Ambiguous

After my husband's death, I long for him so much that it becomes a mental condition. To put me out of my misery, my in-laws order a custom-made robot to be my companion. But I'm only more sorrowed when I see the robot's face—it's exactly like my late husband's. Everything changes when I accidentally unlock the robot's hidden functions. Late at night, 008 kneels before my bed and asks, "Do you need my third form of service, my mistress?"

"M-Master… I-I want to…" "Touch yourself? No. You're not allowed to." It's now lunchtime, and I'm hiding in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, video calling a stranger who isn't showing his face. He's dressed mysteriously in a suit and tie, nonchalantly toying with the remote control in his hand. Meanwhile, I am at my wit's end on the bathroom floor, feeling the foreign item inside me pulsing rapidly and sending me straight to the edge. None of this is consensual. It all begins with the mysterious "Love Mission" app I accidentally downloaded and installed on my phone.

"Please… stop pushing. I can't move." The concert crowd was packed and restless, bodies pressed tightly together. I found myself too close to the girl in front of me. She wore a short skirt that brushed against me every time the crowd surged. What caught my attention was how close we were: the faint warmth of her body through the thin fabric made my pulse quicken. For a brief moment, I thought I felt her react too, as if she sensed the same strange tension hanging between us.

My best friend takes me to a beauty salon for a facial. A young and handsome employee there latches onto me. He's tall, good-looking, and is great with women. He knows just the right things to say and is flirtatious without being lecherous. He shows me the pleasures of being a woman… I forget all about my boyfriend and allow him to make me descend into the throes of passion. What I don't know is that there's a price I can't pay behind the gentleness…

My name is Lola Sinclair. "Please, not on the motorcycle…" As I ride with my husband, Dominic DeLuca, on his motorcycle, a male passenger suddenly reaches around me from behind. He slowly presses himself against me, assaulting me right in front of Dominic.

I'm a love therapist. My job is to help clients experience what it's like to be in love. One day, a client comes to me, wanting me to serve him in a different manner.

"They were entwined with each other, luxuriating in the throes of passion, the man's robust body..." I was hiding in my office, secretly penning the next development in my story, when a voice from behind me began to read my words aloud, one by one. It was the new intern, a young man. I trembled, pleading with him, "Please, don't tell anyone." He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his hands bracing the edge of the desk, trapping me between his arms. "So, this is what you like?" His throat bobbed, and a smile played on his lips, "Then, why don't we... try it out, just the two of us...

After encountering problems at work, I lose myself in a virtual reality game. I randomly meet a male player in there and depend on my amorous interactions with him to escape reaity. We flirt with each other and have roleplay; he grunts and groans over the microphone. Everything changes when I accidentally reveal my true identity. The young man next door pins me underneath him and roams his hands over my body. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. "You were great at flirting in the game, weren't you? Why can't you make those noises now?"

Here's a piece of advice—do not catch the eye of those pretty salesgirls who sell supplements. You have no idea the things they'll do to close a deal. I become a yummy slice of cake in their eyes; they all want a bite of me. I'm faced with the seduction and allure of countless beauties, but it doesn't make me happy at all.

The male postpartum care specialist adjusted his touch with calm precision. Heat spread through my body, leaving me weak against the cushions. "You're quite sensitive," he said quietly. The warmth of his breath near my ear made me tremble, despite myself.