10:00 AM, the beach pavilion.
"We need to get to know each other much better! Everyone, form a circle. Today, we are playing—Truth or Dare!" the host, Asa, announced with boundless energy.
The six guests slowly huddled into a circle, the residual warmth of the dying campfire looking rather frail against the crisp morning sea breeze:
Quan Zhixin: Still slumped in his medical wheelchair, his eyes completely vacant. Having been utterly hollowed out by Yan Shi the night before, he didn't even possess the cognitive strength to formulate a "truth," merely staring mechanically at the center of the circle.
Fang Mingtian and He Xiangru: The pair of "talented prodigies" appeared exceptionally restless and anxious, looking deathly afraid of having their secrets unearthed. Fang Mingtian nervously pushed up his glasses, his palms slick with sweat, while He Xiangru desperately tugged at her oversized sun-protection jacket, attempting to conceal the dark purple love-bites stamped across her neck by Huang Shao last night.
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Lin Huanhuan: Her excitement was written completely across her features. The newly awakened Scythe of Infatuation greedily scanned the group. To her, a game of Truth or Dare represented the definitive "harvest season"—once she unearthed their dirty secrets, draining their souls would become infinitely easier.
Yan Shi: Behaving with the utmost elegance. As the premier green-tea queen of show business, she possessed absolute confidence in her acting chops. She went so far as to flash a warm, tender smile toward the cameras, looking for all the world like a pure, flawless sister who cared only about the recovery of her beloved junior, Quan Zhixin.
The morning over the isolated island was violently shattered by the roaring thunder of a helicopter's rotors.
To ensure this "festival of truth" operated with 100% precision, I had personally contacted Sister Ping last night, utilizing her highest clearance to fly in Lin Yijia—the undisputed reigning champion of the international Math Olympiad from Zhiguo Girls' High, an SSR-grade prodigy. For this white-tiger female genius wielding The Authentic Inspiration, I couldn't summon a single second of patience.
The exact instant the helicopter touched down on the tarmac, its rotors still slowly churning, I roughly dragged this usually cold, currently crimson-faced mathematical prodigy into my embrace. Her intellect, normally packed with complex logic and equations, went entirely blank under my violent intrusion. Drawing my massive weapon amidst the heavy stench of aviation fuel and freezing sea winds, I ruthlessly plowed her right there on the helipad, eager to re-savor the black-hole-like, desperate suction provided by her top-tier white-tiger flesh-gates.
"Zhixin, my boy, truth or dare?" Asa asked with a sinister, shit-eating grin.
"I... I choose truth," Quan Zhixin croaked in a voice as faint as a mosquito. He lacked the somatic strength to even stand up, let alone execute a physical dare.
Beside my flank, still radiating a flushed crimson warmth, "The Soul Cutter's Right Hand" Lin Yijia pushed up her black-rimmed glasses, a faint, pale-yellow light radiating from her pupils as she locked her gaze directly onto Quan Zhixin’s eyes.
"Boss, Quan Zhixin’s soul value has been reduced to a literal 3. Aside from that massive rod, the rest of his frame is nothing more than a useless husk," Secretary Yan reported via my earpiece, her Appraiser's Eye flashing with a chilling, blue-green light as if inspecting a breathing specimen.
Yan Shi, the green-tea starlet, clearly noticed his absolute vulnerability as well. Unwilling to wait for the tedious progression of the rules, she impatiently threw out a highly humiliating question: "How many times a week do you masturbate?"
The question slammed into Quan Zhixin’s sunken face like a ringing slap.
"I... I...!"
Quan Zhixin’s entire frame trembled violently in his wheelchair. The deep shame anchored in his soul instinctively drove him to manufacture a "wholesome, athletic youth" lie. Yet before the mathematical prodigy Lin Yijia sitting by my side, all hypocrisy dissolved like ice over a furnace. Lin Yijia merely cast a cold glance his way, her Authentic Inspiration converting into a literal, crushing weight of logical pressure that deathly locked onto his vocal cords.
"I do it three times a day... sometimes five times a day! Back at school, during class, I’d constantly fantasize about my math teacher's naked body and run to the bathroom to get off...!"
Like a broken vending machine, Quan Zhixin began to relentlessly vomit out his filthiest secrets. He spoke with increasing fluidity, falling into a borderline pathological, self-destructive high, entirely oblivious to the fact that down in the production studio, Producer Wang Yicai’s jaw had dropped so hard his walkie-talkie slipped directly into his coffee mug.
Thank gods Lin Yijia belongs to me. Truly a terrifying asset... I chuckled inwardly at his total mental break, lightly squeezing Lin Yijia’s white-tiger thigh, which still carried the residual heat of our recent coupling.
"Well... moving on to our darling Yan Shi," the host Asa stammered, wiping cold sweat from her forehead. She felt as though her lifetime of professional hosting decorum had been thoroughly vaporized this morning.
Yan Shi glanced down at the bottle on the table; its base pointed directly at Huang Shao, who was wearing a malicious, dark smirk. She took a deep breath, fighting to maintain her final shred of professional dignity. "I choose dare."
"Heh, fascinating."
The instant Huang Shao heard her choice, the turgid contour between his thighs swelled with renewed aggression. His predatory eyes scanned Yan Shi's flawless features and voluptuous physique before he spat out a suffocating directive:
"I dare Yan Shi to drop onto all fours like a bitch, crawl all the way over to the lead camera operator, and open her pink folds wide with her own hands straight into the lens. Oh, and the cameraman needs to make sure her cervix is perfectly in focus. If the angle is bad, the operator has my full permission to reach in and push her folds aside so nothing blocks the view."
The pavilion fell so deathly quiet that only the ocean waves slamming against the shore remained.
The crimson flush on the green-tea queen's face instantly warped into a sickly, dark purple. A humiliation of this magnitude surpassed her wildest calculations. Yet, under the absolute thrall of Wang Miya’s hypnosis, refusal was physically impossible.
The moment Yan Shi’s knees hit the sand and her hands supported her weight, a current of absolute shame electrocuted her central nervous system. Under the unblinking gazes of the entire cast and crew, her hidden clitoral pearl—usually guarded with meticulous care—swelled and engorged visibly under the sheer psychological impact of the exposure. The moisture within her body erupted completely out of her control. The elegant, high-class villainess was currently experiencing a massive, torrential physiological climax triggered purely by the peak intensity of her shame.
"Secretary Yan, log this data: Yan Shi is a hardcore closet masochist," I commanded from the master seat, letting out a low chuckle at the beauty of this psychological experiment.
Yan Shi crawled to the main camera unit, her trembling fingers hooking into the borders of her drenched, dripping private area, attempting to execute Huang Shao’s depraved command. However, the exact millisecond she forcefully pried her pink internal walls apart, the accumulated fluids breached the dam, erupting in a violent squirt.
Squelch!
The torrent of hot, transparent fluid blasted directly onto the lens of the 4K camera, instantly converting the pristine display into a blurry mist of silver moisture. The lead camera operator, catching the brunt of the blast, was drenched head to toe, while his assistants stood frozen in absolute awe, watching the "nation's goddess" convulse repeatedly before the lens, her eyes rolling back as wave after wave of climax submerged her soul.
"Next up... Fang Mingtian!" Asa barked through clenched teeth, her voice trembling.
Her gorgeous features still dripping wet with her own juices, a thoroughly wrecked Yan Shi dragged her limbs back to the center of the circle to prepare for the next round.
"I choose dare!" Fang Mingtian practically roared the words. This hypersexual prodigy had spent the entire night watching Huang Shao, Lin Huanhuan, and He Xiangru locked in a savage flesh battle while he couldn't even graze the perimeter. By now, his brain was nothing but a screaming choir of blue balls, desperately praying the bottle would yield a command that allowed him to plunge his rod to the absolute root.
However, fate flipped the coin straight back into the hands of the billionaire deviant, Huang Shao.
Letting out a cold chuckle, Huang Shao’s soul-piercing gaze scanned Fang Mingtian's massive erection, which threatened to rip through the fabric of his briefs. He delivered the most sadistic prohibition: "I dare Fang Mingtian and our prodigy maiden He Xiangru to be bound face-to-face tightly with ropes... for exactly 60 minutes. Furthermore, during the entire duration, he is strictly forbidden from ejaculating."
This wasn't a reward; this was the ultimate pinnacle of physiological torture.
The crew members coarsely wrapped heavy hemp ropes around the pair, binding them flush against one another. He Xiangru’s full, teardrop-shaped breasts—exceptionally sensitive due to last night’s intense development—were pinned flat against Fang Mingtian’s hard abdominal muscles, compressing and deforming wildly with every breath they took.
Meanwhile, Fang Mingtian’s rock-hard rod, carrying a full night's accumulated reservoir of cream, pressed directly over He Xiangru’s cool navel. He writhed his hips like a fish pulled from water, frantically trying to slide the burning tip downward to locate the "butterfly channel" of his dreams.
"Ungh... dammit... let me in...!" Fang Mingtian let out the low growls of a caged beast.
Unfortunately, Huang Shao’s knots had been engineered with agonizing precision. No matter how frantically he swiveled his hips, aside from absorbing the elastic bounce of her breasts, the tip of his weapon could never locate that warm, elusive exit. Every single second of friction accumulated massive waves of pleasure, only to be forcefully dragged back at the absolute brink of release. This forced, endless edging was close to detonating his higher brain functions.
An hour later, the moment the ropes were loosened, Fang Mingtian collapsed straight onto his knees upon the sand, his entire skin bearing a feverish, sickly crimson. The essence inside his loins had peaked to a volatile frenzy, yet having been denied an exit, it began to violently eat away at his remaining sanity.
Panting heavily on the beach, his polished hair reduced to a chaotic bird's nest, his hand instinctively strayed toward his groin. Yet the exact millisecond his fingertips brushed the fabric of his briefs, he yanked his hand back as if struck by lightning.
He felt it—dozens of high-precision 4K cameras were deathly locked onto his hands.
Yan Shi looked down from above, her gaze treating him like a lower-tier lifeform; Lin Huanhuan wore the predatory amusement of a cat handling a cornered mouse; and the billionaire playboy sat spread-eagled, his smirk toxic and arrogant. Huang Shao was fully locked and loaded—the exact millisecond Fang Mingtian’s hand touched his zipper, he would unleash a mocking roar of laughter loud enough to pierce the entire island.
That laughter would become Fang Mingtian’s permanent lifelong nightmare. For the rest of his career, no matter where he released a hit song or held court in high society, all Huang Shao would ever need to say was, "Hey, remember that time you knelt on the beach begging to jerk off in front of all of us?"—and his entire existence would be instantly, thoroughly ruined.
No gimmicks. Pure smut. Hardcore storyline. On Ream, there are no limits, no censorship—only pure, unadulterated pleasure and endless dark fantasies.
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