【He · Master】
I had everything laid out before she woke. A plain pale-grey pair of panties, the slit at the crotch stitched with great care, a row of tiny plastic pearls along its edge — I had someone alter them for me last week; beside them lay the pink bullet vibrator, a knuckle smaller than my thumb, a nearly invisible thin cord trailing from its tail, while its paired remote sat quietly in my trouser pocket. I did not wake her. I only sat on the edge of the bed watching the shaft of light that leaked through the gap in the curtains creep, inch by inch, up to the shoulder she had left uncovered by the blanket. She is twenty-five this year, has been with me for two years, has been my pet for one year and three months. In this past year I have given her many assignments, some at home, some in the car — today’s is the first time I have truly set her down among that many strangers.
【He · Master】
When she rolled over and woke, the first thing she saw was not me but those two things on the nightstand. I watched her eyes go from bleary to wide awake in an instant, and then a thin flush rose up out of that wakefulness. She said nothing, buried her face back in the pillow, and let out a muffled little whine, like a protest and also like a plea for coddling. I reached out and brushed the loose hair off the nape of her neck, pressing the pad of my finger to that patch of skin, and I could feel her pulse beating. “Get up,” I said, keeping my voice very level, “go wash up first.” The more it is a moment like this, the less I raise my voice — what she wants is not fierceness, but that certain, settled steadiness that leaves her no room to bargain.
【Ran · Her】
I knew what those two things sitting there meant, but I still pretended I had not seen them and shoved my face into the pillow. His scent was on the pillowcase, laundry detergent mixed with the warmth of him after a whole night’s sleep, and I greedily breathed a lungful of it in — yet my mind was already, beyond my control, thinking of how it felt going in. Last time was in his car, through a layer of skirt, with the traffic waiting at a red light just outside the window. This time he had not said where we were going, but the crotchless panties on the bed and that abrasive row of pearls had already said it for him — today it would not be at home. My heart was beating fast and wild, my cheeks hot enough to fry an egg, and yet my body was more honest than my mind: some part of me had already gone soft a degree ahead.
【He · Master】
Once she had washed up she came back obediently, stood at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on her own toes. I handed the panties into her hands and watched her fingertips pinch that ring of fabric, the pads of her fingers unconsciously stroking across the row of pearls. “Today we are going to the arcade,” I finally told her the destination, “to play the dance machine. The task is simple — from the moment you walk in until you walk out, you are not to make a single sound you should not make, and you are not to let anyone see that something is wrong with you.” Her head snapped up to look at me, her lips moved, but in the end she still did not speak the words of protest. I love her like this — wanting to rebel and yet unwilling to, all her struggling finally gathered up into those wide, watery eyes.
【Ran · Her】
The arcade. The dance machine. That is something you play under the lights, in the music, in front of a crowd of people. Countless scenes flashed through my mind in an instant: the pearls grinding with every step I took, that little thing inside my body keeping to the beat… I did not dare think any further, and yet the less I dared to think, the more disobediently down there grew a little wetter. I clutched the panties in my palm, my nails nearly digging into my flesh. “…What if I cannot do it?” I asked in a small voice, my voice trembling enough to shame even me. He curled the corner of his mouth. “Then we will switch to a different punishment game. You choose.” I knew that what he called letting me choose was never really giving me a choice.
【He · Master】
I made her put it on in front of me. She turned her back; I told her to turn around. Biting her lip, she turned back, lifted her short skirt a little, and pulled those panties up inch by inch. The moment the slit settled against her body, I saw her whole self give a light shiver — that row of pearls was pressing right on the most crucial place. “This row of pearls,” I said, stepping over and pressing on them through the fabric, feeling the damp warmth already beneath, “with every step you take, it will remind you once, on my behalf — whose you are.” Her knees went weak for a moment, and she gripped my arm.
【Ran · Her】
The feel of that row of pearls settling against me was far clearer than I had imagined. They were cool, they were round, and through a thin layer of wetness they lodged right on that seam. Just standing there, not moving, I could feel their presence, let alone walking. When he pressed down through the fabric, my legs nearly gave out, and that “nn” in my throat almost burst free — I bit down hard and forced it back. And this was only putting it on; we had not even left the house yet.
【He · Master】
Last came the bullet vibrator. I had her brace herself against the headboard and spread her legs. She did as told, the hem of her skirt draping down, hiding most of her, leaving only a stretch of dazzlingly white inner thigh. I turned the vibrator a couple of gentle circles at her entrance — she was already a hopeless mess there, so slick that with hardly any force at all it slid in on its own. She let half an “ah” slip out, then bit her own lower lip at once — she remembered the task; from this moment on she had already begun keeping count for me, not allowed to make a sound. I tidied the thin cord, tucked it into the edge of her panties, then drew the remote from my pocket and waved it before her eyes.
【Ran · Her】
When it went in, my whole body went taut. That kind of fullness, a small piece of me filled — not very full, yet full enough to make me aware of its presence every single moment. He lifted the remote before my eyes, such a tiny thing, a pink-white shell, one scroll wheel, a few buttons. That was it — the thing that would be holding me in his stead from here on. He had not even pressed it, and already I was clenching down there, gripping that little thing like gripping a piece of candy that could burst at any moment. I looked up at him, and even I did not know whether what filled my eyes was fear or anticipation.
【He · Master】
I did not switch it on right then and there. What I wanted was not for her to spill at home first; what I wanted was for her to have that held breath strung tight the whole way, the bowstring drawn a little tighter and tighter, drawn taut until under that arcade light it would be I who plucked it. I straightened her skirt for her and took her hand — her palm was all sweat. “Remember,” I murmured by her ear, “today your voice belongs to me to govern.” I could feel the hand of hers gripping mine tremble, lightly, almost imperceptibly, at the fingertips.
【Ran · Her】
The moment we stepped out, the sunlight stung my eyes into a squint. In the stairwell we ran into a neighbour and I smiled and said hello — I could actually still manage a smile — only, as I took that step, the pearls dragged once, and my smile froze halfway. He walked right beside me, one hand in his trouser pocket — I knew what that hand was holding. The wind of the subway pulling into the station lifted one corner of my skirt and I hurried to press it down, my heart beating fast enough to leap out of my throat. The whole way, he never once pressed it. And yet it was precisely this “not started yet” that tormented me more than anything. Sitting in the subway seat, I clamped my legs together, feeling the pearls, feeling that little thing, feeling myself grow wetter and wetter — while he only turned his head aside and, perfectly calm, watched the tunnel lights streaking past outside the window, as though nothing at all were happening.