Write your fantasy,
make it real.

Fan Jing is thirty, a graphic designer so quiet at work that her colleagues call her “Silent Mode.” Living alone on the fourth floor of an old apartment block, she goes from sitting by an open window with no bra, to taking out the trash at night with nothing under her skirt, to ordering a seventeen-centimeter anal bead stick online. One Friday near midnight, she stands at the curb with it buried inside her, and the man across the street watches her for ten minutes. Then he starts walking toward her.

At the office she is the flawless assistant to the project lead, always wearing a perfectly composed face; only he knows that this slight little body secretly craves his astonishing size. The line between superior and subordinate that must never be crossed is trampled underfoot by the two of them again and again, trampled into a friends-with-benefits arrangement neither of them can quit. Kneeling at his feet in her stockings, the obedience she could never learn in the office she gives to him alone.

Just turned eighteen and newly admitted to university, a first-year freshman is dumped by her ex-boyfriend in the very first week of the semester. The boy who had promised they would make it through to graduation together changed his tune the moment he started at a university in another city. The day she moved her luggage into the dormitory, her chest felt hollow, as if a piece had been scooped out of her. At the orientation camp, a sophomore upperclassman rests a hand on her shoulder, smiling with careless ease. She does not push him away. After that she becomes like an object passed casually from hand to hand, from a hotel room to the secluded stairwell behind the academic building, played with in turns by a group of grown men — and in the humiliation of being objectified, she tastes a sinking pleasure that frightens even herself. She is willing, she is an adult, she simply does not want to be the one who is cherished and then discarded ever again.