【Her · Female Lead】Second semester of my sophomore year, finals just done, nobody left in the dorm, I was curled up alone in bed scrolling my phone. I was nineteen then, birthday just past, still a virgin who’d never even had a boyfriend — a virgin in the truest sense, never even been kissed. I don’t know why I opened that thread late at night; maybe it was just that line in the title, “I trained my wife into a bitch who only knows how to spread her legs,” glaring enough that my fingers moved before my brain did.
【Her · Female Lead】The thread had screenshots — a conversation between a man and a woman. The man called the woman “bitch,” made her say “Master” to the camera, made her photograph herself down there for him with a caption that had to read, “this is Master’s slutty hole.” My face burned as I read it, my heart pounding wrong; my first reaction was disgust, the urge to curse. But I didn’t leave. I scrolled down line by line, until the woman really did as told, really took the photos, really wrote that line — and I found both my legs clamped tight together under the blanket, that patch of my panties already sticky.
【Her · Female Lead】That was the first time I realized those three words, “being humiliated,” could make my body betray my mind. Since I was little I’d been the good kind of girl in everyone’s eyes — good grades, few words, always buttoning my collar to the very top. But that night, facing a screenshot of a stranger woman being degraded, I pushed my fingers inside my own body, and for the first time I was so wet that when I pulled them out the wetness stretched into threads. When the climax hit I bit into my pillow and cried, half from the pleasure, half from the shame.
【Him · handler · T】I’ve been in this circle seven, eight years; my handle is T. Others like to come on fierce right away — cursing, barking orders. Not me. What I do is screen. A real bitch isn’t forced into it; the well is already inside her, and I’m just the one who lifts the lid off it. That day a DM popped up in my inbox, a fresh account, blank avatar, only one line: “That woman in your post — is she really doing it willingly?” I laughed the moment I saw it. A girl who asks “is it willing” has, nine times out of ten, already started thinking in her own head, “what if it were me.”
【Him · handler · T】I didn’t rush to answer. I left her hanging two hours, then replied one line: “Why do you want to know.” She answered in a second, then unsent it, sent again, back and forth several times, and what finally came through was, “I’m just curious.” Curious. On my end of the screen I lit a cigarette. Every bitch who ends up kneeling before me wrote only those two words at the start.
【Her · Female Lead】We talked for a week, and he stayed so polite that I started doubting whether I’d read too much into it. He asked what books I usually read, whether it was tiring studying alone in Shanghai, whether there was anyone I liked. I nearly convinced myself he was just a decent online friend. Until the seventh day, when he suddenly sent, “Did you touch yourself last night?” My whole body shot up from the bed, my hands shaking. I didn’t admit it, but I didn’t deny it either. He replied with a single word: “Wet.”
【Her · Female Lead】That one word was like a hand reaching straight into my body. My typing fingers went weak and I sent back, “How do you know.” He said, I’ve always known, from your very first sentence I knew. He said, you’re not curious, you want to be treated like this, no one’s ever given you the chance. He said, I can give you that chance, on one condition — you have to call me something. I asked, call you what. He said, you already know the word in your heart. I stared at the screen a long time, finally typed two characters, deleted them, typed again, my palms slick with sweat — “Master.”
【Him · handler · T】The moment she said those two words, I knew this fish was hooked. But I didn’t let her play alone. A bitch raised one-on-one isn’t thorough enough; what truly makes them unable to go back is the group. I pulled her into a group, a dozen-odd people, four or five men, the rest all women, each with her own master. Training went on in there from morning to night — text, voice, images, video — whatever task someone’s bitch had completed that day, it all got posted for everyone to see, everyone to rate. I brought her in and said only one thing to her: “Go in and watch. Don’t do anything yet.”
【Her · Female Lead】The day I entered, I happened to catch a live voice-training session. A man’s voice, very low, giving a woman orders — making her take a cucumber into her mouth, making her count while she sucked, redo it from the start if she miscounted even once. The others in the group were spamming text: “so slutty,” “Master really knows how to train,” “go, little sister.” I had my earphones in, sitting stone-still in a corner of the library — yes, the library, surrounded by classmates cramming — my legs pressed dead tight, and I could still feel that patch inside my pants getting wetter, so wet I was afraid standing up would leave a mark.
【Her · Female Lead】That feeling is hard to describe. There was disgust, yes, but more of it was an excitement I’d never known: all these people, watching a girl be ordered around like this, humiliated like this, and she actually obeyed, actually said in a trembling voice, while being humiliated, “thank you, Master.” Part of me pitied her, and part of me thought — what if it were me being treated this way? What if all these eyes were fixed on me? I didn’t dare think further, but my body had already thought it through for me, soaked into a mess.
【Him · handler · T】The first week I only let her watch. Every day she lurked in the group, not posting a single line, but I could see her online hours, from morning to night. The second week I gave her the first task, the lightest one: post a passage of text describing herself as “one of Master’s bitches,” in the first person, spelling out exactly how she got wet. That one line — I watched “the other party is typing” flicker on and off for half an hour.
【Her · Female Lead】For that half hour I typed and deleted, deleted and typed. I told myself it was only text, no one knew who I was, my avatar was blank, my nickname made up on the spot. But when I actually pressed send — dropping the line “I am one of Master’s bitches, and when Master isn’t here I still think of Master and make myself wet” into that group of a dozen-odd people — replies instantly popped up below the screen: “the new bitch really knows how to write,” “Master trains well,” “is the little sister already wet down there” — my face scalding, my hands shaking, but down there, I really did get wet all over again. Being seen, rated, acknowledged as a bitch by so many strangers — that shame somehow got me off until my legs went weak.
【Her · Female Lead】After that there was no stopping it. After text came photos — photos of hands, of feet, then “live shots,” meaning photos that had to catch part of my face or some bodily feature to prove they were really me. And after that, the men in the group started sending me edited images, slapping humiliating words onto the selfies I’d posted — “sophomore bitch,” “Shanghai slut,” “anyone can get into her hole” — pasted over filthy scenes, dropped in the group for everyone to see. The first time I saw one I shook with anger, wanted to leave the group, but I didn’t. I found that being edited like that, humiliated like that, went to my head — went to my head until I took more photos, more exposed ones, and posted them myself, just to see how they’d humiliate me.
【Him · handler · T】She fell faster than I’d expected. Some girls take half a year to raise; in a little over a month she’d reached the point of “competing” with the other bitches in the group on her own — competing over who shot more exposed, who got punished harsher by her master, who was better at pleasing her master. Later I had her go on video with two other women from the group, three of them each before her own camera, following commands from me alone to do the same movements. Three bitches, same time, same order. She did best that day.
【Her · Female Lead】The night I was trained alongside two other girls by the same voice, I understood completely that I could never go back. I watched the girls in the other two boxes doing the exact same movements as me, listening to the same man’s voice, and a strange sense of belonging rose in me — so I wasn’t alone after all, there was a whole group of girls just like me, willing to be treated this way and even tasting sweetness in it. After that night, I muted the notifications on everything proper in my phone, keeping only that group. In class by day, my head was full of the tasks I had to do that night. I sank in, willingly, deeper day by day.
【Him · handler · T】I raised her over a month — text and image, voice, video; everything that could be done online, I’d had her do. She’d already grown the identity of “bitch” into her bones. Now was the time to meet. However thorough online training gets, there’s still a screen in between; to truly make a girl hand her whole self over, it has to be face to face. I messaged her: next month I’m coming to Shanghai, to see you. She replied in a flash, not a moment’s hesitation — “Yes, Master.”