A certain person is an urbanite. The family has been a family of writers for generations, and I have been a businessman for a long time. Tend to profit and avoid harm, grabbing people and food for more than twenty years, sometimes also sharp as a knife and chopping board, when the unfavorable piebald does not pass into the mutton chops. Young read the book of stone, had adored the girl such as water, long held flowers full of red buildings, to realize the law of the jungle. Though the wind and moon are high and dark, setting fire and killing people, I am going to go! And to the midnight, a moment to dream back, check the mood, the memory of the thought of the rest can be painful, but the chivalrous bones, Jing hairpin soft intestines.
It is as quiet as Bicui, as luxurious as Ju, and as charming as Nameless, which are all far better than the men. It is a fake chapter of masturbation, the real hidden can cry and sing of virtue, repudiate the shame of vulgarity and tyranny.
Fellow friends, you can not help but notice the painstaking efforts of a certain! What can I do, in this chaotic city of magic, even got a bite of the group aroma muscle, this life will not be false.
The Master of the House of Flowers recognizes himself and narrates on behalf of the nameless girl as left.
Huddled naked in the metal grill door immediately adjacent to the stairway, I could see the messy mess of girls in the edible category who were scheduled to appear each afternoon. They hurriedly undressed, showered, put on makeup, blew out their hair, and then scrambled toward the stairway. Slim Beatrice, stoic Red, no less. Occasionally someone was dragged up the stairs, let’s say the notorious Sister Ju.
I saw them sent down and watched them disappear from here forever. I’ve lived in the preparation warehouse on the second basement level of the hotel for a year and eight months.
Flower Mansion is an upscale restaurant that uses pretty girls in the edible category, but I’m the prettiest. Like Ju, I didn’t used to belong to the edible category; I provided social services. I lived with some other girls from the age of fifteen and hosted visiting male citizens under the unified management of a service company. This was the sole destiny of all the pretty girls like me in our second-class community.
In order to enjoy the entertainment we provide with our bodies, there is of course a fee, paid to the company that owns us.
They keep some complicated contract somewhere that states that at the age of thirty-five or forty the company will deregister us with the government and allow us to return to the reservation. But the contract came with a disclaimer: if I couldn’t achieve a reasonable level of operating income that seemed too low in proportion to my costs, we were to be turned over to the government to be re-auctioned to minimize losses, and it was hard to say what category we’d be auctioned off into at that point.
I do not quite remember what the minimum profit margin required in the contract was, probably between 350 and 480%. The company’s accountant patiently explained to us that due to the harsh business environment and the numerous expenses under the name, the company would not have much room for profit if it fell below that figure.
In fact, the intensity of working 30 to 50 times a day took a heavy toll on us at the age of 27 or 8, and Feng, who had been the most beautiful of us all, had only managed to achieve a little over 200% by then. The more customers Fung received, the more extremely expensive make-up the company supplied her with, and increased revenue meant even more staggering amounts of investment, or so our accountants said. The board of directors of the company must be feeling the pain of running such a marginally profitable business for so long!
Fewer and fewer old friends came to see Feng, and then she was reorganized into the Agriculture and Forestry Business Class. The company had an agricultural and forestry business class waiting to take in the oldest sisters who were becoming unavailable. The class was equipped with seven or eight large trucks that would take them on service trips to the countryside and sometimes mines, charging a very low fee and working very hard.
Legend has it that in addition to the usual normal deaths on such circuits, some of the older sisters were sold by the Agricultural and Forestry Business Division to the poorer social citizens of the area. Since private transactions are often suspected of tax evasion, which is against the law, no one on the company’s side has ever officially acknowledged them; they simply file a cancellation of the service provider’s registration due to a normal death with the city’s administration.
Feng did maybe another one to two years of circuit service before they were deregistered. Not many people inside the company still mention the name before then, they’ve found a new profit growth.
Every night, every night, I spin flirtatiously and seductively in the company’s little theater, no, not on stage, I’m in the center of the audience, letting the light veil slowly fade from my body, layer by layer. I flew like a dragonfly, and I learned that I had to be very careful to control my rhythm, to make them learn to wait.
After my little fifteen year old body was finally completely naked, you know, it was time for those electric vibrators. I dissected the landscape of my gin and tonic to the spectators, showing them how roughly I teased myself, how I ravished myself with that big tool, showing how ecstatic I was with animalistic lust. Later everyone would gather around – the shy ones could go to my room on the third floor later, if they were brave enough.
But that’s all in the past. From the beginning, I knew I would never have a beautiful future, but didn’t really expect the end to come so quickly. I belonged to the Flower House when I was only twenty-two years old, and I was now an edible class girl.
Tattooed on the snow-white skin below my navel were the words “Saburo’s Cave” in black and blue letters, and immediately below that was a silly arrow pointing directly at the center of my tightly-packed thighs. It was a drunken trick done by the chairman of a company, whose name was probably Saburo!
He bundled me into bed in my bedroom-cum-studio on the third floor and worked his ass off all night. First with needles, and later by calling customer service and asking if they had any carbon ink, and they sent a white-collar lady to bring it to him. I yelled and screamed for a while out of fear and pain, not expecting anyone to come and help me. My company never stops their guests from doing anything, they’re just content to bill them afterward.
Barely awake, the president first looked at his watch and realized it was noon the next day, then he noticed the peculiar situation he had created. He looked around the room at the foreman, quality control, section manager, accountant, and two legal advisors who were lined up respectfully, took his checkbook out of the pocket of his suit that he had thrown on the floor, wrote a number, followed it with ∶0, 0, 0, 0, 0, 0, looked at the last director of the company’s business who pushed his way through the door, and added another 0, and then he was gone.
My starting bid was certainly a bargain, and the caterer probably thought I was pretty good value for money. Another possible reason is that when I was spinning around naked on top of the auction table, the buyer from Flower Mansion was so completely mesmerized by my face that he didn’t even see that I had words tattooed on the top of my stomach.
Just as it is always necessary to select hens that have not laid eggs, the restaurant industry is serious about whether virgins or non-virgins are served on the menu. Most of the clientele was outright unmarried and infertile, so an employee of the Flower House who, by virtue of his position of superiority, “soiled” the food girls would have been fired immediately and would have had to pay the difference between the price of “clean” ingredients and the price of “unclean” ingredients for the rest of his life. The difference in price between the “clean” and “unclean” ingredients would be so great that he would never be able to work in the restaurant business again.
These warehouse managers who are busy in the raw materials warehouse all day long are also normal men, not only do they surround hundreds of girls who look like flowers all day long, but worse still, these girls don’t care at all about taking off all their clothes, but they can’t do anything, and the bitterness that builds up in their hearts at this time is imaginable. In order to adapt to the market, most of the raw materials purchased were “clean”, but I was an exception for the reasons mentioned above, and my colleagues in the warehouse department gleefully turned the day of my arrival into a carnival.
After seven years of physical social service, I certainly don’t need to worry about my cleanliness or lack thereof, but rather, when will the next generalized pleasure be if I’m sent to the kitchen in five to seven days according to the normal process?
Oh, there has not been a break in men since the first day I lived in this iron cage, and there are more than twenty positions of all sizes in the Warehouse Department! On the fourth day in the middle of the night in the duty room, Ah Tao used my front and back to do it twice in a row and then told me that the Ministry reported that my state is not suitable for consumption for the time being. This is not a complete lie, “Sanjuro’s Cave” certainly can not walk around naked in the lobby of the House of Flowers and expect the diners will be particularly fond of her.
The brothers in the warehouse told me that the kitchen would most likely make me into a rose in advance, and then recommend me to any box when they are not yet finished – because my face is very beautiful, and the only thing left of the rose in the end is her face, and the rest of the woman’s body is marinated in the dark and oily sauce, and there is no “Sanlang’s cave! There is no more “Sanjuro’s Cave”. It’s an ingenious idea, they say, and it’s what they used to do with all the edibles in the store that spoiled their appearance.
However, for over a year I was always reported as unfit for consumption, and I became the stockade of the warehouse department, a collective secret. It wasn’t long before I was roaming around the entire Flower House, and if any of the departments mentioned the girl who had been in for months and hadn’t been sold, the Warehouse Department would bring me in to talk to them.
The marketing department, the finance department, the kitchen, and even the pimple-ridden janitors let me drape a sari over my body at first, and then I didn’t even bother to clean it up anymore. The working atmosphere in the restaurant place was never very relaxed and the only thing I wore on my whole body was a pair of high heeled slippers with thin silver silk loops over my bare feet.
If the girls in the edible category don’t care, I certainly have even less of a problem with it.
The marketing department’s image designer, Du, asked me to model and sketch for him when he was bored, and I stood motionless in front of him in some grotesque poses, and then he stopped his brush and stared at me for half a day. “Let me think, let me think…” he said, banging his head, “What about the trinket that was left over after the black girl was eaten last time?”
He pulled open a drawer beside him and rummaged around for a while, finding a small antique brass bell, “You fit this!” He said without question.
This little thing is now hanging a little below my pubic mound, with that arrow on my stomach pointing right at her with a quirky sense of humor. It rattles crisply when I move. It was stuck between my pussy lips by virtue of a small steel pin like a hairpin, and both ends were buried quite deep in the flesh, and several of the marketing boys pressed me tightly for most of the day to get it right that day, and it hurt so much that I screamed for all I was worth. What’s worse, men move it also ringing, and also pain, I this small piece of grass can be to often have men moving around to keep ah!
But image designers spend their days pondering over other things, let’s say intentionality, let’s say harmony, and artists don’t care what we encounter in ordinary life!
The general manager of the company must have been aware of my ordinary life in his hotel, and considering the practical problems faced by his employees, I think he practically acquiesced in the ghostly tricks of the storage department. Until one day the old general manager came back from outside on official business in the middle of the night, suddenly pushed open the door of the personnel department, which a few boys on night duty in a circle playing cards, I was wrapping my arms around the neck of one of the boys to see what the fun was all about, and they borrowed me from the warehousing department to accompany them to play all night long.
The old boss glanced toward the naked me, frowned and said, “You shouldn’t let edible girls up here, you guys be careful, if she jumps out the window, you won’t have a safety prize.”
Though suicide or escape is rare in the second rank, think of what happened to Ju and her family. However, the company’s management of the edible category was still very strict, and according to the rules and regulations, during non-working hours we could only stay inside the bars of the underground spare parts warehouse, and during working hours we could only release those who were out on the day, and the range of movement was limited to just within the work site.
Apparently, the boss was more lenient with me about this, and the storage department was a complete insider when it came to controlling their raw materials. To show that the boss’s reminder had been taken seriously, they found a pair of not-too-heavy shackles to put on me, and handcuffed my hands with small chains attached. Ever since Ju became famous, getting a chain to keep second class girls on the leash was not something that required a lot of creativity.
I wasn’t able to run and fight in shackles like Sister Ju, and my strengths had always been my endearing frailty and shyness. With such a long list of troubles, I couldn’t even wear my high-heeled slippers anymore, so I had to walk on the greasy kitchen tiles with my bare feet and toes scrunched up in a wiggle that made people laugh. The upside was that it put everyone’s mind at ease, and I was still able to wander around the restaurant just as I had been.
I just asked Ah Tao and it turns out that I haven’t seen Dr. Li in the past few days because he has left his job. The new hygiene inspector for the food category is a young man, Qiu, who just graduated from medical school. I’ll never stand a chance with Dr. Lee, he’s a misanthrope who plays along.
It was time for me to start cleaning myself according to the procedure, and I took a serious shower without combing my hair. As I entered the health inspection room on the floor, my smooth naked body was still covered with strings of bright water droplets, and my head of hip-length hair was soaked through, clinging to my shoulders and back like a full length of black cloth.
“Dr. Kew, examine me.” I stopped by the door, a stack of whatever forms he had spread out on his desk ready to be reported. “I’m covered in water, I’m going to wet your paper, can you lend me something to wipe with?
You can tell by looking at it that I don’t have anything on me.”
Dr. Qiu stood up and took the towel off the wall, walked around the table and handed it to me saying, “Use this!”
I raised my hand to pick it up, the chain clanked, and I saw Dr. Qiu’s eyes descending on my wet breasts, and on the tip of my berry-like nipple hung a large tear-like droplet of water, clear, fragile, and at risk. He jumped as if he’d stepped on a snake and leaned his back against the table, a vein thumping furiously in his temple.
Feeling a little amused, I mischievously faced him and stretched out my slender limbs, wiping my neck, shoulders, breasts and breasts, and armpits, and then gathering my long, thick hair to my chest and carefully drying it with a towel. My posture was one of rare calmness and gentleness, as if I were a bathing wife being groomed calmly in front of her husband.
The wives had to keep nagging me about something, and I squealed, “Dr. Qiu, how will you examine me? I’m sure you’ll ask me to lie down on a bed and spread my legs wide apart, right? You’ve just arrived, you probably haven’t seen my quality assessment records, I’ve been doing social services since I was fifteen, do you know what that is?”
The college student across from me was about to lose control, his head bowed toward the floor, afraid to look any further at my swaying round, bare hips and ass, powdery lumps like some kind of rose, or moonflower.
I guessed it was his own towel and stopped his hand when he reached his waistline, “It doesn’t matter down there, they’re always so wet.” I said, “I’ll hang it back up for you!”
I walked over to him to face the wall and raised my hands, and now the only thing in the doctor’s field of vision were my well-boned bare feet, entwined in little rings of shackle irons, soft and rosy from the warm bath. Pearl-like glittering with little stars, I wondered if it was the splash of water, or the natural glow of my skin?
“Doc, I seem to have a little breast enlargement, so that’s going to take ‘Crested Twin Peaks’ off my menu. You’ve got to touch and try!” I’m really long-winded today, and I’m in a bit of a time crunch.
Dr. Qiu turned and slammed into my naked back, and I was stepping backward! His body gave way backwards, but his hands went through my armpits to grip my breasts, slowly, hot and shaking.
After a moment of silence, I softly said, “Do you care to leave the door open?”
I turned and wrapped my arms around him head-on, and before he was fully awake he was stripped of his clothes, shoes and socks, and was as naked as the female edible meat across from him.
I guided him, half straddling him, half pushing him into a sitting position on the tabletop, and with that, I surged to my knees between the man’s legs, tilting my face up to return my loose black hair behind me, and with a complicated expression, I glanced at Dr. Qiu before burying my head at the base of the man’s thighs.
My tongue started at his scrotum, and with the help of my teeth and lips, I think the man’s entire lower body felt like it was on fire, and it was only a few moments before the man closed his eyes and inhaled, thrusting his empty hands into the middle of my hair and tearing it out. Without realizing it, the man’s distended organ had sunk up to its roots into my lips, my watery tongue entangling it, sharp teeth raking across its surface one by one, like shooting stars passing swiftly in the night.
Holding the man’s genitals in my mouth, I began with a gentle back and forth sway, and in my lips, the man’s organ swam back lightly as if it were traveling through web-like algae in cool water, and then the lurking undercurrents surged up, pushing and pulling and tearing at him until the rapids of the waterfall poured down onto his face. My lips tightened into a burning ring of fire that swept across the man’s pine boughs like a violent whirlwind. He bounced on the tabletop with a shudder, his mouth wide open.
I relaxed him, brushing the floating leaves toward the shore like a breezy lake. In the depths of my thick black hair that draped the lower half of the man’s body, my thin, strong right hand dived to replace my lips.
My tongue flickered deftly as it began to coil upward from the man’s pubic area, my entire moist, smooth flesh sliding close to the man to follow. My left hand had looped around the man’s back, the chain holding my wrist squeezing tightly between the two of us as it crawled coldly, loop by loop, through the shadowy, ambiguous undergrowth of the forest of bushes in which we were entwined with each other.
Sharp fingernails loomed like cats in turn on my left and right hands, and when the man was overly agitated I calmed him down with a little pressure on the palm of my left hand. I had risen to my feet by the time I had licked all over his shoulders and neck, and I guided him off the tabletop with the arm that encircled him, using my own supple body to gently but definitively flatten him on the floor.
I curled back up to get back on my knees and sucked him once more with my mouth before straddling his body and sitting down in a crouch with my feet spread out on either side of the man’s waist. The icy stimulation caused Dr. Qiu, who had already drifted off, to open his eyes with a shiver, and across the small of his back lay the matte-colored shackle chains that divided my right and left ankles, and between its rough, cold physical structure and my female, juice-filled, sinuous, fleshy, pale red lips, swinging back and forth, was the small brass bell that had been piercing the skin, and had been dangling from my crotch for most of the year.
It was a moment when we heard anew the sound of bells that had fallen on deaf ears to everyone.
I stroked his lower body a thousand times, wrapping his cock in a circle with the chain tied around my hand, and finally I slipped an iron ring right in the middle of the shackle and strung it all the way to its root, as if it were custom made to size, neither too loose nor too tight.
In my seven years of serving men I hadn’t let a few savor this, and I stood on my tiptoes in just a small half-turn, and the man pleaded unashamedly in a flurry of sounds at the contrasting sights and experiences.
I then crouched down toward his chest and kissed him, murmuring reassurances, shaking my head to let the drooping emanations brush his face while I naughtily wiggled my calves a bit to tug on his cock. I licked the tip of the man’s tip with a shallow lick of the fat, wet skirt of my lower body, like a voluptuous butterfly is teasingly falling towards a grassy stem.
Suddenly I withdrew my hands curiously, cupping my breasts and raising my upper body, naturally, my soft waist falling with my wide hips as thick and light as a summer cloud, completely covering his whistling, low-hovering pines.
The man didn’t even realize what was happening, the sky seemed dark to him, the night thick and viscous as water. With only a slight leap he soared upward, and again and again he rose high off the ground, floating and swaying in a way that made him dizzy.
If it weren’t for my experience in reading about men tens of thousands of times, I’m afraid it would only take three to four trips in and out before this medical school graduate would melt like leftover snow in my body that was cooking like boiling soup.
Having gained the confidence to take control, I began to actively tease him. I waited for my man to enter the depths of my nightly darkness once more, and I let my pair of fleshy lips hold onto my man’s roots as I wrestled my walls and streams against the domed top of his meaty column, causing them to split into large, splintered pieces.
He screamed and backed away, but couldn’t.
“My flesh is empty, my flesh is empty…” I was so anxious that I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff in the wind, “Fill it up… please, brother, fill it up!” I adjusted all the meridians and blood vessels in my depths to stop the man from exploding, so that the man, who was already horny as hell, felt like he was still expanding indefinitely.
Determined to take a risk, I fumbled around underneath me and found the chain that was still attached to his penis and gently tugged on it, while at the same time dropping my hips with a heavy thud, and moaning as if I had been stabbed with a knife, “Brother, you are so big… ouch… Brother, you’re fucking the shit out of me… my loins are aching… my flesh is so tender… I love you to death! …”
I twisted myself suddenly and sharply, pulling the man out of me, watching his thriving column of flesh leap between my long, slender fingers, one, one, and then another, suddenly bursting out of its furiously open mouth with one drop, a second before choking, the droplets of liquid rolling down along the edges, looking but clear and transparent. The tide dropped inside him and rose higher again.
“No… I’m not out yet… I’m not out yet…” the man must have been thinking. My lower body was hovering in the air two or three inches up, and I was picking it up with my own hands, wringing dripping, slippery juices out of it, and occasionally touching the brass bell hanging behind it, whether intentionally or not.
My long, thin eyes, which had been staring at Dr. Qiu’s face, narrowed to a silken thread: “Again, again!”
Let’s go again, I lay on my back, on my side, on my knees, leading the man through all the different paths using a variety of modalities. I am crouched on the edge of the table with my hips puckered high and the brass bell in my crevice sticking out diagonally like a tail.
I knew this for myself, and I even had fun shaking my round ass from side to side twice. I reached out from my crotch with one hand to grip the brass bell and tuck it inward, while with the other I was guiding the somewhat anxious, somewhat clumsy man to open the wood door to my more secluded back garden.
Like walking barefoot across a cobbled mountain trail in the rain, half refreshing, half transgressive. My supple limbs swirled like willows in the wind as I broke free of the man’s entanglements, turned, stood on tiptoe, and let my chain-wrapped, slim, naked body fall lightly onto the tabletop facing the man. Leaning my upper body back with my arms for support, I naturally lifted my slender legs, opening and straightening them in the air, my slightly arched toes encircling the man’s backside from both sides, pulling him back to myself.
With only one and a half steps forward, the man had stuffed my thick thighs full of his armpits, and in the process had crossed the chain of shackles swinging above his knees. He was already in my depths, of course, and with all my teasing, the man had become as voracious as a volcano’s lava, as brutal as the ocean’s swells, destroying one by one the delicate furnishings of my jade-rimmed gallery, and the spattering of beads and pith scratched against the surface of his body, hot as sparks, sharp as lightning.
I grinned crudely as a series of lifeless pleas rose up, eventually turning into a thousand wandering animal-like dying chirps. I still clung tenaciously inside me to stop him, making him pay big time before backing off a little.
Finally, two or three strokes of the man managed to touch my deep center contacts, causing my heart and liver and visceral body to softly twitch and shrink like a wounded mollusk. This, for me, was never something that could only be done by a man who had just been injected with VAGRA.
My heart softened, so I stepped back again, and from my uncontrolled throat came a series of “grunts” that passed for laughs, and on my face the curved brows of my beautiful face were gathered and scattered, as if a hundred kinds of ecstasy, a thousand kinds of sorrow, and ten thousand kinds of pain had flitted by in a single moment.
The man collapsed on top of me writhing carelessly as the night shadows of Pine Rock Lodge faded into nothingness and he steamed and expanded in the golden blinding sun. I wrapped my arms around him and gently stroked his face, his back and chest, letting him slide down to flatten out on the floor.
My long social service training made me follow through and get back on my knees between his legs, gently licking the man clean, extending from his penis to his entire lower body. When he tried to lift his upper body to stop me, I pressed the man back with the soft peaks of my breasts. My left breast was dripping blood, from being bitten by the man in his frenzy.
“Does it hurt?” He asked.
Yes, I hurt. My heart hurts more.
“Oh, Kissing Brother, you know they’re going to use me for loose juice tonight–I’m really afraid of pain, can you give me a little anesthetic quietly?”
It’s true. A fat guy in a uniform came in the morning after spending some time in the kitchen with the chef, he was very serious and everyone was polite to him. He sat down and complained about his weak kidneys, prostatitis, and so on. Then he stared at me and said, “I know her, she’s the second rank bitch in blah blah blah company.”
“Yes, she turned out to be. Because of how how, she’s with us now.” Everyone said.
“Great!” Fatty jumped up from his chair: “My healthcare counselor has always told me that taking in a woman who has harmonized her yin and yang would do me a lot of good, but it’s always virgins, virgins, that I look for!
I’m going to find your boss – I’m going to eat her sex organs – flower juice, yes, flower juice!” His huge body disappeared out of the door with miraculous speed, and I’m afraid he didn’t even hear the chefs’ greeting: “Chief, go, go, go!”
The cooks talked happily, saying: now the Epidemic Control Office won’t keep coming back for trouble.