Ah, God! He heard Qingxiao moan, his voice hoarse and weak. Why don’t you wear clothes? Don’t you know that this will die?
Haven't I been wearing clothes forever? A Ling looked at the master in surprise but heard the master say something even more mindless: Fortunately, I'm wearing clothes...
A Ling was stunned and said: Master?
Qingxiao laughed dryly and said: Well, now you have learned to kiss, and the kiss is very good, so, teacher, I want to take a break
Before A Ling could come back to his senses, he hurriedly put A Ling on the ground like a piece of charcoal. He disappeared in a flash. Only A Ling knelt alone in the kitchen, looking at the sun shadow on the floor.
The wind blows, bringing the breath of wood leaves and grass in the distance. The afternoon sun is quiet and peaceful, but A Ling has the urge to cry for no reason. The master runs so fast. He doesn't even see the shadow when he looks up. The slaves crawling around the ground can never keep up, right?
He looked at the tall operating table, gritted his teeth, held the platform with both hands, and slowly stood up.
******************
Yellow vanilla cookies, wrapped in a layer of powdery white icing, put them one by one into a wide-mouthed glass bottle. If a colorful bow is added, it will be a gift for friends on holidays.
A Ling's eyes were a little dazed. He seemed to have indeed given a can of cookies to his friend. It should be Christmas. They hung them at the door with evergreen leaf rings covered with ribbons, spraying them with colored paper chips. He still remembers that the top of the Christmas tree was a crystal-made Santa Claus sitting on a deer cart. When the ceiling lights were illuminated, it was very beautiful.
Those fragments of memory fell like snowflakes, forming faded images, gradually turning white and fading out, making him feel upset and at a loss. He simply stopped what he was doing and stared at the crystal clear glass bottle.
After standing for so long, he really couldn't support his legs. He still had to habitually separate his legs. He needed to hold the operating table with his right hand to support it. Therefore, he could only do things with his left hand for only twenty or thirty minutes, but it was as long as it was after two or three hours. His legs were sore and his knees were sore like needles. Even though he had been used to the pain, he couldn't help but breathe, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and held his trembling legs.
The master just asked him to practice for ten minutes a day. He never restricted him from kneeling in the kitchen. However, he never said that he could do his best. He hoped that the master would be satisfied.
The new owner seems to have a good temper, but he always speaks vaguely and his mind is always erratic. This vanilla biscuit is the owner's designated refreshment. After it is ready, the fragrance is everywhere. The owner is not bad at all. But he only tastes one or two and then lets go. When eating, he is absent-minded, as if he is completely immersed in his own world. He has never said a word to him from beginning to end, and has never even looked up at him.
No, of course he didn't expect his master to say something delicious, thank you, but he still hopes that a smile or a look of praise can relieve his hanging heart.
The previous master would not be much more harsh, but he would always give clear instructions on what he could do and what he could not do. There are several precepts that must be followed. What kind of punishment will be punished if he violated? Whether he was given a birch stick or a whip of fifty, he would explain one by one that he did not like pain, but he would be willing to endure the pain for his master, because the master would hug him afterwards and tell him that everything was gone, like the chalk words that were wiped away, he had been forgiven, and he was still loved by the master. The master was angry, and the master did not want to speak now, and would tell him directly in very short words that he would not be tired after following such a master.
But now the master is always so gentle, but A Ling cannot guess what he is thinking. The master uses colorful neon lights to create a beautiful dream, giving him a vague back. He can only stumble behind him, not knowing whether it is a road ahead or a cliff after the neon lights disappear.
However, he had no choice, even if it was a cliff, he could only jump down.
Or, this is his fate
The knees were almost broken. He held the glass bottle with both hands and wanted to put it in the refrigerator. This simple action exhausted all his strength. When his legs became weak, he fell to the ground and fell into several pieces. The cookies that took an hour or two to make rolled on the ground. The powder-like sugar coat wrapped in rustled on the ground and turned into dust immediately.
A Ling was stunned and tried to get up. A strange sound made his knee joints. He felt that his eyes were dark and almost fainted. Tears involuntarily surged into his eyes and legs trembled like sieve bran. He could not control it at all. However, a strong sense of self-abuse prompted him to kneel to the ground like venting. He felt the pain burning from his knees like flames. He bit his lips and endured it for a while, letting the pain pass. Then he bent down and slowly picked up the biscuits on the ground.
This small movement made him sweat. The princess trembled and felt the pain of cutting the knife every time he moved. She picked up a few pieces. She felt that she could not support her. She felt dizzy and fell glass fragments forward and cut his arm into blood.
Uh... He snorted in pain, and his consciousness became blurred for a moment. He looked ahead blankly. The golden sunlight was projecting on the cookies, emitting the sweet fragrance of vanilla and honey. He was still lying on the floor, letting blood slowly emerge, wandering like a little snake, his heart was empty, thinking nothing, and doing nothing until a light sound awakened him. He raised his head blankly, and was facing the angry eyes of his master.
The master's eyes were as dark as night, but deep in the eyes, there was an inexplicable flame burning, and he felt his heart palpitations and said stutteringly: Sorry, Master...
The master said nothing, but just strode over and picked him up, he smelled the faint smell of sweat on his master, but the touch was extremely cold. The master seemed to be afraid... the smell was also very good... He reflected this vaguely and then lost consciousness.
******************
He didn't know how long he had been in a coma. In half-dream and half-awake, there seemed to be raindrops falling on his face. It was cool and astringent. Someone was stroking his head, and then and again, warm and powerful. When he was a child, his mother liked to pat him gently when she was sleeping with him. He also used such a stable and regular rhythm. He still remembered his mother's face in the dusk, so pale and soft, like an ambiguous gesture.
He slowly opened his eyes, in front of him was the owner's anxious face, and there seemed to be traces of water at the corner of his eyes. The rain... Where did the rain come from in the house...
He felt his head heavy and was so groggy that he couldn't remember anything, and subconsciously said: Sorry, Master...
The anxiety suddenly turned into resentment, and the master said coldly: It turns out that you know you have done something wrong too! Tell me, I don’t want you to make the same mistake again!
The brain is still dull, but the owner's question must be answered and he said tiredly: A Ling broke the glass bottle and stained the cookies
The hand that touched his black hair slid down, pressed his cheek, and a force came from his fingertips, gentle but firm: Open your eyes and look at me, your answer doesn't satisfy me
Looking at me, A Ling, remember you are my slave. His voice is quiet and harsh, with unparalleled pressure
The scattered thoughts began to come back to his soul. He opened his eyes with difficulty and faced his master's clear and serious and cold face.
And... and... He focused all his attention and searched little by little, and there was the cookie... The owner shouldn't like eating it very much. He only ate one or two bites and A Ling didn't make it delicious, right?
The master stared at him, looking like he was reluctant to hold on: That's all?
He searched for a long time and thought about it, and finally said: Sorry...
Two murderous eyes shot out in the master's eyes and said: You are not sorry for me, you are sorry for yourself! Whoever allows you to make yourself so hurt!
It seemed that he could no longer control his emotions. The master stood up suddenly and said: I only let you practice for ten minutes a day, and you just stand still, regardless of whether your body can bear it! If you didn’t fall and couldn’t get up, would you rather break your legs and carry it like this?
I rushed in and was afraid of scaring you, so if I didn't come in, you would ruin yourself... The master became more and more angry as he spoke, and walked around the room. You either wanted to serve me or to anger me to death!
He looked at the master blankly, and couldn't react at all: But... the master doesn't like A Ling to do things on his knees?
The master said angrily: I don’t like it…of course I don’t like it, but I don’t allow you to kneel down and do Ah, and you should feel uncomfortable if you feel...
He suddenly stopped and shouted: Ah, God! Cover your face with both hands
After a while, he sat down slowly, looking extremely tired, he looked at A Ling and tried hard to squeeze out a light smile: I hope you remember a precept, which is above all else: Slaves are the master's most precious wealth, so no matter when, you cannot hurt yourself.
His eyes had become soft, but his tone was extremely harsh and unshakable: I want you to remember this firmly in your heart and I will punish you because you have violated this highest precept
A Ling looked at the master quietly, joy mixed with gratitude and gratitude made him speechless. He paused for a moment before saying: Ah, Master...
The master held his face softly and whispered: You must think I am not really a slave, right? I want to tell you, that's because you think too much and you do well. I will reward you for doing something wrong. I will punish you. You are my most precious wealth, so you must never let yourself be hurt again, because I care very much, very much, very much.
Feeling tears slowly pouring into my eyes, A Ling whispered: Sorry, Master A Ling shouldn't guess the master's thoughts randomly. This is not what the slave should do. Please punish A Ling.
The master smiled and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes: This is nothing, in fact, I encourage you to guess my thoughts and then react
He laughed: There is a smart slave with his own ideas, which is far more interesting than a puppet. I like this slave.
He stroked A Ling's black hair, and still used that stable and powerful technique, with a strange rhythm: I hope you can guess my thoughts one day, and then tell me, tell me in a slight way: You know my thoughts completely, without any doubts.
He paused and said with mixed feelings: Very looking forward to it
His voice was full of emotion, which made Ah Ling bewitched. He felt that his heart seemed to be beating with the master's caress: Master...
Um?
Will there be such a day?
Of course, I have been waiting for that day for a long time. The master smiled and shaved his nose, but first of all, you need to get better as soon as possible. Now you are as bad as a cat rolling out of the thorns. You have to be well prepared and eat yourself fat before you can have the strength to accept my punishment.
The master laughed again: Otherwise, even if I punished me, I would not feel happy.
Haven't I been wearing clothes forever? A Ling looked at the master in surprise but heard the master say something even more mindless: Fortunately, I'm wearing clothes...
A Ling was stunned and said: Master?
Qingxiao laughed dryly and said: Well, now you have learned to kiss, and the kiss is very good, so, teacher, I want to take a break
Before A Ling could come back to his senses, he hurriedly put A Ling on the ground like a piece of charcoal. He disappeared in a flash. Only A Ling knelt alone in the kitchen, looking at the sun shadow on the floor.
The wind blows, bringing the breath of wood leaves and grass in the distance. The afternoon sun is quiet and peaceful, but A Ling has the urge to cry for no reason. The master runs so fast. He doesn't even see the shadow when he looks up. The slaves crawling around the ground can never keep up, right?
He looked at the tall operating table, gritted his teeth, held the platform with both hands, and slowly stood up.
******************
Yellow vanilla cookies, wrapped in a layer of powdery white icing, put them one by one into a wide-mouthed glass bottle. If a colorful bow is added, it will be a gift for friends on holidays.
A Ling's eyes were a little dazed. He seemed to have indeed given a can of cookies to his friend. It should be Christmas. They hung them at the door with evergreen leaf rings covered with ribbons, spraying them with colored paper chips. He still remembers that the top of the Christmas tree was a crystal-made Santa Claus sitting on a deer cart. When the ceiling lights were illuminated, it was very beautiful.
Those fragments of memory fell like snowflakes, forming faded images, gradually turning white and fading out, making him feel upset and at a loss. He simply stopped what he was doing and stared at the crystal clear glass bottle.
After standing for so long, he really couldn't support his legs. He still had to habitually separate his legs. He needed to hold the operating table with his right hand to support it. Therefore, he could only do things with his left hand for only twenty or thirty minutes, but it was as long as it was after two or three hours. His legs were sore and his knees were sore like needles. Even though he had been used to the pain, he couldn't help but breathe, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and held his trembling legs.
The master just asked him to practice for ten minutes a day. He never restricted him from kneeling in the kitchen. However, he never said that he could do his best. He hoped that the master would be satisfied.
The new owner seems to have a good temper, but he always speaks vaguely and his mind is always erratic. This vanilla biscuit is the owner's designated refreshment. After it is ready, the fragrance is everywhere. The owner is not bad at all. But he only tastes one or two and then lets go. When eating, he is absent-minded, as if he is completely immersed in his own world. He has never said a word to him from beginning to end, and has never even looked up at him.
No, of course he didn't expect his master to say something delicious, thank you, but he still hopes that a smile or a look of praise can relieve his hanging heart.
The previous master would not be much more harsh, but he would always give clear instructions on what he could do and what he could not do. There are several precepts that must be followed. What kind of punishment will be punished if he violated? Whether he was given a birch stick or a whip of fifty, he would explain one by one that he did not like pain, but he would be willing to endure the pain for his master, because the master would hug him afterwards and tell him that everything was gone, like the chalk words that were wiped away, he had been forgiven, and he was still loved by the master. The master was angry, and the master did not want to speak now, and would tell him directly in very short words that he would not be tired after following such a master.
But now the master is always so gentle, but A Ling cannot guess what he is thinking. The master uses colorful neon lights to create a beautiful dream, giving him a vague back. He can only stumble behind him, not knowing whether it is a road ahead or a cliff after the neon lights disappear.
However, he had no choice, even if it was a cliff, he could only jump down.
Or, this is his fate
The knees were almost broken. He held the glass bottle with both hands and wanted to put it in the refrigerator. This simple action exhausted all his strength. When his legs became weak, he fell to the ground and fell into several pieces. The cookies that took an hour or two to make rolled on the ground. The powder-like sugar coat wrapped in rustled on the ground and turned into dust immediately.
A Ling was stunned and tried to get up. A strange sound made his knee joints. He felt that his eyes were dark and almost fainted. Tears involuntarily surged into his eyes and legs trembled like sieve bran. He could not control it at all. However, a strong sense of self-abuse prompted him to kneel to the ground like venting. He felt the pain burning from his knees like flames. He bit his lips and endured it for a while, letting the pain pass. Then he bent down and slowly picked up the biscuits on the ground.
This small movement made him sweat. The princess trembled and felt the pain of cutting the knife every time he moved. She picked up a few pieces. She felt that she could not support her. She felt dizzy and fell glass fragments forward and cut his arm into blood.
Uh... He snorted in pain, and his consciousness became blurred for a moment. He looked ahead blankly. The golden sunlight was projecting on the cookies, emitting the sweet fragrance of vanilla and honey. He was still lying on the floor, letting blood slowly emerge, wandering like a little snake, his heart was empty, thinking nothing, and doing nothing until a light sound awakened him. He raised his head blankly, and was facing the angry eyes of his master.
The master's eyes were as dark as night, but deep in the eyes, there was an inexplicable flame burning, and he felt his heart palpitations and said stutteringly: Sorry, Master...
The master said nothing, but just strode over and picked him up, he smelled the faint smell of sweat on his master, but the touch was extremely cold. The master seemed to be afraid... the smell was also very good... He reflected this vaguely and then lost consciousness.
******************
He didn't know how long he had been in a coma. In half-dream and half-awake, there seemed to be raindrops falling on his face. It was cool and astringent. Someone was stroking his head, and then and again, warm and powerful. When he was a child, his mother liked to pat him gently when she was sleeping with him. He also used such a stable and regular rhythm. He still remembered his mother's face in the dusk, so pale and soft, like an ambiguous gesture.
He slowly opened his eyes, in front of him was the owner's anxious face, and there seemed to be traces of water at the corner of his eyes. The rain... Where did the rain come from in the house...
He felt his head heavy and was so groggy that he couldn't remember anything, and subconsciously said: Sorry, Master...
The anxiety suddenly turned into resentment, and the master said coldly: It turns out that you know you have done something wrong too! Tell me, I don’t want you to make the same mistake again!
The brain is still dull, but the owner's question must be answered and he said tiredly: A Ling broke the glass bottle and stained the cookies
The hand that touched his black hair slid down, pressed his cheek, and a force came from his fingertips, gentle but firm: Open your eyes and look at me, your answer doesn't satisfy me
Looking at me, A Ling, remember you are my slave. His voice is quiet and harsh, with unparalleled pressure
The scattered thoughts began to come back to his soul. He opened his eyes with difficulty and faced his master's clear and serious and cold face.
And... and... He focused all his attention and searched little by little, and there was the cookie... The owner shouldn't like eating it very much. He only ate one or two bites and A Ling didn't make it delicious, right?
The master stared at him, looking like he was reluctant to hold on: That's all?
He searched for a long time and thought about it, and finally said: Sorry...
Two murderous eyes shot out in the master's eyes and said: You are not sorry for me, you are sorry for yourself! Whoever allows you to make yourself so hurt!
It seemed that he could no longer control his emotions. The master stood up suddenly and said: I only let you practice for ten minutes a day, and you just stand still, regardless of whether your body can bear it! If you didn’t fall and couldn’t get up, would you rather break your legs and carry it like this?
I rushed in and was afraid of scaring you, so if I didn't come in, you would ruin yourself... The master became more and more angry as he spoke, and walked around the room. You either wanted to serve me or to anger me to death!
He looked at the master blankly, and couldn't react at all: But... the master doesn't like A Ling to do things on his knees?
The master said angrily: I don’t like it…of course I don’t like it, but I don’t allow you to kneel down and do Ah, and you should feel uncomfortable if you feel...
He suddenly stopped and shouted: Ah, God! Cover your face with both hands
After a while, he sat down slowly, looking extremely tired, he looked at A Ling and tried hard to squeeze out a light smile: I hope you remember a precept, which is above all else: Slaves are the master's most precious wealth, so no matter when, you cannot hurt yourself.
His eyes had become soft, but his tone was extremely harsh and unshakable: I want you to remember this firmly in your heart and I will punish you because you have violated this highest precept
A Ling looked at the master quietly, joy mixed with gratitude and gratitude made him speechless. He paused for a moment before saying: Ah, Master...
The master held his face softly and whispered: You must think I am not really a slave, right? I want to tell you, that's because you think too much and you do well. I will reward you for doing something wrong. I will punish you. You are my most precious wealth, so you must never let yourself be hurt again, because I care very much, very much, very much.
Feeling tears slowly pouring into my eyes, A Ling whispered: Sorry, Master A Ling shouldn't guess the master's thoughts randomly. This is not what the slave should do. Please punish A Ling.
The master smiled and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes: This is nothing, in fact, I encourage you to guess my thoughts and then react
He laughed: There is a smart slave with his own ideas, which is far more interesting than a puppet. I like this slave.
He stroked A Ling's black hair, and still used that stable and powerful technique, with a strange rhythm: I hope you can guess my thoughts one day, and then tell me, tell me in a slight way: You know my thoughts completely, without any doubts.
He paused and said with mixed feelings: Very looking forward to it
His voice was full of emotion, which made Ah Ling bewitched. He felt that his heart seemed to be beating with the master's caress: Master...
Um?
Will there be such a day?
Of course, I have been waiting for that day for a long time. The master smiled and shaved his nose, but first of all, you need to get better as soon as possible. Now you are as bad as a cat rolling out of the thorns. You have to be well prepared and eat yourself fat before you can have the strength to accept my punishment.
The master laughed again: Otherwise, even if I punished me, I would not feel happy.
![[Science fiction] The diary of the female fall of the white-haired pseudo-woman - SM, fake girl](/templates/nvshen/themes/img/thumb_1.png)