Sakura Sauce SM Training Collection

The wind in the latter half of the night swirled with the neon glow of the convenience store, casting shadows on the hem of Sakura-chan's school uniform skirt. She stood at the school gate, her worn-out canvas shoes scuffing the ground, for a full ten minutes, her fingertips clutching a phone screen still displaying a search history for "seeking thrills." When two men in work pants approached her, she mistook them for tonight's "prey," deliberately puffing out her chest, the buttons of her school shirt swaying in the night breeze. The canned cola the men offered had a strange sweetness. Sakura-chan only took a sip before her vision began to blur, the edge of a rope peeking from a work pants pocket swirling into a dark mass. Before she lost consciousness, her last memory was the dull ache of a blow to the back of her neck, and the shame of her school uniform skirt being ripped and flipped up—it was a short skirt she'd deliberately worn for "work," but now it served as the most humiliating footnote. When she woke, her throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Sakura-chan's eyelids were too heavy to lift, and she could only feel a burning pain all over her body, rough fibers chafing her skin with every movement. "Mmm..." she tried to speak, but her mouth was stuffed with a rubber ball, saliva trickling down the corners of her lips, dripping onto the rope across her chest. Where was this? In the darkness, a foul smell lingered in her nostrils, and the floor beneath her was cold and hard, like concrete in a warehouse. Sakura-chan's fingers curled, only to touch coils of hemp rope—they started from her shoulders, crisscrossed into a dense net over her chest, tightened around her armpits, making her breath catch, and finally tied into a hard knot at her waist, digging the fabric of her school shirt into her flesh. My hands are tied! She struggled violently, and the ropes on her wrists immediately tightened. Hundreds of meters of hemp rope, as if alive, crawled up her arms, forming spiral knots at her elbows, binding her forearms firmly to her torso. Her fingernails dug into her palms, but couldn't loosen the ropes even a fraction, only feeling the fibers of the hemp crawling over her skin, leaving fiery marks. My legs are tied too! Sakura-chan forcefully pushed her knees, only to find her legs clamped tightly together. The hemp rope was wound from her ankles to the roots of her thighs, not even sparing the backs of her knees. Her short school skirt was rolled up to her waist, the edge of her safety shorts tangled with the ropes. With every struggle, more rope dug into her flesh, bringing sharp, stinging pain. "Mmm!" she let out an angry whimper, but could only watch herself like a bound fish. Why are there so many ropes on me! Sakura-chan's consciousness gradually cleared, and she finally saw the ropes缠绕 her entire body—they formed a mountain-like curve across her chest, wove a net on her back, and were wrapped dozens of times around her ankles, the ends still swaying slightly. The sleeves of her school shirt were pulled up to her shoulders, revealing arms covered in red marks that overlapped with the rope's pattern, like an ugly painting. Saliva continued to flow, dripping from her chin onto the ropes with a "drip, drip" sound. Sakura-chan's cheeks burned intensely, the shame more unbearable than the physical pain. She tried to tighten her lips, but only managed to embed the rubber ball deeper between her teeth, her gums rubbed raw, the taste of blood mixing with the strange rubbery odor in her mouth. Someone, let me go! Her body writhed violently, and the collar around her neck suddenly tightened—only then did she realize she was wearing a thick iron chain, the other end fixed to an iron ring on the floor. Every struggle pulled at her throat, making it tight. "Young lady..." she tried to call out her identity, but her voice was muffled into a garbled "wuwu" by the rubber ball, sounding exceptionally weak in the empty room. The corner of her eye suddenly caught sight of something in the man's hand. It was a metal cylinder, about the length of her forearm. Sakura-chan's pupils contracted sharply, her body felt as if thrown into an ice cellar, and cold sweat instantly soaked the back of her shirt. No... she shook her head desperately, the collar tightening further, and her vision went black. The man's leather shoes stepped on the floor, making "thump, thump" sounds, approaching step by step. Sakura-chan's struggles became frantic, the ropes rubbing against her body with a "swish, swish" sound. The knot at her waist tightened, making her feel like she was suffocating, while the ropes on her legs remained motionless. She could only watch as that thing got closer, the reflection on its metal surface stinging her eyes. And that pink thing! As the man bent down, Sakura-chan saw the vibrator in his other hand, its plastic casing betraying its cheapness. Fear washed over her like ice water, and she held her breath, only one thought in her mind: I must hold on! If I give up now, I'll have no strength left to break free from the ropes. Her body's instincts, however, were out of her control. When the low-frequency hum of the vibrator reached her, Sakura-chan's muscles suddenly tensed, the ropes tightened deeper, and the whimpers escaping the rubber ball changed pitch. She bit down hard on her teeth, using the pain to suppress that unfamiliar tremor—this was more shameful than the fear of being kidnapped. The man seemed amused by her struggles, deliberately bringing the vibrator close to her ankle. The low-frequency vibration spread up the ropes, making her calf muscles twitch, and more sweat seeped into the folds of her short school skirt. Sakura-chan's body writhed violently, the collar choking her, and countless stars exploded in the darkness before her eyes, yet she still held her breath, refusing to yield. The ropes gradually dug into her flesh with her struggles. The hundreds of meters of hemp rope seemed to have grown onto her body, and even her breathing carried the pain of rubbing fibers. Sakura-chan's consciousness began to blur, saliva streaming down her chin. She could feel her strength draining away bit by bit, but the thought of not yielding still burned like a spark. "Stop struggling," the man's voice was like sandpaper on wood. "Once you're here, you have no choice." He kicked Sakura-chan's knee with his leather shoe, and the vibrator's frequency suddenly increased, causing her body to writhe violently. No... Sakura-chan let out a desperate whimper from her throat, tears finally breaking free, mixing with her saliva as they streamed down. Her gaze fell on the thick metal cylinder, and fear once again overwhelmed everything. Her hands were bound tighter and tighter, the skin on her wrists already abraded. The vibrator continued to hum tirelessly, its low-frequency vibrations like insects drilling into her bones. Sakura-chan's body began to tremble uncontrollably, not from fear, but from some irresistible physiological reaction. She desperately tried to bite her tongue to stay conscious, but could only feel the rubber ball rolling in her mouth, bringing deeper shame. The man's hand suddenly grabbed her collar and yanked upwards. Sakura-chan's body was forced to lift, the ropes constricting her internal organs as if they were misplaced, her whimpers turning into gasping breaths of suffocation. Her gaze drifted over the man's shoulder, catching a sliver of light from a distant window—it was almost dawn, yet she was still bound in this sunless place, like an object to be played with.

"Thirty seconds left," Bukō's voice cut through the air, a reminder. Sakura-chan's breathing grew ragged, beads of sweat tracing paths down his temples and onto his shirt collar, darkening the fabric. He could feel the red rope around his ankle tightening, the friction burning his skin. Just two steps from the doorknob, the stopwatch let out a piercing beep – time was up. Sakura-chan froze, his shoulders slumping. The air in the practice room seemed to congeal, the only sound the low hum of the overhead lights. He knew what exceeding the time limit meant. The rules were posted on the wall, the third point starkly written in red ink: "Failed the leg-together challenge, suspension punishment will be administered." Bukō retrieved a new length of rope from the tool chest, the end still bearing the marks of its previous use. She stood behind Sakura-chan, her fingertips brushing the skin at the nape of his neck, raising the fine hairs there with tension. "Don't be nervous," her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable weight. "It's just a basic punishment." As the rope circled his neck, Sakura-chan instinctively held his breath, the rough fibers grazing his collar, a chilling sensation. The rope was secured to a hook on the ceiling, its length precisely calculated. When Sakura-chan's feet were flat on the floor, the rope would constrict his breathing; only by standing on his tiptoes could he alleviate the pressure on his neck. He tried to lower his heels, and an immediate, [X]-like pressure seized his throat, his vision momentarily darkening. As he scrambled to stand on his toes, the heels of his leather shoes clacked against the floor, a frantic rhythm like a silent alarm. "Hold this position for ten minutes." Bukō placed the stopwatch on the bedside table, its glass surface reflecting Sakura-chan's taut profile. His toes bore the full weight of his body, his calf muscles quickly beginning to tremble, like reeds in the wind. The rope around his neck swayed gently with each breath, every inhale a struggle against its restraint, his chest rising and falling with diminishing force. Just past the five-minute mark, Bukō frowned. She noticed a dark stain seeping from the hem of Sakura-chan's pants, spreading down his leg and pooling on the floor. "You..." Her words caught in her throat as she watched Sakura-chan's face flush crimson, his shoulders shaking violently – he had lost control of his bladder. Sakura-chan's lips were pressed into a pale line, tears welling in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. The shame was more unbearable than the constriction around his neck. He wanted to curl into himself, but the rope held him firmly in place, leaving him to watch as the dark stain grew, a hideous blotch on the gleaming floor. "It seems we need to increase the severity of the punishment." Bukō's voice turned cold as she turned and retrieved a pair of custom-made high heels from the prop box. The heels were a staggering twenty centimeters tall, their tips ground to a sharp point, with only a small platform for the big toe. The other four toes were left to hang in the air. These were props for extreme challenges, something even professional models would hesitate to try. Sakura-chan's pupils contracted sharply as he watched the heels placed by his feet. The metal stiletto heels glinted under the lights, like some cruel instrument of torture. He wanted to shake his head in refusal, but the rope around his neck rendered him voiceless, only a muffled "whimper" escaping as tears finally broke free, splashing into the puddle on the floor and creating tiny ripples. Bukō ignored his resistance and crouched down to remove his leather shoes. Sakura-chan's toes were curled from standing on his tiptoes for so long, the sweat on the soles of his feet dampening his socks with a faint, sour odor. As Bukō forced his foot into the high heel, a searing pain shot through his big toe, his other four toes suspended, relying solely on the strength of his ankles for balance. "Now, support yourself with the tip of your big toe." Bukō stepped back, crossing her arms. Sakura-chan's body began to sway violently. The twenty-centimeter heels made his center of gravity terrifyingly high, and any slight movement risked a fall. The rope around his neck tightened with the swaying of his body, forcing him to tilt his head back to breathe, the ceiling above him beginning to spin like a vast vortex. The nail of his big toe was almost embedded in the platform, the skin there quickly developing blisters. Sakura-chan could feel his ankle muscles screaming, time stretching out interminably. The hem of his skirt was still dripping, cold liquid running down his calves and into the high heels, mixing with his sweat to create a sticky, uncomfortable sensation. Bukō's stopwatch began to tick again, this time without a set end time. She watched Sakura-chan's trembling body, his face contorted in pain, her gaze devoid of pity, filled only with a near-inhuman focus. The practice room clock ticked rhythmically, weaving a bizarre melody with Sakura-chan's ragged breaths. After an unknown duration, Sakura-chan's vision began to blur. His big toe had lost all sensation, and he was only able to maintain his stance through instinct. The marks on his neck deepened, like a dark crimson necklace, a reminder of the price of failure. He recalled his magic teacher's words when he first started: "Every magician must learn to endure pain, for the audience only remembers your success." But now, he only felt pain, a net that ensnared him completely. Bukō finally stepped forward and untied the knot at his neck. Sakura-chan's body lost its support and collapsed onto the floor. The heel of the high shoe snapped on impact with a crisp crack. He lay on the floor, gasping for air, the taste of blood in his throat mixing with the metallic tang in his mouth, causing him to gag. "Remember this lesson," Bukō's voice echoed from above. "Before your next challenge, think carefully about the consequences of failure." She turned and switched off the camera. The last image captured was of Sakura-chan curled on the floor, beside the puddle of water that was slowly drying. The overhead lights of the practice room remained on, their cold beams illuminating the floor. Sakura-chan slowly raised his head, looking at the blistered skin on his big toe, at the broken high heel. He suddenly let out a low laugh. There was no joy in the sound, only an inexpressible weariness, like a deflated balloon, no longer possessing the courage to attempt the three-meter distance.

The gag, a horse's bit, was shoved into Sakura-chan's mouth, her teeth biting down with a sharp pain. The black rubber, reeking of plastic, filled her mouth completely, leaving only muffled whimpers escaping from the corners of her lips. Her head was pulled upwards by a rope, the other end tied to a restraint around her waist, forcing her neck back. A dull ache spread from her cervical spine down her back, making her vision blur. The villain stood by the table, holding a stainless steel basin filled with milk, a fine layer of foam floating on its surface. He slowly picked up a syringe, its needle glinting coldly under the dim light. The markings on the barrel were clearly visible – a large 500ml syringe, more than twice the width of a standard medical one. "Don't move," the villain's voice was as cold as the air in a basement. His finger pressed down on Sakura-chan's waist, where the restraints had already left deep red marks. The moment the needle pierced her skin, Sakura-chan's body tensed violently. The tape around her wrists tightened further with the strain, digging into her flesh. Cold milk slowly injected, carrying a nauseatingly slick sensation, accumulating in her intestines bit by bit. By the time the first syringe was empty, Sakura-chan's abdomen had already begun to swell slightly. She could clearly feel the liquid moving inside her, like a cold snake, bringing a numb, uncomfortable fullness. The villain withdrew the needle and tossed the empty syringe onto the metal tray with a piercing clatter. He didn't immediately proceed with the second injection, but instead gently pressed on Sakura-chan's abdomen with his fingers, observing her contorted expression of pain. Halfway through the second syringe of milk, Sakura-chan's body began to tremble uncontrollably. The bloating pain in her intestines intensified, as if countless hands were churning inside, forcing her to instinctively writhe her hips in an attempt to find relief. But her legs were firmly secured, and any struggle only tightened the restraints further. The pain in her waist and the distension in her abdomen brought Sakura-chan to the brink of agony. "Looks like you can't hold on much longer," the villain's voice held a malicious chuckle as he pushed the remaining milk from the second syringe. The instant the needle was withdrawn, Sakura-chan's body arched violently. The distension in her abdomen reached its peak, her anal sphincter contracting uncontrollably, yet unable to resist the surging urge to defecate. She shook her head desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the cold concrete table. Before the villain could prepare the third syringe, Sakura-chan completely lost control. Feces burst through the obstruction, spraying out in a murky stream, splashing onto the plastic sheeting on the floor with a "swish" sound. Her body trembled violently from shame and pain, the whimpers from the gag growing louder, unable to stop the humiliating process of excretion. The villain, however, showed no signs of stopping. He switched to a new syringe, drew up more milk, and as the cold needle touched her skin, Sakura-chan's body shook like a sieve. "We need to clean you up before we move on," he said, his tone as flat as if stating a fact, and slowly injected the third syringe of milk. The liquid mixed with the excrement inside her, bringing an even more disgusting feeling of fullness. Sakura-chan continued to be filled while expelling, and a pool of filth quickly accumulated on the plastic sheeting, emitting a foul odor. This process was repeated four times, until Sakura-chan's intestines could no longer hold any more liquid, and only a pale yellow, watery discharge came out. The villain finally put away the syringe and set the stainless steel basin aside, milk still clinging to its sides. He produced a wet towel and roughly wiped Sakura-chan's buttocks. The cold fabric brushed against her skin, making her involuntarily flinch. "Next, we'll use this," the villain took out a transparent plastic plug from his toolbox. It had an inflatable valve at the tip and fine ridges along its edge. Sakura-chan's pupils contracted sharply, her body resisting, causing the tabletop to creak. The tape on her wrists had already broken the skin. As the inflatable plug was forcefully inserted, Sakura-chan let out a guttural scream of pain, but it was muffled deep in her throat by the gag. The villain grasped the valve and began to inflate slowly. The plastic plug expanded little by little inside her, stretching her intestines painfully. He deliberately moved it back and forth, allowing the ridged edges to rub against her sensitive inner walls. Each movement felt like tearing flesh. Sakura-chan's body writhed violently. The rope around her waist made it difficult to breathe, and her vision began to spin. The inflatable plug's vibration function suddenly activated, sending high-frequency tremors through her intestines. This, combined with the pain in her waist and the marks on her wrists, created a triple torment. She could feel sweat trickling down her forehead, dripping onto the tabletop, mixing with her tears from before. "Not enough," the villain seemed to think this stimulation was insufficient and rummaged through his box for a roll of plastic wrap. He wrapped the plastic wrap around Sakura-chan's buttocks several times, creating a sealed space that concentrated the vibrations from the inflatable plug. The plastic film rubbed against her skin, creating a hot, sticky sensation, a strange contrast to the coldness inside her body. When the villain turned the vibration intensity to its maximum, Sakura-chan's consciousness descended into complete chaos. The internal vibrations, the constricting pain in her waist, the stuffiness of the plastic wrap, and the inability to break free – all sensations intertwined. Her body arched into a shrimp-like shape, the ropes on her legs digging deeply into her flesh, yet she was unable to offer any effective resistance.

"Awake?" The mysterious figure's voice, processed and cold, echoed in the room. He bent down, grabbed Sakura-chan's arm, and dragged her to a metal rack in the center of the room. Her legs felt like jelly, and she struggled to stand, but he held her down firmly. As the restraints were removed, her skin met the cold air, raising goosebumps. The mysterious figure took a K9 restraint set from the rack – black leather, a glossy sheen, edged with buckles. He first fitted the main body of the restraint around Sakura-chan's torso, tightening the straps at her waist until breathing became difficult. The metal buckles dug into her skin, a cold, sharp pain. Next came the restraints for her limbs. The leather was stiff, and as he fastened them around her wrists and ankles, the mysterious figure deliberately pulled the adjustment buckles tight, forcing the straps deep into her flesh. Sakura-chan's fingers curled, feeling the circulation being cut off, her fingertips growing numb. When the plate chastity device was brought out, Sakura-chan's body trembled violently. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The mysterious figure expertly secured it, and the moment the lock clicked shut, a profound despair seized her. The device was designed with extreme precision, completely blocking any possibility of arousal, leaving only a chilling sense of confinement. The weight of the electric collar pressed against her neck, metal contacts against her skin. The mysterious figure held a remote, pressing a button on the lowest setting. A weak current surged through her body, causing Sakura-chan's muscles to tense sharply, and a suppressed gasp escaped her lips. The 5.5cm horse gag was forcibly shoved into her mouth, its rubber texture hard. Straps wrapped around her head and tightened, forcing her mouth open. Saliva welled up uncontrollably, trickling down the sides of the gag. "Let the training begin," the mysterious figure stated, his voice devoid of emotion as he held the remote. He pressed a button, increasing the current slightly. Sakura-chan's body arched, a pained whimper escaping her. Her limbs thrashed against the restraints, only serving to tighten the leather further. The electric shocks continued for several cycles, stopping each time just as Sakura-chan reached her limit. The mysterious figure observed her reactions until her struggles weakened and her whimpers subsided, then temporarily deactivated the collar. "Next is smile training." The mysterious figure produced a small mirror and held it before Sakura-chan. The reflection showed a disheveled figure, hair matted, face streaked with tears and saliva, eyes wide with fear. "In my presence, you will smile. Otherwise, you will be shocked." Sakura-chan's lips were stretched by the gag, making a smile impossible. The mysterious figure, as if anticipating this, produced a small tool and pried open her mouth, forcing her facial muscles into an approximation of a smile. "Remember this feeling." Any slight relaxation of the corners of her mouth resulted in an immediate shock. As the current coursed through her, Sakura-chan's facial muscles twitched uncontrollably, distorting the forced smile. This was repeated dozens of times. Her cheeks grew numb, and the corners of her mouth ached from the pressure of the tool, yet she could only strive to maintain that grotesque expression. Physical training took place in another room. This one was larger, with anti-slip mats on the floor and a treadmill in the corner. The mysterious figure removed Sakura-chan's limb restraints but attached a steel hook to the back of her neck. The hook was connected by a chain to the metal ring of the horse gag. The sharp pain of the steel hook digging into her skin made Sakura-chan gasp. The chain tightened, forcing her head back, preventing her from looking down. The mysterious figure, holding the chain, led her to the treadmill. He secured her limbs with restraints again, forcing her body into a standing position.

The Master stood up and walked to her, his fingers lightly tracing her knee. "Good girl." His voice was soft, yet it made Sakura-chan's body tense even further. She could feel her muscles straining, trying to press her legs together, but the restraints held her firmly in this humiliating position, leaving her exposed to his gaze as it roamed over her. The metal bars of the restraints pressed against the inside of her thighs, a constant coolness that contrasted sharply with the heat building within her. Sakura-chan's breathing grew shallow, her chest heaving, the cotton of her skirt swaying with her movements but offering no concealment. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, watching her shadow stretch long under the light, the silhouette of her spread legs like a needle, piercing her eyes with pain. The Master returned from the storage room with a peculiar metal device, its ends curved metal plates connected by an adjustment screw in the middle. Sakura-chan's eyes widened slightly as she recognized it as a speculum. She instinctively shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together, a faint sound of protest escaping her small mouth. The Master's gaze deepened, and without a word, he reached out and cupped her chin. The pressure was not strong, but it carried an unyielding force. Sakura-chan's body froze, her struggles ceasing as she allowed him to insert the speculum into her mouth. The cold metal instantly spread through her mouth, sending a shiver through her, her teeth chattering involuntarily. The Master turned the screw on the side, and the curved metal plates slowly widened, forcing her jaw open until her mouth was held at a fixed angle, unable to close or move. A dull ache emanated from the stretched corners of her gums, her lips going numb from the excessive pull. Sakura-chan could feel her saliva begin to pool, unable to swallow, so it gathered in her mouth. The Master stepped back, admiring her current state, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "That's better," he said, turning towards a cabinet. He opened the bottom drawer and took out a dildo. Made of silicone, its color was close to skin tone, with a rounded tip and a long, thin tube attached to the end. Sakura-chan's body began to tremble violently, her eyes quickly filling with tears that streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the fabric of her dress. The dildo was slowly inserted into her mouth, the warm silicone a stark contrast to the cold speculum. At first, it only moved shallowly at the front of her mouth, creating a mild sensation of a foreign object, making her throat tickle. Sakura-chan tried desperately to ignore the feeling, but she could clearly sense the object moving within her mouth, brushing against her tongue and the roof of her palate, triggering waves of nausea. Time passed, and the depth of its movement began to increase. The dildo occasionally brushed against the back of her throat, inducing violent gagging reflexes that made her body tense up, her tears flowing even more profusely. The Master seemed to be familiar with her reactions, always withdrawing slightly just as she reached her limit, allowing the gagging sensation to subside, but never fully removing it, keeping her in a cycle of discomfort and brief relief. Her saliva accumulated, spilling from the corners of her mouth, forming transparent threads that dripped onto her clothes. Sakura-chan could feel her chin becoming wet with saliva, the sticky sensation intensifying her shame. She wanted to raise her hand to wipe it away, but found her arms fixed by attachments to the restraints, held at her sides, unable to move. The Master stopped and took out a mirror, placing it in front of her. Sakura-chan's gaze focused on the reflection, the face staring back at her so unfamiliar she could barely believe it – her mouth forced open, revealing the dildo within, saliva streaming from the corners, soaking her chin and chest. Her legs were spread wide on the restraints, her private parts completely exposed, her eyes filled with shame and fear, tears still streaming down her face. The person in the mirror was like a manipulated doll, devoid of any dignity. Sakura-chan's body began to tremble violently, small whimpers escaping her mouth, but the speculum prevented them from forming complete sounds. She tried to look away, but the Master gripped her chin, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror until the humiliating image was deeply etched into her mind. The Master put away the mirror and took a pink vibrator from his pocket, pressing the switch. A low hum filled the quiet room, causing Sakura-chan's body to instantly tense. The vibrator was set to a medium setting, and the Master held it, slowly bringing it closer to her private parts, finally stopping at the most sensitive point.

The room was dimly lit, with spotlights on the ceiling focusing on a metal frame in the center. Sakura-chan, dressed in a bunny girl outfit, the white fur trim brushing against his thighs. The red slip dress was short, barely reaching his upper thighs, and his legs were encased in shiny nylons that trembled slightly with nervousness. The Master sat on the sofa, idly playing with a leather riding crop, his gaze cold and fixed on Sakura-chan. The air was thick with a suffocating tension. "Do you know why I summoned you?" the Master's voice broke the silence, laced with authority. Sakura-chan's body stiffened, his head dropping lower, daring not to meet the Master's eyes. Of course, he knew. Yesterday, at the bar, he had deliberately worn the bunny girl outfit to entice customers, and the Master had caught him red-handed. "I... I was wrong," Sakura-chan's voice trembled. The Master rose and walked before him, the riding crop gently lifting his chin, forcing him to look up. "Wrongdoings must be punished." He turned and pointed to a cabinet in the corner. "Go put on those 16cm high heels." Sakura-chan's heart sank. He had seen those heels before. Black patent leather, with thin, impossibly long heels. Just looking at them made his legs weak, let alone wearing them. He didn't dare to resist, so he walked step by step to the cabinet, opened the door, and took out the heels. The heels stood on the floor, almost as tall as his calves, the toes narrow and looking decidedly ill-fitting. He sat on a chair and struggled to slide his feet into the heels. The shiny nylons scraped against the shoe's interior, a slick sensation. His toes were squeezed tightly, barely able to move. The moment he stood up, his body lost balance, and he had to brace himself against the wall. His legs trembled from the height of the heels, the shiny nylons exuding a slutty aura, outlining the curves of his legs. "Walk over here," the Master's command cut through the air. Sakura-chan took a deep breath and tried to take a step. As the heels met the floor, a sharp pain shot up his ankles. He could only shuffle cautiously, afraid of falling. By the time he reached the Master, he was drenched in sweat, his legs weak, barely able to stand. The Master ignored his disheveled state and motioned him towards the metal frame. "Stand on it." Sakura-chan gripped the frame and slowly stepped onto the platform, his feet shoulder-width apart. The Master picked up a thick hemp rope and began to wrap it around his ankles, each loop tightening, ensuring his legs couldn't be brought together. The rope then extended upwards, around his upper thighs, connecting to a hook on the frame. With a strong pull, his legs were forcibly spread apart into an M-shape. "This way, they won't close so easily," the Master said. He then took two more ropes, bound Sakura-chan's wrists behind his back, and connected a long rope to a hook above the frame. With another upward pull, his hands were hoisted high, his shoulders forced back, and a stretching sensation coursed through his back muscles. Sakura-chan's body was secured to the frame, his legs spread wide in an M-shape, his hands bound behind him and lifted. He could only support his body on the tips of his high heels. The shiny nylons had slipped down slightly due to his position, revealing a sliver of pale skin. He tried to move his legs, but found that any exertion tightened the ropes further, causing intense pain. The Master turned and retrieved two transparent rotating vibrators from the cabinet, approaching Sakura-chan. "This is your 'gift'." Sakura-chan's body jolted, and he tried to flinch away, but the ropes held him fast. He could only watch as the Master attached the vibrators. They adhered to his skin, and as they activated, a faint vibration began, eliciting a muffled groan from him. "And this," the Master added, taking out two electric shock clamps and attaching them to the inside of his knees. "As soon as your legs close, these will activate." He flipped a switch, and a faint electrical hum emanated from the clamps. Sakura-chan's body tensed instantly, a tingling, painful sensation spreading from his knees, making him cry out. Finally, the Master produced a transparent 5.5cm ball gag and forced it into his mouth. The gag was hard, propping his mouth open, rendering him unable to speak, only capable of emitting muffled, inarticulate sounds. The transparent material left his facial expressions completely exposed, his cheeks flushed red with tension and shame, tears beginning to well in his eyes. "Now, begin your 'performance'," the Master said, settling back onto the sofa and taking out his phone. "Only by spreading your legs willingly, by being seductive, and by satisfying me, can you be freed." Sakura-chan's body trembled violently. He knew he had no choice. The slightest closing of his legs would activate the electric clamps, bringing unbearable pain. Meanwhile, the vibration of the rotating vibrators continued, making his body increasingly hot and restless. He was forced to lift his head, his hands bound behind him. He could only rely on his waist to twist his body, spreading his legs as wide as possible to alleviate the threat of the electric clamps. The shiny nylons and his M-shaped legs were exposed to the air. Shame and discomfort warred within him, pushing him to the brink of collapse. The intensity of the rotating vibrators gradually increased, delivering powerful stimulation. His breathing grew more rapid, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, dripping onto the vibrators on his chest. He could feel his body becoming increasingly unresponsive, and he could only writhe more desperately, spreading his legs as wide as he could, hoping to satisfy the Master and end this punishment as quickly as possible.

Sakura-chan's steps faltered, her hands nervously clenching the hem of her gauze dress, her eyes filled with a hint of unease. "Don't be nervous, we're just here to relax by the sea." I patted her shoulder, leading her towards a more secluded area deeper in the beach, a distance away from the tourist crowds. Only a few scattered individuals were strolling, and tall coconut trees provided cover, offering relative privacy. Stopping beneath a coconut tree, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a roll of black nylon rope. "Now, do as we discussed." Sakura-chan bit her lip, offering no resistance, and slowly turned around, bringing her hands behind her back. I stepped forward, first bending her wrists and ankles, her wrists curving towards her elbows, her ankles towards her knees. Then, I used the rope to securely bind her wrists and ankles together. The rope began at her wrists, wrapped around her back, and extended to her ankles, tightening with each loop to ensure her limbs couldn't straighten, forcing her into a bent-back posture. Next, I adjusted the tension of the rope, gradually arching her back into a bow shape, forming a standard 'four-horse' position. The rope crisscrossed her back, connecting to the bindings on her hands and feet, creating a stable restraint that prevented her from changing her body's position, leaving her only able to maintain a hunched, bowed state. "There, that's perfect." I stepped back, admiring Sakura-chan's appearance. The transparent gauze dress, pulled taut by her bent posture, revealed more of her leg skin. Her white polka-dot stockings shimmered with a golden hue under the sunlight. Her hands and feet were secured behind her back by the rope, her back arched, presenting a picture of forced submission. Occasionally, tourists would pass by, casting curious glances. Sakura-chan's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, her head bowed lower, wishing she could disappear into the ground. Ignoring the surrounding gazes, I took out a ball gag from my backpack. The black gag had a few small ventilation holes. I walked up to Sakura-chan and gestured for her to open her mouth. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened her mouth, allowing me to place the gag inside. I then wrapped the attached strap around the back of her head and tied a firm knot, ensuring the gag wouldn't come loose. "Now, it's time for your punishment." I pointed towards the nearby sea, where waves were gently rolling towards the shore. With each tide, the water would push onto the beach, forming a shallow puddle. Sakura-chan's body tensed instantly, her eyes wide with fear. Unable to speak due to the gag, she could only emit muffled, shameful whimpers, her body trembling slightly. I supported Sakura-chan and slowly walked her to the edge of the puddle. The water reached just to her knees. The sea was icy cold, and the contact with her skin made her shiver involuntarily. I released her, letting her stand alone in the puddle. The waves continued to surge towards the shore, each one pushing water against her body, even reaching her waist. "This is your punishment for not listening to me before." I stood on the shore, watching Sakura-chan struggle in the water. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back, her back arched, making it impossible to maintain balance. Each incoming wave caused her to sway, and some even splashed water onto her face, trickling down her cheeks. The ventilation holes on the gag became soaked, making her breathing more difficult. She could only gasp for air through the small openings, and occasionally, seawater would enter her mouth, causing her to cough, but the gag prevented her from spitting it out. Sakura-chan's body grew increasingly stiff, her lips turning a shade of purple from the cold and fear. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the seawater. She tried to move towards the shore, but her bound limbs and the resistance of the water kept her struggling in place. Each movement made her more unstable, resulting in more water splashing onto her.

After a long struggle, Sakura-chan's attempts yielded no progress. Her wrists had begun to go numb, her range of motion shrinking. Just then, footsteps approached again. The man walked up to her, bent down, picked up the phone, and glanced at the screen. His tone remained flat, "Time's up. You didn't complete the task." "I really can't!" Sakura-chan's voice held a hint of panic. "My hands are tied, I can't unlock it with my fingerprints. Try another way, a passcode unlock, I can tell you the password." The man ignored her suggestion and instead reached out, grabbing her arm. His grip was strong, and Sakura-chan's body involuntarily tensed. The man loosened some of the ropes on her wrists but didn't completely untie them. Instead, he pulled her arm behind her back. Immediately, a pair of cold, long gloves were slipped onto her hands. The gloves were made of smooth material, covering her entire palms and forearms. Her fingers were completely encased, unable to bend or move. Sakura-chan struggled, trying to pull her arm back, but the man held her firmly. "Since fingerprint unlocking won't work, try with these hands." A barely perceptible mockery laced the man's voice. "Next, we'll try a different method of restraint. If you still can't unlock it, then you're truly out of chances." The man retied her wrists, the ropes now wound much tighter than before. He then untied her legs. Just as Sakura-chan was about to move her legs, the man forcefully pulled them behind her. Her body was forced to bend backward, a distinct discomfort radiating from her lower back. The man used new ropes to tie her ankles and wrists together, forming a tight knot. Once the binding was complete, the man helped her up from the chair and gave her a gentle push. Sakura-chan lost her balance and fell to the floor. With her hands and feet bound behind her, she couldn't support herself and could only lie on the ground in a curled position. The long gloves rendered her hands numb, preventing her from feeling the texture of the floor or using her hands to adjust her posture. Next, the man picked up a pair of black stockings and walked over to her. A wave of fear washed over Sakura-chan. She twisted her body, trying to evade him, but the man pressed his knee into her back, pinning her down. He balled up the stockings and shoved them into her mouth, then used the remaining fabric to wrap around the back of her head a few times, securing it tightly. With her mouth stuffed, Sakura-chan couldn't utter any clear sounds, only muffled whimpers. Her breathing became somewhat difficult, forcing her to take shallow breaths through her nose. The man stood up, placed the phone on the floor in front of her, its screen still displaying the unlock interface. "Now, one more chance," the man's voice echoed from above. "Unlock the phone with your gloved hands. There's no time limit this time, but remember, this is your last chance. If you can't unlock it, you'll stay here forever." With that, his footsteps receded, leaving Sakura-chan alone on the floor. Sakura-chan lay on the ground, her body tightly bound by ropes, her mouth gagged with stockings, unable to speak or move freely. The long gloves robbed her hands of dexterity; her fingers couldn't bend, making it impossible to accurately touch the phone's screen. She tried to twist her body, hoping to bring her hands closer to the phone, but her hands and feet were tied together, limiting her movement to small shifts. She couldn't reach the phone. Her breathing grew more rapid, her fear intensifying. She didn't know where she was or what the man's objective was. If she couldn't unlock the phone, would she really be trapped here forever? The thought made her body tremble slightly. She forced herself to regulate her breathing, to remain calm. She attempted to reach for the phone with her gloved hand. The fingers, restricted by the gloves, couldn't bend, so she could only use the back of her hand to touch it. After multiple attempts, the back of her hand finally made contact with the phone. But the phone's surface was smooth, and combined with the slick material of the gloves, the phone slid away, moving further from her. Sakura-chan didn't give up. She twisted her body again, adjusting her position to bring the back of her hand into contact with the phone once more. This time, she used more force, nudging the phone towards herself. The phone slid a short distance across the floor and stopped near her hand. She used the back of her hand to hold the phone down, then tried to touch the unlock area with her fingers.

The abandoned warehouse deep within the park had been converted into a makeshift dungeon. The concrete floor was cold and hard, and several thick steel pipes were bolted to the surrounding walls. Various metal restraints were piled in the corner. Two enforcers, dressed in black uniforms, stood in the center of the warehouse. A steel pipe frame had already been erected before them, and a trolley beside it was neatly arranged with restraints. Sakura-chan was brought here from a separate room, her hands bound behind her back, the wrists still bearing red marks from previous bindings. "Stand still, don't move," one of the enforcers stepped forward and picked up a pair of heavy metal wrist and neck cuffs. These cuffs were composed of two curved steel plates, joined by a hinge, with rough rubber padding on the inside. The enforcer brought Sakura-chan's hands together in front of her, aligning her wrists with the grooves in the cuffs. He then closed the steel plates and tightened the bolts on either side. A chill spread as the metal touched her skin. As the bolts were tightened, the cuffs locked her wrists securely. A chain extended from the top, looping around her neck and attaching to a neck collar. Sakura-chan tried to move her arms, only to find her upper body completely immobilized. She couldn't even lift her arms, forced to keep them hanging in front of her. The chain also pulled on her neck, preventing her from turning her head freely. The other enforcer picked up a full-face respirator, a transparent visor connected to thick rubber seals. He placed the mask over Sakura-chan's face, adjusted it, and then tightened the straps at the back of her head, ensuring a complete seal with no air leaks. Next, he took two cylindrical, strap-on vacuum bottles from the trolley. The bottles were labeled "Negative Pressure Regulator" and were connected to the respirator's air intake via a Y-splitter. "The liquid inside the bottles controls airflow through a negative pressure system, restricting oxygen intake. You'll adapt, whether you like it or not," the enforcer said, slinging the straps over Sakura-chan's shoulders and securing the bottles to her waist. He then opened the valves on the bottles. Sakura-chan immediately felt her breathing become difficult. Each breath required more effort, and a wave of dizziness from oxygen deprivation washed over her. The surroundings began to swim slightly. Following this, the enforcers began fitting Sakura-chan with a heavy metal waist cincher. The cincher was made of multiple layers of alloy steel plates, lined with latex on the inside, and was wide enough to cover her entire abdomen. They first had Sakura-chan put on a tight latex corset, which clung to her skin, creating a distinct sense of constriction. Then, they wrapped the metal cincher around the outside, tightening it layer by layer with buckles on either side. Under the double pressure, Sakura-chan's waist and abdomen were firmly constricted, drastically reducing the space in her abdominal cavity. Natural diaphragmatic breathing became extremely difficult, forcing her to switch to chest breathing. However, due to the respirator's restriction, the oxygen she inhaled was still insufficient, and her chest began to heave violently. The process of attaching the dual electro-shock devices between her legs was more involved. The enforcers first spread and secured Sakura-chan's legs. Then, they took out two palm-sized electro-shock devices, each connected to four thin electrode pads. They attached the pads to the inner thighs and buttocks of Sakura-chan, ensuring complete contact with her skin. Elastic straps were then used to secure the devices to her legs, connecting the wires hidden within the units. "These pads will deliver current on command. Don't even think about resisting; it will only make things worse for you." The enforcer adjusted the remote control in his hand. The screen displayed options for adjusting the current intensity. He then clipped the remote to his belt. Next came the inflatable butt plug. The enforcer took out a cylindrical rubber plug, connected to a long inflation tube with a push-type valve at the end. After forcibly holding her in position, they slowly inserted the plug and then repeatedly pressed the inflation valve. Sakura-chan could clearly feel the foreign object becoming more prominent. As the plug expanded, a painful fullness spread from her buttocks. Every movement caused discomfort from friction, making her instinctively want to contract her body, but the enforcer held her shoulders down, preventing any movement. Finally, the enforcers fitted Sakura-chan with metal shackles. The diameter of the shackle rings was just right for her ankles, and they were also lined with anti-slip rubber. A short chain, less than ten centimeters long, connected her feet together. "The short chain will limit your stride. You can only take small steps; don't think about taking large ones." They led Sakura-chan to the steel pipe frame and used four chains to connect the chain from her wrist and neck cuffs, the hooks on the metal waist cincher, and the rings of her ankle shackles. Her body was fixed to the frame at four points, positioned directly in front of a treadmill. The treadmill belt had already started, rotating slowly with a low hum. "Now, you are a controlled machine, only able to move to the rhythm of the treadmill." The enforcer unlocked the restraints on Sakura-chan's legs, but the four-point chain fixation still prevented her from moving outside the frame. Due to the ankle shackles, she could only take small steps, passively moving forward with the rotation of the belt. The dizziness from oxygen deprivation grew stronger. The dual restraints made breathing increasingly difficult. The painful fullness in her buttocks and the friction with every step continuously stimulated her nerves. The electrode pads on her inner thighs occasionally sent a jolt of current, reminding her of the punishment that could come at any moment.