Slave Name English Teacher

The afternoon was free, and Han Chan left school early. Her home was in a high-end apartment in the city center, with strict security measures, which was precisely why she chose to live there. Upon opening the door, she saw over a dozen pairs of high heels neatly arranged on the shoe rack. In the drawer beside it, various styles of stockings were sorted, from basic nude shades to those with lace patterns, covering every preference. She changed her shoes and walked directly to the bedroom, pushing open a hidden door at the back of the wardrobe. Behind the hidden door was a small storage room, devoid of any extra furniture except for a chair upholstered in pink velvet. Shelves in the corner were divided into two tiers. The upper tier held several neatly wound rolls of rope made from different materials – cotton, hemp, and nylon, each meticulously cared for. The lower tier housed three exquisite storage boxes, side by side, containing Han Chan's collection of various collars. Her fingers first brushed over the surface of the ropes, a familiar tremor rising from the depths of her heart. She then turned to the storage boxes, opening the first one. Inside lay a rose collar, its base wrapped in red velvet, adorned with layers of handcrafted, lifelike rose petals. The stamens offered a soft touch when brushed. This craving for restraint had surfaced when she was very young. The first time her wrists were accidentally entangled by curtain cords, the feeling of being unable to move brought her an unprecedented sense of security. She didn't immediately begin her binding. Instead, she went to the bathroom for a shower, letting the warm water wash away the day's fatigue. After drying herself, she changed into a pink camisole nightgown, slipped on a silk robe, and returned to the storage room to light an aromatherapy candle. She opened the storage boxes again. The second box contained a collar made from stockings – woven from her old nude silk stockings, its texture light and smooth. The third box held a pink leather collar, with a small silver bell hanging from the buckle, emitting a shy jingle when moved. Han Chan sat on the velvet chair and first took out the stocking collar from the storage box, fastening it around her neck. The silky touch against her skin, the perfectly calibrated sense of restriction, felt like a gentle embrace, allowing her tense nerves to relax a little. Her gaze fell upon the cotton ropes and specially made tightening loops on the shelf in the corner. She steadied herself and began her planned binding. The binding started with her legs. She brought her legs together, knees slightly bent for ease of manipulation. Picking up a roll of soft cotton rope, she began winding it from her ankles, spiraling upwards over the nude stockings. Her movements were practiced, each loop tightened. As she extended upwards to her calves, she tied a discreet half-knot on the outer side to secure it. The rope continued upwards, adjusted slightly as it passed her knees, knotted again two inches above the knee, and finally stopped mid-thigh. The end was temporarily tied to her waist, awaiting further connection. Next was her upper body. She took another length of cotton rope, starting from the tail left at her waist, and wound it around her torso. The rope hugged the curve of her waistline, tightened with each wrap, and the knot was tied behind her, precisely in the indentation of her spine. After securing her waist, the rope extended upwards, passing beneath her ribcage, crossing at her shoulder blades, and then extending outwards to her arms. She let her arms hang naturally, the rope passing under her armpits and winding down her forearms to her wrists. Having completed this, she reached for a piece of soft silk from the shelf and blindfolded herself. Instantly, the darkness heightened her other senses. The scent of aromatherapy became more distinct, the sound of traffic from outside grew more vivid, and the contrast between the silk of the collar on her neck and the roughness of the cotton ropes on her body became more pronounced. She didn't rush to the next step but quietly savored this state of amplified senses for a moment, her breathing gradually steadying. Then, she picked up the pre-prepared silicone gag. It was custom-made to her size, with tiny ventilation holes on the surface, ensuring she could breathe. Placing the gag in her mouth, her teeth bit down on the soft silicone. The feeling of being plugged, of being sealed, made her heart rate suddenly accelerate. She then reached for the pink vibrator from the lower shelf, which had multiple speed settings. She fumbled with the buttons, pressing the lowest setting. A faint vibration emanated, and she placed it against her crotch, nestled within her stockings, directly against her vagina. The pleasure derived from the vibration stimulating her vagina formed a shameful alliance with the restraint of the ropes and the embrace of the collar. Finally, she fumbled for the specially made tightening rope loop. This was a custom design. She clasped her hands behind her back, palms facing each other, and then slipped the tightening loop over her wrists. Her fingers felt for the buckle, adjusting it until the rope fit snugly around her wrists, and then locked the buckle shut. At this moment, her arms, which had been loosely secured, were pulled tight, her hands firmly bound behind her back. After completing everything, she tried to move her body, discovering that her hands were fixed behind her and couldn't reach forward, and her legs were bound, making it difficult to spread them. The darkness before her eyes, combined with the sensation of being gagged, created a familiar feeling of powerlessness. Her breathing quickened slightly, yet within the balance of her heightened senses, she found the pleasure that brought her peace. At six in the morning the next day, just as dawn was breaking, Han Chan was woken by He Jianhui. She sat on a stool in the storage room, clad in a black slip dress, her eyes holding a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He Jianhui had everything prepared; cotton ropes, a vibrating massager, and a remote control were neatly arranged on a shelf beside them. "Let's begin. We have plenty of time, so I'll tie you slowly," he said softly, picking up a cotton rope and walking behind Han Chan. Following the plan, they started with the Japanese chest bind. He Jianhui instructed Han Chan to sit upright with her back straight. He placed the midpoint of the cotton rope at the nape of her neck, then brought the ends forward over her shoulders. As the rope passed beneath her collarbones, he tightened it, allowing it to conform to the curve of her breasts. Han Chan could clearly feel the rope against her skin, a distinct sensation of restraint. The rope crisscrossed in front of her chest, forming neat diamond patterns, each rhombus perfectly sized to snugly bind her breasts. Once he had wrapped around the lower part of her chest, He Jianhui pulled the rope taut behind her back and tied a secure knot, leaving the ends short and hidden within her clothing. After the Japanese chest bind was complete, they moved on to the tortoise shell bind. He Jianhui took two ends of the rope from the previous knot and extended them downwards along her waist and abdomen. He asked Han Chan to inhale slightly, and as her waist contracted, he wrapped the rope around it, tying the knot at her back, perfectly aligning with the curve of her spine. The rope continued downwards, passing over her buttocks before separating to the sides and extending along the outer thighs, connecting to the leg ties. With this step, the basic framework was formed, with neat diamond shapes created by the rope around her waist and legs, complementing the Japanese chest bind and ensuring overall restraint. Once the rope binding was finished, the tightness around her chest and abdomen sent a thrill through her. The rope constricting her vulva, in particular, caused a wave of arousal with every breath as it rubbed against her. He Jianhui checked the knots, ensuring they were secure, before picking up the vibrating massager. He set it to the lowest vibration setting, confirming it was silent, and placed it against her mons pubis. He used a rope to secure it in place, preventing it from shifting during movement. "I've already set up the remote control. It works within a fifty-meter range, and I'll be waiting outside the classroom," he said, placing the remote in his pocket. He then helped Han Chan put on flesh-colored stockings and a beige knit cardigan, finally topping it off with her usual black suit jacket. After getting dressed, Han Chan walked to the full-length mirror. The woman reflected was dressed impeccably as a teacher, her hair neatly styled, her face lightly made up. Externally, she looked no different from her usual self, with no hint of the secret hidden beneath her clothes. She could feel the presence of the ropes beneath her attire and the subtle sensation of the vibrating massager, her nervousness intensifying, her palms growing cold and sweaty. Meanwhile, the craving for restraint deep within her heart began to stir. In the privacy of her own space, being tightly bound by soft ropes had always eased her taut nerves, bringing a peculiar sense of security. But now, this desire manifesting in a situation of coercion made her hate herself even more. She berated herself repeatedly in her mind, calling herself shameless, cursing her for harboring such a twisted preference. Yet, that strange emotion, like a creeping vine, silently coiled around her thoughts, rendering her resistance increasingly futile. "Why the silence? Have you come to your senses?" Zhi Tianxu had already walked up to Han Chan, stopping and looking down at her, a rope in his hand. "Either you obey me and let me tie you up, and this matter ends here – I promise not to trouble you again. Or, I'll send out the backup photos right now, first to the school's teacher group, then to the parent group, letting everyone see what our excellent teacher is like in private." "You have backups?" Han Chan's voice was filled with shock and despair, her body swaying. She had seen Zhi Tianxu delete the photos from his phone with her own eyes, and then tear the printed copies into pieces and throw them into the trash. She had thought she had no more worries, only to discover he had a contingency plan. This blow shattered the last sliver of hope in her heart. Zhi Tianxu let out a sneer, his eyes filled with disdain. "Of course I have backups. Did you think I'd trust you so easily? Teacher Han, you're too naive." He reached out, his fingertips almost touching Han Chan's arm, his tone hardening. "Stop struggling, you have no choice. Cooperate now, and you'll suffer less." The moment his icy fingertips were about to touch her skin, Han Chan instinctively flinched her arm away, but with her back against the wall, she had nowhere to go. Han Chan closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly, her internal struggle reaching its peak. On one side were her dignity and principles; on the other, her reputation, her family's honor, and her hard-earned job. She knew all too well that if the photos were leaked, her life would be utterly ruined, not only would she be unable to hold her head up, but she would also bring shame upon her family. Compromise, though it meant enduring the shame of being bound, could temporarily preserve these. Moreover, the craving for restraint deep within her heart made her resistance increasingly weak. A few seconds later, Han Chan slowly opened her eyes, the resistance in them gradually fading, replaced by despair and resignation. She shook her head gently, abandoning her struggle, her hands falling limply to her sides, no longer covering herself. Her voice was so soft it was barely audible, "I... I agree. But you have to keep your word. After you're done tying me, destroy all the backups, and never use this to trouble me again." Seeing Han Chan's capitulation, Zhi Tianxu's smile widened, the malice in his eyes undisguised. "That's more like it, Teacher Han. It would have been better if you'd agreed sooner, forcing me to resort to harsh methods." He withdrew his hand that was about to touch Han Chan, took half a step back, and gestured towards the desk. "Stand over there." Han Chan offered no resistance, nor did she speak. She silently turned around and walked step by step towards the desk. With each step, the floor beneath her seemed to radiate a chill, making her steps exceptionally heavy. Her head was bowed low, her gaze fixed only on her toes, daring not to meet Zhi Tianxu's eyes or look at anything around her. Shame enveloped her, making her body stiff. Reaching the desk, she stopped, standing perfectly straight, awaiting the impending restraint. Zhi Tianxu, holding a red hemp rope, walked behind Han Chan. He didn't act immediately, but instead wound the rope around his palm a few times, feeling its rough texture. "Put your hands behind your back, palms facing each other," he commanded. Han Chan hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly bringing her hands behind her back and clasping them together with her palms facing each other. This movement caused her shoulders to tense involuntarily, and her body to lean forward slightly, revealing the delicate curve of her neck and back. Zhi Tianxu nodded with satisfaction, picked up one end of the rope, and wrapped it around Han Chan's right wrist. The rough texture of the rope rubbed against her delicate skin, creating a peculiar sensation. His movements were not particularly skilled, but each loop was wound tightly, and he pulled the rope firmly to ensure it wouldn't loosen. Han Chan's body felt as if it had been electrocuted, not from pain, but because that familiar sense of restraint began to spread, causing her heart to beat faster uncontrollably. Next, he brought the rope to her left wrist, wrapping and securing it in the same manner. Then, he crossed the ropes at both wrists and tied a firm knot in the middle. After tying the knot, he deliberately tugged on the rope to confirm it couldn't be easily broken. To further restrict her arm movement, he took another piece of rope, starting from Han Chan's elbow and winding it downwards, loop by loop, until it reached her wrist, connecting to the previous knot to form a complete restraint loop. This way, Han Chan's arms were not only fixed behind her back, but her elbows were also unable to bend freely, forcing her to maintain a stiff posture. Seeing Han Chan tremble slightly due to her stiff body, Zhi Tianxu let out a low reprimand, his tone impatient. Han Chan immediately stopped moving, her body tensing even further. She could clearly feel the pressure of the rope on her skin, her wrists and elbows feeling tight and constricted. The inability to move grew stronger, making her breathing increasingly rapid. The craving deep within her heart also began to sharpen under the stimulation of this restraint. With her hands bound, Zhi Tianxu walked around to face Han Chan, scrutinizing her from head to toe with satisfaction. He then gestured for her to bring her legs together. "Put your feet together, and bend your knees slightly." Han Chan still offered no resistance, adjusting her posture as instructed. Zhi Tianxu crouched down, picked up the rope, and began to wrap it around her ankles. Han Chan was wearing white pantyhose, and the smooth silk of the stockings rubbed against the rough hemp rope, creating a complex sensation that made her body begin to feel hot. He first tightly bound her two ankles together, the rope coiling five times, and then tied a knot as secure as the one on her wrists on the outside of her ankles. After the knot was tied, he folded her legs together, bringing her heels close to her buttocks, and then used the rope to firmly secure the folded legs. The rope wound upwards from her ankles, stopping mid-calf, each loop pulled tight and pressed down to ensure her legs could not be separated or straightened. Once the binding was complete, Han Chan's legs were completely immobilized, forced to remain in a folded position. Next, Zhi Tianxu picked up a longer rope, tied one end to the knot on Han Chan's wrists, pulled it hard to confirm it was secure, and then brought the other end to the knot on her ankles. He first tied a slipknot and then slowly began to tighten the rope. As the rope tightened, Han Chan's body was forced to bend forward, her waist arching involuntarily into a strange curve. The tension of the rope increased, pulling her body further and further, her chest leaning slightly forward due to the bend, making her breathing more difficult. "Mmm..." Han Chan couldn't help but let out a short, muffled groan, her voice filled with obvious discomfort. This position stretched her lower back muscles taut, almost unable to bear the weight of her body. The ropes on her wrists and ankles also tightened further due to the body's stretch, creating a strong sense of pressure. But at the same time, this extreme sense of restraint also made the desires in her heart clearer, two completely different emotions mixing within her, causing her immense torment. Zhi Tianxu pulled the rope to the desired length, changed the slipknot to a secure knot, and pulled the rope hard again, confirming that the position would not loosen. At this point, Han Chan was completely bound in the "Four Horses Fleeing the Stable" position, her hands tightly bound behind her back, her legs folded and secured, her wrists and ankles firmly connected and pulled tight by the rope, her entire body forced to arch, relying solely on the rope's tension to maintain balance. "Very good, this position suits you well, Teacher Han." Zhi Tianxu looked at his "creation" with satisfaction, his tone filled with unconcealed excitement. He walked up to Han Chan, reached out, and patted her cheek, his action carrying a clear sense of humiliation. "Now, let's get you onto the table." Han Chan did not resist, nor did she have the strength to resist, allowing Zhi Tianxu to wrap his arms around her, slide them under her armpits, and lift her. The moment Zhi Tianxu's arms touched her skin, her body stiffened, a strong sense of disgust surging in her heart, but she could only be forced to endure it. Zhi Tianxu gently placed Han Chan on the office desk, letting her lie flat. The cool surface of the desk contrasted sharply with her body temperature, causing her to tremble slightly. Lying on the desk, her bound body was unable to move, forced to maintain her arched posture. Her limbs were pulled taut by the ropes, making it impossible to even adjust her lying position, leaving her entirely at Zhi Tianxu's mercy. Zhi Tianxu walked around the desk, carefully observing Han Chan's bound form, a sickening smile playing on his lips. His gaze roamed over Han Chan wantonly, each pause making her feel a wave of humiliation. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see Zhi Tianxu's face, yet she could clearly hear his footsteps and his deliberately lowered breathing, sounds that made her heart race faster and her sense of shame grow stronger. "To prevent you from making noise and letting others discover what's happening here, I need to prepare something for you." Zhi Tianxu's voice sounded again, with a hint of amusement. After speaking, he turned and walked to the desk drawer, pulled open the top one, and took out a huge gag. The gag was made of silicone, covered with tiny ventilation holes, appearing soft in texture, but its enormous size made it look particularly monstrous. Han Chan opened her eyes, and when she saw the gag in Zhi Tianxu's hand, her eyes widened sharply, and her body began to struggle violently. Although she had resigned herself to being bound, the idea of wearing a gag was beyond her tolerance. Having her mouth gagged, unable to make a sound, meant complete loss of the ability to resist or call for help, leaving her at Zhi Tianxu's complete disposal. "No... don't!" Her voice was filled with resistance, her body writhing on the desk, trying to break free from the restraints. "Stop struggling, it's useless." Zhi Tianxu walked to the desk, pressing one hand on Han Chan's shoulder to stop her struggle, while holding the gag in the other hand, approaching her face. "Put this on, it's better for both of us. If someone outside hears your voice and comes to investigate, what do you think the consequences will be? Not only you, but I'll be implicated too. Do you think I'll let something like that happen?" His tone was threatening, and the hand pressing on Han Chan's shoulder grew tighter, preventing her from struggling further. Han Chan's struggle stopped instantly. She knew Zhi Tianxu was right. Although the office door was closed, the hallway was just outside, and teachers or students could pass by at any moment. If her voice attracted attention, and if she were seen in this state, her reputation would be completely ruined, with no possibility of recovery. She could only watch as Zhi Tianxu approached her with the gag, her heart filled with despair, but she no longer dared to struggle. Zhi Tianxu pinched Han Chan's chin, his fingers pressing hard, forcing her mouth open. Han Chan clenched her teeth tightly, trying to resist, but she was no match for Zhi Tianxu's strength. Her chin hurt from the pressure, and she could only be forced to open her mouth. Zhi Tianxu seized the opportunity and shoved the huge gag into her mouth. The gag was very large, occupying almost her entire oral cavity, causing her cheeks to bulge slightly, making it impossible for her to close her mouth. Zhi Tianxu adjusted the position of the gag, ensuring it firmly blocked Han Chan's mouth, then wrapped the straps on either side of the gag around her head, crossing them at the back of her head, and tied a secure knot, firmly fixing the gag in place. After putting on the gag, Han Chan could only let out muffled whimpers, unable to speak complete sentences anymore. Although the ventilation holes on the gag ensured she could breathe normally and not suffocate, the foreign body sensation of her mouth being filled made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Her tongue was pressed to the bottom of her mouth by the gag, unable to move, and her lips were pushed open by the gag, revealing a small section of her teeth, making her appearance particularly disheveled. Zhi Tianxu looked at Han Chan with the gag on, satisfied. He reached out and gently stroked her hair, his tone flippant and malicious. "This way, you're much better behaved. Teacher Han, you see, as long as you're obedient, you won't suffer too much." His fingers slid lightly through her hair, his movements carrying a clear sense of violation. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just want to satisfy your hobbies. You should be thanking me." Han Chan closed her eyes, no longer looking at Zhi Tianxu, nor making any sound. She could clearly feel her bound body, the foreign body sensation from the gag, and the growing desire in her heart. These two emotions mixed together, causing her immense torment. Zhi Tianxu walked around the desk, then stopped at Han Chan's feet, a strange glint in his eyes. He squatted down, reached out, and gently stroked Han Chan's bound ankles. His fingers, through the stockings and the rope, could clearly feel the warmth of her skin. "Since you like vibrators so much, I'll satisfy you then." His voice was filled with excitement, and the malice in his tone was unconcealed. Han Chan's body trembled violently, and she instantly opened her eyes, her gaze filled with terror. She hadn't expected Zhi Tianxu to not let her off yet and to humiliate her with a vibrator. This had crossed her bottom line and completely shattered her last psychological defense. She began to struggle violently, her body writhing on the desk. The ropes on her wrists and ankles tightened further due to her struggles, and her lower back muscles ached unbearably from the twisting, but she no longer cared about that, only wanting to break free and escape. However, Zhi Tianxu's binding method was extremely secure. The tension of the ropes held her body firmly to the desk. Her struggles were not only ineffective but also intensified the physical pleasure due to her excessive movements. The skin on her wrists and ankles was rubbed raw by the rough ropes, and her lower back muscles were close to giving out. Muffled whimpers escaped from the gag, carrying a tone of despair. She was aware of her controlled situation, unaware that during the explanation, she had already orgasmed once, her panties and stockings clinging wetly to her cunt. After a while, Xingyu finished his mistakes and handed the test paper to Hánchán: "Teacher, I'm done. Can you check if it's right for me?" Hánchán opened her eyes, took the test paper, and began to grade it carefully. During the grading, her attention could finally focus on the test paper, and the vibrations within her body remained within a tolerable range, shame gradually replaced by exhaustion. She checked each question, marked the errors, and then patiently explained, guiding Xingyu to correct them. Xingyu listened attentively to the teacher's explanation, correcting his mistakes one by one, the confusion on his face gradually dissipating. He could feel that the teacher's state was a little better than before, and the rhythm of her explanation had returned to normal, without the previous stiffness and pauses. His worries eased slightly, and he focused more on learning, wanting to grasp the knowledge points as quickly as possible and not let down the teacher's hard work. Halfway through the tutoring session, Hánchán's phone suddenly vibrated. It was a message from Zhí Tiānxū: "It seems you're enjoying your time alone with your student." The message carried a clear warning, causing Hánchán's body to instantly tense up, and the shame in her heart surged again. She quickly replied with "No" and immediately put away her phone, not daring to let Xingyu see the message. Zhí Tiānxū's warning brought her to a complete awakening. Zhí Tiānxū had been monitoring her all along, and any slight carelessness would lead to severe consequences. She forced herself to suppress the emotions in her heart, refocusing on the tutoring. Her tone remained gentle, but with a hint of deliberate distance, no longer giving Xingyu any chance to get closer. "This question is corrected very well, the thinking is very clear," Hánchán said, looking at Xingyu's corrected work with satisfaction. "In the future, when you do problems, you must carefully read the questions, grasp the basic knowledge points, and avoid unnecessary errors. It's okay if your grades have slipped recently. As long as you adjust your state and concentrate on studying, you'll quickly return to your previous level." Xingyu nodded, a smile appearing on his face: "Thank you, teacher. I understand. I will study hard from now on and won't get distracted anymore." His tone was sincere, and his eyes held determination. After their recent interaction, the杂念 in his heart gradually dissipated, leaving only the resolve to learn. Hánchán looked at him and felt a slight relief, at least this tutoring session was not in vain, and Xingyu was finally willing to calm down and study. But the vibrator inside her body continued to vibrate, reminding her of her inescapable bondage. Hánchán forced herself to remain calm and continued to tutor Xingyu, explaining subsequent knowledge points, guiding him to organize his study思路, and formulating a study plan. Her voice was gentle yet firm, each word filled with encouragement, trying to distract herself with work and ignore the pleasure and shame within her body. During the tutoring session, Xingyu would occasionally look up at Hánchán. His eyes no longer held the previous desire and curiosity, only respect and gratitude. He could feel the teacher's dedication and realized that his previous behavior was inappropriate, feeling a sense of guilt. Time passed slowly, and the tutoring session neared its end. Hánchán tidied up the materials and test papers on the desk and said to Xingyu, "Today's tutoring ends here. You must organize these mistakes well and practice them repeatedly. If you have any questions, you can always come to me. At home, you should also arrange your study time reasonably and maintain a good learning state. If you have any difficulties, you can communicate with your parents, or tell me, and we will find a solution together." Xingyu stood up and said respectfully, "Thank you, teacher. You've worked hard. I will definitely remember your words and study hard." His tone was sincere, his eyes full of gratitude, and his gaze towards Hánchán had returned to that of a student's respect for a teacher, with no hint of anything unusual. Hánchán nodded, picked up her belongings, and stood up. "Then I'll be going now. You study well, and try to get good grades in the next test." Xingyu walked Hánchán to the door. Xingyu's parents also hurried forward to see her off and express their gratitude. Hánchán responded politely, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then turned to leave Xingyu's house. Stepping out into the hallway, the cool air hit her face, slightly alleviating the pleasure in her body. The vibrator was still working hard, leaving her weak all over. She walked to the roadside, took out her phone, and sent Zhí Tiānxū a message: "The tutoring is over. I'm going home now." After sending the message, she quickly received a reply from Zhí Tiānxū: "Well done. Come home tonight, and I have new rules to tell you." Seeing this message, Hánchán's body instantly stiffened. She put away her phone, walked to her car, opened the door, and sat inside. Leaning back against the seat, she finally let down all pretense, her calm face replaced by exhaustion and despair. The vibrator inside her body continued to vibrate. She closed her eyes, silently enduring it all, not knowing how long she could last. After a while, she adjusted her emotions, started the car, and slowly drove away. The scenery outside the car window flashed by, but it couldn't attract her attention at all. Her mind was filled with the scenes from the home visit just now: Xingyu's innocent gaze, the warmth of touch, the pleasure from the vibrations, Zhí Tiānxū's warning. Every scene clearly replayed in her mind, tormenting her. Upon returning home, Hánchán went straight to the bedroom, wanting to remove the restraints on her body and turn off the vibrator. But just as she was about to act, her phone rang. It was Zhí Tiānxū calling. "Don't be in a hurry to turn it off. Do as I say first," Zhí Tiānxū's voice came from the other end of the phone. "Tell me the process of today's home visit, word for word, without any omissions."

Maduro put down the camera and walked to Hanchan, squatting down. He reached out and turned off the vibrator, and the buzzing sound instantly disappeared. He reached out and unbuckled the leather straps on her legs, but did not untie the hemp ropes and silk ribbons on her hands, nor did he remove the gag from her mouth and the collar from her neck. Instead, he grabbed the iron chain around her neck and roughly dragged her onto the living room carpet, forcing her to lie prostrate on it. Hanchan was forced to lie on the soft carpet, her hands tied in front of her. Her legs were not bound, but due to the prolonged binding and struggle, they were already sore and weak. Her legs stretched out, her body pressed against the carpet, her cheek against the soft fabric. Tears soaked the carpet and her hair. Maduro walked behind her, picked up a slender black hemp rope, and readjusted her binding position—this time, he untied her hands from the front and re-tied them behind her back. He then extended the rope upwards, wrapping it around her neck and tying it tightly to the collar. He pulled it taut, making her breathing increasingly difficult. Her body was forced to lift slightly, unable to lie completely flat on the carpet, leaving her in a stiff and shameful posture. He picked up another hemp rope and tied her thighs and calves together, leaving her to support the entire weight of her body on her knees. Maduro held up the camera and took a few close-up shots of her back. Seemingly finding it monotonous, he stopped and looked down at Hanchan's listless appearance with impatience. "Change your clothes and continue shooting. Don't look like you're about to die. If you displease me, you'll suffer." Hanchan trembled all over, startled. She didn't understand what new game Maduro was playing, but she dared not resist in the slightest. Maduro reached out and loosened some of the ropes around her neck, leaving only the bindings on her hands and ankles. Then, he grabbed the iron chain around her neck and roughly dragged her into the villa's bedroom. The bedroom was equally luxurious, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window facing the sea. A soft, large bed was placed against the wall. The wardrobe was open, revealing a few simply styled garments: a white cotton maxi dress, a light-colored knitted cardigan, and a set of elegant cotton loungewear, a stark contrast to the revealing bikini she had worn before. "Change into this yourself," Maduro said, taking the white cotton maxi dress from the wardrobe and throwing it in front of Hanchan, his tone full of impatience. "Hurry up, don't waste my time." After speaking, he stepped back a few paces, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes coldly fixed on Hanchan, as if monitoring a prop that might escape at any moment, showing no intention of leaving. Hanchan was in a difficult situation. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles were bound, making even basic dressing movements difficult, let alone changing clothes under Maduro's gaze. She bent down with difficulty, trying to use her bound hands to pull the white dress on little by little. Maduro leaned against the wall, watching her pathetic struggle indifferently, with no intention of helping. A mocking smile even played on his lips, as if he were enjoying her futile struggles, enjoying her humiliation. After more than ten minutes,

Meanwhile, Han Chan was dragged into another room by two female guards. The room was small and dim, with no decorations on the walls, only a dim yellow light bulb emitting a faint glow, illuminating a small cage in the center of the room. The cage was welded from thick steel bars, extremely small, only large enough for a person to kneel inside. The cage door was made of iron, with a rusty iron lock, exuding a strong sense of humiliation and confinement. The female guards roughly pushed Han Chan to the ground and forced her to remove her only wet clothes. Then, they took out a pair of black one-piece stockings and forcibly put them on her. The stockings outlined the contours of her body, adding a touch of humiliation. They did not give her any other clothes, leaving her to wear only the thin one-piece stockings, exposed to the cold air, her body trembling from the chill. Next, one of the female guards took out a thick hemp rope and began to bind Han Chan. Her movements were rough and skilled, the rope moving flexibly around Han Chan's body, binding her into a humiliating kneeling position – legs bent and kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind her back, shoulders pulled back and taut by the rope, her neck forced to lift slightly. Han Chan struggled desperately, trying to break free from the rope's restraint, trying to resist, but was intimidated by the female guards' gaze. Her cheeks burned, shy and humiliated, struggling in vain. After the binding was complete, one of the female guards took out a large red gag and forcibly stuffed it into Han Chan's mouth. The gag was made of rubber, large in size, and when stuffed into her mouth, it occupied almost her entire oral cavity. The suffocating feeling of her mouth being blocked made her feel uncomfortable all over. Then, another female guard took out a red leather collar and roughly put it around her neck. The buckle of the collar was fastened tightly, hurting her neck and making it almost impossible to breathe. There was no leash on the collar, but it was like a brand of shame, imprinted on her body, constantly reminding her that at this moment, she was nothing more than a dog, with no dignity whatsoever. With everything prepared, the female guards worked together to lift Han Chan and move her into the steel cage that could only accommodate a kneeling position. The cage was small and cold, the steel bars hurting her knees and back. She was forced to maintain the humiliating kneeling posture, unable to stretch her body, curled up in the small space. The female guards closed the cage door, locked it with the iron lock, and completely imprisoned her in this humiliating cage. The female guards looked at her for a moment, a playful smile pulling at the corners of their mouths, then turned and left, closing the room door, shutting out all light and warmth. Only Han Chan was left alone in the room, along with the coldness and darkness of the cage. She curled up in the cage, wearing thin black one-piece stockings, tightly bound by the hemp rope, a red gag stuffed in her mouth, a red leather collar around her neck, maintaining the humiliating kneeling posture, her body cold, her body in pain, tears still falling incessantly. She could hear the muffled groans and the whipping sounds from the interrogation room in the distance, each sound causing her immense pain. She wanted to rush out, wanted to save Maduro, wanted to escape this humiliating cage, but she was tightly bound, imprisoned in the small cage, unable to do anything, struggling helplessly, writhing, crying. Under the dim yellow light, Han Chan's figure appeared particularly small and helpless in the narrow cage. The black one-piece stockings pressed against her entire body, and the red gag and red leather collar were like brands of shame, imprinted on her body, imprinted on her heart. Her body trembled from the cold and pain, her eyes filled with despair. The torture in the interrogation room continued, Maduro's muffled groans gradually weakening, yet there was still no sound of begging for mercy. His body was beaten to a bloody mess, his back covered with deep bloody marks, the wounds festering, blood flowing, yet he still held his back straight, his eyes sharp, without the slightest sign of submission. He could not fall, could not bow his head to these gangsters. He had to live, had to save Han Chan, had to avenge, and make these cruel people pay the price they deserved. The light in the room remained dim, Han Chan in the cage maintained her humiliating posture, and the sounds of torture from a distance were still piercing. This Barbabo's estate, this cage that imprisoned them, was still filled with darkness and cruelty, still permeated with the smell of blood and despair. Maduro and Han Chan, one enduring the torment of torture in the interrogation room, the other enduring the humiliation of confinement in a small cage, their bodies were battered and bruised, their dignity was trampled to pieces. As night gradually fell, the lights in the estate lit up, and the imprisoned African animals let out low roars, forming a dark and desperate dirge with the sounds of torture from the interrogation room and Han Chan's whimpers. Han Chan curled up in the cage and gradually closed her eyes, the pain and humiliation on her body gradually becoming numb. Maduro, in the interrogation room, endured the torment of torture, and in his heart, the seed of revenge, in despair, gradually took root and sprouted. This estate full of sin and darkness, this cold prison, remained silent in the night. The dim light flickered in the small room. Han Chan remained curled up in the steel cage that could only accommodate a kneeling position. The black one-piece stockings were already soaked with sweat and dust, tightly clinging to her body. The red leather collar increasingly reddened and swollen around her neck. The red gag in her mouth was sticky with saliva, and every breath carried the peculiar smell of rubber and an unspeakable sense of suffocation. She maintained the humiliating kneeling posture, her limbs tightly bound by the hemp rope, her muscles stiff and sore. The stubbornness in her eyes had faded a little, worn down by the confinement day after day, leaving only an unresolvable despair, like a thick layer of haze, shrouding her entire gaze. At some unknown time, the room door was pushed open, and two dark figures walked in against the light. It was Scarface and a man in a black suit. The man in the suit was tall and straight, with no expression on his face, his eyes as cold as frost, and an aura of gloom emanating from him, completely different from the other gangsters in the estate. He was Barbabo's subordinate, the head of drug trafficking, codenamed "Ghost Hand." He had come on Barbabo's orders to transfer Han Chan to the drug trafficking department and assign her a cruel and secret mission. Scarface stepped forward, roughly opened the cage lock, grabbed Han Chan's long hair, and dragged her out of the cage. The sudden pull made Han Chan's whole body tremble, the collar on her neck tightened further, her breathing instantly became rapid, and the hemp rope rubbed against her wounds. She was dragged to her knees on the ground, and when she looked up, she met Ghost Hand's cold gaze. The gaze was like an ice pick, piercing straight at her, making her tremble all over, yet she didn't even have the courage to dodge. "Mr. Barbabo has ordered that from today onwards, she is under my charge," Ghost Hand's voice was low and hoarse, devoid of any emotion. He spoke in fluent English, his gaze fixed on Han Chan, as if appraising a lifeless tool. Scarface nodded, roughly pulled the gag out of Han Chan's mouth, and untied some of the hemp rope on her body, leaving only the restraints on her wrists and ankles. His tone was vulgar, and he turned to leave. Only Han Chan and Ghost Hand were left in the room, the air oppressively suffocating. Ghost Hand squatted down, his fingertips roughly pinching Han Chan's chin, forcing her to look up at him. His voice was cold: "I know you can endure a lot, but here, enduring is useless. Mr. Barbabo is giving you a way to live, letting you transport drugs for him. Do well, and perhaps you'll suffer less; if you don't do well, not only will you die, but Maduro will be buried with you." His words were direct and cruel, each word like a heavy hammer, striking Han Chan's heart, making her body turn cold. Han Chan's lips moved, wanting to roar, wanting to resist, but unable to utter any forceful sound. Barbabo was using her, using her secrecy, to hide drugs in the most inconspicuous places, making her a tool for drug trafficking. And Maduro was Barbabo's leverage to control her, making her dare not have the slightest thought of resistance.

I remained in a side-lying position, my limbs bound by flesh-toned stockings. The "four-horse abreast" binding held my body in a fixed, taut curve, the resilient fabric molding to the contours of my limbs, providing a uniform and prolonged sensation of confinement. I was completely immersed in this unique bodily experience, the sense of restraint enveloping me, clearing away all the restlessness and pressure accumulated from exam preparation. The word roots, listening comprehension patterns, and past exam question types that usually swirled in my mind vanished. The anxiety and oppression of exam week dissolved layer by layer, my entire being sinking into a state of extreme relaxation. Unlike the superficial comfort of ordinary relaxation methods, this physical limitation brought a profound sense of stillness, allowing my mind to focus intensely on my own state, stripping away all trivial external distractions. I reveled in the smooth, delicate texture of the stockings. My teacher's feet gently pressed against my cheek, their warm, soft texture mingling with a faint, elegant body scent, continuously immersing my senses. She stood quietly beside me, making no extraneous movements, simply observing my state. Occasionally, she would speak, guiding me on my restless studies, her gentle tone smoothing away all the agitation in my heart. After a long period of physical and mental settling, my spirit experienced an ultimate release of relaxation, and my body responded with natural tremors. All the tense muscles suddenly relaxed, the accumulated fatigue of days completely vented, leaving me with a sense of clarity and ease from the inside out. After reaching the peak of relaxation, my consciousness instantly withdrew from the illusion, jolting me awake from my state of immersion. My vision cleared in an instant, and the scene of the classroom returned to my awareness. The warm light, the desks and chairs, the clean walls, and the teacher standing gently before me were all vividly present. All the previous stirrings and immersion slowly faded, leaving only a trace of dazed realization. I adjusted my gaze and looked down at myself, noticing a damp patch on my pants. At this moment, an intense wave of shyness washed over me. The temperature of my cheeks rapidly climbed, my earlobes and neck flushed hot, and a feeling of overwhelming embarrassment and mortification welled up within me. I instinctively wanted to curl up, but I remembered that my limbs were still securely bound by the stockings, my body unable to move freely, forcing me to maintain my original side-lying posture. The teacher immediately sensed the change in me, her gaze falling on the damp area of my pants. After a moment of stunned silence, she let out a sigh that was both helpless and gentle, "Sigh..." This sigh held no hint of blame or disgust, no mockery or distance, only a touch of indulgent helplessness and a hint of amused tolerance. She slowly stepped forward, her movements gentle and practiced, her fingertips methodically undoing the silk stocking bindings on my limbs. She untied the tight knots at my wrists and ankles, gradually loosening the layers of fabric, allowing the constricting pressure to dissipate. As the stockings were peeled away, my wrists, ankles, and legs gradually regained their freedom of movement, my stiff muscles relaxed, and blood circulation returned to normal. Once all the restraints were removed, she neatly folded the flesh-toned stockings and placed them back into her leather shoulder bag, her movements as delicate as her meticulous and patient teaching style. Then, she reached out and gently supported my shoulder, helping me to sit up from the soft mat on the floor. I was still enveloped in intense embarrassment, my head bowed the entire time, afraid to meet her gaze. My fingertips nervously clutched the hem of my clothes, my entire being radiating a helpless shyness. Seeing my flustered and reserved demeanor, a faint smile touched the teacher's lips. Her gentle gaze rested on my face, and her voice was calm and soothing as she broke the slightly awkward silence, "Then that's all for today's lesson. Come back to this place at the same time tomorrow." As she finished speaking, she picked up her phone from the desk and quickly operated the screen, bringing up detailed address information. The text on the screen was clear, including the precise building, unit number, and accompanying instructions for her private residence. She held the phone out to me, ensuring I saw every detail, and then sent the address to my social media account for future reference. "Save this address carefully and be here on time tomorrow. For the subsequent specialized tutoring, I'll take you to a different environment to refine your studies," she instructed softly, her tone gentle yet filled with confident expectation. I looked up into her clear, gentle eyes and understood the hidden meaning in her words. The institutional classroom was a public teaching space with fixed rules and limitations, where many detailed guidance and relaxation methods could not be fully implemented. However, the private, secluded space of her residence, free from external rules and more quiet and private, would allow me to fully immerse myself in English specialized training and continue to use our unique methods to help me settle my mind and alleviate academic pressure. I nodded silently, carefully noting the address and the agreed-upon time. The embarrassment in my heart slowly faded, replaced by a strong sense of anticipation and excitement. A simple agreement transformed my previously dry and oppressive exam preparation life into something entirely new and hopeful, providing a gentle solace during the arduous exam week. I loved the teacher's stockings, and I adored her beautiful stockinged feet on my face. I tidied the practice books, notebooks, and stationery on the desk, packed all my study supplies into my bag, and slowly stood up. My legs still felt a slight ache from sitting for a long time. I bowed slightly to the teacher, bid her farewell softly, and then turned to leave the private tutoring room. Stepping out of the institution building, the cold winter wind greeted me, blowing away the warmth from indoors and stirring the warm thoughts in my heart. Cars passed by on the street, and pedestrians hurried along. The bleak winter streetscape remained monotonous and desolate, but my state of mind was completely different from before the lesson. All the gloom and oppression had vanished, and every detail from the classroom replayed in my mind: the gentle restraint, the teacher's exquisite appearance, and her soft tone, replaying over and over in my thoughts. Taking the return transportation home, I entered my apartment, put down my bag, and slumped into the chair at my desk. Throughout the day, I had been in a dazed and hazy state, my mind unable to settle, frequently distracted, my state fluctuating. Whether I was looking at textbooks, memorizing words, practicing problems, or eating and resting, my thoughts would involuntarily drift back to the classroom scene that afternoon. I repeatedly recalled the teacher's exquisite outfit: a sharp black leather skirt paired with simple ankle boots, accentuating her perfect proportions. Her legs, encased in flesh-toned stockings, were fair, shapely, and smoothly contoured, every line a pleasure to behold. Her gentle demeanor, her smiling eyes, and her accommodating tone were deeply imprinted in my memory, refusing to fade. Simultaneously, the stocking binding repeatedly echoed in my sensory memory. I opened my English vocabulary book, trying to force myself to focus on revision, to prepare thoroughly for the upcoming proficiency tests and final exams. But as my gaze fell upon the dense rows of words, my thoughts would instantly drift, and my mind would conjure the classroom scene again: the teacher's focused expression as she adjusted the stocking bindings, her gentle smile as she teased and joked, the lines of her stockinged feet pressing on my face, her tender gaze that accepted all my embarrassment.

I stood still in the bedroom, my lips filled with soft stockings, the thigh-highs secured firmly around my jaw and the back of my head. My teacher watched me, a gentle smile blooming in her eyes, and turned towards the built-in storage cabinet. The cabinet doors opened smoothly, revealing shelves neatly organized with stockings of various styles, colors, and materials, distinguished by their thickness. She reached in, sorting and selecting, and pulled out five pairs of brand-new stockings, mostly pantyhose. Five pairs of stockings were neatly stacked in her palm. She picked up the first pair of full-length pantyhose and walked behind me. My teacher gently guided my arms to my back. She held the middle section of the pantyhose and began wrapping them around my wrists, layering them to completely cover every inch of skin on both wrists. Unlike the previous segmented wrapping, these pantyhose were wrapped as a single piece, without any breaks, covering from my wrists to the lower part of my forearms. Once the full pair of pantyhose was wrapped, both my wrists were completely secured. To further strengthen the restraint and eliminate any possibility of loosening, my teacher continued with the remaining stockings, wrapping them upwards along my arms. The wrapping path started from my wrists, extended along my forearms, and reached my upper arms, with symmetrical wrapping on both sides for balanced tension. After each section of wrapping, she would grasp the stockings on both sides with her hands. When all the wrapping was complete, my teacher gathered the stockings that converged in the middle of my arms, twisted them into a tight rope-like structure, and pulled them even tighter, tying a secure knot. This crisscrossed binding method fused the multiple layers of stockings into a single unit, forming a closed loop structure from top to bottom. No matter how much I struggled with my upper limbs, the wrapped structure remained unyielding, completely locking any possibility of escape and keeping my arms held behind my back. After completing the comprehensive restraint of my upper body, my teacher softly instructed me to sit cross-legged on the soft bed. Once I was stable, she picked up a new pair of nude stockings and, bending down, began to cross-bind my feet. She aligned my ankles and started wrapping the stockings around them in a crisscross pattern, winding them back and forth. The stockings layered tightly, snugly enclosing the contours of my feet. The wrapping covered my ankles, the tops of my feet, and the soles. After multiple layers of wrapping, my feet were firmly bound, rendering any movement of separation, flexion, or deviation impossible. She continued to tighten the stockings, making the crisscrossed structure even more secure. My cross-legged posture was completely fixed, my lower leg muscles kept in a state of moderate tension, and my entire body posture was rigidly set. With the restraint of my hands and feet complete, my teacher began the final stage of connecting and securing the entire structure. She took out a new pair of nude stockings, securely tying one end to the wrapped structure of my feet, ensuring the connection was stable and firm. Then, she lifted the other end of the stocking, pulling it upwards along the lines of my body, wrapping it around my neck in a full circle, the stocking tightening around my throat. After encircling my neck, she brought the remaining length of the stocking back down, precisely re-binding it to the restraint on my feet. She pulled all slack stockings tight, tying a secure knot to complete the final fixation. This connecting structure created a complete closed-loop restraint system linking my neck, torso, hands, and feet, with my upper and lower limbs mutually restraining each other, forming a perfect shibari. My body was enveloped and restrained in multiple layers of stockings from all directions. My arms were fixed behind my back, unable to move; my feet were cross-bound, immobile; the connection between my neck and my limbs prevented my torso from leaning forward, backward, or sideways. I was curled into a tight ball. The multi-layered embrace of the stockings was both gentle and constricting. Confirming that I was completely immobilized and unable to move independently, my teacher straightened up and stood by the side of the bed, a spark of playful amusement in her eyes. She turned to tidy the remaining stockings, putting all used items back neatly, and then performed an unexpected action. She remained standing, her feet together and legs straight, and deliberately picked up the last spare pair of nude stockings, proceeding to bind her own feet. She skillfully wrapped the stockings around her ankles and the tops of her feet, layering them in a crisscross pattern, gradually tightening them and tying a firm, secure knot. The entire process was fluid and practiced, firmly securing her feet together. After completing her self-binding, she leaned forward slightly, slowly lifting her legs, and steadily placed her neatly bound feet on either side of my face. Her closed feet fit perfectly along the contours of my face. The skin wrapped in stockings felt delicate and translucent, emitting a clean, fresh scent that slowly permeated my nostrils, immersing all my senses. Once stabilized, her feet began to rub back and forth across the surface of my face. Her foot position adjusted constantly, the angle changing slowly, the contact points on my face shifting. From the sides of my cheeks to my jawline, the gentle touch of the stockings continuously changed. The delicate texture of the layered stockings repeatedly touched my skin, and the inherent fresh scent lingered around my lips, teeth, nose, and mouth, echoing the sensation of the stockings inside my mouth. With my entire body securely locked by multiple layers of stockings, I had completely lost all space for independent movement. My limbs were fixed and shaped by the tight stockings, my torso unable to make significant shifts or rotations. I could only maintain a curled, fixed posture on the bed. My teacher's bound legs rested steadily on either side of my face, their thin stockings providing a delicate, warm surface texture that slowly brushed against my cheeks and jawline. Each slide carried a gentle touch, progressively intensifying and occupying all my sensory experience. I was genuinely immersed in this unique tactile sensation. The smooth texture of the fabric repeatedly caressed my skin, the soft contact continuous, drawing my entire being into the present atmosphere. I deliberately feigned struggling, exerting slight force in my shoulders, twisting my torso slightly from side to side, and gently moving my neck, mimicking a desire to evade the touch. However, the layered stocking binding structure was extremely stable, firmly securing every part of my body. All movements were restricted by the binding force to a very small range. No matter how I twisted my body, moved my shoulders, or shifted my neck, I could not break free from the surrounding restraints, nor could I avoid the touch of my teacher's feet. Each seemingly forceful struggle failed to change the situation, only making the stockings on my body tighter, further locking the space for limb movement, leaving me completely trapped in place, passively receiving all the continuous touches.

I was utterly consumed by fear, a churning mix of grievance and despair. Scalding tears instantly welled in my eyes, streaming down my cheeks and splattering onto my clothes. A broken sob tore from my throat, a sharp cry echoing in the confined space: "No, no..." I begged repeatedly, cried out again and again, attempting to soften them with my vulnerability, to make them abandon their punitive intent. My childish voice, thick with sobs, was full of helplessness and pleading, but the expressions of the two before me remained as hard as iron, unyielding, unmoved. They completely ignored my every emotional outburst, their actions steady and forceful, without the slightest pause. I continued to struggle, to cry out, but all my efforts ultimately proved futile. My body was steadily pushed forward, my legs forced into the confines of the metal cage, and then I was pushed in entirely. Cold, hard metal bars surrounded me, a bone-chilling cold seeping through my clothes and into my skin. A suffocating sense of confinement instantly enveloped me. I had initially thought their punishment was merely to lock me in the cage, to restrict my limbs and force me to reflect on my mistakes in a small space, to endure the punishment of solitude. I believed that once the brief confinement was over, I would regain my freedom, but I never imagined this was merely the beginning of the entire punitive process. Qianhua and Xiaomei stood outside the cage, bending to operate a device on the cage's top. This thick, solid wooden board was a core component of the cage, its surface sturdy and heavy. In the center, two symmetrical semicircular grooves were carved, which, when joined, formed a complete circular opening specifically designed to secure the neck. The two held each end of the wooden board, exerting coordinated force, and slid it apart along the pre-set seam. The hard wooden board smoothly separated in the middle, revealing the open slots at the top of the cage. They raised their hands and pressed on my shoulders, forcing my body up slightly, precisely controlling the angle to ensure my neck fit snugly into the semicircular grooves between the two wooden pieces. After precise alignment, they simultaneously applied force, closing the separated wooden boards towards the center. The moment the boards met, a crisp clicking sound was heard. Mechanical clicks followed one after another, the heavy wooden boards closing and locking completely, fitting together seamlessly, without any looseness. The sudden restraint rendered my head and neck completely immobile. My neck was firmly trapped in the fixed opening, all angles – front, back, left, and right – locked. My head was held in an upright, fixed position, unable to turn, shift, lower, or raise. The hard wooden boards pressed against the sides of my neck, a heavy pressure penetrating my head and neck, completely fixing the posture of my upper body. The extreme confinement intensified my panic. My cries grew more desperate, tears blurring my vision. Intermittent pleas escaped my lips. But the two outside the cage remained cold-faced, completely ignoring my breakdown, and proceeded to the next stage of restraint. On the lower sides of the wooden board, symmetrical small circular holes were pre-drilled, just large enough for an arm to pass through. They raised their hands, each grasping one of my wrists, and threaded my arms one by one through the side holes, leaving my hands suspended outside the wooden board, completely exposed. Once my arms were properly positioned, Xiaomei immediately retrieved the prepared leather handcuffs. These handcuffs were made from a single piece of thickened leather, combining flexibility and tightness with a precise metal buckle. The leather cuffs tightly encircled my wrists, the buckles biting and locking. Multiple leather straps crisscrossed and tightened, completely immobilizing my wrists. My hands were firmly secured to the outside of the wooden board, unable to be raised, moved, or brought together. My arms were completely suspended and fixed, unable to move at all. Upon completion of the entire restraint process, I stood perfectly straight inside the metal cage. My body was enclosed and confined by the cage walls, my head and neck locked and fixed by the wooden board, and my hands securely bound by leather handcuffs. My entire posture was completely controlled, leaving only my lower limbs with slight mobility, but even that was restricted by the narrow space within the cage, preventing any effective escape. I was forced to maintain a straight standing posture, passively accepting all subsequent discipline, the despair in my heart piling up, almost completely collapsing. Just as I was breaking down in tears, unable to struggle, Xiaomei leaned close to the cage and precisely pinched my nostrils. The pressure of her fingers was perfectly controlled, completely blocking the airflow through my nose. With my nostrils sealed, unable to breathe through my nose, my body's physiological instincts kicked in. I subconsciously parted my tightly pressed lips, opening my mouth to breathe, trying to maintain normal oxygen supply. Taking advantage of my open mouth, Xiaomei moved swiftly and precisely inserted a smooth, round, ball-shaped object into my mouth. The ball was sized to fit my mouth, perfectly filling the space and instantly forcing my upper and lower jaws apart, holding my mouth in a fixed, wide-open position, unable to close on its own. Once the ball was in place, multiple black leather straps immediately began the fixing process. The first strap went horizontally across the corners of my mouth, firmly securing the ball and preventing it from dislodging. Then, two straps extended upwards from the sides of my nose, forming a cross structure above the bridge of my nose, fitting snugly against the contours of my face, and extending back to be secured behind my head. Finally, a strap passed under my chin, connecting to the strap around my mouth, forming a closed-loop fastening system. The multiple straps were tightened and locked layer by layer, each strap maintained a taut state, with no slack. The entire apparatus firmly bound my mouth, jaw, face, and neck. My mouth was continuously held open by the ball, my jaw unable to move up or down, my lips unable to close, my facial muscles completely immobilized, and all the physiological structures for vocalization locked. The moment the entire apparatus was installed, I completely lost the ability to speak. I later learned that this standardized device was called a horse gag, a specialized restraint designed to prevent speech and fix the oral posture. The closed-loop structure of multiple straps completely eliminated any possibility of escape or vocalization. Qianhua slowly walked to the front of the cage, bending slightly, looking down at my tear-streaked, disheveled, and helpless appearance. Her eyes were filled with cold cunning, her sharp gaze sweeping over my completely restrained body. The corners of her lips curled into a mocking arc, and her cold words, laced with playful malice, slowly fell: "Hmph, you were quite loud before, weren't you? Keep screaming!" The grievance in my heart erupted. Defiance and panic intertwined. I instinctively wanted to shout, to vent my emotions, to continue crying and begging. But no matter how I moved my throat, how I squeezed my vocal cords, my mouth was held wide open by the ball, and the facial straps tightly locked all movement. My throat could only produce muffled, monotonous whimpers. The muffled whimpers were trapped within my mouth, unable to convey any clear intonation. All my cries, all my pleas, all my resistance were blocked by the cold apparatus, with no outlet for release. I was completely confined within the small metal cage, my head, neck, hands, and mouth all controlled. My body and mind were both plunged into extreme restraint, leaving me to stand helplessly. My mouth, firmly secured by the horse gag, was completely immobilized. The whimpers building in the depths of my throat were all trapped inside, unable to escape. Warm tears continued to stream from my eyes, tracing the lines of my jaw and dripping onto my neck, my clothes, and the metal bars of the cage. An extreme sense of helplessness washed over me. I stared at Aunt Qian with reddened eyes, my gaze fixed on her. My eyes churned with pleas and supplication, hoping she would show a shred of mercy, end this cruel punishment, and spare me, who was trapped and suffering. Qianhua stood outside the cage, looking down at my pathetic state. All my vulnerability, all my breakdown, all my helplessness fell into her eyes, but none of it softened her expression. The coldness in her eyes remained undiminished, the playful sharpness of moments ago gone, replaced by a calm, indifferent scrutiny. She slowly stepped back, her feet landing steadily, her posture upright and proper, creating distance from the cage to fully encompass my currently fully restrained form. Then, she began a slow appraisal, her gaze moving from top to bottom, from my tense, flushed cheeks, my locked head and neck, my suspended and fixed arms, down my straight, stiff torso, to my forcedly bearing legs, repeatedly scanning my body, which was bound by the apparatus in every way. After confirming that all the devices were securely locked and without any oversight, the corners of her lips curved upwards slightly, revealing a faint arc. She slowly nodded at the scene before her. Her expression was one of satisfaction, as if my current state of confinement and helplessness was exactly what she had planned and deliberately intended to achieve. The brief appraisal concluded. Qianhua stepped forward again, slowly approaching the metal cage, and crouched down at the side of the cage. She reached out to the control mechanism at the bottom of the cage, touched the cold metal knobs, and turned the mechanisms repeatedly. The mechanical sounds of clicking and whirring echoed through the confined, empty room, crisp and piercing. The sounds of gears meshing and slides moving alternated, the fine mechanical operations assaulting the ears, making my already fearful mind even more tense. As the mechanism continued to operate, the base plate supporting my body inside the cage began to descend at a uniform speed. The height of the base plate slowly lowered, and the supporting surface that had perfectly conformed to my body and distributed the pressure began to move downwards. My body descended in sync with the platform's movement. The restraint devices on my shoulders, neck, and wrists instantly tightened. The points of pressure, which had been evenly distributed, suddenly shifted. A heavy pulling sensation exploded from my shoulders and neck, running through my entire spine. The weight of my entire body was completely removed from the support of the base plate, accumulating entirely on my head and neck, fixed by the wooden board, and my hands, locked by the leather handcuffs. The two points of pressure instantly bore the full weight of my body, the violent pulling force continuously crushing my flesh. The heavy pressure intensified. To counteract the severe pulling on my head, neck, and hands, and to prevent my upper body from being continuously dragged, causing more intense pain, I had to actively tense my leg muscles, fully extending my toes, and pressing the balls of my feet firmly against the descending base plate, using the strength of my lower limbs to support my body weight. The extreme tiptoe posture was incredibly energy-consuming. My leg muscles instantly entered a state of high-intensity exertion, the taut fascia continuously stretching, and a feeling of soreness quickly rose from my calves. I struggled to maintain balance, my abdominal muscles tightening simultaneously, forcing my torso upright to alleviate the localized pressure and reduce the heavy compression on my head, neck, and wrists. But the cage structure was already completely fixed. My head and neck could not shift an inch, and my hands were suspended and locked. All self-rescue attempts could only slightly alleviate the pain, unable to completely dissipate the continuous pressure. In just a few minutes of stalemate, the soreness in my legs deepened, my muscles frequently signaling exhaustion, and a feeling of stiffness pervaded every inch of my lower limbs. The tension in my abdomen continued to overload, my abdominal muscles constantly exerting force. Stiffness and fatigue accumulated, and the soreness spread from my lower back, through my entire spine, and into my torso. The horse gag remained firmly fixed inside my mouth. The spherical core continuously held my upper and lower jaws apart, and the multiple straps tightly locked my face and jaw, preventing any closing action within my mouth. My body continued to exert force, and my emotions remained tense for a long time. My salivary glands secreted at an accelerated rate, and a continuous stream of saliva accumulated inside my mouth. Unable to swallow or expel, the liquid built up, slowly overflowing my teeth, and gradually spilling out from the corners of my mouth, trickling down my jawline, and spreading large damp patches on my clothes. The clear liquid dripped down incessantly, with no way to stop it. Extreme dishevelment enveloped my entire being. I was trapped in the small, cold metal cage, my posture completely fixed, pain and fatigue intertwined. Tears continued to stream from my eyes, mingling with the liquid dripping from my mouth, dragging my entire state into extreme dishevelment and torment. Qianhua squatted by the cage, quietly observing my forced support and disheveled state, completely unmoved. Only when the base plate had fully descended to its lowest position, and I was completely trapped in a posture of extreme strain, did she slowly stand up, her posture upright and straight. Her cold gaze swept over my helpless and disheveled appearance one last time, and her icy voice suddenly rang out in the secret room: "Reflect properly!" The brief words fell without a trace of warmth, completely sealing my fate for what was to come. She lingered no longer, turning and walking towards the exit of the secret room. The sound of her high heels on the floor was rhythmic and cold, step by step, moving away from the cage. Xiaomei followed closely, her posture rigid, remaining silent throughout, without looking back. Their figures gradually approached the dark corridor.