The Abused Little Femboy Collection, Vol. 2

His mind went blank, leaving only the instinct for survival and the extreme tremor of dread for the unknown horrors to come. "Tie him up!" Kurosaki Misaki commanded coldly. The muscular girl immediately pulled a bundle of rough hemp rope from her schoolbag. Kobayashi Yuto struggled in terror again, a muffled whimper escaping his throat. But his resistance was meaningless against the prepared tormentors. The pink-haired girl with silver earrings roughly twisted his arms behind his back, while the muscular girl used her knee to pin his waist, preventing him from straightening To better fit the image of a "princess," and to satisfy my own deeper desires, I proactively asked, "Can... can I wear women's clothing?" Her eyes lit up, her smile becoming even brighter. "Of course! It will suit you perfectly!" On the way to her place again, anticipation mingled with a subtle, almost imperceptible nervousness. I had carefully chosen an outfit with a girlish style – a knee-length dress in light pink, adorned with lace trim, paired with white thigh-high socks. My build was already slender, my frame small, and my waist quite flexible. Coupled with my deliberate posture, wearing the women's clothes, the reflection in the mirror indeed showed a touch of girlish delicacy. The soft wig cascaded over my shoulders, obscuring my slightly sharp features, and a light makeup softened the lingering masculinity in my brows. The person in the mirror was undeniably a demure and pretty "girl." 'Will I look more like it now?' I took a deep breath, suppressing my accelerating heartbeat. When I pushed open her door, she was already waiting. The living room lights were dimmed, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and ambiguous. She looked me up and down, her eyes revealing undisguised admiration and excitement. "You look beautiful, it really suits you." Her praise made my cheeks flush, but a strange sense of satisfaction welled up inside me. She asked me to sit on the sofa and wait for a moment while she went into the bedroom. A moment later, she emerged carrying a moderately sized storage box and placed it on the coffee table, opening it. What lay inside made me instantly hold my breath – not the simple props I had imagined, but a rather professional and complete set of restraints. Several rolls of cotton rope of varying thicknesses and colors, emitting the faint, unique scent of new plant fibers; several black leather straps of different widths, their oily sheen glinting under the light; a pair of real leather handcuffs with a cold metallic gleam; and several heavy, interlocked metal chains, which clinked with a crisp, chilling "clatter" when they touched. She even produced a black leather gag and a leather collar with a metal ring. "Heh heh, I've actually been secretly keeping these things," she said. She picked up a roll of light brown cotton rope, winding it around her fingers, a sly yet candid smile on her face. "I never expected... to use them on you, and in this situation." Her gaze fell upon me, filled with possessiveness and the excitement of an impending game. "I'm truly happy." Her words, combined with the cold tools before me, clearly conveyed a message: her previous agreement was not merely a loving affirmation, but stemmed from an equally genuine desire. 'She's really ready! She desires it as much as I do!' This realization made my heart explode like fireworks, instantly igniting and pounding wildly in my chest, almost threatening to shatter my ribs. The sound of rushing blood roared in my ears, my cheeks burned, and my breathing grew rapid. "Shall we begin?" Her voice held a barely perceptible huskiness, a sign of her excitement. "Yes!" I nodded vigorously, my voice rising with eagerness, filled with impatience. She moved behind me. The soft cushions of the sofa dipped slightly. 'It's about to start... finally...' Yumei's ankles were equally slender, the edge of the black lace thigh-highs stopping just below her knees, the delicate lace trim of the stocking tops creating a stark contrast with the bare thigh skin above. Xiao Jie's fingers caressed the fine skin and the silky stocking tops, then, without mercy, he used a rope to bind her ankles together, tying them tightly. He pulled the rope with considerable force, the cord digging deep into flesh and silk, ensuring her feet could not be separated. Then, he pulled the rope binding her feet upwards, forcing Yumei's legs to bend back. He tied the other end of the rope to the middle of the bed frame. In this way, Yumei's legs were hoisted high, her knees almost touching her own chest, her thighs spread as wide as possible, her most private parts exposed without reservation, humiliatingly, to the air and the eyes of her tormentor. It was a pose of extreme shame and powerlessness. Yumei felt like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board, or livestock slaughtered on an altar. Her entire weight was concentrated on her hips and back, her arms and legs immobilized, leaving her unable to dodge or resist in the slightest. 　　But the real game has only just begun—one reserved exclusively for tonight’s “Master.” 　　I slipped on a pair of pure white cotton panties and carefully tucked away the connecting cord protruding from the base of the vibrator. The fabric of the panties hugged my hips tightly, securing the vibrator firmly deep inside my rear. Next, I changed into a pink-and-white plaid JK uniform. 　　The hem of the short skirt fell just to the middle of my thighs, revealing my slender legs clad in white knee-high socks. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I carefully adjusted my wig, letting my silky long hair cascade over my shoulders. 　　The reflection in the mirror was that of an innocent yet slightly alluring high school girl: almond-shaped eyes glistening with moisture, a delicate nose, rosy lips, and a fair neck and slender collarbones peeking out from the uniform’s neckline. 　　The hair I’d deliberately grown long now perfectly framed my face, concealing all masculine angles. 　　Turning to face the mirror sideways, I could see a small, distinct bulge beneath the thin fabric of my panties, created by the vibrator—barely visible yet full of suggestive meaning. The final step was that pink silicone ball gag. 　　It’s one of my favorite toys—just the right size, with a surface made of soft, food-grade silicone. I opened my mouth and stuffed the pink sphere inside. The ball filled my mouth completely; my tongue was pressed down beneath it, able only to move clumsily. 　　A faint, slightly fishy scent—typical of new silicone—spread through my mouth. The black straps extending from either side of the ball gag looped behind my ears, tightened at the back of my head, and snapped into place. 　　The tightness of the straps didn’t hurt, but it clearly signaled that my mouth was being forcibly held open and that I had lost the ability to speak. I shook my head, letting my long hair fall naturally to skillfully conceal the buckle at the back of my head. 　　To cover it up, I put on a white cotton face mask so that, when viewed from the front, only my made-up, dewy eyes were visible—making it completely impossible to tell that I had something in my mouth. A small patch of the mask was soon dampened by saliva I couldn’t swallow. 　　Now, control of the vibrator had been transferred to that “Master” via the mobile app, and I’d placed the key to the chastity lock in the drawer of my bedroom nightstand—that was the rule, ensuring I couldn’t free myself during the mission. 　　After one last check to confirm the locations of my phone and the key, I took a deep breath and pushed open the front door. The slightly cool night air washed over me. My phone vibrated—it was a location instruction from my “Master”: the tram. The task was to stay on the tram for a full hour. 　　…… The streets were deserted late at night, with only the dim yellow streetlights stretching my lonely silhouette. With every step I took, the vibrator buried deep inside me shifted slightly, its rough silicone texture rubbing against the sensitive folds of my intestinal walls. 　　My underwear kept it from slipping out too much, but every tiny shift was accompanied by an intense, tingling sensation—as if a foreign object were scraping against my insides. To make matters worse, my lower body was confined by the chastity device. 　　Every movement of the vibrator seemed to tug at those locked nerve endings; intense itching and the urge to become erect washed over him in wave after wave, only to be firmly blocked by the cold metal cage. 　　The penis swelled and engorged in vain within the lock, causing a distinct, throbbing pain that found no relief whatsoever. 　　With a gag stuffed in his mouth, any attempt to suppress a moan was distorted into a muffled “moo-moo” sound, which rang out with particular clarity and shame in the silent night. 　　The inside of the mask was already soaked through with uncontrollable saliva, sticking viscously to the skin around my lips. 　　This game was bolder than any before, carrying a higher risk of exposure, but the intertwining of that dangerous sensation—like dancing on the edge of a knife—and the intense physical stimulation made my heart race. A deep, indescribable, morbid excitement surged from within me, even overshadowing my fear. 　　My legs felt a little weak, but I forced myself to keep walking toward the tram stop. I bought a ticket and stepped into the empty car. Her physique was that of a petite, delicate beauty, with long, slender limbs, a waist that could be spanned by a single hand, and a flat chest that rose and fell with her rapid breaths. At this moment, these youthful, exquisite features had become the gilded bars of her cage. Her girlfriend, a tall, striking woman with a sharp, almost fierce aura, stood by the bed, a smile of complete control playing on her lips. She had just completed her "masterpiece"—securely binding her lover, this beautiful little femboy, to the bed. The process of restraint had been meticulous and prolonged; her girlfriend clearly knew her craft. Her wrists were bound behind her back, wrapped and tightened layer by layer with soft yet resilient black leather straps. Her knuckles were cleverly secured, ensuring even her fingers couldn't curl and exert force. The straps bit into her delicate flesh, leaving faint indentations but not cutting off circulation. They simply rendered any attempt to struggle with her arms utterly impossible. Next came her ankles, similarly separated and fastened to specially made metal rings on either side of the low bed. The straps around her ankles were tightened just as precisely. The most crucial restraint was on her legs—they were forced together, then bound tightly with wider black leather straps from mid-thigh upwards, all the way to just above her calves. Finally, these straps were locked to the restraints at her ankles. This cross-legged posture, bound in such a manner, forced her knees into a bent position, her legs pressed together as if welded, the soft flesh of her inner thighs squeezed and slightly deformed, creating an unyielding, enclosed space. Throughout the entire binding process, all she could manage were helpless whimpers, watching helplessly as her body was molded into the shape her girlfriend desired. The faint creak of leather against skin and the subtle "snap" of tightening straps sent shivers down her spine. The gag was another layer of complete deprivation. Her girlfriend hadn't used a common ball gag, opting instead for a custom-made plug, filled with soft, absorbent material. It was forcefully shoved deep into her mouth, almost reaching her throat. The straps of the gag were tied tightly behind her head, pressing against her small chin and cheeks, forcing them to bulge outwards. Her lips were pulled into a wide, involuntary O, clamped tightly around the cold, foreign object. Saliva uncontrollably leaked from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin to pool in glistening trails on her neck and collarbone. The faint, slightly metallic scent of her own saliva mingled with the accelerated sweat of her anxiety, filling the air between them. All she could produce were muffled, deeply suppressed "mmph" sounds from the back of her throat. Every syllable attempting protest or plea was crushed by the deep-throat plug into meaningless whimpers. Her nostrils were filled with the taste of her own saliva, and the faint, tanned aroma of the leather straps pressed close to her skin. "Mmph... mmph mmph..." She writhed futilely against the unyielding restraints, a choked groan escaping her throat, suppressed to its absolute limit. The full-body bondage made her feel like a meticulously wrapped gift, where even the slightest movement was a luxury denied. All that remained were amplified senses and the crushing weight of being utterly controlled. Sweat trickled down her temples, the sides of her neck, and even between her tightly bound chest and abdomen, bringing waves of cool, itchy sensations she couldn't scratch. "Oh?" Her girlfriend's voice, laced with feigned surprise and thick amusement, felt like a feather stroking her taut nerves. Her girlfriend leaned down, her warm breath fanning her ear as she drew close to her flushed face, red with shame and endurance. "What's wrong? Making such a seductive sound." Her girlfriend's gaze, openly appreciative, lingered on her sweat-slicked skin and the curves of her bondage. Her fingers, however, precisely probed the tightly bound, slightly indented crevice between her legs. 'She's toying with me again... She knows I'm tied like this, unable to even move a muscle...' She thought desperately, her body instinctively trying to curl up, only to be cruelly stopped by the restraints. At that moment, something cold, smooth, and undeniably present pressed against the most secret, most vulnerable entrance between her legs, without warning, slowly and firmly. The therapist spoke in a flat, instructional tone as he massaged. "Your everted anal sphincter requires high-intensity, repetitive contraction training to restore its tone. Naturally, this will be with the aid of equipment and pharmacological stimulation." The massage lasted for about ten minutes. When it was over, the therapist cleaned his hands and the equipment. He unfastened the restraints securing Vivian's wrists and ankles, but the gag, nose hook, and chastity device remained in place. "Now, we begin the initial adaptation for 'anal orifice reshaping.'" He helped the still-limp Vivian to assume a kneeling position on the recliner, her buttocks raised high. This posture brought her recently massaged anus back into focus. The therapist produced a new set of equipment: several silicone anal plugs of gradually increasing size, their surfaces covered in small granules, and a special device connected to an electro-stimulator, featuring two electrode pads. The smallest plug was only about as thick as a thumb, but the granules provided intense friction. He applied a generous amount of lubricant and then slowly twisted the smallest plug into Vivian's anus. Thanks to the previous dilation and vibration, insertion was not difficult, but the sensation of the granules rubbing against her intestinal walls still caused Vivian's body to tense. The base of the plug was a disc, preventing it from sliding in completely. The therapist then attached the two electrode pads of the electro-stimulator to Vivian's gluteal muscles on either side of her buttocks and switched it on. A mild current instantly penetrated her skin and muscles. It wasn't a strong electric shock, but a pulse designed to induce intense muscle contractions. Vivian's gluteal and anal sphincter muscles spasmed uncontrollably and powerfully, clamping down tightly on the anal plug within her. The granules abraded against her constricted intestinal walls, creating an intense stimulation mixed with pain. The pulses were intermittent, with contractions lasting for ten to twelve seconds, followed by a few seconds of relaxation, and then another contraction. This cycle repeated. "Feel it. Focus all your consciousness on the contraction of your sphincter. Imagine it tightening, closing, regaining its proper elasticity and dignity," the therapist's voice was like a mantra. "Every time you entertain lewd fantasies about men, every time you want to arch your ass again seeking base pleasure, remember this feeling. Remember this sensation of being forcibly contracted, of being abraded by equipment, of being controlled by electricity. This is how your anus should feel – controlled, not indulged." Vivian's mind went blank, leaving only her body's instinctive response to the rhythmic pulsed contractions. Sweat broke out again, mixing with the sweat that hadn't dried, soaking the leather recliner beneath her and leaving dark patches. The gag prevented her from screaming, forcing out only ragged, wheezing breaths from her throat, her saliva already pooling uncontrollably. The nose hook pulled her face upwards, and the tape sealed her mouth, her entire expression contorted into a look of desperate resignation to punishment. The electrical stimulation and anal plug training continued for twenty minutes. When it was over, the therapist removed the anal plug. The small opening had indeed tightened somewhat compared to before, but the surrounding skin was red and swollen. He applied a calming ointment. "Phase one, first treatment, main portion concluded," the therapist stated clearly into the recording device. "Subject exhibits expected physiological and psychological responses to initial adaptation training involving restraint, blockage, olfactory humiliation, bodily fluid extraction, and electro-stimulated contraction. Preliminary establishment of humiliation tolerance, but deeper psychological motivation for 'abstinence' requires further sessions. Economic collateral agreement has been signed by the subject, and treatment costs will be deducted from her collateral account." He walked over to Vivian and removed the tape from her mouth, taking out the nose hook and gag. The sudden release from the blockage caused Vivian to cough violently, gasping for air, though the air was still thick. Her makeup was already ruined by sweat, tears, and saliva. Half of her false eyelashes had fallen off, her eyeliner had smeared into dark panda eyes, and her foundation was patchy, revealing the slightly rough texture of her skin beneath. The therapist handed her a cup of warm water, but her trembling hands could barely hold the cup. Shino finally stopped her stomping. She panted, looking at Mai, who was barely moving on the floor. Shino reached out and turned her over, placing her face down. Mai's buttocks were presented to Shino, still bearing the red marks from previous spankings and stains of semen. Her anus remained slightly open, with a small amount of semen slowly seeping out. Shino picked up a black rubber butt plug, already prepared, with a long, thin tail attached. The head of the plug was a smooth sphere, but the base was thick, connected to a soft, furry black tail. She casually lubricated the head of the plug with her saliva, then aimed it at Mai's unclosable rear entrance and slowly, firmly pushed it in. The sphere widened the opening again, squeezing into the rectum until the thick base was completely submerged, tightly plugging the anus, leaving only the black tail to sway slightly between her buttocks. The thick base of the plug also pressed against Mai's prostate within her rectum, creating a continuous, distending pressure. Then, Shino raised her hand and, aiming at Mai's already marked backside, delivered several sharp slaps. "Slap! Slap! Slap!" The crisp sounds echoed in the room, and fresh, overlapping red handprints immediately appeared on Mai's fair skin. Next, Shino picked up a long, thin leather whip that had been placed to the side. She swung the whip, which whistled through the air, and then savagely lashed it across Mai's buttocks and the back of her thighs. "Crack!" As the first whip landed, a long, raised red welt immediately appeared on Mai's smooth skin, its edges rapidly swelling. Mai's body shuddered violently, and a pained groan escaped her throat. "Crack! Crack! Crack!" Shino showed no mercy, the whip falling like rain, lashing at her buttocks, thighs, and occasionally grazing her inner thighs and scrotum. Each strike brought a burning, searing pain. Her skin quickly turned from red to purple, crisscrossed with bloody welts. In some places, the skin was broken, and tiny beads of blood seeped out. Mai's buttocks and the backs of her thighs were soon a bloody, mangled mess, a chaotic scene of bruises, redness, and swelling. More cruelly, some of the whips accidentally struck the exposed tail of the butt plug. The vibration of the tail transmitted to the plug inside, causing the thick plug to shift within her rectum, brutally impacting her prostate. "Ah! ... Haaah... No..." Each such impact, amidst the intense pain, brought a surge of overwhelming, irresistible pleasure. Her body reacted violently to this contradictory torment. Her blocked urethra felt an intense urge to urinate and ejaculate, but was severely restricted by cotton swabs and restraints. Her anus was filled with the butt plug and constantly impacted, sending waves of pleasure to her head. Mai's face was pressed hard against the floor, tears and snot smeared everywhere. She let out broken, incoherent pleas, "Please... please... let me... cum... please..." Shino stopped whipping and looked at the pathetic creature on the floor, completely consumed by lust and pain. She didn't answer Mai's pleas. Instead, she walked in front of Mai, withdrew her penis, which was already half-erect again and stained with dried semen, and held it before Mai's eyes. The strong, masculine scent mixed with sweat and bodily fluids assaulted Mai's nostrils. The thick organ appeared even more formidable up close. Its deep purple glans were full and glistening, a thin strand of translucent mucus still clinging to the meatus. The veins on the shaft pulsed slightly with each heartbeat. "Lick," Shino commanded coldly, kicking Mai's swollen cheek with her bare foot. The dust on the sole of her foot, mixed with the various bodily fluids rubbed off Mai, left smudges on Mai's face. Mai's consciousness was already hazy, but her body seemed to have developed a conditioned reflex from the repeated torment. She struggled, using the last of her strength, to push herself up into a kneeling position. This posture pulled at the butt plug lodged in her anus. The thick base once again pressed against her sensitive prostate, sending a wave of soft, aching fullness through her body. She opened the suitcase, revealing a collection of tools: ropes, chains, pulleys, hooks, and an assortment of sex toys. "Today, we're going to do something more interesting," Sato said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "You like being restrained, don't you?" Yuri nodded, her heart pounding again. "Alright, let's begin." For the next hour, Sato bound Yuri's body into a complex shape with ropes. The ropes started at her wrists, looped over her shoulders, passed through her chest, tied at her waist, then trailed down her thighs, finally securing her ankles. Yuri's hands were tied behind her back, her legs spread apart, knees bent and fixed to the sides. Her body was completely immobilized, unable to move. She could only kneel on the floor, head bowed, waiting for what was to come. Sato took a black latex mask from the suitcase. The mask had only three holes: two for the eyes and one for the mouth. She placed the mask over Yuri's head, adjusting it so her eyes and mouth were exposed. Then, she produced a metal speculum and fixed Yuri's mouth open, preventing her from closing it. "Today, we're going to The boss walked over. He first picked up the metal butt plug that had just been flushed, smeared with feces and semen, and reeking of a nauseating stench. Without any cleaning, he held the filthy rod with his gloved hand and brought it to my head. As if sensing something, a flicker of extreme fear flashed in my previously vacant eyes. I began to shake my head feebly with my last strength, making a "huk huk" sound in my throat. No, please, don't do that... I couldn't even beg for mercy, only cry out desperately in my heart. "Don't be afraid, let's let you taste the 'delicacy' you produced yourself." He sneered, pinning my shoulders with his knee, prying open my jaw with his other hand, and then, without hesitation, shoved the metal rod, covered in yellow-white filth and reeking of foul odors, into my gaping mouth, pushing it all the way down to my throat! "Mmmph! Ugh~ Ugh~~~" The extreme nausea and the feeling of a foreign object immediately made me gag violently. My body arched like a shrimp, but I was pinned down by his knee, unable to move. The strong smell of feces and the gamey scent of semen on the rod mixed into an indescribable, revolting aroma that assaulted my senses. I could clearly feel the sticky filth on the rough particles scraping against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Some semi-solid filth was even pushed to the back of my throat, blocking my breath. My stomach convulsed violently, but I couldn't vomit anything because my mouth was stuffed full. All I could do was let out pained whimpers and gagging sounds, tears and snot streaming uncontrollably. "How is it? The stuff you shit out yourself, tastes good, right? Your little mouth that writes erotic novels only deserves to eat this kind of garbage." The boss looked down at my contorted face, his voice filled with malicious pleasure. "Look at you, filthy from the inside out, just a stinking sack filled with shit and piss. And you pretend to be a beautiful young author, it's hilarious." He didn't pull the filthy rod out, leaving it deeply lodged in my throat. Then, he picked up the wide roll of transparent tape, tore off a long strip, and began to wrap it around my mouth, layer by layer. The tape clung tightly to my cheeks, sealing my lips and firmly securing the end of the metal rod outside my mouth. He wrapped it very tightly, layer upon layer, ensuring I absolutely couldn't push the object in my mouth out with my tongue, nor could I make any coherent sound. My cheeks bulged and deformed from being stretched, and I could only breathe through my nose, but the strong stench still permeated everywhere. The edges of the tape dug into my skin, causing a burning pain. "This way, it's much quieter, and you won't bite randomly." The boss patted my tape-sealed cheek, making a light "pat pat" sound. Immediately after, he brought out an oversized, exaggeratedly shaped dog tail butt plug. The base of this butt plug was even thicker than the previous metal rod, covered in realistic black fur, with a fluffy, upward-curving black tail attached to the end. Without hesitation, he thrust the thick base forcefully into my anus, which had just experienced a "flood," was still twitching slightly, and was smeared with filth! "Nnnngh!!!" I trembled with pain, my body stiffening. The large foreign object forcefully pried open the delicate, swollen entrance again, penetrating deep into my ravaged rectum. The rough faux fur rubbed against the inner walls, causing a burning sting and an intense feeling of fullness. The base of the tail butt plug was a flat circle, wedged tightly against the outside of my anus, sealing it completely once more. Then, he untied the ropes binding my legs together, but not to release me. He roughly dragged me, like a piece of trash, towards the folding dog cage that had been prepared. My body scraped across the floor, my skin, smeared with various stains, rubbed against the rough ground, causing waves of stinging pain. The cage was small, just large enough for me to curl up inside. He opened the cage door and, like packing luggage, forced my curled-up, filth-covered body inside. My knees were pressed against my chest, my arms were taped into fists and fixed to my sides, my mouth stuffed with the filthy rod, and my anus plugged with the exaggerated tail. I was confined in this narrow metal space in an extremely contorted and humiliating posture. With a "click," the cage door was locked. The cold metal bars pressed against my skin, trapping me completely. Then, a thick, completely opaque blindfold was placed over my eyes, and the world instantly plunged into darkness. Deprived of sight, my other senses were amplified. The stench in my mouth, the throbbing pain in my anus, the sticky discomfort all over my body, and the boundless fear and despair deep within my heart, overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. Finally, he took out the metal rod that had been blocking my urethra and vibrating. In the extreme darkness and silence, I could feel his hand grasping my penis, which was tightly taped, numb, and swollen. "Such a fierce look? This slut actually has some spirit," the groom's thumb traced Shen Qingci's lips, his fingertip pressing against the soft flesh. "Since you're already this young master's property, I should be allowed to touch your face." Shen Qingci watched the approaching hand, catching the scent emanating from the groom's fingertips – a strong stench of alcohol mixed with sweat, and an indescribable, greasy body odor, like the sour rot of leftover food. The smell assaulted his nostrils, churning his stomach, nearly making him vomit. Just as the groom's fingertip was about to press against his lips, Shen Qingci suddenly opened his mouth and bit down hard. "Crack!" His teeth sank deep into the groom's fingertip. Shen Qingci tasted blood, a coppery sweetness mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol from the man's fingers. He held on, refusing to let go, biting with enough force to tear off a piece of flesh. The groom gasped in pain, his face contorting. He roared in fury, "You vile sow… how dare you bite this young master?!" He yanked his hand back, grabbed Shen Qingci's chin with his other hand, and roughly pried open his mouth, pulling his finger free from between his teeth. Two deep bite marks on his fingertip were still oozing blood. The groom glanced at his wound, his rage intensifying. He turned and bellowed at the old woman behind him, "Bring the gag! Let's see if she dares to bite again!" The old woman immediately retrieved a thick bamboo gag from a tray. The gag was made of two parallel bamboo tubes, bound together, with a gap between them. The surface was smoothed, but the ends still bore rough, un-shaved splinters. Thin hemp ropes were tied to each end of the gag, with pre-tied knots ready to be secured behind the head. Shen Qingci's pupils contracted sharply at the sight of the gag, and he shook his head desperately. But the guards had already pinned the back of his head, forcing him to tilt his head back, his open mouth facing the bamboo tubes. "Open wide," the old woman said coldly, then unceremoniously shoved one end of the bamboo gag into Shen Qingci's mouth. The bamboo tubes pressed rigidly between his upper and lower teeth, their smooth yet textured surface chillingly cold against the warmth of his mouth. Shen Qingci instinctively tried to spit it out, but the old woman shoved the other end in. The two bamboo tubes were wedged into his mouth, forcing it open wide, preventing his teeth from closing. His mouth was stretched into an O-shape. Next, the ropes were pulled around the back of his head. The coarse hemp rope pressed against the skin of his scalp, looping over his ears, crossing at the back of his head, and then tightened forcefully. Shen Qingci felt a sharp pain in his hair as the rope pulled, digging into his scalp as if to split his head in two. The old woman wrapped it around again, this time looping the rope under his chin from the back of his head, securing the gag in place to prevent it from slipping out. "Bite again, and you'll never be able to close your mouth," the groom stepped in front of Shen Qingci, grabbing the ropes on either end of the gag and yanking hard. The final tug tightened the ropes further into his flesh. Shen Qingci felt the corners of his mouth stretch taut and pale. His entire mouth was filled with the bamboo tubes, his tongue pressed flat beneath them, unable to move or form any coherent syllables. He struggled desperately to spit out the gag, but the ropes were firmly secured. No matter how hard he tried, his teeth couldn't close. His mouth remained agape, revealing the saliva-soaked bamboo tubes. Saliva immediately began to dribble uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth. First, a small trickle of clear drool seeped from his lips, dripping down his chin. Then, more and more came, as if all the saliva in his mouth was surging forth. Blocked by the gag, he couldn't swallow, and could only let the liquid flow out. Saliva dripped from his chin onto his chest, sliding down the red embroidery of his robe, soaking through the thin gauze of his collar and leaving a dark, wet stain on his chest. Shen Qingci tried to swallow desperately, but only a gurgling sound came from his throat. The bamboo tubes blocked his airway, making each swallow incredibly difficult, even inducing a gag reflex. His eyes welled up with tears, blurring his vision. He could only see the groom standing before him, looking down at him with a triumphant smile. The gasps and titters of the guests grew louder. "Tsk, tsk, look at this little slut with the gag on, drooling like a waterfall." "Can't even control a bit of spit, truly born to be tamed." "Look at his eyes, he wants to kill, but his mouth is gagged, he can't even curse, only whimper and whine like a cat in heat." Shen Qingci glared at the front with red eyes, but his vision was blurred by tears. He could only see indistinct figures moving before him. He wanted to curse, to damn them, to tear their faces apart, but the mouth blocked by the gag could only emit broken sounds of "wuwu… en…". Saliva continued to flow out, dripping from his chin to his chest, then sliding down along the rope marks until it landed on the red carpet, forming a small, dark wet patch. He felt his face becoming damp with saliva, his chin sticky with liquid, and his neck itchy from the wetness, a clammy, sticky sensation as if something disgusting had crawled over him. He wanted to wipe it away, but his arms were bound behind his back, rendering him immobile. He could only let the saliva flow everywhere. The groom looked with satisfaction at Shen Qingci's disheveled state, reaching out to pat his cheek. The pat was neither too hard nor too soft, carrying a tone of humiliation. "Good, this is more like it. This young master likes little things with spirit like you; they're more interesting to train." Shen Qingci glared fiercely at the groom, his eyes filled with hatred, but the mouth gagged by the device could only emit "wuwu" sounds. He couldn't even utter a complete curse. He struggled hard to break free from the ropes, but they were tightened securely. The more he struggled, the tighter they became, digging into his flesh and making him gasp in pain.