My neighbor is a sex slave.

At a little past nine in the morning, the "ding" of the elevator arriving echoed in the hallway, followed by the sounds of a key being inserted into a lock and a door opening and closing. Lin Feng, who had been reading on the living room sofa, put down his book at the sound and walked to the door, peering out through the peephole. It was Su Qing. She was dressed differently today, but her style remained as meticulous as ever. A cream-colored linen suit, a light blue silk blouse underneath, and a silk scarf at the collar – this time a goose yellow. Her hair was still pulled back into a bun, and she wore light brown suede pointed-toe high heels. In her hand, she carried a beige tote bag, looking as if she were heading out. Lin Feng noticed that despite it being Sunday, and despite the outdoor temperature forecast of thirty-four degrees Celsius, she was still dressed completely covered. The cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse were buttoned, the buttons on her suit jacket fastened, and beneath her knee-length suit skirt, he could see – squinting to get a better look – skin-toned stockings that encased her long, straight calves. Yet, the color wasn't quite like ordinary stockings; it seemed as if there was something else underneath. Su Qing paused at the door for a few seconds, seemingly checking the contents of her bag. Then she turned and walked towards the elevator. Her heels made muffled "thump, thump" sounds on the hallway carpet, a steady rhythm. Lin Feng waited until the elevator had descended before gently opening his own apartment door. The hallway was empty, with a faint lingering scent in the air – the same perfume as yesterday, a citrus top note blended with floral notes. He walked to the door of 1202 and squatted down, looking again at the gap at the bottom of the door. The gap was narrow, almost no light visible. But a very faint, unidentifiable odor drifted out – not perfume, not laundry detergent, but more like... rubber? Or some kind of chemical product, very subtle, mixed with the scent of lavender, almost imperceptibly. Lin Feng frowned and stood up. In the following days, Lin Feng began to intentionally adjust his schedule. His new company was not far from Jingmi Yayuan, with a commute of twenty minutes. He deliberately controlled his departure time to be around 8:10 AM, as it was during this time that he had encountered Su Qing preparing to leave in the elevator on three occasions. The first time was on Monday morning. When the elevator door slid open, Su Qing was already inside. Seeing Lin Feng, she gave a slight nod, a standard smile curving her lips. "Morning." "Morning, Ms. Su." Lin Feng stepped into the elevator, standing on the other side. The elevator descended. In the confined space, the distance between them was less than a meter. Lin Feng could clearly smell her perfume and see the outline of her profile – her skin was very fair, almost poreless, with a clear, elegant jawline. Her posture was very straight, shoulders relaxed, but her spine was held perfectly vertical, a habit formed from long-term physical training. Then, as the elevator descended to the eighth floor, Su Qing's body stiffened for a moment. It was very brief, almost imperceptible. But the fingers of her hand, which had been resting naturally at her side holding a folder, tightened. Her breathing hitched for half a beat, though her facial expression remained unchanged, her gaze calmly fixed on the moving floor numbers above the elevator door. The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors slid open. Su Qing was the first to step out, her gait still steady, but Lin Feng noticed that her ankles seemed a little weak as she exited the elevator, and the heel of her high shoe tapped the floor tiles with a slightly heavier "clack." But she quickly regained her composure and walked towards the garage entrance without looking back. The second time was on Wednesday morning. This time, they met at the elevator entrance in the underground parking garage. Su Qing was coming up from the basement level, and as the elevator door opened, she was slightly lowering her head, her fingers pressing against her temples. Seeing Lin Feng, she quickly lowered her hand and smiled. "Morning." "Morning." Lin Feng stepped into the elevator, noticing a slight flush on her cheeks. It wasn't the rosy glow of exercise, but a faint crimson that seemed to emanate from beneath her skin, concentrated around her cheekbones and the roots of her ears. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her forehead under the cold white lights of the garage. The elevator ascended. Lin Feng stood diagonally behind her, his gaze falling on the back of her neck. Today, she wore a dark green silk scarf, its edge neatly tucked against the base of her bun. Between the scarf and her bun, on that small patch of exposed skin, the faint red mark he had seen yesterday seemed to still be there, a shade darker than before, like a thin imprint left by something soft yet resilient that had been tightly bound for a long time. On the carpet in front of the sofa, a figure knelt. It was Su Qing. But she was completely different from the elegant, dignified Su Qing in her strict professional attire that he usually saw. She was entirely encased in a tight, black, glossy latex bodysuit. The material, even in the dim light, still reflected sharp highlights, as if coated in oil, or perhaps some special kind of leather. The suit covered her from neck to toe, accentuating every curve of her body to the fullest – her full breasts were tightly bound, with two distinct points pushing against the fabric; her waist was cinched so thin it looked like it could be held in one hand; her hips were round and perky, appearing even fuller in her kneeling posture. Her hands were bound behind her back, and several loops of dark rope were visible around her wrists, extending upwards to secure her arms firmly. Her elbows were forced together, causing her shoulder blades to protrude backward, which in turn pushed her chest forward. She wore a black leather blindfold, completely covering her eyes. A dark red, spherical gag was stuffed into her mouth, its ends connected by black straps that were tightly fastened at the back of her head. Saliva seeped from the holes of the gag, dripping down her chin and leaving several glistening wet streaks on the latex of her chest. She knelt on the carpet, leaning slightly forward, her head bowed. The tops of her feet were stretched straight, her toes pointed, her arches forming a taut curve. And before her stood a man. Lin Feng could only see the man's lower body – dark gray trousers with a perfectly pressed crease, and a pair of brown handmade leather shoes on his feet, the uppers polished to a brilliant shine. The man seemed to be holding something in his hand, but Lin Feng couldn't see clearly from his angle. He only saw the man's wrist move, and then Su Qing's body trembled violently. It wasn't the slight tremor from the elevator earlier, but a violent, uncontrollable spasm. Her entire upper body arched backward, her neck stretching into a vulnerable line, and a series of muffled whimpers escaped her throat, blocked by the gag. The sound was suppressed and pained, yet laced with an indescribable tremor. The curves of her body under the latex undulated with the trembling, highlights sliding across the black surface. Her chest heaved violently, the peaks clearly visible beneath the fabric. Her kneeling legs could not be kept together, and the latex on the inner thighs emitted a faint "hissing" sound from friction. The man seemed to say something. His voice was low, and Lin Feng couldn't make out the words, only a deep, commanding male voice. Su Qing trembled and nodded. Her movements were difficult, as her hands were bound and her body was in a state of extreme tension. But she still tried, little by little, to lower her body further, her forehead almost touching the man's gleaming shoe tip. The man lifted his foot and used the tip of his shoe to lift her chin. Su Qing was forced to raise her head. The gag prevented her from closing her mouth, and saliva flowed even faster. The blindfold covered her eyes, but Lin Feng could see the muscles in her cheeks twitching, her skin flushed with an abnormal redness that spread from the roots of her ears to her neck, even extending to the collarbone area enclosed by the latex neckline. The man leaned down and reached out. His hand was covered in black leather gloves, his fingers long and slender. The fingertips of the gloves gently traced Su Qing's cheek, wiping away a falling tear, then slid down her jawline to her neck, finally stopping at the edge of the latex neckline. His fingers lingered there for a moment, then abruptly pulled downwards— The neckline of the latex suit was pulled open slightly, revealing a small patch of fair skin beneath. Lin Feng saw that it was covered in dense red marks, some pale pink, others already deep red, as if repeatedly sucked and bitten. And between those red marks, several deeper, dark purple bruises were visible, as if something slender had been used to constrict them. Su Qing's body trembled again. This time, it wasn't from external stimulation, but an internal, uncontrollable spasm. A louder whimper escaped her throat, turning into a muffled "woo woo" sound as it was blocked by the gag. The man seemed to let out a low chuckle. He withdrew his hand, straightened up, and pulled a small, pink remote control from his trouser pocket. Lin Feng recognized the remote. He had seen similar ones online – a remote for a wireless vibrator. The man pressed a button on the remote with his thumb. He closed There were so many nuances to this. Latex suits came in different thicknesses and sheens. Gags had holes and didn't. Vibrators could be remote-controlled, with adjustable frequencies and patterns. There were so many different ways to bind someone—Kagomura-dori, Go-hō-dori, Shijūma-dori, M-shaped spread-eagle... He remembered Su Qing's hands tied behind her back. The rope around her wrists, her elbows forced together. Was that a rear bind, or a Go-hō-dori? He clicked on a page detailing binding techniques, reading the descriptions carefully, comparing them to the image in his memory. Rear bind. Hands tied behind the back, the rope cinching the elbows together. Due to the muscle pull, the head was forced up, chest pushed out, accentuating the breasts. Yes, that was it. Lin Feng leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He began to construct a more detailed picture in his mind. Not a memory, but a design. If he were to bind her, what color rope would he use? Black, or deep red? Would he add a few extra wraps around her wrists, letting the rope dig deeper into her skin? Would he have her put on stockings before the binding? Nude, ultra-thin stockings, encasing her calves, and then the latex suit? Or was the latex suit enough on its own? And the gag. A dark red, spherical gag with black straps at either end. But what if he used something else? A dildo-shaped gag, for instance, that could be inserted deeper into her mouth, pressing against her palate, reaching the very front of her throat. Then, even her whimpers would be more muffled, swallowing more difficult, and saliva would flow more freely. A wireless vibrator, the remote control tucked into the top of her stocking. Su Qing usually wore stockings, the tops tight against her upper thighs. If the remote were tucked in there, half of it would be visible. Walking down the street, people would see a small, pink remote control peeking out from her stocking. Those who knew what it was would understand she had a vibrator inside her. Those who didn't would just find it strange. Lin Feng opened his eyes and looked out the study window. The night was deep, the neighborhood silent. The window of 1202 was still dark, but in his eyes, that window was no longer just a stranger's apartment. It was a territory waiting to be explored, conquered, and redefined. He needed more information. Su Qing's detailed schedule, the regularity of that man's visits, their exact relationship, Su Qing's weaknesses, any leverage he could use. The mistaken delivery was a coincidence, but it had given him a legitimate reason to make contact. What excuse could he use next time? Borrowing something? Inquiring about property matters? Or engineering a more "accidental" encounter? Lin Feng closed the computer, the screen going dark, plunging the study into blackness. He sat in the darkness for a long time, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk, a steady, rhythmic sound. A vague plan was already taking shape in his mind. Observe, gather information, find an opportunity, test the waters, and then... And then replace that man. The thought surfaced, clear and resolute, carrying a burning heat and an undeniable certainty. He stood up, walked to the living room, and looked again at the window of 1202. The curtains were still drawn, but Lin Feng felt as if he could see through the heavy fabric to the kneeling figure inside, to the curves of her body encased in latex, to her gagged face, to her hands tied behind her back. "Wait," he murmured, his voice barely audible in the silent living room. Outside, the night was at its deepest. Jingmi Yayuan slept, and behind every window lay secrets unknown. And in Lin Feng's heart, a darker, hotter secret was quietly taking root and blossoming. He glanced at the first bin, filled with construction debris—shards of tile, chunks of cement, packing foam—then turned to the second. This one held a more varied assortment. There were several worn cardboard boxes, some withered potted plants, a few faded old clothes, and a number of large, thick black garbage bags. But what drew Lin Feng’s attention were the scattered, fragmented items lying atop the refuse. He crouched down, moving closer. The first thing he noticed was a small piece of black, reflective material. About the size of his palm, with an irregular edge, as if torn from something larger. The material was unusual, gleaming with an oily sheen under the cold white light. It felt cool and smooth to the touch, with a slight elasticity. Latex. The same material as the full-body latex suit he’d glimpsed through the door crack, the one Su Qing had been wearing. The fragment was stained with some white, dried-up smudges, and bore a few shallow scratches. Lin Feng picked up the shard with two fingers, bringing it closer to his eyes for a detailed look. The fragment was thin but surprisingly resilient, deforming slightly when stretched and snapping back to its original shape when released. The edges showed rough tear marks, not the clean cut of scissors, but the ragged result of being forcefully ripped. He placed the fragment back and continued his search through the pile. Next, he found a crumpled ball of semi-transparent plastic film. Unfolding it slightly, he could see it was a used condom. Inside, a residue of milky white, solidified fluid remained. The opening was tied in a knot, tossed aside carelessly. Scattered next to the condom were several severed lengths of rope. The rope was a deep red, about five to six millimeters in diameter, made of what looked like nylon or a cotton-linen blend. The broken ends were frayed, suggesting they had been pulled with force or cut with scissors. One section of the rope still had a simple, but tightly tied, knot. Some parts of the rope were darker, as if from being soaked in liquid and then dried. Lin Feng picked up the section with the knot, rubbing it between his fingertips. The rope’s surface was somewhat rough, the fine fibers palpable. Bringing it closer to his nose, he detected a faint scent, a mixture of sweat and another, indefinable, slightly gamey odor. He put the rope back and kept looking. Beneath some of the old clothes, he found a black whip, about forty centimeters long. The body of the whip was braided leather, the handle wrapped in black rubber, showing signs of wear. The tip split into several thin strands, one of which had frayed at the end, revealing the fibers within. The entire whip looked like it had seen considerable use; the leather surface had lost its sheen, and some areas were unevenly discolored. Lying next to the whip was a pink, egg-shaped little object. A vibrator. A wireless one. The casing was plastic, with several scratches on the surface. The area around the switch was smudged with some sort of residue. Lin Feng recognized the model; he’d seen similar images online when he was searching—it boasted multiple vibration modes and a remote control range of up to ten meters. A little further past the vibrator was a larger, cylindrical object. A dildo. Pink silicone material, with a head shaped like a glans, its surface covered in raised bumps. The shaft was about twenty centimeters long and three to four centimeters in diameter. A power cord extended from the base, its end frayed, exposing the copper wires within. The silicone surface had several fine cracks, indicative of overuse. Lin Feng stared at these items for a long time. Latex fragment, used condom, severed rope, old whip, vibrator, dildo. Each item pointed in the same direction. Each bore the marks of use, of bodily fluids, sweat, wear and tear, then discarded carelessly here, mixed with construction debris, withered plants, and old clothes. This wasn’t the first time. Judging by their condition, these items had likely been dumped here a day or two ago. But what about before that? And further back? Lin Feng straightened up and surveyed the garbage room. The cold white light illuminated the concrete floor, casting his long shadow. The smell of disinfectant in the air was still pungent, but now, mixed with the faint, cloying scent emanating from the discarded items, it made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He thought of Su Qing, her body encased in latex, the gag in her mouth, the way she trembled and whimpered on the floor. Su Qing seemed to regain a sliver of consciousness. She opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused as she stared at her reflection on the elevator door. Then, she noticed Lin Feng's presence. Her body stiffened abruptly. Though her expression was hidden by the mask, Lin Feng could clearly see the change in her eyes—her pupils constricted sharply, her gaze shifting instantaneously from weary unfocus to sheer terror and panic. Her spine straightened slightly as she attempted to push away from the elevator wall, but her legs felt weak, causing her to stumble. She had to reach out and steady herself against the wall. She looked at Lin Feng, her eyes filled with bewildered shame and a desperate plea. She seemed to want to say something, but only a few muffled sounds, choked by the fabric of the mask, escaped her throat: "Mmm... mmm..." The elevator reached the eighth floor. Lin Feng turned to face her. His movements were slow, natural, like an ordinary neighbor striking up a casual conversation in an elevator. A carefully calibrated expression of concern graced his face, and his voice was gentle, yet it carried with unusual clarity in the silent car. "Lawyer Su, working this late?" he paused, his gaze falling on her utterly exhausted face. "Need any help?" The address, "Lawyer Su," in the late-night elevator, under these circumstances, felt both formal and jarring. Su Qing reacted as if pricked by a needle. She abruptly straightened her body completely, pulling away from the wall. The movement was too sudden; her knees buckled visibly, and she swayed forward, nearly falling. She clutched the handle of her briefcase so tightly her knuckles turned white from the force. Her eyes were wide open, reflecting the cold, white light of the elevator's ceiling lamp, and Lin Feng's calm face. She shook her head frantically, her throat emitting more urgent, muffled sobs, yet still unable to form any clear words. Her eyes pleaded, panicked, screaming, "Don't ask," "Don't look," "Please." The elevator reached the twelfth floor. With a soft "ding," the doors slid open. Su Qing acted as if granted a reprieve, practically squeezing out sideways as the doors opened halfway. Her steps were unsteady and frantic, her high heels making chaotic "thump-thump" sounds on the carpet. She didn't look back, didn't spare Lin Feng another glance, and rushed directly towards 1202. Lin Feng stepped out of the elevator and stood in the hallway, watching her. Su Qing reached her door, her hands trembling so violently that it took three attempts to align the key with the lock. She turned the lock, slipped inside, and then slammed the door shut behind her. "Bang!" The sound of the deadbolt engaging echoed in the silent hallway, carrying the lingering resonance of a panicked escape. Lin Feng didn't go home immediately. He stood in the hallway for about a minute, listening to the faint sounds emanating from behind the door of 1202—a muffled thud, as if someone had collapsed onto the floor, followed by suppressed, intermittent sobs. He walked to the door of 1201, took out his key, but didn't open it. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened the surveillance app. The hallway appeared on the screen in night vision mode. In the pale green hue, the door to 1202 was tightly shut, with no light seeping from beneath it. However, the footage of Su Qing rushing into her apartment should have been recorded by the motion detection. "Perhaps you need a little darkness to relax." Her breath hitched. Her fingers, gripping the edge of the card, turned white at the knuckles. Her eyes were glued to the line of text, each word a needle piercing her consciousness. "Darkness," "relax" – the combination, in her current context, was terrifyingly explicit. She put down the card, her fingers trembling as she reached into the box and pulled out the first black velvet bag. She untied the drawstring and tipped its contents onto the sofa. A black eye mask. The silk-blend material gleamed softly under the living room lights, the velvet lining thick and plush. She picked it up; it was weightless in her hand, yet the pure blackness carried a heavy implication. The second bag. A pair of black leather handcuffs slid out. The moment her fingers brushed against them, she felt the indescribable softness of the lambskin lining, cool at first, then quickly warmed by her body heat. The magnetic clasps of the handcuffs glinted with a metallic chill. She picked up one cuff instinctively, a light touch, and with a soft *click*, the clasp engaged. As if burned, she let go, and the handcuff fell back onto the sofa. The third bag. She had almost guessed what was inside, but when she pulled the drawstring, a dark red, spherical silicone gag rolled onto the sofa, and a wave of intense dizziness washed over her. The gag stood out starkly against the off-white sofa upholstery. Its dark red color was like congealed blood, or some overripe, decaying fruit. The tiny air holes on its surface seemed like a multitude of small eyes, watching her silently. An eye mask. Handcuffs. A gag. And the card: "Perhaps you need a little darkness to relax." Su Qing sat on the sofa, her body rigid as a statue. Her blood seemed to drain from her limbs, flowing back to her heart, only to freeze into ice within it. Her cheeks were ashen, devoid of any color, her lips trembling slightly, wanting to speak but unable to utter a sound. A colossal fear, like an icy hand, clutched her heart, squeezing it so tightly she could barely breathe. Who was it? Lin Feng? The new neighbor who always looked at her with probing eyes? He smelled her scent in the elevator, saw the harness under her mask, asked those strange questions... was it him? Or was it Bai Sheng? Was this his new game? A new test? To observe her reaction to anonymous gifts, to see if she would be scared, if she would break down, if she would proactively confess to him? Or perhaps other prying eyes in the community? After the extreme fear came a deeper, bone-chilling cold. This person knew. Knew her secret, knew her situation, knew what she needed – or thought she needed. "Darkness to relax." The five words echoed in her mind. In countless moments of being blindfolded, hands bound, mouth gagged, when her senses were deprived, her body controlled, her consciousness floating on the edge of pain and pleasure, she had indeed... felt a twisted kind of "relaxation." A complete escape from the daily tension, from the perfect mask of her lawyer persona, from the pressure of always having to be clear-headed and in control. Even though that relaxation was accompanied by humiliation, pain, and utter powerlessness. Was this anonymous person mocking her? Or... understanding her? The moment the thought surfaced, Su Qing felt a wave of intense shame. She abruptly stood up from the sofa, grabbed the eye mask, handcuffs, and gag, wanting to rush into the kitchen and throw them all into the trash, even wanting to light the gas stove and burn them. But as she reached the kitchen doorway, her fingers already touching the cold lid of the trash can, her movement stopped. She looked down at the items in her hands. The black eye mask hung softly, the lambskin lining of the leather handcuffs pressed against her palm, the dark red gag heavy. These items were dangerous, marks of shame, bait that could drag her into a deeper abyss. But... As if possessed, she raised the gag to her eyes. The silicone surface was smooth, its dark red color appearing deep under the kitchen's overhead light. She remembered the gags that had been stuffed into her mouth, rubber, silicone, spiked, unspiked. She remembered saliva flowing uncontrollably, the muffled whimpers that could only escape her throat, the despair of having even her cries and pleas silenced. But she also remembered that in those absolute, unresisting circumstances, her mind would stop dwelling on the things that caused her pain – unfinished cases, office rivalries, demanding clients. Only the sensations of her body remained, painful, pleasurable, numb. She clenched the gag tightly in her fist, the cool touch sending a shiver through her. Behind her. His movements were unhurried, neither urgent nor rough, as if performing the most ordinary of tasks. He gripped Su Qing’s right wrist, pulling it back, then grasped her left wrist, bringing both hands together behind her back. Su Qing’s body stiffened, but she didn’t struggle, allowing the man to maneuver her. “Click.” Su Qing’s hands were cuffed behind her back, silver metal rings clamped tightly around her wrists. Her spine was forced straight, her chest pushed forward, the fabric of her trench coat taut across her back, outlining the shape of her shoulder blades. The man produced two more items from his suit’s inner pocket. A black gag with leather straps – a metal ring in the center, with straps connecting to either end. The other was a black blindfold. He walked in front of Su Qing, pinched her chin with his free hand, forcing her to lift her head. Su Qing’s eyes were closed, her eyelashes trembling violently. The man inserted the metal part of the gag into her mouth, forcing Su Qing’s lips open to encompass the metal ring. He brought the leather straps around the back of her head, adjusted the length, and fastened them. Su Qing’s mouth was propped open, unable to close, and saliva began to dribble from the corners of her lips almost immediately. Next came the blindfold. The man placed it over Su Qing’s eyes, the strap also secured at the back of her head. The black leather completely obscured the upper half of her face, revealing only the tip of her nose and her mouth, stretched open by the gag. Su Qing at this moment: hands cuffed behind her back with silver handcuffs, a black gag in her mouth, eyes covered by a black blindfold. She stood in the dim light of the garage. Her beige trench coat and dark gray trousers had initially attempted to maintain a semblance of dignity, but the restraints had utterly reduced her to an object stripped of sight, speech, and the ability to act. The man opened the rear door of the Mercedes. He supported Su Qing’s arm with one hand and shielded her head with the other, guiding her into the car. Unable to see, Su Qing stumbled slightly. The man applied a gentle pressure, almost carrying her as he pushed her into the back seat. The instant Su Qing lifted her leg to step into the car, the movement caused the hem of her trench coat and the cuffs of her trousers to ride up slightly. Lin Feng saw it. About five centimeters above Su Qing’s ankle, clad in black socks, between the fabric of her trousers and her socks, a section of black, shiny, reflective material was revealed, clinging tightly to her skin. It was latex. Even under the strict covering of her long trench coat and trousers, it was there, pressed against her skin. Now exposed by her movement, under the cold white light of the garage, that strip of black gleamed with a greasy, alluring sheen, a stark contrast to the gentle texture of her beige trench coat. The man fully settled Su Qing into the back seat and closed the door. He then turned, approaching the other side of the car. Just as he reached for the door handle, ready to get in, his movement froze. His head turned towards Lin Feng’s hiding spot. It wasn’t a casual scan, but a precise, direct gaze. His eyes, still sharp in the dim light, were like two cold drills, piercing through the gap between the vehicles, fixing on Lin Feng. Lin Feng’s heart stopped beating at that moment. His blood seemed to rush back to his heart, only to freeze into ice within it. Every muscle in his body tensed, his fingers digging into the cold metal of the Range Rover. The man’s gaze lingered on him for about three seconds. "I want to cash in that favor now," Lin Feng continued, his tone devoid of any threat, as if stating a fact. "I want to see that outfit." Su Qing's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto him. Her pupils contracted in the dim light, a flicker of stark panic and confusion flashing within them. "Th-the outfit?" Her voice tightened. "Yes," Lin Feng nodded, his gaze falling on the modest loungewear she was wearing. "The one you had on underneath last night in the garage. The black one, the reflective one, the one that clung to you so tightly." With each adjective he spoke, Su Qing's face grew paler. By the time he uttered "clung to you so tightly," her lips had begun to tremble uncontrollably. "I... I don't know what you're talking about..." she attempted to deny, but her voice was too weak to be convincing. Lin Feng didn't get angry, nor did he press. He simply reached into his pocket, unlocked his phone, opened his photo album, found the picture he'd sent her yesterday, and turned the screen towards her. The photo remained clear even in the dim light. Su Qing's hands, bound behind her back with handcuffs, her mouth gagged, and the stark black reflection at her ankles. Su Qing's eyes were glued to the screen, her breathing suddenly becoming ragged. Her body began to shake violently, like a leaf on the verge of withering in a cold wind. She raised a hand to cover her mouth, as if trying to suppress the sob that threatened to escape her throat. "Ms. Su," Lin Feng retrieved his phone, his voice still steady. "We both know what that was. I don't want to discuss how it came to be, or why you were wearing it. I just want to see it. Up close, and in detail." He paused, then added, "This is my first, and currently only, request as the 'creditor.' After I've seen it, and taken a few photos as a memento, I'll leave. That photo from the garage... I might consider deleting it." That last sentence was like a key, unlocking Su Qing's final psychological defense. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to be drained of all strength. She lowered her head, her long hair falling to obscure her face. Silence spread through the living room. Only the sound of their suppressed breaths and the faint hum of the air conditioner in the distance could be heard. About a minute passed, or perhaps longer. Su Qing slowly raised her head. Her face was devoid of color, her eyes hollow, as if all life had drained from them. She looked at Lin Feng, her lips moving, her voice so low it was barely audible. "You... turn around." Lin Feng nodded and obligingly turned his back to her. His gaze fell on an abstract painting on the wall in front of him, but his ears were keenly attuned to every sound behind him. First, the rustling sound of fabric. Su Qing was removing her outer loungewear. The sound of a zipper being pulled down, the muffled thud of fabric being tossed onto the sofa. Then came the more subtle sounds, like buttons being undone. One, two, three... slow and arduous. Her breathing grew heavier, marked by a distinct tremor. He took a deep breath and pressed his thumb down. The grey "OFF" instantly turned into a green "ON". A spinning loading circle appeared in the center of the screen. After about two seconds, the circle disappeared, and the interface returned to normal, with the switch button firmly in the green "ON" state. Below the gear selector, the small text had changed to "Remaining: 2". Remaining uses: 2. One chance had been used. Lin Feng stared at the green "ON" button for a full ten seconds. Then he exited the app, switched to WeChat, and opened Su Qing's chat window. No new messages. He turned off the screen, put his phone back in his pocket, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. It had begun. Now, on the other side of the city, in a law firm's conference room, inside Su Qing's body, that small, silent device should have started working. The lowest setting of vibration, faint but continuous, like a tireless hummingbird, gently beating its wings inside her most sensitive spot. What would her reaction be? Surprise? Panic? Forced composure? Or... Lin Feng opened his eyes and looked at the grey sky outside the stairwell window. He needed to wait. Wait for her reaction, wait for her to contact him proactively, or... wait for her to send some "proof." Time ticked by, second by second. The stairwell was quiet, with only the faint hum of office noise from a distance. Lin Feng leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, his fingers unconsciously stroking the cool edge of his phone. Five minutes. Ten minutes. WeChat remained silent. Lin Feng felt a flicker of doubt. Was it not working? Or was her tolerance beyond imagination? Or... was she not in the conference room at all, but somewhere else? He couldn't help but take out his phone again and open RemoteCare. The green "ON" button was still lit. He hesitated for a moment, then didn't turn it off. He wanted the vibration to continue for a longer period. Fifteen minutes. Finally, his phone vibrated. Not a WeChat message, but a WeChat voice call request. From Su Qing. Lin Feng answered immediately, bringing the phone to his ear. He remained silent. The other end was also silent at first, only the rapid, suppressed breaths transmitted through the waves, carrying a distinct tremor and moisture. The background noise was very quiet, as if in a confined space. "Lin... Mr. Lin..." Su Qing's voice finally broke the silence, pitched incredibly low, almost squeezed from her throat, with a heavy nasal tone. "Turn it off... please... turn it off..." Her voice was trembling, each word seeming to be forced out with her last ounce of strength. "Where are you?" Lin Feng asked, his voice calm. "The restroom... the conference room restroom..." Su Qing's voice was intermittent, punctuated by gasps. "I'm in a meeting... a very important client meeting... I can't... I can't be like this... please turn it off... I'm begging you..." "How's the effect?" Lin Feng continued to ask, his tone devoid of emotion. There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, followed by Su Qing's near-breakdown sobs. "I... I can't take it anymore... it's moving... it keeps moving... my legs are weak... I almost... in the conference room... Turn it off... Mr. Lin... I'll agree to anything... just turn it off first..." Su Qing's whimpers grew more chaotic, interspersed with violent, suffocating gasps. The rustling sound of crawling stopped, replaced by the helpless friction of her body twisting on the ground. "Yo, already climaxing?" a strange, younger male voice cut in. "So easily played?" "First day, can't push too hard," Bai Sheng said. "That's enough. Take her down, clean her up. We have other projects tomorrow." Footsteps, dragging sounds. Su Qing's whimpers gradually faded into the distance. The recording cut off abruptly. Lin Feng sat motionless in his chair. Only the blank hiss of static remained in the headphones after the playback ended. His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving. The hand holding the mouse trembled slightly, his palm slick with cold sweat. Beads of sweat also formed on his forehead, trickling down his temples. Rage. He wanted to smash things, to roar, to rip the headphones off and stomp them into pieces. Those sounds—the zipper, the lubricant, the thrusting, the vibrations, and the men's mocking commentary—every syllable was like a red-hot knife, repeatedly slicing through his nerves. That was his Su Qing. She should be under his control, following his rhythm, step by step becoming his possession. Not like this, treated as a "toy" and a "bitch" by a group of strangers, forced into that specially made latex suit that only exposed her mouth, breasts, and crotch, fitted with a thirty-centimeter tail, forced to crawl, and driven to collapse by different remote controls. Bai Sheng. The name ground between his teeth, tasting of blood. But simultaneously, another sensation spread through his body. A familiar, burning tightness bloomed deep in his lower abdomen. Blood pooled downwards. The sounds from the recording—Su Qing's muffled whimpers, the wet sound of the tail being inserted, the hum of the vibrator, the rustle of latex against the floor—seemed alive, burrowing into his ears, into his mind, conjuring images so vivid they were blinding. He could almost see her: her entire body tightly encased in glossy black latex, limbs folded and restrained within leather cuffs, forced to lie on the ground like a dog. Her mouth exposed, forced open to gasp for air or to take something in. Her breasts bare through the opening in the latex suit, swaying with her movements or stimulation. The opening at her crotch exposed her most intimate parts, occupied by the tail and a rabbit vibrator. A remote control was attached to a leg ring on her right thigh, accessible to anyone who might walk by, pick it up, and adjust the frequency at will. Humiliation, vulnerability, complete dehumanization. And all of it conveyed through sound, stimulating his hearing, and consequently, all his senses and imagination. Rage and desire coiled together like two venomous snakes, tearing at each other, yet nourishing each other. He was enraged by her treatment, yet uncontrollably drawn to this extreme, dark scene of control. He wanted to snatch her back from that situation, but at the same time, a corner of his subconscious might also be imagining himself as the one in charge, making her wear that latex suit, that tail, making her crawl before him, controlled and used only by him. He could no longer hide in the shadows, satisfying his pathetic need for control through surveillance, recordings, fragmented information, and remote manipulation. Bai Sheng had drawn her into a deeper, more dangerous circle. That weekend cage was just the beginning. If he didn't act quickly, Su Qing could be utterly destroyed, or completely taken over by Bai Sheng and moved to a place Lin Feng could no longer reach. He had to take her back. Su Qing. She was suspended on a metal rack, her hands raised above her head, wrists secured to the crossbar with leather restraints. Her toes barely touched the ground, her entire weight hanging from her wrists. She wore a completely transparent latex bodysuit – truly transparent, revealing every inch of skin, every curve, every private part beneath. The latex gleamed wetly under the light. A black electronic collar was fastened around her neck, a red indicator light blinking on its front. A black dildo gag was stuffed into her mouth, the silicone replica of a penis reaching deep into her throat, forcing her lips apart. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth, mixing with tears, smearing across her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, her gaze unfocused, but upon seeing the camera, her pupils contracted sharply, and a choked, broken whimper escaped her throat. The camera slowly panned down, sweeping over her breasts encased in the transparent latex – nipples swollen and erect, areolas a deep crimson; over her flat abdomen; over her exposed groin at the juncture of her thighs – where the outline of a vibrator could be seen inserted; and finally, over her feet clad in sheer latex stockings – toes curled in tension, arches taut. "Your little bitch is in my hands," Bai Sheng's voice echoed again, the camera swiveling back to his face. "Come alone, and she dies if you call the police. I'll send you the address. You have half an hour." The video feed cut out. Seconds later, a text message arrived, containing an address: "Cloud Peak Pavilion, Basement Level 2, Private Elevator Code 7749." Lin Feng stared at the phone screen, his fingers tightening. Then he stood up, walked to the closet, and took out a pair of black sneakers he rarely wore. He crouched down and pressed lightly on the heel of the sole. A tiny metal chip popped out – a miniature tracker he had prepared earlier. He pressed it back in, ensuring it was secure. He then moved to his computer, quickly logging into an encrypted email account and composing a timed message. The recipient was his best friend from college, now working in cybersecurity out of town. The email was simple: "If I don't contact you to cancel within two hours, call the police immediately and provide the attached coordinates to them. This is a matter of life and death. Lin Feng." He attached an encrypted coordinate file (linked to the tracker) and set it to send in two hours. Sent. He shut down the computer, slipped on the sneakers, grabbed his car keys, and walked out the door. Cloud Peak Pavilion, Basement Level 2. The private elevator doors opened, and Lin Feng stepped out. It was a large basement, with a high ceiling. The walls were rough concrete, and the floor was covered in dark gray epoxy. The central area was illuminated by several industrial spotlights, while other parts were dimly lit. The air was thick with a smell of mildew mixed with faint traces of blood and the coppery scent of semen. Su Qing was still hanging from the rack, so weak she could barely stand, her entire weight supported by the wrist restraints. Her transparent latex bodysuit was soaked with sweat, clinging to her skin and reflecting the light. When she saw Lin Feng, her eyes widened, and a desperate, muffled "Mmmph" escaped her throat as she shook her head frantically. Bai Sheng sat on a leather sofa opposite the rack, a glass of red wine in his hand. Four men stood beside him, all wearing black tight-fitting t-shirts, their muscles well-defined, their expressions fierce. "Punctual," Bai Sheng said, taking a sip of wine. He set down the glass and clapped his hands. The four men moved to surround Lin Feng. Lin Feng didn't resist. He knew resistance was futile. Fists and feet rained down. His abdomen, chest, back, thighs. He curled into a ball, protecting his head. A clear, sickening crack echoed from his ribs, and searing pain exploded through him, making breathing difficult. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. "Don't hit the head," Bai Sheng's voice drifted over, relaxed. "Save it for him to watch." The beating lasted about three minutes. Lin Feng collapsed onto the floor, blood trickling from his lips, his chest heaving, each breath sending a sharp pain through his ribs. He managed to lift his head, looking towards Su Qing on the rack. Su Qing was crying, tears streaming down her face, her throat blocked by the gag, emitting desperate sobs. Her body swayed with her struggles, the skin on her wrists raw from the restraints. Su Qing looked at Bai Sheng again, a muffled sound coming from her throat, her eyes pleading. Bai Sheng raised an eyebrow and reached out, pulling the gag from her mouth. Saliva stretched into a long, silvery thread. Su Qing gasped for air, coughed a few times, then looked at Bai Sheng, her voice trembling but clear: "Master..." She forced out the two words, shame burning her cheeks crimson. "Please, please tie me tighter... let me serve your friend... to save his life..." Bai Sheng froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Good! Good!" he clapped his hands. "Now that's more like it! That's a real bitch!" He gestured for his men to take Su Qing down from the rack. Her wrists were unbound, and her body went limp, collapsing to the floor. But she immediately struggled, pushing herself up on all fours, crawling towards Bai Sheng's feet. The transparent latex suit rustled against the rough ground. She reached Bai Sheng's feet, lowered her head, and rubbed her cheek against his leather shoe. Bai Sheng waved his hand, and his men immediately brought over a set of items. It was a specially made latex dog suit. Black, heavy, like a one-piece bodysuit, but with extra, thickened sleeves on the limbs to fold and bind her arms and legs behind her back and to her sides. The suit had a zipper on the back and an opening at the hips for a tail. The headpiece was a hood that only revealed her eyes and mouth, with an opening at the mouth where a gag could be inserted. Su Qing cooperated as the men dressed her. Her arms were forcibly folded behind her back and secured in the sleeves. Her legs were also folded and tucked into the side sleeves. Finally, the hood was put on, and a metal gag was inserted into her mouth—a ring that propped her mouth open, forcing her to keep it agape for insertion. A black, furry vibrating tail was inserted into her rear, set to a low vibration. Now, Su Qing had completely transformed into a "human dog." Her limbs were folded and bound, forcing her to crawl on the ground. The black latex suit encased her entire body, with only her eyes, her mouth held open by the gag, and the tail at her rear exposed. She lay there, trembling slightly. Bai Sheng's men let out lewd laughter and surrounded her. Lin Feng lay on the ground, his ribs aching, but his heart ached more. He watched Su Qing willingly choose such extreme humiliation to save him. His fingers dug into the ground, his nails cracking and bleeding. Su Qing lay on the ground, the gag preventing her from speaking, only allowing muffled whimpers. But her eyes, through the eyeholes of the hood, were still observing. Her lawyer's instincts, even in the most degrading situation, were still at work. Suddenly, she noticed a loose screw on a metal ventilation grate in the corner of the basement, the cover slightly ajar. The subordinate guarding Lin Feng, though still standing beside him, was completely engrossed in watching her "performance," his vigilance lowered. A subordinate squatted behind her and began to work. The vibrating tail was turned up to a higher setting. Another hand fumbled over her body. Su Qing's body convulsed violently. Shame burned like fire. But she forced herself to concentrate. Just as the subordinate's actions intensified, and her own body arched from the stimulation— Lin Feng walked to the window, drawing all the curtains tightly, then he turned on the main light in the living room. Bright white light instantly filled the entire space. Su Qing squeezed her eyes shut against the light, but soon opened them slowly. Lin Feng squatted in front of her. Now, in the bright, clean living room of their home, the shame and filth of the latex suit seemed even more glaring. The black latex, dulled by sweat, saliva, and other bodily fluids, had lost its uniform sheen. Certain areas—the chest, inner thighs, and around the crotch opening—were darker, with an oily, soiled appearance. The latex surface was dotted with dried, white, splotchy stains. The air was thick with a complex scent, a mixture of semen, sweat, the faint sweetness of latex, and the musky tang of some lubricant. The thirty-centimeter black tail was still inserted in her rear, its base exposed. The outline of the vibrator in her cunt was also clearly visible. Lin Feng’s gaze slowly moved over these marks. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were cold, as if assessing a severely contaminated item that needed thorough disposal. He stood up and walked into the bedroom. Soon, he returned with a first-aid kit and a pair of sharp tailor’s shears. He squatted beside Su Qing again, placing the first-aid kit aside, and picked up the scissors. The cold tip of the scissors gently touched the back of her neck, along the seam where the latex suit met the leather harness. Su Qing’s body stiffened abruptly. Her eyes widened slightly, pupils constricting, as she looked at the scissors in Lin Feng’s hand. A faint, breathy “Ah…” escaped her throat. “Don’t move.” “Snip.” A subtle tearing sound. The neckline of the latex suit and the connection at the back of her neck loosened slightly. Lin Feng continued to cut along the seam, slowly and steadily. The sharp blades of the scissors made a continuous, soft “swish-swish” sound as they sliced through the taut latex and lining. His movements were careful, avoiding any contact with the skin beneath. From the back of the neck to the shoulder blades, then to the center of her back. The custom latex suit and the restraining leather harness were cut open piece by piece. As the slits widened, more of the encased skin was exposed—fair, but covered in sweat marks and the faint bruises left by previous lashings. When he reached her waist, the restraint on her back was essentially removed. Lin Feng put down the scissors, grabbed the edges of the cut latex with both hands, and tore them apart with force. “Riiiip—” The sound of latex tearing was duller, more resonant than the scissors. The garment separated completely from her back, sliding down to either side, revealing her entire back, waist, and tightly bound buttocks. Her upper body lost its support and slumped forward. Lin Feng caught her, letting her lie on her side on the carpet. Then he proceeded to deal with the front. The opening on her chest was already large, but the surrounding latex was still taut. He found the seam under her armpit and cut it open with the scissors. Then he cut along the sides of her waist, and the base of her thighs. The entire process took nearly ten minutes. Lin Feng worked as if dissecting, or peeling away a dirty outer shell that didn’t belong to her. Finally, the custom, shameful “latex bitch suit” was completely stripped from her body, reduced to a pile of torn, soiled black rubber scattered on the cream-colored carpet, like a shed, grotesque skin. Su Qing lay naked on her side on the carpet, only the collar still around her neck. Her body was stiff from the prolonged restraint and posture, her skin bearing deep, red marks, especially on her wrists, ankles, thighs, and abdomen. These marks intertwined with the old whip marks on her back, forming a tableau of suffering. Lin Feng looked at her. Now, the traces of “others” on her body were even more apparent. Her chest and breasts bore distinct, dried saliva marks and red abrasions, possibly from being bitten. Her inner thighs were sticky, a mixture of arousal fluid, sweat, and dried semen. The black tail was still inserted in her rear, its base trembling slightly with her shivers. He reached out, grasped the base of the tail, and slowly pulled it out. Su Qing’s body tensed instantly, and a suppressed, pained whimper escaped her throat. As the tail was withdrawn, it brought out some clear lubricant and intestinal fluid, making a sticky “plop” sound. Lin Feng tossed the tail next to the pile of torn latex, then reached a finger into her cunt and pulled out the vibrator. The vibrator’s surface was wet, coated in secretions. Lin Feng stood up, walked to her feet, and bent down to pick her up. Her body was softer now, almost entirely leaning on him. He carried her into the bathroom. "So tonight, we celebrate." Su Qing's body trembled slightly, a complex reaction mixing nervousness, anticipation, and shame. "Celebrate that we won," Lin Feng approached her, crouching down, his fingers gently lifting her chin. "And celebrate... that you belong to me completely." Su Qing's lips moved, and she whispered, "I have always belonged to Master." "Tonight is different," Lin Feng said. "Tonight is a ritual. The victor's reward." He stood up, walked to the wardrobe, and took out several rolls of rope. Deep crimson silk ropes for Kikkō-tsunagi. Black nylon ropes for M-leg spread and reverse bondage. And a few small metal rings and buckles. "Take off your robe," Lin Feng commanded. Su Qing's hands trembled as she untied the belt of her robe. The white fabric slid down, pooling at her feet. She was now completely naked, save for the pair of glossy, flesh-toned stockings that clung to her skin, covering her from toes to mid-thigh. The tops of the stockings created subtle, fleshy curves at the middle of her thighs. Her body shivered slightly from exposure, her nipples erect, her abdomen flat, her legs pressed together. Lin Feng had her stand up and walk to the mirror, her back to him. He first picked up the deep crimson silk rope. He folded it in half, found the center, and gently draped it over the nape of her neck. The rope hung down on either side of her neck, passed over her shoulders, and threaded under her armpits. It crossed in front of her chest, then descended, wrapping under the curve of her breasts, and tightened. Su Qing's breath hitched slightly. The rope tightened at the base of her breasts, lifting and compressing them, making the shape beneath the latex even fuller and more prominent—though now, without the latex, the rope pressed directly against her skin, the sensation more acute. The rope continued downwards, tied at the sternum, then descended further, tightening above her pubic bone. Next, it passed between her legs, and ascended along her spine, tied at the corresponding position on her back. Lin Feng's movements were practiced, the ropes crisscrossing, gradually forming a diamond-shaped net pattern on Su Qing's body. With each knot he tied, he gently tightened it, allowing the rope to sink deeper into her skin. When the Kikkō-tsunagi was complete, Su Qing's upper body was enveloped in a net of deep crimson rope. The diamond-shaped mesh clung tightly to every curve. The rope was tightest around her breasts, waist, and hips. Most sensitive was the crotch rope—the section that passed between her legs, sinking deep between her labia, bringing a continuous friction and pressure. Next was the M-leg spread. Lin Feng had her lie on her back on the carpet. He lifted her right leg, bent her knee, and opened it to the right, forming a right angle between her thigh and calf. He wrapped black nylon rope twice around the middle of her thigh, tightened it, and tied a knot. Then he secured it similarly around her calf near the ankle. He repeated the same action with her left leg. Then, he used short ropes to connect the loops on the ropes around her thighs, pulling them apart to the limit of Su Qing's leg spread, and secured them. The loops around her calves were also connected and secured. Now, Su Qing's legs were forcibly bent and spread into an M shape, her thighs parted to the sides, her calves also separated. This position exposed her most intimate parts completely, and the crotch rope dug in even deeper. Finally, the Japanese reverse bondage. Lin Feng helped her sit up and pulled her hands behind her back. He used black nylon rope to bind her wrists together, then the rope went upwards, wrapping around her upper arms, tightening under her armpits, forcing her arms close to her back, her elbows raised high. This bondage forced her breasts to protrude further forward, and her shoulder blades to arch backward. The composite bondage was complete. Su Qing knelt before the mirror, her hands bound behind her back, her arms pressed close to her spine. Her legs were bent and spread into an M shape, secured to the sides. Her entire body was wrapped in the deep crimson Kikkō-tsunagi rope net, the crotch rope deeply embedded in her most sensitive areas. The glossy flesh-toned stockings were still on, but her thighs were fully exposed, the tops of the stockings leaving clear marks on her mid-thighs. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman bound by crisscrossing ropes, kneeling in the most shameful posture. The deep crimson rope net was stark against her fair skin, creating clear indentations. The spread-leg position left everything exposed. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her breathing rapid, her chest heaving. Lin Feng took a step back, admiring his creation.