Beyond abstinence

Chapter 5 Traps

Chen Sirong has read some online posts and wonders why some people enjoy seeking out an "owner." Among the myriad replies she encountered, she found one that resonated with her.

Because she had never experienced complete paternal love, never felt the security of trusting someone with her back, or received a reassuring hand gently stroking her hair and saying, "You did great."

Born into a modest family, the household's focus was always on her younger brother. Her older sisters, significantly older than her, left school early to work. Only she continued her education, progressing through school after school.

She heard her fair share of complaints. When she made it to high school, her family initially didn't plan to let her continue her education. However, a teacher from her school visited their home and pleaded with them, emphasizing her good grades and urging them not to give up on her education. The name of that teacher, Chen Sirong will never forget.

During her three years in high school, he looked out for her. On occasions when she struggled financially, he would treat her to a meal at the cafeteria. He never overstepped boundaries, but Chen Sirong believed he had feelings for her.

A distant memory, yet one she has never forgotten. She realized then how important the care and protection of an older, wiser figure could be. She, too, deserved to be cherished.

Sara once described the intense pleasure of being completely nurtured, enveloped, and spoiled. She spoke of willingly to bear all the slap marks, surrendering herself to the "owner."

You know, after the slaps, he would patiently rub out every trace of pain. You could bare your most shameful desires and fantasies without fear or hesitation, for he would accept you in every form.

As Sara spoke, tears welled up in Chen Sirong's eyes. In the past, when she used her small toys and watched SP/SM videos, she often felt ashamed and tried to hide her actions. But with Sara, she learned that this wasn't something to be ashamed of.

The reasons behind such desires may be complex and hard to articulate. But there's no shame in enjoying a "spicy Italian coffee."

The plane departed at 9 PM. On Caesar's private jet, there were a few spare outfits. Chen Sirong and James sat together, scrolling through social media updates about Charlie's injury.

Most posts were from F1 fans, with the general sentiment focused on whether Charlie would recover in time for the March start of the season. This year, the team was determined to fight for the championship, having hired a new manager and planning to poach two aerodynamics engineers from Red Bull. But now, their star driver was injured.

James pointed to a tweet, and Chen Sirong looked over. "Roman brought bad luck to Ferrari!" The replies were filled with sarcastic comments.

"Some of them are going too far," Chen Sirong muttered.

James shrugged. "Who knows."

Chen Sirong was momentarily stunned. She had always known that some team members harbored resentment toward Caesar. But James's non-committal response already revealed his stance. He, too, was among those watching the drama unfold.

From the other side of the aisle, the door to the rest area opened, and Caesar emerged, wearing a fresh shirt and jacket.

James smoothly closed the tab and began talking to Caesar.

Chen Sirong leaned back in her seat, overwhelmed by an indescribable mix of emotions. She had always been an outsider looking in, and Caesar was someone she could admire but never reach. But... that cup of coffee.

She glanced at the now-empty coffee cup. "My bad, Grace." His tone was warm yet commanding, but he could also apologize openly without any hesitation. He wasn't the kind of man who was aloof or arrogant. It was just that his position was enviable, and not everyone could handle the pressure that came with it.

Chen Sirong forced herself to look away, but Caesar's voice with James still carried clearly to her ears. His voice was deep, like fingers weaving through thick velour. If you listened closely, it was easy to get lost in the rhythm of his tone and lose track of what he was saying.

Chen Sirong once again realized her lapse. She had been too unstable lately, with work pressures and Caesar's presence making her feel like her internship was on shaky ground. Her heart tightened painfully, and she wanted to lie down, but she couldn't.

The plane landed in Monaco an hour later, and the cool airport air snapped Chen Sirong out of her reverie.

James drove, and the three of them headed to Charlie's house.

Charlie's injuries weren't severe. The medical team briefed Caesar in detail, confirming that with a month of rest, he would fully recover. That night, the three of them checked into a hotel. Chen Sirong worked on drafting a press release on her laptop. The next morning, James reviewed the draft, made some edits, and sent it to Caesar for approval before publishing it.

The crisis was quickly resolved, and the team issued an official statement. The rumors that Charlie's season was over died down. It wasn't a major PR incident, but news of Caesar visiting Charlie late at night sparked some discussion.

James asked if they needed to respond to the growing buzz, but Caesar refused.

The next day, the three returned to Italy.

Caesar didn't take a break. He flew to Japan to discuss engine modifications for the upcoming season with the engine supplier. That evening, Chen Sirong left work on time.

As she ate dinner, she scrolled through team-related news, only to find that the scattered mentions of Caesar visiting Charlie during the day had exploded by nightfall. She sent James screenshots of the tweets.

Grace: "Do we need to address this?"

James responded quickly: "Caesar said no during the day."

Grace: "But it's now spiraling out of control."

The tweets began accusing Caesar of grandstanding. His background came under scrutiny—heiress son, appointed as Ferrari team manager at just 35 with no experience, unfit for the role, better suited for modeling...

The conspiracy comments and speculation were overwhelming. Chen Sirong was sure James noticed.

Sure enough, James messaged back: "Grace, reach out to Caesar and ask if he wants to respond."

Chen Sirong cursed under her breath. James was good at shifting blame. Everyone knew Caesar was in Japan, which was the early morning there. Waking him up at this hour could make him furious. But PR crises didn't wait, and if Caesar later blamed someone, Chen Sirong would be the one in the hot seat.

But such concerns lasted only a second. She knew work came before her emotions.

She dialed Caesar's number and put the phone on speaker.

The phone rang three times before he answered.

"Hello, Grace."

His voice was calm and clear, as if he were in the same time zone as her.

Chen Sirong replied immediately: "Hi, Caesar."

As she explained the false and malicious tweets, Caesar remained silent. Chen Sirong couldn't see his expression, and her voice grew weaker as she continued.

"That's it," Chen Sirong said, her heart pounding. "It's gotten much worse than earlier, so does the team need to respond?"

"No, Grace."

A long silence followed before Chen Sirong heard Caesar's voice again.

"It's already slander."

"No, Grace," he reiterated.

Chen Sirong felt defeated, but a strange, sour liquid rose in her chest. To be attacked personally like this, yet he still said, "No."

"Sorry to disturb your rest," Chen Sirong decided not to dwell on it.

"It's fine, that's your job."

"Thank you, goodbye, Caesar."

Chen Sirong said goodbye, waiting for Caesar to say it back.

But instead, she heard:

"Have a good night, Grace."

He remembered it was night in Italy, so he said, "Have a good night, Grace."

When the call ended, Chen Sirong was momentarily disoriented.

She quickly realized why she felt off.

She was wet.

A faint stirring in her lower abdomen made her subconsciously clench her thighs as she sat in her chair.

Chen Sirong took a shower. With her hair only half-dry, she walked back to her bedroom naked.

In the corner of the white wall was a full-length mirror. Her pubic area, which she kept shaved clean, was visible.

Kneeling in front of the mirror, Chen Sirong took out her suction toy. Her arms were stretched forward, pressing her breasts slightly together, making them appear fuller. The bedroom lights were bright, and the small veins on her breasts were clearly visible in the mirror.

She started on the second setting—not the lowest, but not the highest. Sucking on her c******s brought more pleasure than just a tickle but less than an orgasm. She loved the slow, gradual buildup.

Pleasant sounds escaped her throat. Her eyes wandered to the mirror, where her flushed face was visible.

Increasing to the third setting, Chen Sirong's body involuntarily shuddered. Wet hair swept across her erect n*ppl*s as her sensitive body began to tremble uncontrollably. But she craved the pleasure and refused to move her hands to push her hair away.

Closing her eyes, Chen Sirong thought, m**********n isn't a crime.

His hands would roughly pinch her breasts, his thumb and index finger squeezing her sensitive, erect n*ppl*s. She would shiver with pleasure and submit to him as he grabbed her throat. His large hands could easily control her completely.

She would lie on her back, her legs wrapped around her own waist, exposing her already soaking wet vulva.

The sharp sound of a slap echoed, landing on her cl*t. Just one strike, and she would soak the sheets.

Chen Sirong's mind slipped into the throes of orgasm. Before she even imagined penetration, she couldn't withstand the release.

Her body grew hot, and she panted heavily, struggling to regain her bearings. She looked back at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes were glistening, her lips red and slightly parted, her thighs spread, and the toy dripping with clear fluid.

A faint, unfamiliar sound echoed in her ears, ringing once, then again.

Chen Sirong snapped back to reality, grabbing her phone. It was 8:08 AM. C had sent two messages.

C: "Good morning, Grace. Did you deliver the coffee to your boss?"

Five minutes later, the second message arrived.

C: "Grace, you missed the time."

Realizing she had missed the 8 AM deadline due to her self-pleasuring, Chen Sirong was furious with herself. She forced herself to calm down and replied.

Grace: "Good morning. I delivered the coffee to my boss. Sorry, I missed the time."

C: "What were you doing?"

Chen Sirong looked at the message, lost in thought.

Sara said he was a hard man to catch. Chen Sirong didn't want to lose him.

Her delicate fingers still carried a faint scent. She typed her reply.

"I was just masturbating."