Tang Xiaoyou's Debauched Flesh-Tool Adventure!

...So intense... inside... I'm going to be worn out... Ah... I can't take it anymore...) And the tentacle hybrid's binding skills were clearly more "superb" and creative than its kind. It didn't use a simple kinbaku, but instead employed a more complex and humiliating rope bondage, turning her entire body into a beautifully adorned doll, bound like a zongzi! Several flexible and powerful tentacles wrapped around her ankles and wrists, forcibly bending her body backward into an extremely exaggerated arch! Her hands were tied behind her back, forced to meet and bind with her raised ankles, making her entire body like a cooked shrimp, her chest and hips pushed high, becoming more prominent and conspicuous. The rope-like tentacles dug deeply into her snow-white skin, leaving clear red marks on her chest, abdomen, and the roots of her thighs, accentuating her already fiery and sexy curves, making them more alluring and pornographic, as if she were a meticulously crafted, living art piece designed for display and desecration. (So... so humiliating a pose... my body... my body is completely folded... my chest and my lower half... are all exposed... I can't move at all...) Her freedom was completely stripped away. She was like a beautiful butterfly pinned to a specimen board, only able to pant and moan passively, enduring everything. (Why... why is my body so sensitive? Being tied like this... being played with like this... I actually... I actually feel... good? Like a sex doll without dignity... only able to writhe my hips... begging it... begging it for more...) Her heart was filled with shame and unwillingness, but her body's reactions were incredibly honest. Fine beads of sweat seeped from her skin, mixing with mucus, making her entire being look even more debauched. Her moans began to become intermittent, carrying a seductive charm she herself hadn't noticed. The tentacle hybrid's training was far from over. A small, cold metal hook was suddenly forced through her nasal septum, forming an extremely humiliating "nose hook"! A thin chain connected to the flesh above, forcing her to maintain an upward-tilted head at all times, completely exposing her vulnerable neck and high chest. (My nose... my nose... it hurts so much... so shameful... like this... like livestock being led by a leash...) Immediately after, a hollow, funnel-like tentacle forcefully pressed against the tight, shy little daisy behind her! Amidst her terrified whimpers, a large amount of lukewarm, strangely slippery fluid was forcibly injected into her rectum! Her belly began to swell at a visible rate, accompanied by waves of unbearable fullness and the urge to defecate. (No... it's pouring in... so much... my stomach... my stomach is going to burst... it feels so bad... I want to... I want to push it out...) She futilely contracted her rear passage, but it was tightly blocked by the tentacle, leaving her only to feel that intense, sanity-shattering fullness. This kind of manipulation targeting her excretory organs brought a shame far deeper than mere sexual stimulation, almost shattering her dignity as a "human." She was forced to crawl on all fours like a dog in this filled state (though her elbows and knees were bound together, making the posture extremely awkward). With every movement, the liquid in her belly sloshed, bringing more intense stimulation, while the vibrating tentacle inside her and the suction on her breasts never ceased. (I can't... I can't take it anymore... let me go... please... please let me go...) The signs of internal collapse finally began to appear. And this, it seemed, was the moment the tentacle hybrid had been waiting for. It began to "change her outfit" again. First, an "exposing nurse outfit" with minimal fabric, the ultra-short white skirt barely covering anything, and the chest adorned with only two crossed straps, almost completely revealing her now more prominent breasts, with vibrating, jingling nipple rings attached to her nipples. Then, she was forcibly stuffed like an object into a cold "metal restraint frame for human furniture" mimicked by tentacles. Her limbs were firmly locked onto the frame by metal-like tentacle rings, her entire body forcibly positioned into a standard "M-spread" pose, her private parts and rear completely exposed to the front. Then, a "siege ram" like "cannon machine fake penis," also mimicked by tentacles, was aimed at the entrance of her already muddy and slightly swollen honey trap, and began a merciless, mechanical, and frenzied high-speed thrusting! "Yaaahhh—! No... no more... stop... stop it... Ahhh!" Tang Xiaoyou let out a cry and scream that was close to collapse. Under the violent impact of the cannon machine, the vibration of the bells on her chest, the terrifying fullness in her belly, and the humiliation brought by the nose hook and full-body binding, her orgasms came like a breaking dam, wave after wave, with almost no interval. Her honey fluid sprayed out uncontrollably like incontinence, her mind went blank, her reason completely shattered, leaving only her body convulsing and instinctively accommodating. (Shame... too much shame... this shouldn't be happening... I'm Tang Xiaoyou... how could I... how could I be played with like this... like a public toilet... used as I please... Ah... but... it feels so good... my body... my body won't obey... why... why do I feel a little... enjoyment from this? No! It's not enjoyment! It's... it's curiosity! Yes, just curiosity!) Until the very end, she was still making pale, futile excuses in the depths of her heart, but her body's reactions and her increasingly vulgar moans betrayed her true surrender. Just as the cannon machine tentacle also began to swell, preparing to inject its life essence, a thick fluid, into the deepest part of her uterus, completing the ultimate defilement and "seeding"— In the depths of Tang Xiaoyou's crimson eyes, almost drowned in lust and tears, a trace of icy clarity and the rage of the strong, like a final defense line, suddenly ignited! (Enough! I can't~ Ah~ Go~ On~ Woo~ QAQ!) The vast, boundless demonic power that had been suppressed, like a slumbering dragon, suddenly awakened! A sword of demonic power, condensed to the extreme and radiating an aura of destruction, erupted mercilessly in all directions from her as the center!

Her body, a pinnacle of fiery sensuality, would no longer be her own. It might be bound tightly by resilient red ropes in a classic "Kagome-kago" restraint, the cords digging deep into her alabaster skin. They would cross over her chest, lifting and squeezing her already ample, proud breasts into an even more pronounced swell, the cleavage bottomless. At their peaks, the buds would harden, pitiful yet alluring under the friction and pressure of the ropes, their distinct outlines accentuated. Her waist would be cinched impossibly small, while the ropes would segment and outline her buttocks, making them appear rounder and more perky. Perhaps a more complex "Ebi-shibari" would be employed, her body forcibly bent backward, her hands pulled and secured behind her with ropes, causing her breasts and private parts to arch high, forming a posture of extreme shame and irresistible temptation. Her legs might be spread wide, secured to a metal frame in an "M-shaped spread-leg" position, leaving her most intimate, tender garden utterly exposed to the air, or perhaps... to someone's gaze. Her feet might be forced into rootless horseshoe restraints, forcing her to tense the arches of her feet, relying on her toes and knees for precarious support, adding to her pitiable state. The pleasure toys she had seen, heard of, or even experienced in traps would be used on her without mercy. Cold, vibrating nipple clamps would be attached to her hardened tips, emitting a low hum. The continuous stimulation would cause her nipples to swell, perhaps even secreting shameful milk, much like after her modification by the tentacle monster. A bullet vibrator or a thicker dildo would be forcefully inserted deep into her already slick, yielding core, precisely grinding her sensitive spots, forcing her body to betray her will and flood with more arousal. There might even be electrode patches affixed to the inner thighs, lower abdomen, or even more shameful places. When she attempted to resist or utter words of refusal, currents would be released, causing her entire body to convulse, scream, and lose control of her bladder. A deep-throat gag would be stuffed into her mouth, forcing her jaws to remain agape, unable to close, crystalline saliva uncontrollably dripping from the corners of her lips, onto her bare chest, or perhaps... at someone's feet. She might be forced to don various extremely revealing, pornographic uniforms. A cute maid outfit, but with a skirt so short it barely covered her clit, leaving her completely bare underneath, any slight movement revealing everything. A sexy bunny girl costume, complete with black fishnets, a fluffy tail butt plug, and a tight corset that carved deep cleavage. Or something even more depraved, consisting of just a few straps and transparent sheer fabric – "lingerie" that was more enticing than being completely naked... Each change

She frowned slightly, her crimson eyes glinting with calculation from beneath the shadow of her hood. The core of this "rescue" and "capture" charade lay in one word: "struggle." She couldn't appear too powerful, capable of obliterating everything with a wave of her hand. That would make the "capture" a clumsy joke, instantly arousing suspicion. But she also couldn't be too weak. Otherwise, not only would she fail to save the three girls, she might not even cause enough trouble for the traffickers to temporarily abandon their "merchandise." She might even be killed on the spot for being too "useless," or... for being of insufficient value, subjected to more casual, unbearable humiliation. (Precise control is needed...) She felt the torrent of magic flowing within her, surging like a mighty river. Normally, she could unleash it freely, crushing everything with absolute power. But now, she had to rein in this power, carefully controlling its output to create the perfect illusion of "rescuing them with all her might, only to be subdued due to overwhelming numbers or depleted magic." This required exceptional magical control and a precise grasp of combat rhythm. And all of this had to be accomplished while her body was continuously distracted by that damned tentacle suit! Beneath her robes, the subtle yet persistent itchiness was like background noise, never ceasing. It seemed to intensify when she concentrated, as if becoming clearer—the sensation of her breasts being entwined and kneaded, the low, steady thrumming at her core, all relentlessly provoking her nerves, attempting to drag her will into a shameful mire of sensation. (Damn it... at a time like this...) She took a deep breath, forcibly pulling her agitated blood and scattered attention back. (Secondly, after being captured...) The moment this thought surfaced, a more intense chill, a mixture of fear and shame, crept up her spine. She had to prepare herself mentally, to endure the inevitable restraint and humiliation that would be inflicted upon her body and dignity. (The ropes... how will they bind me? Like that girl bound in the 'reverse prayer' pose, hands tied behind her back, chest constricted? Or a more humiliating 'chariot' binding? Or... perhaps a collar, like a dog on a leash?) Just imagining the rough ropes digging into her tender skin, being forced into shameful poses that showcased her curves, she felt her cheeks burn and her breathing quicken involuntarily. Beneath her robes, the tentacle suit seemed to sense her emotional turmoil, the vibration at her core intensifying slightly, bringing a clearer wave of tingling, causing her to instinctively rub her legs together. (And... the gag... those... toys...) The thought of being gagged, unable to speak, only able to let her saliva drip uncontrollably; the thought of her body being publicly inspected, her "quality" assessed; the thought of being touched, played with... a colossal sense of humiliation washed over her like a tsunami, threatening to drown her. She could even feel her nipples hardening, a sensation of mingled slight pain and strange stimulation from the tentacle's tugging, mimicking nipple clamps. (Endure! Tang Xiaoyou, you must endure!) She screamed internally at herself, digging her fingernails deeper into her palm, using the subtle sting to fight against the shame that threatened to burn away her reason. (This is just a means! A price that must be paid to dismantle all of this! Think of those girls! Think of their eyes!) She forced herself to replay the cruel images in her mind—the doll-like figures in metal cages, the girls bound in pink rope with vacant eyes, and the three pitiful souls just dragged away, their fates unknown... The flames of anger flared again. Though unable to completely dispel the chill of shame, it was enough to give her the courage to continue thinking. She used this anger as fuel, burning away the weak branches within her heart. (The greatest risk... lies in the magic suppression.) This was the most fatal and uncontrollable aspect of the entire plan. Did the other party possess means to truly suppress her magic? Perhaps specially made magic-restraining shackles? Or a powerful seal cast by someone skilled in enchantment? If... if her magic were completely sealed, then this "fake play" would truly become "real"! She would lose her greatest reliance and trump card, completely becoming fish on a chopping block, forced to watch herself slide into a bottomless abyss of darkness. All her plans, all her resolve, would become a ridiculous suicide joke. (A gamble!) Gritting her teeth, she made her final assessment. She had considerable confidence in her own strength and her control over magic. Even if subjected to a certain degree of magic suppression, as long as it wasn't some ancient artifact capable of locking away the soul, she believed she would still have the potential to exert her power and break free at a critical moment! Moreover, judging by the "Black Thorn Brotherhood's" modus operandi, their goal was to "sell" live, valuable "merchandise," not to "execute" or "destroy." For what they considered "top-tier merchandise," the probability of using methods that permanently damaged magic circuits or were extremely dangerous and could "damage the goods" was likely low. They would be more inclined to use restraints that were effective for control but did not cause irreversible harm. This was undoubtedly a high-stakes gamble, a gamble on the other party's mindset, on her own trump cards, on that sliver of hope in the unseen. (Finally... this damned 'outfit'...) Her thoughts returned to the most realistic, and most unsettling, problem. This living tentacle pet suit was currently suppressed by an inhibitor agent, forcing it into a low-activity state. But the process of "combat" and "capture" would inevitably involve intense physical movements and significant emotional fluctuations!

...No... What is that...) She wanted to shake her head, to struggle, but the shibari and Japanese reverse binding held her so tightly that not even the slightest resistance was possible. She could only watch as the demonic figure approached, his rough fingers, holding the cold electrode pads, with a cruel smile, one by one, pressed them onto the most sensitive skin of her inner thighs, which trembled slightly from fear, below her flat, smooth abdomen, and on the tips of her buttocks, which had just endured the spanking and still bore red marks. The touch of the electrode pads adhering to her skin was cold, yet it felt like red-hot irons, searing her soul into a tremor. The moment the switch was flipped— "Mmph mmph mmph—!!!" A sharp, excruciating pain, utterly unlike pleasure, mixed with a powerful electric current, surged through her entire body! Every cell seemed to scream and boil at that instant! Her body was like a creature caught in an invisible electric net, snapping upwards, only to be pulled back by the ropes, all her muscles tensing to their absolute limit. Her toes curled tightly, and from her throat, suppressed by the gag, came a high-pitched whimper, like a young animal with a broken bone, filled with unspeakable agony and collapse. Her vision darkened in waves, white light exploding in her mind like fireworks, her consciousness seemingly torn to shreds by the violent current. She was dying... This time... she was really dying... This sensation was closer to death than any orgasm she had ever experienced, a pure, violent, destructive stimulation. "Hahaha! Look at that reaction! Feels good, doesn't it?!" "You're shaking so well! This current with the vibration, it's perfect!" The excited laughter and lewd remarks of the traffickers came from what felt like a great distance, indistinct. The intensity of the current seemed to be carefully adjusted; after a brief moment of extreme pain, a strange, burning numbness, mixed with a forcibly stimulated, twisted pleasure, began to spread through the sensitive areas where the current had passed. Especially on her inner thighs and abdomen, the muscles spasmed uncontrollably, unexpectedly intensifying the contractions and emptiness of her cunt. (Stop... please... stop...) She wailed silently in her heart, tears streaming down her face like a broken string of pearls, mixed with sweat and saliva, smearing her cheeks in her distress. Her body trembled and convulsed in the aftershocks of the current, like a fallen leaf in a fierce wind. Taking advantage of her dazed state and the heightened sensitivity of her body under the shock of the current, the traffickers began their so-called final "decoration," like affixing the last label to a nearly completed product. They first roughly ripped off the pink leather crotchless bondage suit she was wearing, and then, a pure white "erotic wedding dress" made of semi-transparent sheer fabric was put on her. The sheer fabric was light and airy, barely covering anything, instead making her red shibari, black leather restraints, vibrating nipple clamps, and the still-functioning tentacle suit appear faintly, creating an extremely blasphemous, contrasting spectacle. The veil was lowered, barely obscuring her tear-streaked, beautiful face and the nose hook chain, but adding a sense of forced, twisted "holiness." "How is it? Little bride? Like your 'wedding dress'?" The leader tore off the veil with a sneer, admiring her increasingly fragile and defiled appearance in the outfit. "Too bad, you're not marrying one person, but countless men who will play with you from now on! You're a public cum dumpster! This dress is just the sign for your public toilet!" (Public... cum dumpster...) The words struck Tang Xiaoyou's heart like a poisoned dagger. It hurt and humiliated her more than any physical torture. The wedding dress was quickly stripped off, as if that brief, false "purity" was merely to accentuate the complete depravity that was to follow. Then, a new set of restraints was put on—the same pink leather one-piece crotchless bondage suit. The chest featured a heart-shaped cutout, completely exposing her breasts, tightly bound by red ropes and vibrating with nipple clamps, as if displaying the sweetest fruit for all to see. The back was completely open, revealing the exquisite and cruel shibari rope art, like a meticulously carved work of art. The buttocks and private parts were designed to be completely open, with the Y-shaped anal plug and her honey trap, still oozing arousal, exposed to the air without any covering, facilitating "use" and scrutiny in any form. "Do you like this one? Little bitch? Specially designed for sluts like you!" One trafficker slapped her bare buttocks heavily with his palm, the sound a crisp "smack." Fresh handprints immediately appeared on her snow-white flesh. She whimpered, her body trembling under the blows, but unable to evade due to the restraints. Finally, they removed her from the wooden horse, but the suspension ropes were not loosened, only adjusted in length. Then, a pair of shiny black, 15-centimeter stiletto ballet boots were brought over. The rigid shafts tightly encased and squeezed her delicate feet and ankles, forcing them into an extremely extended pointe position. When the hook was slightly loosened and the majority of her body weight instantly pressed down on these boots, an excruciating pain, almost like her ankles were breaking, shot through them! "Nnngh—!!!" She cried out in pain, tilting her head back, her neck arching into a fragile curve.

He paused, bringing his face close to Tang Xiaoyou’s, her head forced back, her ear completely exposed. His hot breath fanned her earlobe and the side of her neck as he whispered into her nearly blank mind, his voice like a deep-sea demon’s murmur, each word clear, slow, and deliberate: “Didn’t you like being a hero? Didn’t you want to save girls like yourself when you saw injustice?” “Look at you now. You can’t even move a finger, can’t even speak a full sentence. You’re like the lowest, most pathetic mud a whore would despise, played until your consciousness is blurred, just drooling, leaking fluids, like a piece of meat with no thoughts.” “You can’t save anyone. You can’t even save yourself.” “You’re only fit to be our bitch. A bitch that, when in heat, can only present her ass, wag a nonexistent tail, and drool, begging her master for favor and to be played with – a *bitch*.” “Understand?” The word “bitch” struck her, not like a branding iron on skin, but like two searing, red-hot irons with barbs, branded deep into the core of her almost shattered consciousness, searing onto her already tattered sense of “self.” Tang Xiaoyou’s vacant pupils contracted infinitesimally at the sound of those words, like the final heartbeat of a dying person. But that was all. There was no fierce resistance, no flame of anger, not even a single tear of humiliation left to shed. Her inner world, already reduced to an desolate ruin by endless torment and sensory overload, had been utterly trampled, crushed, and burned, leaving nothing but lifeless ash. (Bitch…) The word echoed in her empty mind, no longer stirring any waves, only a cold, heavy sense of… acceptance, as if it were her destiny. “Not talking? That’s fine, your body understands. It’s a thousand times more honest than your mouth.” The leader sneered, seemingly more pleased by her complete silence. He gestured to a subordinate waiting nearby. The heavy, chain-laden metal collar was brought over. The inside of the collar was clearly visible, studded with countless tiny magical spikes. They wouldn’t cause serious injury, but with every movement, even every breath, they would prick her tender neck skin, a constant reminder of her enslaved, possessed status. “Click!” A crisp, cold sound of metal fastening echoed. The heavy collar, like a shackle, cinched tightly around Tang Xiaoyou’s slender, fragile neck. The icy touch and the subtle sting of the spikes inside made her involuntarily shiver, a faint whimper escaping her throat. Immediately after, the branding iron, already glowing a dull red and emitting ominous magical fluctuations, was held steadily, without hesitation, by the leader. He pressed it firmly onto the softest, most sensitive skin just below her abdomen, skin that had just been preheated! “Ssss—!” A grating sound of flesh instantly searing, accompanied by a distinct, nauseating smell of burnt meat. An indescribable, piercing pain, as if a red-hot poker had been thrust directly into her womb, caused her limp body to jolt upwards, taut as a drawn bowstring! All her muscles spasmed and locked instantly! “Ugh—!!!” A brief, intensely painful shriek, distorted and suppressed by the metal gag, was forced from the depths of her throat. Her eyeballs instantly bloodshot, rolled upwards, almost bulging from their sockets. This violent reaction lasted only a fleeting moment. As the branding iron was lifted, the devastating pain receded like a tide, replaced by a persistent, burning ache, seared deep into her body and soul. Like a rope with all its tension released, she collapsed again, more lifeless than before, only her body trembling uncontrollably from the overstimulated nerves. Below her abdomen, on skin that had once been pure and flawless, a clear, intricately twisted sigil, representing absolute ownership and the identity of a “bitch’s meat-vessel,” was permanently, cruelly branded. A dull red magical light pulsed faintly within the lines, like a never-extinguishing mark of shame. The leader stood up, looking with satisfaction at his “masterpiece” – this completely bound, marked, beautiful body with vacant, numb eyes. He waved his hand, as if to dispel the nonexistent smell of burnt flesh from the air. “Alright, cover her up. We’re almost there, let her ‘rest’ a bit, gather some strength.” His tone became light and casual, as if discussing ordinary luggage. “Prepare to welcome her ‘new life’ as a ‘bitch’.”

The stark white light of the testing room illuminated everything, leaving no corner hidden. Tang Xiaoyou was placed in the center of the cold floor like a meticulously dressed doll. The ultimate K9 bitch suit had become her second skin. The black, resilient leather straps dug deeply into the tender flesh where her limbs were folded and bound, forcing her into the standard bitch's kneeling posture, supporting her body with elbows and knees covered by thin memory foam. Every slight movement sent a dull ache through her joints, a reminder of her inhuman status, intertwined with the persistent, low-frequency thrumming and itching from the toys still active within her. Across her chest, the ropes of the red Kote-kote-kote crisscrossed, pressing her already full breasts into an even more engorged, almost bursting state. The metal nipple rings at their tips glinted coldly under the light, trembling slightly with her shallow breaths. The ropes bit deeply into her skin, forming an intricate and cruel lattice on her pale back. Her hands were tightly encased in black latex gloves, forced into fists. Metal rings on the back of her hands connected to the knot on her chest. Any attempt to struggle or crawl would trigger this mechanism, mercilessly yanking at her most sensitive areas. A semi-transparent dog mask was fastened to her face, exposing her tear-streaked visage flushed with humiliation. The fluffy black dog ear headband atop her head created a cruel contrast with her current predicament. A metal O-ring cruelly pried open her cherry-like mouth, pulling out a section of her tender tongue. Saliva, clear and viscous, flowed uncontrollably, like a broken spring, dripping incessantly from the corners of her mouth and the tip of her tongue, pooling into an ever-expanding, glistening wet patch on her bare chest, lower abdomen, and the cold floor. A heavy metal collar hung around her neck, the tag bearing the words "Master's Permanent Heat Whore Doll" swinging provocatingly. The T-strap of the crotch rope dug deeply into the cleft of her full buttocks. The realistic dog tail dildo, connected to a vibrator, wagged lewdly behind her forcedly high-arched rear as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her body was now a perfect, utterly domesticated bitch's shell. But— That damnable, lucid consciousness. That fragment of consciousness, "Tang Xiaoyou," which she had desperately maintained with her deepest magic, was like an ice pick lodged in the deepest part of her heart, impossible to ever remove. It allowed her to "feel" all of this with agonizing clarity. She felt the dull ache in her knees and elbows, a reminder of her humiliating status. She felt the friction from the ropes on her chest with every shallow breath, a perverse pleasure. She felt the familiar yet unignorable tingling from the anal plug vibrating in her rear. She felt the embarrassment of her saliva flowing uncontrollably. She felt the "awareness" of her body automatically maintaining this subservient posture without any command. What broke her the most was that she could "see"—not with her eyes, but with that lucid consciousness—the once proud, powerful Tang Xiaoyou, known as the "Goddess of Moe" by countless people, being ground down, obliterated bit by bit within this obedient, drooling, tail-wagging flesh. (Why...) (Why must I be so awake...) (Let me sink... become a true bitch... at least... at least I won't have to feel every moment of this humiliation...)

In an instant, an ineffable sensation swept through Tang Xiaoyou's entire body. Not freedom. Absolutely not. It was a kind of... "relief." A hollow relief, as if a heavy, filthy "foreign object" that had been tightly wrapped around her had been forcibly removed. It was like a person who had worn heavy shackles for years, suddenly having them removed, would feel unaccustomed, even... a little empty, due to the loss of that familiar weight. But this feeling lasted for less than half a second. Immediately after, a more surging, clearer sensation, like a tsunami, rushed into her awakened mind! It was magic! Without the living latex suit's tentacle pet outfit constantly sucking her magic, her magic quickly recovered and spread throughout her body. "Boom—!" Her magic... was back! All of it! And because of the suppression and accumulation of these past days, the magic that now rebounded and surged out was more vibrant and more powerful than ever before! Hope. But accompanying it was the boundless shame brought by the pet outfit. When the previous tentacle pet outfit was on, it was like a "buffer pad" in between, constantly creating intense pleasure stimuli. Most of the "low-intensity" but "continuous" humiliating sensory input from the K9 suit and various toys was masked by the more intense and concentrated pleasure generated by the tentacle suit. Now, this "buffer pad" was gone. All those suppressed, subtle, yet never-ending sensory signals, at this moment, were like the volume being suddenly turned up, nakedly, exponentially amplified, and completely unobstructed, directly smashing into Tang Xiaoyou's newly recovered magic, her awakened consciousness in an extremely sensitive state! At her knees and elbows, the faint but unceasing pain from the memory foam protectors rubbing against the metal frame, a reminder of her humiliating pet status... On her chest, the red bondage ropes dug deeply into her flesh, and with every breath and slight tremor, the rough hemp ropes chafed her already red, swollen, and sensitive nipples and areolas, bringing a sensation mixed with stinging pain and a subtle itch... Between her legs, the T-shaped crotch strap was wedged into the crevice of her full buttocks, pulling at her labia, while the low-frequency vibration of the dog tail butt plug in her intestines brought a numbness and fullness that had become habitual yet still impossible to ignore... The cold weight of the metal collar around her neck, and the feeling of the tag's edge rubbing against her collarbone... Her mouth was cruelly forced open by the gag, her tongue forced out, saliva completely out of control, flowing down her chin, neck, and chest, a wet, sticky mess of helplessness and shame... And between her legs, held wide apart and fixed, her private parts were exposed to the cold air, constantly contracting and leaking fluid due to the previous torment and solution stimulation, a terrifying instinct of emptiness yet a craving to be filled... All these sensations, thousands of them, subtle yet clear, like countless red-hot needles, simultaneously pierced the nerve endings of her newly sharpened senses! "Ugh—!!!" Her entire body convulsed violently as if struck by high-voltage electricity, and a short, distorted cry was squeezed from the depths of her throat. It wasn't pain. It was something more terrifying than intense pain. It was endless humiliation and unwillingness to accept. It was all these sensations, in an instant, painting a complete and cruel "picture of reality" in her awakened mind—what she looked like now, what she was experiencing, how she was being treated. And this picture, like a key, violently opened the door to the most terrifying and darkest depths of her memory. "Boom!" In an instant, her mind recalled everything she had experienced in this hellish facility, all the scenes she had desperately suppressed with her conscious will, daring not to think about them, all returned at this moment, exactly as they were, with all the pain and humiliation of that time, surging back into her mind like a tidal wave! She was tied to the metal frame of the "Hellish Reincarnation" program, the thick dildo violently pounding her deepest core with terrifying speed and force, making her uterus convulse and fluids spray. Electrode patches released currents to her most sensitive areas, making her oscillate between extreme pleasure and intense pain. Feathers and bristles endlessly tickled the soles of her feet, her armpits, her sides, making her cry and laugh like a madwoman. Cold enema fluid was injected into her anus, distending her lower abdomen, and she was ordered to hold it in, to the point of trembling all over. She was positioned in humiliating postures like the M-spread legs restraint, suspension, and shrimp binding, scrutinized and evaluated by countless eyes from behind one-way glass in the circular observation room, like a piece of merchandise up for auction. She was forced to walk on rough hemp ropes, the knots fiercely scraping her slippery labia and clitoris. She was pressed onto a triangular wooden horse, the hard wooden edge pressing against her most sensitive spot, her buttocks red and swollen from the lashings of the whip. She was made to wear various extremely revealing fetish outfits, manipulated like a human doll. She constantly emitted sweet, fawning whimpers from her throat that even disgusted herself, her body automatically adopting a cowering posture... And... that cold, emotionless mechanical electronic voice, echoing in her ears again and again: "Consciousness resistance exceeds threshold, taming score: unsatisfactory." "Initiating next round of 'Mind and Body Purification' program, intensity increased." "Unsatisfactory." "Initiating." "Unsatisfactory." "Initiating." ...

Lena

The treatment of her limbs began. Her arms were unbound from the reverse prayer position. They had long gone numb, and as they were lowered, a pins-and-needles sensation shot through her shoulders, elbows, and wrists. But before she could even move her aching arms, new restraints were applied. Two traffickers grabbed one arm each and began to fold them. Her upper and lower arms were forced together, pressed tightly from armpit to wrist, leaving no gap. Then, straps and ropes began to wrap – her wrists were bound, her mid-forearms bound, above and below her elbows bound, her upper arms bound as well… Layer upon layer of restraints, fixing her folded arms firmly in this position. Lena watched her arms being folded like this, her heart turning to ice. This posture… what animal’s forelimbs did it resemble? Like… like a dog’s front legs? It wasn't over. A short black latex sleeve was brought over and slipped onto her folded arms. It bound her arms tightly within, and outside the sleeve, several straps connected to the net of ropes on her body, securing her arms to her torso. And her hands? Her hands were forced into fists, then wrapped in thick, latex ball cuffs. The cuffs were black, round, completely encasing her hands, turning them into two useless "meatballs." Her fingers couldn't move, and the fist position was awkward, sure to cause immense soreness over time. With her arms like this, forget about fine motor skills, she couldn't even grip anything. After her arms, it was time for her legs. The treatment for her legs was similar – her thighs and calves were forcibly folded together, knees bent, heels almost touching her buttocks. Then, straps began to wrap: the tops of her thighs, above and below her knees, her ankles… every joint was securely fixed. Lena looked at her legs folded like this, and the last shred of hope in her heart vanished. This posture… it was exactly like a dog’s hind legs. Another larger latex leg sheath was pulled on, extending from her upper thighs to her ankles, completely encasing her folded legs. On the outside of the sheath, at the knees, were thick memory foam pads, soft to the touch but only a thin layer. "Try to move," the trainer's voice commanded. Lena lay on the ground, her body bound by ropes, her limbs folded and restrained, making even the slightest movement difficult. She struggled, trying to stand up. But she had lost the right to stand, and could no longer stand. Her limbs were completely unable to straighten. Her elbows and knees were forcibly bent, rendering her powerless. She could only manage to prop herself up slightly off the ground with her knees and elbows, and then… Then she found herself in a position – on all fours, supported by her knees and elbows, her rear end raised, her head lowered. Like a dog. A dog lying on the ground. "Very good, nice posture," the trainer nodded in satisfaction. "Next is the head adornment." Lena's heart sank. The head… what else was there to adorn? A semi-transparent latex mask was brought over. The mask was pulled over her face. The sensation was strange. The latex was cool, slippery, clinging to her skin, enveloping her entire face. Because it was semi-transparent, the outline of her face beneath could be vaguely seen from the outside, along with the expression of shame, defiance, and humiliation on her face at that moment. At the mouth, within the opening, was a new gag. "No… don't…" Lena tried to shake her head, but the mask was fixed too tightly, she couldn't move. The gag was pushed back into her mouth, forcing her lips open into a circle. Then, a small clamp clamped down on her tongue, pulling it out of her mouth and exposing it to the air. She was back to her previous state – unable to close her mouth, unable to swallow, saliva dripping down her extended tongue, forming a thin silver thread that dripped onto the ground. On her head, she was also fitted with a fluffy dog ear headband. The ears were fake, but realistically made, swaying gently with her head movements, looking… comical, and deeply shameful. "The last one." The trainer's voice sounded from behind her. Before Lena could react, she felt something press against her rear. Another butt plug… "No… there… don't…" she tried to beg, but her mouth, stretched open by the gag, could only emit muffled moans of "Ah… ooh…", and saliva flowed even faster down her tongue. This butt plug was different. Thicker and longer than the previous fox tail butt plug. Its cool tip pressed against the entrance of her tight anus, then began to push inward. "Ooh—!" The sensation of foreign invasion returned. It was thicker this time, stretching her more forcefully. Her anus clenched tightly around the plug, her muscles instinctively contracting, trying to push the foreign object out, but it was useless. The plug slid in bit by bit, until it was completely submerged. She could feel that this butt plug seemed to have some mechanism inside, with many small protrusions on its surface. Once inside, these protrusions stimulated her intestinal walls, bringing a strange, tingling sensation. At the end of the butt plug was attached a fluffy dog tail. The tail was large, black and white, looking like the tail of some large breed of dog. The tail hung behind her buttocks, swaying gently with her body's movements. What… what have I become…

Her vision was still blurry, tears and sweat mingling, making everything look like it was seen through a watery mist. But she could feel what those people were doing to her body. A new round of restraints began. A rough hemp rope was brought out. That rope was different from the leather straps and metal rings before. The straps were smooth, the metal cold, and this hemp rope... was rough. Extremely rough. It was covered in tiny barbs. Just looking at the rope, Lina knew how uncomfortable it would be pressed against her skin. But she was powerless to resist. Her arms were still cuffed behind her back, her fingers numb from the prolonged restraint, almost devoid of sensation. The damn gag was still in her mouth, her tongue pulled out and secured, only allowing muffled "mmph" sounds. She could only watch as those people began to wrap the hemp rope around her body. The rope started from the back of her neck. A loop was placed around her neck, not too tight, but enough to make her constantly aware of the rope's presence. The rope hung down from the back of her neck, along her collarbone, down to her chest. At her chest, the rope split into two strands. The two strands passed on either side of her full breasts—her breasts were still squeezed out of the opening of the tight leather outfit, bulging against the "8" shaped straps—the rope wound its way around the junction of her breasts and body, then crossed beneath them. "Mmph—" Lina let out a muffled groan. The rough hemp rope brushed against the sensitive sides of her breasts, causing a ticklish sensation. After crossing beneath her breasts, the rope began to tighten. The two strands, like two hands, framed her full, soft breasts from below and the sides, then tightened further. "Ah—" Lina couldn't help but let out a distorted cry. The rope was tightening too much, gripping her breasts fiercely from the root, squeezing the soft flesh into unnatural shapes, bulging out from the gaps in the rope. Her breasts, already pushed high by the straps, became even more exaggerated now that they were framed by the rope. They looked like two tightly bound, round, swollen balls, their color slightly reddening from the restricted blood flow. Then the rope began to crisscross and tighten around her rounded breasts, binding the plump, bouncy spheres, forming a cross, tightly cinching her already large breasts, like a carefully wrapped gift, adding a touch of allure~ making them even more tempting! The knot pressed tightly against her nipples, the constant friction and teasing bringing a tingling pleasure~ The rope continued downwards. From the crossing point beneath her breasts, the rope continued down her abdomen, forming a knot just below her navel. That knot pressed exactly against the most sensitive part of her lower abdomen, hard and unyielding, digging into her skin with every movement. Then, the rope split into two strands again. The two strands passed on either side of her groins, converging towards her crotch— Lina's face instantly turned ashen. She knew what was coming. The two strands met at her private parts, forming a T-shaped crotch rope that passed between her buttocks. "Mmph—!" Lina trembled all over. The rough hemp rope pressed against her most intimate area, the sensation even more uncomfortable than the leather crotch strap before. The surface of the rope was covered in tiny barbs, scraping against her sensitive cleft, causing both pain and itching. After passing through her buttocks, the rope traveled upwards along her spine, finally connecting with the loop at the back of her neck. The entire binding was complete. This was a standard Kikkō-dori. Lina had seen descriptions of rope bondage in ancient texts, knowing it was a form of erotic restraint originating from Japan. But she never imagined she would personally experience it one day. And in such a humiliating way. The rope was too tight. The rough hemp rope dug deeply into her skin, leaving red marks on her fair body. The path of the rope was meticulously designed, perfectly outlining her body's curves— Her slender waist was cinched by the knots, appearing impossibly thin, as if it might snap. Her breasts, framed by the rope, were pushed high, swollen and round, their color flushed red, her nipples more sensitive and erect due to the restricted blood flow. The crotch rope pressed hard against her private parts, sinking into her cleft, and with every breath, she could feel the friction of the knot against her sensitive area. Her current appearance... She looked like a sex doll, wrapped in rope, waiting to be unwrapped. Or like a piece of prime meat, carefully bound, waiting to be savored. "Bind her hands too." The trainer's voice rang out. Lina felt someone undoing the cuffs behind her back. The leather buckles were unfastened one by one, and the restraints holding her arms slowly loosened. Her arms were finally freed from those damn cuffs, and then the restraints on her hands were gradually undone. But the feeling was not pleasant. Her arms were already sore and weak from the prolonged restraint, her fingers barely able to move. As blood began to circulate again, needle-like pains shot through her arms, making her groan involuntarily. And she hadn't even had time to move her aching arms— Before she was put into another position. Two assistants each grabbed one of her arms, folding her forearms back against her upper arms. Then, her hands were clasped behind her back, palms facing outwards, fingers intertwined. Ura-te Kan'non. This was another classic restraint position, which she had also seen in those ancient texts. A few loops of rope quickly secured this position. The rope wrapped around her wrists, around her forearms, tightly binding her folded arms together. Then, more rope connected her arms to the knots on her back from the Kikkō-dori. This position forced her shoulders to pull backward, making her chest protrude even further. Her breasts, cinched by the rope, seemed about to burst out from between the strands, swaying and trembling slightly with every movement. "Secure her legs as well." Lina's heart sank further.