It's time to return and fulfill your slave duties. The life of discipline will make you suffer unbearably yet be filled with unforgettable pleasure. Are you ready? Give me your phone number. Remember, the later you reply, the crueler the punishment will be." It was signed "Master." I was incredibly excited and immediately sent him my phone number. Less than five minutes later, my phone rang. I stared tremblingly at the flashing, unfamiliar number and answered, "Hello, this is Dang'er." "I am your master. Are you ready to be my sex slave? Tell me your address, and I'll come pick you up. It will take about five hours. You can use this time to prepare. I hope you won't be punished on our first meeting." He didn't care about my reply at all. His tone was like a question, but it was a command, making me feel masochistic. I blankly gave him my address and immediately regretted it after hanging up. I almost wanted to run away. Did I really have to be his slave, to be played with at his will? But wasn't this what I was looking forward to? If I ran away, my master would ignore me. This thought made me very sad, so I made up my mind to become my master's sex slave. When I looked up, I realized that I had spent three hours in this internal struggle. I wasn't ready, and my master was coming soon. I couldn't let him down.

So I immediately took a shower. As a sex slave, you can't wear clothes, or at least specially made rope suits, leather outfits, or other erotic clothing. But being naked, feeling completely exposed, I figured my master wouldn't like me like that. I took out my favorite beaded necklace, took a deep breath, and began pressing the beads one by one into my anus. I thought my master would love my anus and would cruelly torture it. Thinking this, I noticed my anus twitching, no longer tense, trembling with each bead it swallowed. I knelt on the ground, placing one leg on a nearby stool, one hand supporting my upper body, the other frantically stuffing beads into my anus. The floor-to-ceiling mirror beside me reflected a frenzied, lewd scene: a completely naked me, beads of sweat on my forehead, as if enduring immense pain or pleasure. Her cheeks flushed red, her pink lips tightly pursed, emitting occasional moans. Her body writhed, as if trying to escape something, or perhaps enduring immense pain, while the culprit continued its frenzied movements. "No, no more, it can't hold any longer, I can't take it anymore, I'm going to die, no... no..." I began to scream wildly, but the hand was no longer under my control. It didn't stop, but instead pressed harder. My voice grew softer and softer as the last bead and a pink peony flower were inserted into the chain. When the last large bead was forcefully pressed into my anus, I screamed and collapsed. I felt a surge of heat flow out, and all around was quiet. I slowly got up, able to hear the beads colliding inside me, feeling swollen. I turned around and saw the fake flower on my anus, and once again felt how lewd I truly was, deserving of a harsh lesson from my master. Master? Right, I need to hurry, my master will be here soon. If he gets angry, I'm doomed. Just thinking about how he'll punish me makes my legs tremble again. I cleaned my vagina and applied anti-inflammatory ointment to the swollen area of my anus, making it close tightly as if it had never been abused. And that flower is a key; whoever picks it will be my master. I started carefully applying light makeup, putting on a necklace, bracelet, and anklet of the same color as the one inside my anus. My skin is very white and smooth, and my breasts are large and perky. It would be such a waste to bury such a figure. I stroked my breasts, slowly sliding down to my lower abdomen. My usually flat abdomen was slightly bulging today because my anus was stuffed with beads. How could I face my master with such an abdomen? I found a decorative belt and tied it on. I was all dressed up, except for one thing that was troubling me. My master told me to leave my hands empty except for what I was wearing, but I absolutely had to bring my phone. I thought about it, gritted my teeth, and put my phone in safe. Inside the case, I tried to insert the phone into my vagina, but it was a little too big. It hurt a bit when I squeezed it in, but luckily I was already very wet, so it didn't take much effort. But it was quite a scene inside. The phone and the beaded chain were only separated by a thin layer of flesh, pressing against each other, making me feel like I was on the verge of orgasm with every step. No, I can't orgasm without my master's permission. My master will be angry. Just as I was enduring it, I heard the sound of brakes. The car stopped in front of my house. The car door opened, and someone got out. It was a man. I heard the sound of leather shoes on the cement road. The sound was slow and rhythmic as he walked towards my door. "Here he comes. It's my master. My master has come to take me back for training. What should I do? I'm a little scared. No, no, I won't open the door for him. I won't go. I'll die if I go. Waaah..." I was holding the coat I had prepared. I was only five steps away from the door, but I stopped. Just then, the doorbell rang. I clenched my fists, closed my eyes, thinking he would leave soon. The doorbell rang three times, sounding a bit angry. After a while, it stopped ringing. I thought he had given up and breathed a sigh of relief, but then I couldn't help but feel a little regretful. Immediately, another shock erupted inside me—it really was inside me. My phone was vibrating. "No, I can't take it anymore, stop!" I kept thinking. Then I heard the owner's voice outside the door, "Dang'er, open the door." He probably heard my moans and knew I was home. The phone kept vibrating. I couldn't take it anymore. I put on a transparent sheer overcoat, almost like I wasn't wearing anything, but the slight glimpse only fueled my desire. I gritted my teeth and moved to the door, trembling as I said through the door, "I'll open the door right away, Master, please don't call anymore." The phone stopped vibrating. I opened the door, and the wind rushed in, whipping my coat. I looked up at my future master—so tall, probably 190cm. His strong physique befitted a sailor. He looked at me with a start, then frowned. "Opening the door so late? Regretting it? Making your master wait? You'll regret it when we get back." His harsh tone strangely intrigued me. I lowered my head. "I'll wait for you in the car. You have five minutes," he said, turning and leaving. I knew he was giving me a final choice. What choice did I have? I locked the door, placed the key on the doorframe, and walked step by step towards my master's car—a journey towards my doom and my paradise. Once

in the car, I leaned against the back seat, a little nervous, glancing at my master. I realized he hadn't even looked at me, focused intently on driving. I relaxed, and the car drove smoothly and steadily. Gradually, I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was completely dark. I didn't know what time it was. There was only a dim yellow light in the car. I moved my body, groaned, and looked at my master. "Awake? We'll be there soon. Be prepared. I don't want to see a crying slave." My master still didn't look at me, but from my angle, I could see that his genitals were already erect. My master was also very excited. Hehe, I secretly smiled. The tense atmosphere disappeared instantly. I took the time to think about how I should offer myself to my master.

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Unforgettable Sex Slave Life of a Female College Student

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