Beyond abstinence

Grace: “He’s your previous master?” Sara: “Nonono, he only chatted with me online.” Grace: “Why haven’t you met him offline?” Sara: “Because I sent him my photos.” Grace: “?” Sara: “But he didn’t ask for that.” Grace: “So he ended the online chat with you because you sent your photos without his permission?” Sara: “Yes, I didn’t listen to my master’s instructions.” Grace: “Do you think… he’s suitable for me?” Sara: “He’s the best Dom I’ve chatted with online. That’s why I was so eager to send him my photos. Plus, he speaks Chinese. Finding such a Dom in Italy is as hard as climbing to the sky.” The walls had poor soundproofing, and Chen Sirong could hear the sounds of the Italian couple next door having s*x while she was lying in bed sending messages. Grace was her name; she used it both at work and online. Sara: “He’s been gone for a really long time, and I only saw him recently when he suddenly posted a message looking for a sub in the group.” Grace: “Did you try reaching out to him again?” Sara paused for a moment. “He has a good memory.” The result was clear—he wouldn’t want a sub who didn’t follow his rules. Sara: “I heard you’re also looking for a Dom, so I thought I’d let you know. You can give it a try.” Chen Sirong flipped her phone over onto the pillow, and the room fell into darkness. She had been feeling like crying a lot lately—whenever she was tense, anxious, or felt powerless. Chen Sirong lay quietly for a moment before picking up her phone again. “Can I see his contact information first?” Sara quickly sent her his contact card. The profile picture was completely black, and his name was simply “C.” Simple, yet overly mysterious. The sense of the unknown brought a sense of urgency, making her heart race even faster. But she could clearly sense his strength through his profile, which wasn’t a bad thing. Back when she was studying in Italy, she had also tried finding a master. But he was too weak. In the end, it all boiled down to this—he wasn’t strong enough to earn her trust. He could accidentally hurt her, and when he saw her bleeding, he’d panic. In the end, it was she who had to pull herself together and call a taxi to take her to the hospital. She couldn’t rely on him, so he wasn’t her master. And Chen Sirong now desperately needs someone he can completely rely on. Chen Sirong had been away from that circle for a while, living a normal, independent life—until recently. After graduating with a master’s degree in Italy, she had the good fortune to intern at the Ferrari F1 team. Her graduate studies were in media and public relations, so her internship involved crisis PR—specifically, assisting with interviews before and after races and handling crises for the team. Ferrari was a traditional powerhouse, but in recent years, Red Bull and Aston Martin had been dominating, leaving the higher-ups unhappy with the team manager. Not long ago, they had appointed a new manager. The new manager was named Roman Caesar. When Chen Sirong first heard the name, she thought it sounded grand in every sense. But when she saw him in person, she immediately fell silent. The first meeting was a team-wide gathering. Chen Sirong, at 5’7”, wasn’t particularly tall compared to the foreigners, so people usually saved a front-row spot for her. Hundreds of people stood in the team’s headquarters. Chen Sirong clearly saw the man walk in from the door. He had the typical Italian build—tall and broad-shouldered. His black hair framed a pair of deep blue eyes, though she couldn’t see them, she could imagine the muscles beneath his skin. Teammates said he was of Chinese-Italian descent. It made sense—his sharp, striking features were softened by a certain gentleness, as if he were both fierce and tender. Chen Sirong couldn’t help but stare. He looked like the kind of man she imagined—a master who could leave marks on her without hesitation, then soothe her afterward, calling her “my good girl.” Chen Sirong lowered her gaze, only to be drawn back to him a moment later by his voice. His voice was deep and resonant, creating an irresistible magnetic field. Everyone was staring at him, and Chen Sirong was no exception. He wore a custom-made Italian black suit, complete with a vest, shirt, and tie. Chen Sirong felt her mouth go dry. Her eyes dropped again, but she was caught by his left hand resting on the table. His fingers were long and strong, with nails neatly trimmed. She imagined they wouldn’t hurt when they entered her. Chen Sirong ’s ears turned red. The meeting lasted a long time, but the applause at the end wasn’t as thunderous as Chen Sirong had expected—more like a low-pressure silence. She had zoned out for most of it and wasn’t sure what had happened. When it ended, she was about to ask a colleague, but James from the PR department stopped her. “Are you Grace, the intern in charge of crisis PR?” Chen Sirong hurried to follow him: “Yes.” James frowned and said, “This wasn’t supposed to be your responsibility, but I have no choice but to assign it to you now. Starting today, you’ll be handling communication with Caesar for any emergencies and drafting the initial PR statements.” Chen Sirong’s heart raced, and a smile crept onto her face: “Okay.” James nodded: “Then join me for the meeting at 3 PM.” “Okay.” The thought of seeing Caesar again made her heart soar. During a break, she went to the restroom. Her panties were wet, all because of Caesar. She wondered if he was married—she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger. She wondered if he’d ask her out. She really wanted to sleep with him. She didn’t even mind if he wasn’t a Dom, though his appearance was perfect for one. Chen Sirong imagined his muscular frame, the kind of man who valued health and fitness. She loved the feeling of being choked, of surrendering completely to her master. This excitement and anticipation came to an abrupt end the next time she saw Caesar. At the PR department meeting, Caesar was present. His gaze toward Chen Sirong was gentle, and his first words to her were:“If your PR drafts keep coming out like this, I suggest you make an appointment with HR to discuss ending your internship.” He had the same kind of authority and untouchability as a Dom, but she wasn’t his girl. She was just his subordinate. Chen Sirong began to clearly understand the low-pressure atmosphere from the first meeting. Ferrari had always been a legendary name in F1, dominating with back-to-back championships for years. But in recent years, Red Bull, Aston Martin, and Mercedes had taken over, leaving Ferrari’s position looking shaky.That’s why Caesar had been brought in. Rumors said Caesar was the son of Ferrari’s biggest sponsor. Everyone had assumed he’d be a pampered rich kid, but within a week, the entire team was under immense pressure. Chen Sirong especially. She handled crisis PR and communicated with Caesar. In just one week, she lost nearly 6.6 pounds. Finally, the courage she had built up was gone. She became fragile, on the verge of breaking. She needed someone by her side telling her what to do, telling her to stop worrying, telling her she was doing fine. Chen Sirong didn’t date. Boyfriends were something she dared not hope for or touch. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She wanted a Dom. She wanted a master. She wanted to hand herself over completely, to have her master tell her what to do. She wanted him to tell her, “You’re doing great.” She wanted him to tell her, “Don’t worry, don’t be anxious.” She wanted someone she could rely on completely. The message was sent the next morning. Chen Sirong hesitated for a long time before writing on the friend request: “Hello, I’m Grace.”