Character Introduction - Kaede 📱 SUBSCRIPTION

In the neon-lit streets of Hong Kong, Ying thought this was just another simple mission. An illegal drug called "Sakura Tide" was circulating in Triad-owned nightclubs, causing users' desires to run wild, transforming them into uncontrollable slaves. Full of confidence, she tracked the clues, wearing her pink battle attire, her red thigh-high boots clicking crisply on the wet alleyways, each step a wanton provocation. "Those thugs, those lowlifes..." she muttered to herself, a scornful smile playing on her lips, her skirt hem rising slightly in the night breeze, exposing the skin of her upper thighs. Even as she infiltrated, she deliberately swayed her hips, batting her eyelashes at the gang members watching her, "Come on, see if you can catch this righteous slut?"

The trail led to Japan, a hidden, traditional-style garden. As Ying infiltrated, tall cherry blossom trees in the garden swayed under the moonlight, petals falling like snow. She didn't expect that awaiting her there would be a woman named Kaede – with short, ear-length hair, wearing a magnificent red kimono with cherry blossom patterns, a wide black and gold obi accentuating her slender yet authoritative figure. Kaede fanned herself with a folding fan, her eyes narrow and cruel, like a hunter who had foreseen everything.

Battle erupted. Ying wielded her pink spear, a magic storm sweeping through the garden, cherry blossom leaves scattering. She laughed provocatively, "Japanese bitch, let's see what you've got!" She deliberately leapt, her skirt flying up, revealing the edge of her panties, habitually trying to disturb her opponent with lewd physical provocation. But Kaede was faster, the ribs of her fan like blades, easily parrying Ying's attacks. "Oh? Such a confident magical girl, and with a bit of a slutty streak." Kaede chuckled, closing in step by step.

During the fight, Ying's confidence quickly shattered. Kaede's moves were elegant yet deadly; she sliced through Ying's breastplate with the fan's ribs, tearing the fabric, her full breasts bouncing out, nipples hardening in the night breeze. Ying blushed but held strong, "Bastard... what is this!" She counterattacked but was easily pinned down by Kaede, a knee pressed into her lower abdomen, her thigh-high boots held down by Kaede's geta, the pain of the boot shaft digging into her flesh making her legs weak. Ying blushed but forced a righteous stance, deliberately twisting her waist and thrusting her chest during a counterattack, her skirt flying up to expose her privates even more, as if using nudity to lure her opponent. But Kaede was faster; she pinned Ying down, grinding her nipples and clitoris with the fan's ribs, sending waves of stimulation through the tattered fabric. Ying's body betrayed her; wetness streamed down her legs, the inside of her boots becoming sticky. Her inner self clung weakly to a shadow of justice, yet in the pleasurable pain of the grinding, she unconsciously arched her back in compliance—this contrast. "Kneel, and surrender." Kaede sat on her, a naginata at her throat, gently grinding her clitoris with the fan's ribs, sending electric waves of stimulation through the thin fabric. Ying's body involuntarily grew hot, wetness streaming down her legs. She bit her lip and whimpered, "No... I won't lose to you..." But her defiant words were empty; her waist twisted, shamefully accommodating the grinding. The pain wasn't pure pain, but mixed with an uncontrollable heat—the righteous magical girl, surprisingly, felt a twisted pleasure amidst the humiliation of defeat.

Each time Ying leapt, her thigh-high boots flew high, her buttocks curves exposed, this wanton righteous confidence was easily shattered. With a flick of the fan's ribs, her skirt was completely torn, her crotch ripped open, exposing her privates, glistening with wetness in the moonlight. Ying knelt, gasping, her chest heaving, nipples erect, yet still trying to stand, muttering internally that justice would prevail. But Kaede elegantly stepped on her thigh-high boots, deepening the indentations of the boot shafts, the pain making Ying's legs weak and trembling. Until there was no remaining fabric on her body, Ying knelt completely naked, her privates and breasts fully exposed, her labia swollen and dripping with bodily fluids. She trembled vulnerably, clinging to her last shred of righteous dignity, yet in the humiliation of her nudity, felt an uncontrollable heat surging through her.

After repeated defeats, Ying finally knelt in complete surrender. Kaede sat on her, gently grinding her clitoris and nipples with the fan's ribs. Ying's body spasmed in compliance, her inner sense of justice fracturing with each pleasurable pain. She was bound beneath the cherry blossom tree, her long hair disheveled, her naked body flushed amidst the petals. The humiliation of repeated clothing destruction, naked beneath the cherry blossom tree. She was tied to the trunk, her long hair disheveled, her pink skin flushed under the moonlight. Kaede looked down at her, "Now, you are mine." Ying's desire level began to soar; she weakly clung to her last shred of sanity, "Justice... justice will..."

As Ying was bound beneath the cherry blossom tree, night quietly fell. The tall cherry blossom tree in the garden began to mutate—its trunk twisted into a pink flesh pillar, its surface covered with pulsating veins, and its branches extended into countless tentacles of varying thickness. The tentacles' skin was slippery and sticky, covered in a translucent, thick mucus, emitting a decadent scent of strong floral sweetness mixed with a fishy, bodily fluid musk. The scent permeated Ying's nostrils, making her instinctively frown, yet she involuntarily took a deep breath, and a wave of heat surged from deep within her body.

The tentacles first wrapped around her most prized possession, her red thigh-high boots. Thick tentacles coiled around the boot shafts like pythons, tightly constricting the existing straps. The edges of the boot shafts sank deep into the soft flesh of her thighs, creating layers of overflowing flesh rings. The pain was burning hot, yet mixed with a tingling numbness from the skin friction inside the boots. Ying's thigh flesh trembled within the constrictions, sweat and mucus sliding down the inner walls of the boots, soaking her toes, causing each unconscious curl of her toes to emit a wet, sticky "squeak." Her inner self still vulnerably clung to a shadow of justice: this wasn't punishment; this was an insult to her. But the constricting pain reached directly to her privates, causing her labia to involuntarily twitch and swell, and moist honey-like fluid began to seep from her upper thighs, dripping onto the boot surface with a faint "plink"—this contrasting humiliation blurred her vision with tears, yet she felt a twisted satisfaction amidst the pleasurable pain.

The tentacles were not satisfied. Slender tentacles drilled into the narrow gaps between the boot shafts and her skin, their cool, slimy surfaces wriggling, grinding against the tenderest flesh of her inner thighs. Suction cups gently sucked, leaving red, swollen hickeys. Ying's upper thighs quickly grew hot, her vulva petals automatically opening without being touched, revealing the tender pink folds within, honey-like fluid stretching into threads and dripping. The mucus secreted by the tentacles carried a warm, tingling itch, flowing down her thighs, soaking the insides of her thigh-high boots, making her soles feel as if stepping in a swamp of cum, each movement emitting a shameful "squelch." She tried to clamp her legs together to resist, but it only made the tentacles wrap deeper, the pain at the constrictions transforming into waves of pleasure rushing to her head—the righteous magical girl, amidst the sensory stimulation of her thigh-high boots being desecrated, unconsciously swayed her waist back and forth, as if begging for more.

More cruel violations followed. The tip of a thick tentacle split open into a petal-like suckling mouth, adhering to her privates and labia. Suction cups forcefully pulled at her swollen labia, exposing Ying's erect clitoris to the night wind, which swept over it with a stinging, electric sensation. Protrusions inside the tentacle, like granules, rubbed against her vaginal walls. Each slow penetration squeezed out a "squish" of fluid, honey-like liquid churned into foam, flowing out along the tentacle, dripping onto her thigh-high boots, soaking the surface to form glistening marks of lust. Simultaneously, another tentacle wrapped around her full breasts, coiling around the flesh and squeezing forcefully. Her nipples were sucked and elongated by suction cups, making wet "pop-pop" sounds. Her areolas swelled and turned purple, transparent secretions spurted from her nipples, mixing with tentacle mucus and sliding across her abdomen, leaving a hot, slippery trail.

Ying's throat was also invaded by a tentacle. A slender tentacle forcibly pried open her lips and shoved into her throat, pouring down a fishy-sweet mucus that made her taste a bitter flavor mixed with floral scent and what felt like semen. She instinctively gagged, yet to the rhythm of the tentacle thrusting in her throat, her tongue involuntarily coiled and sucked, saliva stringing from the corners of her mouth and dripping onto her chest. That taste shot directly to her brain, causing her vulva to contract even tighter, welcoming the vigorous thrusting of the lower tentacles—thick tentacles accelerated like pistons, injecting "Sakura Tide" essence internally. Warm liquid filled her uterus and intestines, causing a burning, distended pain, yet bringing an ultimate spasmodic orgasm from deep within her uterus. Ying's body arched like a shrimp, her breasts shaking and spurting fluid, her privates gushing large amounts of honey-like liquid, splashing onto her thigh-high boots and the ground, forming decadent puddles. Her moans of orgasm echoed day and night, her voice gradually transforming from initial angry whimpers to soft, pleading gasps—her fragile sense of justice collapsing bit by bit with each climax: she insisted she shouldn't enjoy this humiliation, yet amidst the multi-pronged tentacle invasion, she self-abandoningly arched her back and spread her legs, actively swallowing the mucus, welcoming deeper injections.

The tentacles took turns relentlessly. Slender tentacles drilled into her anus, their granular surfaces rubbing against her intestinal walls, bringing a tearing pleasure; thick tentacles simultaneously filled her vulva, the distended feeling of dual-orifice penetration causing her abdomen to swell, bodily fluids squeezing out from the junction with wet "squish-squish" sounds. Her breasts were sucked like milking by the tentacles, milk spurting and mixing with mucus, a slippery coating covering her entire body. Her toes inside her thigh-high boots were wrapped and sucked by tentacles, the tingling itch from her sensitive soles being licked rushing straight to her privates, making her climax repeatedly as if incontinent. Ying's skin was completely covered in mucus, glistening with wet, lewd sheen. The insides of her thigh-high boots were sticky like a swamp, each movement pulling out silvery strands. She gradually lost her sense of time, left only with instinctive compliance—her waist writhing like a snake, her chest thrusting forward begging for suckling, her privates contracting to swallow tentacles. Her moans echoed from the garden to underground, mixed with the "squelch" of the tentacles and the splashing sounds of her bodily fluids, forming an unending symphony of debauchery.

This endless tentacle training allowed Ying's contrast-M nature to fully blossom: she weakly clung to justice, yet in every multi-orifice injection, milk spurt, and sensory bombardment of boot desecration, she felt the ultimate self-abandonment—the sweetness of shame, engulfing her like the Sakura Tide, with no escape.

Three days later, Ying was dragged underground by the tentacles, only her head and chest exposed to the surface. She secreted milk, distended and in unbearable pain, her breasts swollen like melons, her nipples dripping white fluid. The small dog accompanying her in the garden began to lick and suck her breasts. The rough tongue brought a trace of comfort, making her pant shamefully, "Ah... comfortable..." Her fragile resolve was shattered; tears mixed with milk flowed down, yet in the pleasure, she found a twisted peace.

After weeks of flesh cocoon confinement, Ying was finally peeled out of the pink, sticky chrysalis by Kaede. Her body had completely changed—her skin was as delicate and fragile as newborn skin, every wisp of air brushing against it bringing an electric tingle; her breasts remained swollen with the lingering distended pain after secretion, nipples hard and dripping residual milk; her privates were swollen and wet, labia everted like perpetually open petals, sticky traces left between her legs after bodily fluids dried; the insides of her thigh-high boots were covered with tentacle mucus and indentations, that familiar pain now transformed into an unending hot itch. She collapsed weakly to the ground, her pink long hair disheveled and stuck to her sweaty back, the last lingering shadow of justice in her heart wavering like a thin mist: she should have been angry, should have resisted, but her body's betrayal left her only able to pant weakly, her upper thighs unconsciously rubbing together, craving touch.

Kaede elegantly bent down and picked her up—the strength in her arms was gentle yet irresistible, like holding a completely tamed pet. Ying's naked body pressed tightly against Kaede's red kimono, her breasts pressed against the other's chest, her nipples rubbing the fabric bringing a stinging pleasure, making her whimper softly, yet powerless to push away. She was taken to a private hot spring deep within the garden, steam rising, scattered cherry blossom petals floating on the water's surface, the air filled with a mix of warmth and floral fragrance, faintly carrying the lingering fishy sweetness of "Sakura Tide."

The hot spring water was warm and slippery. Kaede first placed Ying in the water, letting her lean against a stone at the edge of the pool. The moment Ying's body immersed in the hot water, it was like adding fuel to a fire—her sensitive skin instantly flushed, her vulva petals automatically opened under the gentle caress of the water flow, honey-like fluid mixing into the hot spring with a faint "squelch." She tried to cover her breasts with her arms, but it only made her breasts more prominent, her nipples hardening and swelling under the hot water's stimulation, dripping transparent secretions like milk. Kaede knelt by the pool edge, rolling up her kimono sleeves, dipping her fingers in the water, gently yet precisely sliding them across Ying's neck. The fingers were cool and slippery, with the force of a fan's ribs, pressing on the red marks left by her collar. Ying's throat emitted faint gasps, her body instinctively arched—her righteous resolve made her want to refuse, but the tingling electricity from the touch rushed straight to her privates, causing her waist to unconsciously twist, as if begging for more.

Kaede's hand moved down, her palm covering Ying's full breasts, gently kneading and squeezing. Her breast flesh overflowed between the fingers, her nipples grasped and elongated by thumb and forefinger, making a wet, sticky "pop" sound. Ying's breasts were already swollen, painful, and sensitive. Now, under the hot water immersion and Kaede's kneading, milk-like fluid spurted out, mixing into the hot spring to form a milky white vortex. That pleasure, like needle pricks, shot straight to her brain, causing Ying's legs to spread underwater. Her thigh-high boots became heavier after being soaked, the flesh rings at the boot shaft indentations swollen and hot. Her inner self vulnerably mumbled that justice shouldn't be like this, yet as her nipples were twisted as if being sucked, small waves of orgasm had already surged from her lower abdomen, her privates contracting and squirting honey-like fluid, small bubbles appearing on the water's surface.

Kaede's hand continued downwards, sliding over Ying's abdomen, pressing and gently but firmly massaging the swollen uterine area in her lower belly. Ying's abdominal flesh trembled, the residual "Sakura Tide" essence in her uterus stimulated to revive, a burning heat spreading like wildfire, causing her vulva petals to evert and swell, her clitoris hardening and exposed to the hot water's rinse. Kaede's fingers finally reached her privates, first gently caressing along the outer edge of her labia. The swollen petals trembled and spread open beneath her fingertips, revealing the tender pink and slippery folds within. Ying's waist suddenly arched, water splashing up. She tried to clamp her legs together to resist, but the weight of her thigh-high boots and the hot water's slipperiness left her only able to weakly open them, allowing Kaede's two fingers to slowly insert.

Fingers stirred within her vagina, rubbing against sensitive flesh walls, making "squish-squish" watery sounds and sounds of flesh walls being squeezed. Kaede's movements were elegant yet cruel, her fingertips precisely pressing on her G-spot and cervix. Each deep thrust squeezed out large amounts of honey-like fluid, mixing with the hot spring water to form sticky foam. Ying's body spasmed, her breasts shaking and spurting fluid, her privates contracting and sucking at the fingers, as if craving more brutal violation. Her last line of righteous dignity shattered completely at this moment—she insisted she shouldn't enjoy the enemy's touch, yet amidst the fingers' thrusting, she self-abandoningly arched her back in compliance, moans escaping her throat, mixed with the heat of the hot spring steam.

As the climax of the cleansing arrived, Kaede took out the latest "Sakura Extract"—a pink, sticky paste, carrying a rich floral scent and aphrodisiac heat. She first applied it to Ying's nipples and areolas, rubbing it in with her fingers. The paste seeped into her skin; her breasts instantly became burning hot and swollen, nipples erect as if about to burst, milk spurting even more fiercely. Ying's chest arched, the pleasure making tears stream down her face, yet in the distended pain, she felt ultimate ecstasy. Then the paste was applied to her privates—Kaede's fingers pushed the paste into her vulva and anus, stirring it deep inside. The paste melted into a hot liquid, filling her uterus and intestines. Ying's body was as if burning, her vulva petals everted and dripping a honey-like fluid mixed with the paste, her clitoris swollen and so sensitive it trembled at the slightest breeze. She climaxed repeatedly, her body spasming and twitching in the hot spring. The water's surface foamed with copious bubbles and bodily fluids, her thigh-high boots thrashed weakly underwater, making muffled, shameful thuds.

After the application was complete, Ying was completely corrupted by lust. Every inch of her skin was sensitive like a beast in heat, desire an unquenchable fire, her eyes wet and hazy, left only with longing for Kaede. Kaede's fingers finally slid over her thigh-high boots, gently pressing the indentations. That pain caused Ying to climax and gush one last time. She collapsed weakly in the hot spring, the last shadow of justice in her heart completely melted—this gentle "cleansing" training brought her contrast-M nature to its extreme: she had once upheld justice, yet in her enemy's fingertips and paste, she felt the ultimate self-abandonment and sweet dependence.

The hot spring water gradually calmed, leaving only Ying's faint gasps and the lingering scent of bodily fluids, declaring that she had completely become Kaede's lustful pet.

Ying's corruption was completely solidified after the hot spring cleansing. From that day on, her daily life was that of a geisha in Kaede's garden—wearing that extremely shameful lingerie and red thigh-high boots, entertaining the local Japanese gang bosses at open-air tables beneath the cherry blossom trees. Those men were crude and greedy, their arms covered in tattoos, the smell of tobacco and alcohol mixed with body odor. They sat around low wooden tables, their gazes like wolves fixed on Ying's body. The remaining fragments of justice in her heart still flickered vulnerably: she was once a magical girl who protected the city, but now she had to please her enemies like a lowly animal. But this contrasting humiliation was precisely the source of her body becoming hotter and wetter—whenever she remembered her past of shouting justice, her lower body would involuntarily twitch, honey-like fluid dripping from her crotchless thong onto her thigh-high boots, leaving a sticky trail of shame.

Ying's geisha performance began with an erotic dance. She knelt in the center of the gathering, her pink long hair splayed out, the thin chain on her collar casually held in Kaede's hand. When the music began, she slowly rose, the heels of her thigh-high boots clicking crisply yet trembling on the wooden floor. That sound, once a symbol of her pride, now seemed to declare her slave status. She twisted her waist and swayed her hips, her breasts swaying under the restraint of cross-straps, nipples erect and prominent, rubbing the fabric bringing a stinging pleasure. The gang members laughed, reaching out to slap her buttocks, their palms hitting her bare flesh with a crisp "smack," causing Ying's waist to unconsciously arch, her vulva petals opening at the crotchless thong, wet and exposed to everyone's gaze. As she spun her body, she deliberately spread her legs, the indentations at the tops of her thigh-high boots red and glistening, honey-like fluid stretching and dripping, splashing onto the wooden floor to form small puddles. The men reached out to caress the insides of her thigh-high boots, rough fingers sliding into the boot shafts and rubbing her skin. That sensation, like an electric current, shot directly to her vulva, making Ying's gasps softer and more compliant—she weakly insisted she shouldn't enjoy it, yet amidst being played with in plain sight, small waves of orgasm had already surged from her lower abdomen, bodily fluids splattering and mixing with cherry blossom petals, decadent and shameful.

The entertainment process became even more explicit. Ying crawled on her knees among the men, her thigh-high boots rubbing against the floor with wet, sticky sounds. As she served drinks, her chest hung low, her breasts almost touching their arms, allowing them to pinch and twist her nipples, elongating them until milk-like secretions dripped into the wine glasses. Someone force-fed her alcohol, roughly pinching her chin. The liquor, mixed with saliva, flowed down the corners of her mouth, sliding over her bare breasts, leaving hot, wet marks. As she swallowed, her throat convulsed, alcohol and desire intertwining, making her privates wetter and itchier. Men took turns playing with her body—fingers inserted into her crotchless opening, stirring her vulva, making "squish-squish" watery sounds; some used chopsticks to clamp and pull her clitoris, the pleasure making her legs weak and collapse to her knees, her thigh-high boots kicking weakly on the ground; more men caressed her thigh-high boots, their tongues licking the bodily fluids and grime left on the boot surface. That rough sensation went straight to the core of her masochistic nature, making her unconsciously arch her back and writhe as if begging for mercy. Ying's sense of justice shattered a little with each insertion, suckling, and slapping: she had once despised these criminals, but now, amidst their crudeness, she felt her body's ultimate satisfaction—this heart-wrenching contrast made her tears fall, yet they were mixed with the sweet gasps of orgasm.

If the performance was not satisfactory, Kaede's whip would fall. The whip was slender and flexible, striking Ying's buttocks, breasts, or the indentations of her thigh-high boots with a crisp "crack," leaving red, swollen welts. During the whipping, Ying's body spasmed and arched. The pain was like burning fire, yet transformed into waves of pleasure rushing directly to her privates, causing her vulva to gush honey-like fluid, splashing onto her thigh-high boots to form glistening marks of lust. She knelt, crying in pain, her breasts shaking, her privates twitching, yet climaxing repeatedly with each fall of the whip. Kaede elegantly fanned herself, the whip precisely striking her nipples or clitoris. That pleasure made her completely break down—her righteous resolve melted in the burning heat of the whip marks. She began to beg for more punishment, solely for the ultimate release of that pleasurable pain. This Stockholm-like dependence deepened daily: when the whip fell, she no longer resisted, but actively thrust her chest and spread her legs, accommodating the lashing, vulnerably admitting internally—Kaede's training had become her only "justice."

Ying's geisha life continued day after day. At the gatherings, she was repeatedly penetrated, her vulva and anus filled with rough dicks, bodily fluids splattering and mixing with alcohol; she was harnessed with a chain to pull a rickshaw, her thigh-high boots running on the cherry blossom path, her breasts swaying exposed, letting passersby stare; she was tied to a pillar, allowing gang members to use liquor bottles, chopsticks, and cigarette butts to play with her sensitive spots, each pleasure making her moans echo. Her body was completely corrupted by lust, the indentations of her thigh-high boots becoming an eternal source of pleasure. The righteous magical girl had become the most debauched geisha slave in the garden—this contrasting degradation made her feel the ultimate sweetness of self-abandonment and a perverse loyalty to Kaede with each climax.

Finally, Ying's eyes held only wet adoration. She knelt and licked Kaede's geta, begging for the whip and touch. The line of justice had, in the shameful performances of a geisha, completely transformed into the mark of a slave to desire.

Ultimately, Ying was placed in a large cultivation tank for her final transformation. She floated in a pink liquid, tentacles and drugs reshaping her body. She completely became Kaede's puppet agent, carrying out Kaede's dark commands. Her justice had become an empty shell, or rather, completely inverted. What she adhered to was no longer protecting the world, but rather a debauched loyalty to her master.