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Chapter 16: "Rebirth"
The hurricane of desire at the camp chaotic to the extreme was like a gale stripping the soul; what it left for Wang Li was not only ruins but a thorough baptism that washed away the last dust called "shame," letting her bloom wantonly in the mire with an almost "pure" abandon.
For Chen Fang, the storm demolished her old dam and forced her, upon despair's quicksand, to erect a crooked fortress called "safety" out of twisted "sacrifice."
Wang Li felt better than ever in her life.
Rising in the morning, she stood naked before the bathroom's floor-length mirror and examined herself like a work of art.
Fingers glided over smooth, taut skin glistening with an inner dewy sheen after being fully "irrigated," like a ripe peach full and juicy.
Fine lines at the corners of her eyes seemed smoothed by unseen hands; even any old anxiety or calculation between her brows had vanished.
In its place: bone-deep languor and an unhidden, savoring satisfaction seeped from her gaze.
She even felt younger than when she first came to America charged with a ripened allure, utterly "opened up."
"Sex education"?
It was an outdated, laughable fig leaf.
Wang Li now saw clearly what happened with her son Xiaokai was not "education" but the most primal, pure, and entrancing life's carnal joy.
It was the extreme pleasure that made the soul tremble flesh against flesh.
It was the release after breaking all taboos flying free without restraint.
Pandora's box? Hardly.
It was a door made for her a gateway to a new world of bliss.
She didn't just "think it through" she "let go" completely.
Those ethical chains and social gazes that once made her blush were now, to her, pathetic restraints by the mediocre.
Wang Li, nearly forty, had found a second spring in a foreign land in her son's arms hot, thrilling, and… addictive.
This "thinking through" brought total liberation in action and an infinite expansion of curiosity.
No longer satisfied with instinct and Xiaokai's reckless exploration, she studied the "art of sex" with the zeal of a scholar.
Her browser brimmed with pages like "improve sexual quality," "unlock new positions," "guide to toys."
She even registered on foreign adult forums soaking up knowledge and technique once unthinkable.
Soon, her orders besides daily goods increasingly included discreetly packaged "toys": massagers of various sizes and materials, bullets, nipple clamps, low-temp candles, and fine leather restraints.
She was like a director prepping a grand show curating props.
Wang Li became the absolute architect of the night's "games."
She set themes: "abstinent doctor and hungry nurse"? Or "strict teacher and rebel student"?
She gleefully prepped costumes (cheap cosplay garb that she made look decadent), set scenes (dim lights, sultry music), even scripted "plot" and "lines."
She reveled in the control watching Xiaokai, in her staging, shift from raw youth to immersed addict.
Each "successful" game delivered vast achievement and satisfaction.
She rushed to try learned skills on Xiaokai.
She traced circles with her tongue on sensitive spots, used teeth for precise hints of pain, and controlled pacing to stack waves of pleasure.
She even guided Xiaokai into deeper experiments: anal development not merely endured but managed learning to relax and cooperate pushing that pain-pleasure mix to a peak.
In the rare chats with Chen Fang (now infrequent), Wang Li bragged sharing "new finds" and "marvelous experiences" as if recounting a fine trip.
She twisted this hedonistic descent into a deeper "motherly love."
"Look how happy, how satisfied Xiaokai is," she thought, watching him sweat and sink into her. A sick comfort rose. "I give him the ultimate joy, meet his curiosity and desire. Isn't that the best love? Better than him chasing random girls!" This logic made her easy and gave her a twisted "grandeur."
She felt she was building, with her body, a safe, carefree paradise of desire for her son.
In this devotion to pleasure, Wang Li was a noxious bloom nourished by rot flourishing, strange and bright.
Her skin gleamed under lust's balm; her eyes brimmed with seduction; she exuded a satisfied, languid, dangerous air.
This was a "rebirth" of descent a deformed prosperity on ethics' ruins.
Compared with Wang Li's carnival, Chen Fang's "thinking through" went to the opposite extreme total self-objectification and sacrifice.
Since the "supermarket judgment," the string of "social recognition" and "normal life" snapped.
A great fear, like worms clinging to bone, taught her that the world beyond was a hostile execution ground.
The only "way" was to cling to the son who dragged her down Xiaoyu and fully sacrifice herself be his exclusive, thoughtless vessel of desire.
Her "thinking through" wasn't Wang Li's freeing of nature but a cold acceptance and willing self-abandon at despair's end.
No more struggle or outer pain she adopted a near-mechanical "professionalism" to perform her "vessel" duty.
A word once the peak of humiliation became her precise self-definition.
No longer a mother, woman even a person.
She was Xiaoyu's "cum-toilet" an object to host his desire, drain his energy, for his use.
The recognition brought eerie calm erasing all individual meaning lifting moral weight and shame.
She maintained this body as if a precious instrument.
Bathing became a sacred "purification."
She washed every corner carefully especially the places Xiaoyu used and marked (breasts, neck, sex, and back).
She checked in mirrors for any flaw that might displease him.
She watched diet not for health but to keep the softness he liked.
Always ready presenting the most "clean," most "useful" body whenever he wanted.
In bed, her "initiative" gained new meaning.
Not Wang Li's debauchery but a more thorough service.
She knelt to perform, skilled and focused, as if on critical work.
When he entered, she relaxed and angled to ease and deepen him.
She read his breath and force matching rhythm.
When her body felt pleasure under pounding, she didn't resist treating it as proof of a good "container" a "job" up to standard.
Her moans lacked sensual tide a programmed response a means to please her master.
At climax body seizing fullness and impact flooded her yet inside was a numb "satisfaction": look, the task is done; he's satisfied; I am "safe."
This total objectification and sacrifice indeed brought a twisted "peace."
Fear was kept out; she no longer faced the world.
Shame was buried; she'd abandoned human dignity.
She clung to Xiaoyu like a vine to a lone pillar.
His desire existence became her world's meaning and only light (though a dark light).
When he finished and briefly held her (or allowed closeness), a sick "comfort" came like holding a straw.
This was "peace" traded with soul and dignity built on quicksand.
Ironically, such extreme descent and twisted "peace" seemed to "nourish" her too.
Perhaps freed from heavy mental burdens (shame, fear), or "trained" and hormonally stirred by frequent sex her look slowly changed.
Pallor gave way to color; her skin though not as radiant as Wang Li's lost its wither showing an odd softness from overuse.
The hollowness in her eyes turned to a docile, focused calm; when she looked at Xiaoyu, there was even a devotee's twisted "piety."
She was like a well-kept instrument gleaming strangely, fragile in the dark corner.
Wang Li and Chen Fang two evil blossoms growing together in the abyssal sludge drew forbidden nutrients and "bloomed" in opposite ways.
Wang Li flamboyant, ardent, exploratory hedonist.
She found "rebirth" in carnal revels beautifying incest as life's gift glowing in indulgence like a red spider lily blooming in hellfire.
Chen Fang reserved, cold, utterly sacrificial self-erasure.
She found "peace" in despair's offering objectifying as her son's vessel maintaining a fragile calm in numb "service" like a pale flower growing in eternal night silent and eerie.
They looked "younger," "moister," their skin finer.
But this glow was ember after souls burned by desire pathologic gleam refracted from the pit.
They bloomed in darkness forever unworthy of sunlight.
This was their ironic "rebirth" chapter self-written in the eternal night of descent.
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