Fleeting Beauty

In the autumn of 2000, I met a woman with the ID "Little Slave Girl" on a forum called "Depression Space." That winter, I wrote this story for her. Regarding her SM experiences (such as being an orphan, being seduced and betrayed by her first boyfriend, and being trained as an SM enthusiast), I always found it too bizarre. However, since it was a story I wrote for her, everything had to respect her wishes, including her request for a "sister-brother relationship."

Actually, this was a very difficult topic for me, because I had genuinely respected and trusted her. I felt that the story I wanted to write was completely incompatible with her requirements. But I still finished the story and sent it to her before she "went abroad." More than a year has passed, and I haven't heard from her since. I think if I don't post this story here, no one else will ever read it.

And she wanted the story to be posted on Depression Space after it was finished. But I don't like that place. I've read many stories on this forum, and my writing style is still blank; I'm just adding a style. I'm not a newbie. I have other names that everyone knows. But this involves many personal feelings, so I changed my name.

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Fleeting Beauty 1

For many years, I've wanted to put this story into words, but I've always given up because I couldn't find the right tone. More importantly, I worry that what I hope to preserve won't be preserved through my writing. Perhaps I don't even know what I want to preserve. I pessimistically believe that everything I've perceived will be swallowed up by the noisy, polluted city, so that no one can find a trace of its freshness and strength in my writing.

I want to clarify that this isn't a purely SM story, but rather some special but real feelings, an attempt to repeat some of the most ordinary things in life through an extraordinary experience.

2

Every May, when the early summer sun and drizzle warm and nourish the city, I always return to where I grew up, the hutongs and courtyards of Beijing's old city. I touch the tall ginkgo and pine trees in the courtyard, see the clear blue sky hidden among the green trees, and watch the sparrows hopping in the dappled water after the rain, picking up the pine needles knocked down by the rain. My friends no longer live in that courtyard, including my dearest sister.

I can still vaguely sense the music, the familiar "Neapolitan Dance," and the faint sound of dance—it must be my sister's figure, a figure forever etched in my youth.

The first time I saw my sister dance was under her window, in early summer. I was 14 that year. My sister was 18.

It was also the first time I saw her in a ballet tutu, the first time I truly realized what a woman's body was like. I felt a sense of sacredness towards her serene and peaceful face. Her long legs, the soft curves of her body, constantly assaulted all my senses. Her graceful dance was like a butterfly fluttering on clear water.

"Sister, is your dancing beautiful?" I nodded.

"Then I can come to watch every day. Whichever dance you like, I'll dance for you, okay?"

"I don't know anything about dance, but whatever you dance, it should be beautiful. What was that piece of music just now? It was very beautiful."

"Neapolitan Dance," a passage from "Swan Lake."

“Sister, you should dance this often from now on.”

“Okay. School’s over? How were your studies?”

“Not bad.”

“You must study hard and make your sister proud.” My sister said, sitting down next to me and stroking my head. The gesture was familiar yet distant. In that instant, I felt like I was back in my childhood.

I noticed my sister’s chest rising and falling with her breath, the bulge making my heart tremble, and the fragrance of her body even made me feel uneasy. I knew this wasn’t childhood anymore; my sister was now a mature and perfect girl. But in her eyes, I was still that naive little kid. When would I be able to realize my childhood dream of protecting my sister and having her? I suddenly felt a little sad.

3

On such a sweltering summer night, falling asleep was difficult. It’s rare to be this hot in Beijing.

Because I couldn’t sleep, I started to think, wondering what I had done during the day. My “College English Test Band 4 and 6 Vocabulary Handbook” was probably still lying on my desk; I hadn’t touched it for many days. Just as I wrote in my diary before the holidays: I would definitely do nothing all summer.

The streets were filled with women in short skirts and shorts, covering themselves up tightly. Their white thighs were exposed, their chests thrust out defiantly, always giving off a desire to look inside. The way they swayed seemed to constantly beckon me: "Come on." I

also saw my sister during the day. After graduating from university, she was assigned to a prestigious high school. The school's dance team was famous throughout the city, and my sister was their teacher. Even though it was summer vacation, the dance team was still training as usual, and my sister invited me to watch them practice.

In the evening, I was still doing nothing, drinking beer and counting pretty girls with Dong Ge by the roadside, seeing who could count to 100 first. Dong Ge is really ungrateful; he has my sister with him, yet he still wants to look at other women. Sigh.

I also thought of A; I wonder how that girl is doing in Hangzhou. Everyone says Suzhou and Hangzhou are famous for their beauties, but I think that's an exaggeration. The flat-faced southern girls running around in universities aren't really that beautiful. A is alright, at least she has a great figure, especially since she's incredibly passionate during sex. Thinking about it, I couldn't help but get a little excited.

The midnight music talk on the radio had ended; it seemed like everyone was heartbroken this summer. I felt sorry for that male host who stammered and babbled on and on. I turned off the radio. Still couldn't sleep.

I remembered the videotape Dong Ge had lent me, saying it was Japanese and very exciting. I could imagine that guy had been a troublemaker since childhood. I was always worried about my sister being with him. But Dong Ge was very smart; he got into a prestigious university effortlessly and was assigned to work at a bank right after graduation.

However, Dong Ge was quite mysterious after handing me the videotape, which I found rather dismissive. It's just porn, right? I've seen it.

Too lazy to turn on the light, I groped for the videotape in the dark and put it in the VCR. I turned on the TV. Then I went into the kitchen and took a can of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator. When I returned to my room, I was stunned by the image on the TV.

A girl who looked like a student, naked from the waist down, wearing only a school uniform to signify her status, was very pretty. But a shirtless man was binding her with rope. The girl was tied up tightly, her hands behind her back.

I swallowed hard, my penis starting to harden. After binding the girl, the man began to strip off her top, revealing her delicate breasts. He began to rub them, and the girl began to moan with pleasure, her eyes closed…

My God, how perverted! There really are movies like this? I'd heard about them before, but only today did I get to see one. My penis was incredibly excited, my heart was pounding. I felt like I'd discovered a new continent, because this was the kind of thing I'd been craving to see for years.

4.

I've always loved being with my older sister. When she played with the other children in the yard, they wouldn't include me because I was too small. But only my sister didn't mind and always included me. I was practically her shadow. I got to know my sister from the sight of her back. My older sister is the most beautiful woman in my eyes. I love watching her stand gracefully in a dress. She holds my earliest and most enduring impression of women in my heart.

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