The Bondage of Human Skin

Consciousness slowly rises like sinking into the deep sea, and the senses awaken one by one, bringing a suffocating sense of disorientation.

The first sensation to return was touch—the feeling of skin completely enveloped by a tight, smooth material, from head to toe, every inch of skin meticulously covered. The material was as thin as a cicada's wing, yet exceptionally resilient, clinging tightly to the body's curves like a second skin. With each breath, the rise and fall of the chest was restricted by this constriction, each inhale bringing a slight pressure. The waist was tightly cinched, its unnaturally slender curve making breathing even more difficult. Between the legs… that strange feeling of emptiness and tightness was an unfamiliar tactile sensation arising from the structure of the female body.

Then comes the sense of smell—a rich rose scent mixed with a faint tea aroma, a unique fragrance emanating from Nagisa's skin and hair. But beneath this fragrance lies another scent: the slightly fishy smell of old leather, mixed with an indescribable chemical odor similar to formaldehyde. It's the smell of human skin itself, the traces left from the peeling, processing, and preservation process.

The vision gradually became clear.

The teacher—or rather, the teacher currently dressed in the skin of a Zhu human—slowly turned his head, his long, grey-gold hair sliding over his shoulders with the movement, strands brushing against his cheeks with a slight tickle. He was lying on a large bed, the sheets being deep red silk, gleaming eerily in the dim light. The room was spacious, but the furnishings were bizarre—the walls were covered with…human skin.

Complete human skins hung on specially made hangers, like mannequins in a clothing store. There were skins of Nagisa, Mika, Seiya, and many more of the female students he knew or didn't. Each skin retained its posture and expression from life; some smiled, some were lost in thought, some even had wide, terrified eyes. They had been meticulously treated, the skin an unnatural pale white, but the details were remarkably well-preserved—eyelashes, eyebrows, even the fine downy hairs on the skin were clearly visible. The necks, wrists, and ankles of the skins bore fine stitching marks, as if they had been completely peeled off from the inside and then re-stitched.

There is a huge floor-length mirror in the center of the room, facing the bed.

The teacher struggled to sit up, and the deep red silk sheet slipped off, revealing "her" body.

The reflection in the mirror is Nagisa Kirito.

Long, grey-gold hair cascaded over her shoulders, a floral ornament swaying gently beside her left ear. Her fair skin shimmered like pearls in the dim light, her breasts full and perky, the nipples a pale pink, slightly erect in the air. Her waist was slender enough to be grasped in one hand, her abdomen flat and smooth. Further down… dark grey pantyhose stretched from her waist to her ankles, clinging to her skin and outlining the smooth curves of her legs. A neat cut was made at the crotch of the pantyhose, revealing a pink slit inside, now slightly open, oozing a clear liquid—the trace of their previous sexual encounter.

But the strangest thing is the halo.

A red halo hovered above the "head," its intricate pattern of ten spikes emitting a faint red glow. The teacher could sense its presence—not visually, but through a deeper perception. The halo seemed directly connected to the "core" of the body, radiating a weak but continuous energy fluctuation.

He raised his hand—the slender, pale hand that belonged to Nagisa—and gently touched his face. The touch was soft and real; he could feel the elasticity of her skin, its warmth, even the fine downy hairs on his cheeks. But beneath this touch lay a deeper, more unsettling sense of alienation—like wearing an incredibly realistic mask that fit perfectly to your skin; you know it's not you, but all your senses tell you: this is you.

"It suits you perfectly, teacher."

The sound came from the corner of the room.

The teacher jerked his head around—or rather, tried to jerk it. But the body reacted more slowly than he did, its movements more graceful, more…feminine. He saw the person who had spoken.

That was him.

Or rather, wearing a black suit disguised as a teacher.

He stood in the shadows of the room, wearing the teacher's shirt and trousers, three buttons undone, revealing his muscular chest. His hair was the teacher's hairstyle, his face was the teacher's face, and even his posture and subtle facial expressions were perfectly imitated. But those eyes—the light in those eyes—was a light unique to those in black, a light filled with malice and desire.

"How are you feeling?" The man in black—wearing the teacher's human skin—walked slowly, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He stopped by the bed, looking down at "Nagisa" sitting on it, a familiar smile, the one that belonged to the teacher, playing on his lips, but the twisted look in his eyes destroyed any semblance of warmth.

“This body,” he continued, his voice the teacher’s, but his tone the black suit, “is one of my most perfect possessions. Kirito Nagisa—the president of the Holy Trinity Tea Party, elegant, wise, and noble. Now, she belongs to you.”

The teacher wanted to speak, but his throat tightened. He opened his mouth, but what came out was a soft, elegant female voice: "What...did you do to me?"

The voice was soft, trembling slightly; it was Nagisa's voice, Nagisa's tone, Nagisa's way of expressing emotions. Perfect to the point of despair.

The man in black smiled. He sat down by the bed and gently stroked Nagisa's cheek, his touch as tender as if he were handling a precious treasure.

“I have given you a gift,” he said softly, “to let you experience… what it feels like to be her. To let you know what it is… to enjoy wearing such a beautiful body.”

His fingers slid from her cheek to her neck, then to her collarbone, and finally rested on her chest. His fingertips gently pressed against that soft mound, feeling the elasticity and warmth of her breasts.

“Look,” he said, his voice tinged with pride, “how perfect this body is. Smooth, delicate skin, full, soft breasts, a slender, supple waist. And here…”

His hand moved down, gliding over the flat stomach, and between her legs. His fingertips gently probed the moist opening, touching the softness inside.

"Ah..." Teacher—Nagisa—uncontrollably let out a soft moan. The sound was delicate and alluring, a sound that Nagisa would never make, but the body's natural reaction could not be suppressed.

The black-clad fingers stirred gently inside, bringing waves of unfamiliar pleasure. The pleasure was intense and direct, completely different from the pleasure felt by a man's body—more diffuse, more profound, more…out of control.

“This body is highly sensitive,” the man in black said in a low voice, his fingers moving faster. “Nagisa always suppresses herself, always maintaining elegance and restraint. But she doesn’t know that her body… actually craves to be touched, violated, and… completely used.”

He withdrew his finger, its tip glistening with a clear liquid in the dim light. He brought his finger to Nagisa's lips.

“Try it,” he said, his voice commanding. “Taste what you taste like now.”

The teacher wanted to refuse, but the body opened its mouth involuntarily. The man in black inserted his finger, smearing the tip on the tongue, and the slightly salty, faintly sweet-and-sour taste spread in the mouth.

"Delicious, isn't it?" The man in black laughed, withdrew his fingers, and began to take off his clothes.

He first took off his shirt, revealing his muscular upper body—the teacher's body, with strong pectoral muscles, well-defined abdominal muscles, and healthy tanned skin. Then he unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper, and his trousers slid to the ground, revealing his fully erect penis.

The penis was thick and strong, with prominent veins on its surface, and a clear liquid seeping from the tip of the glans. In the dim light, every detail of it could be clearly seen—it was the teacher's own penis, but now it was controlled by the black-clad man, used to violate the teacher himself who was wearing the skin of a Nagato.

The man in black climbed onto the bed and pushed "Nagisa" down onto the deep red silk sheets. His movements were rough, completely different from the teacher's usual gentle style. He spread "Nagisa's" legs apart, making the dark gray pantyhose even tighter, and the crotch opening was pulled wider, revealing the completely exposed slit inside.

“Teacher now has two choices.” The man in black leaned down and whispered in Nagisa’s ear, his warm breath brushing against her earlobe. “First, continue to resist, continue to struggle. But if that happens… I will be very rough. I will use this body—your body—to violate you brutally. I will let you feel the pain and pleasure of being violated by yourself within your own body.”

His penis pressed against that moist entrance, rubbing slowly, bringing waves of subtle stimulation.

“Second,” he continued, his voice seductive, “accept all of this. Enjoy all of this. Acknowledge that you are Nagisa now, acknowledge that you… crave to be violated, crave to be used. If that happens… I will be gentler. I will make you feel… the pleasure of being a woman.”

Teacher—Nagisa—lay on the sheets, his long, grey-gold hair disheveled, the floral decorations askew. His blue eyes were filled with complex emotions—fear, anger, humiliation, but beneath them, there was also a trace of…uncontrollable excitement. The body's natural reactions were eroding his will, those unfamiliar signals of pleasure were assaulting his reason.

"I..." he began, his voice trembling, "I..."

"Shh." The man in black gently pressed his fingers to his lips. "Don't speak. Answer with your body..."

He used his waist strength, and his penis slowly pushed in.

This time, the entry was unusually slow and unusually clear. The teacher could feel every inch of progress, the gradual opening of the tight passage, and the smoothing out of the inner walls' folds. The feeling of being filled was unfamiliar and intense, bringing a deep, thrilling pleasure.

"Ah..." he murmured again, his voice even softer and more alluring.

The man in black laughed, a satisfied and smug smile. He began to thrust, slowly at first, each stroke accompanied by clear sounds of water and flesh colliding. The deep red silk sheets creaked softly with each movement, and his long, grey-gold hair cascaded across the sheets, swaying gently with his body's movements.

"Look in the mirror," the man in black said in a low voice, without stopping his movements. "Look at how you look now."

Teacher—Nagisa—turned her head and looked at the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror.

The scene reflected in the mirror was breathtaking.

"Teacher" was on top of "Nagisa," his thick penis thrusting in and out between her legs, each penetration causing her body to arch slightly. Her legs, encased in dark gray pantyhose, were spread wide, her white high heels swaying gently with each impact. An unnatural flush rose to "Nagisa's" cheeks, her blue eyes were half-open, and her lips were slightly parted, emitting intermittent moans. Her long, gray-gold hair was disheveled on the sheets, her breasts heaving violently with each thrust, her nipples tracing alluring arcs in the air.

The strangest thing is the halo.

The "teacher" has no halo above his head—because teachers don't have halos to begin with. Meanwhile, the red halo above "Nagisa's" head is flickering slightly with the rhythm of the sexual act, its light flashing intermittently, like some kind of biological reaction.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man in black said breathlessly, his movements gradually quickening. “Look, your body… how much you’re enjoying yourself. Your breasts are swaying, your waist is twisting, your voice… how alluring.”

His hands gripped Nagisa's breasts, kneading them forcefully, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, leaving red finger marks. The nipples, swollen and red from the rough treatment, glistened moistly in the dim light.

"Ah...slower..." Teacher—Nagisa—said intermittently, her voice trembling with sobs, yet mixed with pleasure, "It's too deep...ah..."

"Deep?" The man in black laughed, his movements becoming even more violent. "This is just the beginning."

He changed his angle, each thrust reaching the deepest point, his glans rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot. The stimulation caused "Nagisa's" body to tremble violently, and more fluid gushed out, soaking the sheets and leaving dark water stains on the deep red silk.

“There…no…ah…” Teacher—Nagisa—screamed, his hands gripping the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white from the ****. But his body’s natural reaction betrayed him—the internal muscles spasmed and contracted, tightly enveloping the invading penis, bringing an even stronger pleasure response.

The man in black leaned down and kissed his lips. The kiss was rough and deep, his tongue penetrating directly and entwining with his. Saliva exchanged, producing lewd, wet sounds. At the same time, his thrusting reached its peak speed, each entry and exit exerting all his strength, the sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the room, mingling with the creaking of the bed frame.

Teacher—Nagisa—began to lose consciousness. Pleasure surged like a tide, wave after wave, assaulting his reason and eroding his will. This body was far too sensitive; every touch, every friction, every penetration sent intense signals of pleasure. These signals directly assaulted his brain, rendering him unable to think, only able to feel.

The scene reflected in the mirror became increasingly lewd.

Nagisa's body was completely dominated by desire. Her waist actively responded to the thrusts, and her legs wrapped around the teacher's waist, her dark gray pantyhose shimmering slightly from the tightness. Her chest heaved violently, her nipples trembling in the air, leaving blurry afterimages. Her cheeks were completely flushed, and her blue eyes were wide open in a daze, her pupils unfocused. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, mixing with the fluids exchanged during their previous kiss, leaving a silvery trail on her cheek.

The halo flashed faster and faster, the red light flickering like the rhythm of a racing heartbeat.

"I'm going to come..." the man in black panted, his voice tinged with excitement, "Teacher...come with me...come out..."

He thrust deeply, burying his penis completely into the repeatedly ravaged passage, and then ejaculated.

Hot semen filled my body, permeating every corner. Ejaculation lasted several seconds, each pulse clearly felt. The semen spread throughout my body, bringing a burning, full sensation.

At the same time, the teacher—Nagisa—also reached her climax.

It was an experience completely different from male orgasm—more diffuse, more lasting, more…irresistible. My body trembled violently, every muscle spasming from my toes to the top of my head. Internal muscles contracted wildly, squeezing the invading penis, bringing an even stronger pleasurable response. More fluid gushed out, mixing with semen, seeping from the point of contact, running down my thighs, soaking my dark gray pantyhose.

The climax lasted for almost half a minute, and then slowly subsided.

As the man in black withdrew his penis, a large amount of cloudy white fluid splattered onto Nagisa's lower abdomen, thighs, and even chest. The fluid stood out starkly against her fair skin, slowly flowing and leaving lewd marks.

He collapsed next to "Nagisa," panting heavily.

The room was silent except for the sound of their rapid breathing.

After a long while, the man in black slowly sat up. He looked at "Nagisa" lying on the bed, at the body stained with semen and bodily fluids, at the face that belonged to Nagisa, now filled with the exhaustion of lust, and smiled.

That smile was both satisfied and twisted.

“Now you understand,” he said softly, his fingers gently tracing the dried tear tracks on Nagisa’s cheek. “What it’s like to be her…”

Teacher—Nagisa—did not answer. He simply lay on the sheets, his blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with his breath. Semen slowly trickled down his lower abdomen, gathering at the base of his thighs, before dripping onto the sheets with a soft pattering sound.

The dark gray pantyhose were completely soaked, clinging to her skin and becoming semi-transparent, revealing the skin underneath and the stains of semen and bodily fluids. Her chest was covered in red fingerprints, her nipples were swollen and erect, with a few drops of splattered semen still clinging to them. Her long, gray-gold hair was disheveled, with a few strands sticking to her sweaty cheeks and neck.

The entire room was filled with the scent of lust—the fishy smell of semen, the slightly salty smell of bodily fluids, the sour smell of sweat, and the eerie mixture of old leather and chemical agents.

The man in black stood up, walked to the wall, and took another human skin from the hanger.

That was unblemished human skin.

Long pink hair, a white dress, and a pink halo. The human skin was extremely well preserved; you could even see the curve of the eyelashes, the texture of the lips, and the tiny pores of the skin.

“Take a break, teacher,” the man in black said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Tomorrow… we’ll try something different. Let you experience… what it’s like to be Mika.”

He took the unpainted human skin and walked to the other side of the room, where there was a specially made changing table. He began to remove the teacher's human skin, his movements practiced and composed, as if he were changing into ordinary clothes.

Teacher—Nagisa—lay on the sheets, listening to the faint sounds coming from behind her—the sound of a zipper being pulled open, the sound of fabric rubbing together, the sound of skin peeling off.

He closed his eyes.

But those images, those feelings, those sounds... were branded into the depths of his consciousness, impossible to shake off.

In the mirror, the "self" dressed in the skin of a Zhuren lies on a bed sheet stained with semen and bodily fluids, its body covered with traces of lust, and its halo faintly flashing red light.

On the other side of the room, the man in black was carefully hanging the teacher's human skin back on the hanger, then picked up the unpainted human skin and began to slowly put it on.

A new day is about to begin.

But this nightmare is far from over.