Pain and Pleasure

by drafts_n_characters

Summary:

Jinshi is used to Maomao's antics - but today she took it a step too far.

She put herself in serious danger, and Jinshi refuses to let her get away with it.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, perhaps, he soon finds that it's a little difficult to punish someone who enjoys the punishment as much as she does.

~~~

Each chapter contains different kinks - content warnings are displayed in the notes if anything is not to your liking.

Chapter 1: Lies and Punishment

Notes:

Ch. 1 smut CW: Discipline, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent (mostly because of lack of discussion/power imbalance), Dirty Talk

In hindsight, this may have been a bad idea.

Maomao had been quite certain in the steps of her protocol, at first.

Step one: procure the foreign plant Hura crepitans, also known as the sandbox tree.

This had gone quite smoothly; she’d convinced Jinshi that the pursuit of the plant should be spared no expense – it was a particularly fascinating species of vegetation, one boasting a mouth-watering explosive quality that Maomao needed to get her hands on immediately.

She didn’t tell Jinshi about the explosive quality, of course, knowing he’d blacklist the plant from her inventory for eternity. That initial white lie was her first mistake, looking back.

Nonetheless, after spending a particularly busy few days helping create the perfect plant-based concoction to condition Jinshi’s hair to a celestial glow after his baths, he’d been happy to oblige her whims and send out some merchants to procure samples of the plant for her use. With a massive sprig twice her height sitting in a clay pot in the corner of her repurposed-to-a-scientific-laboratory shed, she’d been ready for her next step.

Step two: dissect every inch of the beautiful plant for study of all of its uses and properties, medicinal or otherwise.

And truly, this plant was a thing of beauty. Maomao could barely restrain herself from giving it a long, painful lick. Its bark was covered in sharp spikes, oozing poisonous tree sap that made her tongue tingle deliciously when she’d dripped it into her mouth. A few of the branches sprouted fist-sized fruit, thick-shelled and ripe for the picking. Inside those fruit, she knew was a world of heart-pounding danger. Because the true beauty and uniqueness of this plant was its ability to explode its fruits when ripe, spreading seeds in all directions, allowing it to proliferate widely.

Maomao could only imagine all the uses for this fruit – repurposed to spread airborne medicines, or poisonous gas, or even to be thrown as a weapon.

If she could only figure out how to experiment with it without triggering the exploding mechanism prematurely-

She’d been just giddy with all the possibilities.

And that led her to her final step.

Step three: see how far she can push the limits of the exploding fruits of her lovely sandbox tree.

Not much could go wrong, she’d thought. Sure, it was explosive – but she would take reasonable precautions to protect her eyes, she would keep the plant away from heat and would be particularly careful when dissecting the fruits. If some fruits do explode, she’ll clean up after herself and start again, detailing the appropriate notes to ensure she doesn’t repeat her mistake. As with everything she does, she’d approached her experiment logically, with a clinical detachment. This seemed the only correct path forward.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t considered one overbearing, clingy, and overly emotional factor into her equation.

So, when she’d accidentally triggered a loud, booming explosion of multiple fruits at once, connected through a string of wires and gunpowder as a proof of concept for a weapon capable of setting off staggered explosions, the factor was near enough to hear the commotion and barge in just in time to see her thrown to land into a messy heap. 

And now Maomao finds herself sitting half-sprawled in a puddle of soot, gray flecks of acrid ash clinging to each thread of fabric on her clothing and every hair on her skin, her backside throbbing from the rough impact against the wooden floor.

And her forgotten factor is currently very, very unhappy with her.

Jinshi doesn’t even say a word, at first, so she knows he’s angry. He approaches her quickly, grabs her arm roughly and jerks her to her feet. Maomao winces as she stumbles up, biting her tongue to keep from yelping at the uncomfortable stretch of the fresh bruises from her landing. Gaoshun stands guard in the background, blinking nervously at the mess in the room.

“Are you hurt?” Jinshi practically hisses, voice low, eyes narrowed.

Maomao winces again, but forces herself to meet his eyes head-on. There is a deep, potent frustration welling within, as if he’s barely restraining himself from yelling at her until he gets an answer. She wonders how much trouble she’s in.

“Just a little bruising, I believe,” Maomao replies evenly. “Nothing to worry about, sir.”

Jinshi stares at her for a moment longer, breathing in harsh, short breaths. And then, his eyes close, so tightly that his smooth skin crinkles into deep lines, and he exhales roughly.

“Then, pray tell,” he continues, eyes still closed, voice just a little shaky, now. “Why did this plant explode?”

Maomao swallows, arm still gripped tightly in Jinshi’s unyielding hold. “The sandbox tree is known for its explosive properties. I believe I may have contributed to the force of the explosion with the gunpowder.”

Jinshi’s eyes snap open, and his face goes red with fury. “And you didn’t think to tell me that I was purchasing an exploding tree when you made me get it for you?!”

Well. Jinshi is certainly yelling now.

Maomao lowers her gaze, shuffling her feet in discomfort as a few flakes of ash flutter down from her hair.  “I apologize for the mess. I will clean it at once. If anything was broken, I will make sure to repair it or find a replacement.”

“That’s not-” Jinshi cuts himself off mid-yell, sputtering. His grip tightens on her arm. “That’s not the problem. You could have seriously injured yourself; you lied to me and made me complicit in your own harm – what is wrong with you?”

Maomao blinks. “I don’t believe anything is wrong with me, sir. I was simply conducting scientific research. But, you are entitled to your opinion.”

“I am entitled- I am entitled to my opinion-” Jinshi sputters again, and now Maomao is certain she must be in trouble because he has never looked this angry before, and she forces herself to bite back a comment that might only make everything worse.

She remains quiet, quiet as Jinshi continues to glare at her furiously, as his brows crinkle together and fire melts in his pupils. She remains quiet as he forces himself to breathe in deep, harsh breaths, as he finally releases his grip on her arm.

“Go clean yourself up,” he snarls, “then come to my office. I will deal with your behaviour there.”

And with that, Jinshi turns around with a vicious swirl of his robes, and leaves with a pale Gaoshun in tow.

---

Maomao stares at the smooth, polished wood of Jinshi’s office floor under her knees, head bowed. She’d thought a bath and a set of fresh clothes would have eased the swirling coils of nervousness that had grown in her stomach after Jinshi’s promise to deal with her behaviour in his office, where the two of them are now, completely alone.

Unfortunately, the coils continue to gnaw at her insides. She knows the discomfort is simply a trick of her mind, the slight nausea a miscommunication between her brain and her gut. But it certainly feels as real as the still-aching bruises on the backs of her legs, her backside.

With every moment of stretching silence, every moment that Jinshi scratches a brush evenly upon parchment, writing something he hadn’t even bothered to look up from when she’d entered his office, her nervousness only grows. She doesn’t dare speak out of turn, not now, not even to voice an apology. So, she waits.

After what feels like an eternity, the scratching stops.

A voice like honey flows to her ears. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Maomao.”

Maomao. Her name again. It’s rare to hear it fall from his lips so casually. Somehow, it feels anything but casual in this moment.

She dares to glance up, to meet the cold expression on Jinshi’s face.

“I apologize-”

“No.”

Jinshi’s interruption cuts off her words mid-sentence, leaving her mouth flopping open like a fish. Jinshi had always been too lenient with her, his anger never long to last. This is certainly a new experience; she'll have to tread carefully.

Maomao closes her lips, swallowing roughly.

“You lied to me, took advantage of my fondness for you to get your hands on an extremely dangerous plant without me knowing the risks.” He continues, almost softly. “I did my research, you know, while you were cleaning yourself up. There is a reason the plant is so difficult to obtain. You knew that, and you had me get it for you anyway.”

Jinshi stands up, then, chair scratching loudly against his floor, creating an imposing figure separated from Maomao only by his desk. “Worst of all, you put yourself in serious danger, unnecessarily. You could have been maimed. So no, Maomao, you’re not getting away with a simple apology today.”

Maomao swallows again. She’s not sure what to say to make things better. Clearly, Jinshi doesn’t want an apology.

She concludes that all she can do is wait and see what he decides to do to punish her for her transgressions.

Maomao lowers her gaze once more.

Another beat of silence, and then footsteps. The hem of a silky, plum robe stops in front of her, hovers in the periphery of her vision.

Before she can predict what Jinshi might do next, she hears a rustle of clothing, and then the grip of a thumb and forefinger on her chin, lifting her face up.

Jinshi crouches in front of her, holding her face tightly, forcing her to meet his furious eyes. Except for a twitch of her upper lip, Maomao manages to keep her face neutral.

“I’m going to punish you.” He says simply.

Maomao feels a shiver travel down her spine.

She forces herself to respond. “I understand.”

“Do you know what kind of punishment is given to a servant that lies to their superior?”

Maomao lets out a soft breath, lips pursing. “It depends on the relationship between the subordinate and their master. Sometimes it could be extra labour, or reassignment to a lower position. For more severe lies it could be flogging, even execution.”

Jinshi hums under his breath, almost thoughtfully. “And which one do you deserve, do you think?”

Is he really asking her to decide? Maomao thinks, uncertain. She would prefer not to be executed. Reassignment would be the worst, considering that would mean her scientific laboratory and clinic would likely be taken away from her. Extra labour would be manageable but unpleasant, especially if she’s assigned to something particularly gruelling and for some indeterminate amount of time. Being beaten, especially with her battered body from earlier, could be quite unpleasant too.

She’s not certain how to respond. She’s not certain if her response even matters. If Jinshi is punishing her, who is she decide what the punishment would be?

In the end, she settles for the most respectful response. “I wouldn’t presume it’s up to me to decide, Master Jinshi.”

Junshi scoffs, fingers tightening against her chin. “Is that so? Where was this obedient girl earlier, when you were lying to me?”

Maomao remains silent. He’d already said he doesn’t want apologies. Aside from that, she’s uncertain what he could possibly want from her.

And then, as suddenly as he’d grabbed her chin, he lets her go, rising back up to his full height.

“Fine, don’t answer. It’s no matter.” Jinshi says sternly. “You’ll understand what will happen when you lie to me about your safety soon enough. Get up.”

Maomao obeys, legs shaking as she rises to her feet. She folds her hands together in front of her, meeting Jinshi’s eyes, nervousness boiling once more in her gut.

Slowly, a predator stalking his prey, Jinshi circles around her, ends up somewhere behind her, somewhere she can’t see him.

She can’t help the surprised gasp that tears out of her throat when two hands grip her hips tightly enough to bruise. Maomao forces herself to bite back any more noises, hands curling into fists as her mind runs wild with possibilities.

When he pushes her forward, walks her forcefully towards his desk, those possibilities fill with uncertainty and confusion, wondering at what Jinshi could possibly be planning.

With a final, hard shove from Jinshi’s hands, her hips meet the edge of his desk with a thud. A jolt of pain throbs over her pelvis as she falls over from the force of Jinshi’s push, hands dropping to the desk, palms flattening over smooth wood.

His hands leave her body, and the following moment of quiet fills only with Maomao’s harsh little breaths, wide eyes staring down at her hands on Jinshi’s desk as she processes her situation, a few strands of unruly hair falling into her face.

“Now, before I carry out your punishment, I must see your injuries for myself.” Jinshi speaks up from somewhere right behind her. “Since I cannot trust you when it comes to your safety and well-being, I need to make sure you weren’t lying about the severity of your fall from earlier.”

Maomao just continues to blink down on her hands, mind shockingly slow to catch up with what’s happening. She finds a certain jolt of excitement suddenly spears through her chest – excitement at this new, fascinating feeling of being unable to think straight, like the kind only brought on by the most potent and delicious of poisons-

And then, Jinshi resets her brain with three simple words.

“Lift your skirt.”

Maomao can’t stifle her sharp inhale. Slowly, she manages to look over her shoulder, to meet Jinshi’s gaze with uncertain eyes.

His gaze is still cold, unyielding. The fire of fury continues to burn deep in the depths of his eyes.

“Now, apothecary.” He says evenly, never breaking eye contact.

Back to just ‘apothecary’. Maomao faces forward, pursing her lips. One hand rises from the desk, shaking, grabs onto the side of her skirt. And then, she lifts the material, so, so slowly, exposing her ankle, the back of a single calf-

She stops.

The cool, still air of Jinshi’s office settles against her skin, raises little goosebumps. Her leg tenses, then relaxes, squirming in its spot under what Maomao is sure is Jinshi’s intense scrutiny. Based on the soreness she can pinpoint in the area, she knows he can see the bruise that stains the upper part of her calf from her earlier fall.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” Jinshi’s voice is a clear magnitude angrier, now. If the simple bruise had that effect on him, she starts to worry about how he’ll react when he sees the extent of her bruising.

Maomao’s thoughts feel muddled, chest constricting and body warming from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind her consciousness screams about the indecency of the situation, that her well-being should be of no concern to him, but it’s a voice so distant she can barely hear it. That same hot, heady excitement from before pulses through her once more, the pure freedom of the lack of control, magnified by the rather delicious pain pounding under the battered skin of her bruises.

Her other hand reaches for the drooping side of her skirt, and Maomao begins to lift the material once more.

Gently, the hem of her skirt glides up the smooth, pale skin of her legs, every exposed inch of the marred reds and purples of her injuries eliciting angrier and angrier growls from behind her, making nervous sweat pool at the back of her neck. If she turns her head now, she’s sure the sight of Jinshi’s face would be downright terrifying in its fury.

With a deep, shaky breath, she lifts the rest of her skirt until her hem rests somewhere mid-way up her thighs, and then stops once again.

Lifting it any higher would expose the worst of the bruising on her bottom, and she would be lying if she didn’t admit she’s at least a little scared of how Jinshi might react at seeing those injuries.

Not to mention the pure humiliation of exposing herself like so, in a manner that feels far less clinical than it should, nothing but her thin undergarments to protect her decency.

Maomao hears a soft shuffle of clothing, and then Jinshi is standing close enough for his robes to brush against her bare legs.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself.” Jinshi says coldly. Suddenly, Maomao feels a pinch, and sparks shoot from a bruise at the bottom of her thigh.

She tastes copper – she’d bitten her lip so hard to stop a surprised cry that she’d broken skin. She jerks forward against Jinshi’s desk in a useless attempt to escape his pinching fingers.

He pinches a little harder, and the pain turns so deliciously overwhelming that Maomao jerks the rest of her skirt entirely over her backside, pools the material at her waist in an attempt to appease Jinshi. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir!”

“Didn’t I say I don’t want your apologies?” He snarls, still holding onto her throbbing bruise. He releases it, only to grab onto another one higher up, right at the bottom curve of her backside, eliciting a pathetically whiny cry she cannot hold back. “Just look at you, look at what you’ve done to yourself. ‘Just a little bruising’, you said? I’m tempted to consider that another lie.”

“No, no, it’s not a lie,” Maomao gasps, words flowing now that she feels the full intensity of the situation, the pain of Jinshi’s treatment as his pinch tightens. “Ow, it hurts-”

He heeds the plea in her tone, releasing her bottom. Maomao tries desperately to catch her breath, heat pooling in her pelvis, blood rushing to her bruises and the sensitive areas nearby.

Jinshi clicks his tongue. “Poor little Maomao, it’s about to hurt a lot more.”

Maomao hears rather than feels what happens next, at first, a loud crack echoing in the office.

And then, pain in the form of a handprint bursts against her backside.

Maomao falls forward from the unforgiving impact, chest landing on the wood of Jinshi’s desk, bending her over the edge of the table completely. She’s so shocked that her mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

The next time he strikes her backside, she most certainly makes a sound.

“This seems like a fitting punishment, don’t you think? Your fall already did most of the work for me, anyway.” Jinshi says in a tone that is almost conversational, were it not of the bite of anger still present in his voice. He strikes – no, spanks – her again, like one would a spoiled child, and Maomao’s body burns with pain and humiliation and something unnameable. “It will be a while before you can sit without recalling what a bad girl you’ve been.”

Maomao cries out as his hand comes down again, then again, and again, over already painful bruises, her fingers curling into the fabric of the skirt she’s still holding up tightly enough to hurt.

Her last cry must have been especially broken, because he suddenly stops, the extinguished sound of skin-on-skin impact turning almost oppressive in its silence. And then, his fingertips brush so, so gently across her bruised backside that Maomao could almost imagine it’s nothing more than the wind.

Instead, her skin burns even hotter from the feather light contact than from any of the strikes.

She actually whimpers, a sound she never thought remotely possible to fall from her lips, and the heat boils somewhere deep in her pelvis as she squirms her hips against Jinshi’s desk.

His fingertips freeze, remain pressed lightly to her skin as his lungs stutter over a sharp inhale.

Lightly, he traces his fingertips across a bruise once more.

Maomao fully moans.

She tenses. Her face turns scarlet.

Well. This is unfortunate. Jinshi most definitely heard her. But if he thinks he’ll be getting anything else from her, he’s absolutely, sorely mistaken. As far as she’s concerned, any noise she’d made is nothing more than a reflexive response.

For the first time in her life, she is grateful she’s a woman. If she were a man, she’d be more than a little worried that a certain frog would be making its presence known between her legs right at this moment. Instead, there is a hidden pool of wetness she can no longer deny that hides perfectly between her thighs.

She’d always had a complex relationship to pain, much of it involuntary. It’s not her fault her body is reacting like this in the most inopportune of moments.

It has nothing to do with Jinshi. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“Look at me.” Jinshi’s voice is so, so low, but tinged with something heated.

Maomao presses her face to the desk below and scrunches her eyes shut for a petulant, childish moment.

“Apothecary. Look. At. Me.”

She exhales, a deep, shaky breath. The command in Jinshi’s tone is so potent that she can’t help but to obey.

She lifts her head, turning her face to look at Jinshi over her shoulder.

The raging flame in his eyes is no longer just fuelled by anger.

Then, Jinshi speaks, almost softly, a harsh contrast with the violence of his previous actions. “Pull down your undergarments for me, Maomao.”

A cracked, croaking noise of shock and disbelief pushes past her lips. Maomao thinks that she could just die.

“Master Jinshi,” The last shreds of Maomao’s sanity all come together to keep her voice from stammering. “This is indecent-”

“We’re about to find out just how indecent you are, you filthy, filthy girl.”

Oh, yes. Maomao has certainly died. Because Jinshi, Master Jinshi, the most infuriating, beautiful man in existence, did not just call her a filthy girl.

For the first time, she starts to understand all those men that would visit the Verdigris House, just a little – the way their eyes glaze over, how they make their way towards the courtesans as if in a trance – because Maomao, logical, inscrutable, difficult Maomao, reaches for the sides of her underwear.

And she slowly, carefully, pushes them down to her thighs.

The only thing that stops her from peeling them further down is the sudden, startling feeling of a string of something wet and hot sticking to her thigh-

And then her dawning horror at what she understands must be her arousal dripping down her leg snaps her out of her trance entirely.

Her thighs squeeze shut, trapping the soaked crotch of the undergarments between her legs as her gaze snaps back towards the desk in embarrassment, but it’s too late. Jinshi has seen the evidence of her wrongdoings, and she knows it because of the way he swears under his breath.

“Oh, Maomao,” he murmurs, “what am I to do with you now?”

Maomao only squeezes her legs together more tightly, so tightly that her thighs begin to tremble, so tightly that she doesn’t immediately notice when Jinshi’s fingers hook under the back of her undergarments, and shove them to her feet.

She gasps with an equal mix of shock and sudden, potent need, feet spasming as her underwear fall to only hang from one ankle, leaving her entirely exposed.

And then when Jinshi’s fingers swipe against the inside of her thigh, slowly, the need burns so hot that Maomao involuntarily jerks her hips towards his hand like a cat in heat.

Jinshi pulls back just far enough to avoid her center, fingers still hot on her skin.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, dripping all over yourself,” he says, fingers smearing her arousal against her thigh, climbing higher, higher as she squirms, coating the digits thoroughly.

Maomao can’t help but whimper when Jinshi’s roving fingers suddenly pull away, just a hairsbreadth away from where she throbs for his touch.

And then, her pathetic little whine is cut off, because those same fingers push past her lips and stuff her mouth.

The taste of salted candy coats her tongue as his long, elegant fingers press deeper towards her throat, and her eyes snap up in disbelief. Jinshi’s face is already right there, hovering above her, watching her reaction closely.

“Tell me, do you taste as good as I’ve imagined?” He says, voice almost a whisper.

He’s imagined this?

Maomao’s eyes begin to water, just a little, as those fingers push down on the back of her tongue and stuff her so pleasantly full. She does taste good, she thinks – she gets the sudden urge to tell him that, but she can’t, not with her lips wrapped around his digits.

So, she does the next closest thing. Staring directly into his eyes, she sucks on his fingers.

Jinshi’s face contorts, a deep groan emanating from his chest as his fingers twitch inside her mouth. Maomao presses her tongue upwards, forces it between the digits, begins to lick herself clean off his skin.

A red-hot flush climbs up Jinshi’s neck, makes his breathing turn shallow. “You’re evil.”

Maomao blinks up at him, and even with those fingers still stuck between her lips, she smiles.

Jinshi scowls at her amusement.

“You think this is funny?”  He growls, and then his foot is wedging itself between her ankles, and he’s shoving her legs apart with a rough kick. “Such filthy behaviour from a servant. Looks like I must punish you for this, too.”

Then, his palm delivers a harsh, unforgiving strike directly to her cunt.

Maomao breaks. A shriek echoes throughout Jinshi's office, and she realizes distantly that it must have come from her.

She hopes desperately that nobody outside of the room heard her - the combination of pain and pleasure is unimaginable, a pounding heat exploding between her thighs, and the fingers in her mouth did nothing to stop her cry from piercing past her lips. The thought of someone coming across her in her current state sends heated tremors rushing through every part of her body.

She sucks on Jinshi's fingers again, hard, using them to center herself in her mess of sensations. When Jinshi cracks his palm across her cunt again, Maomao's legs try to jerk close reflexively, but he's having none of that. His foot hooks around her ankle, pulls her further open.

Jinshi grumbles something under his breath, something about taking her punishment like a good girl, and the next time he she feels a strike between her thighs, all she can do is just take it.

For a lost, delirious moment, Maomao thinks that the growing explosion of feeling between her thighs is rather similar to the explosion of the plant that had gotten her into this mess in the first place, but then Jinshi’s hand comes down on her cunt again, and again, and again, and-

Her cunt spasms with a sudden, blinding climax.

And Maomao, strong, stoic, unemotional Maomao, bursts into tears.

Jinshi’s strikes cease and his fingers leave her mouth as suddenly as her unexpected sobs begin to rack her body. 

Maomao doesn’t cry. Ever.

She’s not sure how to describe this sudden feeling of… release, the cathartic spill of emotions that pour from her bawls, from her dripping tears. Perhaps, something like freedom.

There’s not much she can still process, externally, the raging feelings inside of her bursting from every pore of her trembling skin. But when she does feel herself being moved, when she feels the press of a warm, sturdy chest to her cheek, it feels like comfort.

It may not be more than that, not yet. But right now, that’s all she needs. So, she buries her face in that chest, and continues to cry.

---

In the corner of his office, Jinshi sits on a small, comfortable sofa. Cradled in his arms, he holds his warm, trembling Maomao, buried in his chest. Soft little hiccups still squeak from her lips occasionally, but aside from that, her tears have mostly stopped. He leans down, carefully, her soft, messy hair tickling his nose as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

He's finding that the soft kisses seem to calm her down, just a little, although he’s been too afraid to venture his lips anywhere beyond her hairline.

One of his hands is underneath her skirt, cradling her backside, rubbing away the soreness gently. As indecent as the gesture should be, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels more… intimate, in a manner more akin to caring for a loved one than anything improper. Besides, Maomao seems to enjoy the gentle motion of his hand, so who is he to pull away?

“Jinshi…”

Jinshi’s breath catches, for just a moment, his eyes travelling down to Maomao’s face, to where her mouth opens and closes with little breaths, pressed to his chest, where her eyelids flutter softly, half-open half-shut.

Jinshi. She called him Jinshi. Not sir, not master. Just Jinshi.

What a wonderful sound.

“Yes, my Maomao?” He murmurs in response, pulling her closer.

Her eyes open fully, then, trailing to his. She turns away from his chest, watching him, deep in thought. She says nothing more, but her cheek nuzzles back against his chest, almost imperceptibly. Her lips are stained with tears. Jinshi wipes them away with a thumb.

She shifts in response to his movements, just a little, then winces as the motion pulls on her bruises.

Quickly, her cheeks fill with colour, and her eyes flit away from his. Jinshi can’t help the little smile that graces his lips.

He knows how much his little cat indulges in all manner of pain, through poisons and sharp edges and burns. And although the blatant self-harm infuriates him to no end, he has a feeling it goes beyond simple scientific experimentation, with how hard she climaxed with his hand striking her cunt.

For a moment, Jinshi wonders if he could offer a safe environment for her to play with this craving for pain, a controlled hurt he can ensure causes no long-term harm, to replace her more self-destructive of tendencies.

Perhaps he’ll find more reasons to… punish her, then.

But he would also be lying if he said that today was all a game, that it didn’t start largely out of anger, out of fear that Maomao seriously hurt herself and would do so again unless he did something memorable to prevent her from putting herself in danger in the future. He wasn’t planning to take it this far. He wanted to scare her a little, embarrass her a little. But then she moaned, and who would he be if he didn’t give his beloved Maomao all the pain and pleasure she could ever want?

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

The words fall out of Jinshi in a rushed, pained breath. He doesn’t even realize he’s speaking.

Maomao just blinks at him, a little furrow growing between her brows. He can’t help it – he leans down, pressing his lips to the furrow, pulling back only with the tension under her brow dissipates.

He doesn’t pull back far.

Jinshi’s forehead presses to Maomao’s and he looks directly into those large, beautiful doe eyes. “Caring about you is downright terrifying. Every day, I worry you will hurt yourself irreparably. I’m just so… scared.”

A moment passes, two. Then, a warm, calloused hand presses to his cheek.

“I understand.” Maomao says softly. “I will be more careful.”

Maomao has never been a woman of many words, and now is not an exception. But something about her tone holds so much more weight than any songs or ballads ever could. To him, it indicates that maybe, just maybe, she might one day start to accept his feelings for her. And her promise to be more careful means the world, coming from her.

So, that’s enough for him, that’s enough for now. She can take as long as she needs, a lifetime, even. He will always wait for her.

“Thank you, my Maomao,” he murmurs, presses another soft kiss to her brow.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he sees a little smile climb to her lips.

“Will you hold me for a little longer?” She asks.

“Always.”

He doesn’t let her go all night.

Notes:

In my eyes Maomao all but canonically has a pain kink, which is woefully under-explored in JinMao smut.

I hope you enjoyed, would love to know what you think in the comments <333

Who knows, if people are interested maybe I'll make this into a little series exploring their kinkier side ;)

Chapter 2: Words and Heat

Notes:

Welp, this is a series exploring a sadomasochistic Jinmao relationship because you guys were so supportive (I'm so excited y'all fr)

Since a connected series of chapters means at least a little plot, I am giving this a canon-ish timeline. Specifically, since I have only watched the anime (though I am aware of all the major LN spoilers), this is set some indeterminate amount of time after the events at the end of season 2, as Maomao returns to the palace and continues to work for Gyokuyou and Jinshi. Overall, don’t worry about it too much. They're both adults, and this is porn :) (and feelings). Not so much plot haha (except for their relationship development).

Also changed a few small things in chapter 1 (added a little more descriptions to the smutty scenes, and toned down Maomao's emotional revelations just a tad so we can see her feelings progress through this series better). But nothing substantial!

Check updated tags, and enjoy :)

Ch. 2 smut CW: Discipline, Dom/Sub, Painplay, Bratting, Biting, Wax Play, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Nipple Play

“Maomao, there you are!”

Maomao suppresses a groan, pulling her dirty fingers out of moist soil, releasing the thick root she’d been trying to pry from the greedy ground. She wipes her fingers messily against her skirt, smearing brown over forest green fabric. It should be no matter – it’s already quite dirty from scavenging through the brush all day anyway. Nonetheless, it irks her already fraying nerves.

“What is it?” Maomao grumbles under her breath, looking up at Yinghua reluctantly. She’s not usually this grumpy, especially around Yinghua, who’s grown on her quite a bit now that Xiaolan and Shisui have been gone from the rear palace for a while. But the blurry events of last night are certainly messing with her usually stable emotions.

It doesn’t help that as she moves to stand, taking her half-filled basket of foraged plants with her, everything below her waist aches.

It’s unusual for Maomao to be so unprepared to deal with the consequences of her actions. She is generally quite methodical with all of her plans and takes what comes in stride.

But then Jinshi had bent her over his desk for punishment, and all her methods and plans had disappeared into the ether.

The soreness on her bottom she expected, she could deal with. She could tell herself it was just the fall, not the humiliating spanking she’d endured like a chastised child – rather ironic considering how much of a child Jinshi could be, at times.

What she hadn’t expected, and certainly hadn’t been prepared to deal with, was the soreness between her thighs.

It appears when Jinshi does something, he does it thoroughly. He hadn’t held back when punishing her cunt, and now it stings every time she sits.

But whenever Maomao begins to get annoyed with that fact, she recalls that Jinshi did promise she’d remember what a… bad girl she’d been when she sits, and that annoyance is quickly replaced by an unfortunate mix of distress, embarrassment, and pesky heat in the pit of her stomach.

Not to mention, she’d cried, she’d actually cried, last night, something she hadn’t done since she was a baby – and allowed herself to be held until she all but sprinted away when she woke in his arms in the morning. She has no idea what to think of these strange, confusing reactions. It was awful; that kind of vulnerability should have never happened around Jinshi, around her superior.

Thus, her frayed nerves.

“Are you okay?” Yinghua asks as Maomao rises to her full height, trying not to wince or reach a hand back to rub at her backside. “You look awfully flushed. Are you sick? Do you have a fever?”

Yes, maybe that’s it. Perhaps the warmth that keeps flooding her stomach is simply a symptom of a pesky flu, nothing more.

Or… perhaps not. Perhaps last night with Jinshi had awoken something in her – a novel understanding of the level of pleasure pain can bring. It’s not something she can be certain of without a bit more… investigating.

A blossom of an idea begins to form in her mind.

They’d already crossed a massive line – Jinshi had felt her in the most intimate of manners when he’d punished her, so she doesn’t see the point in attempting to maintain her decency around him any longer.

And besides, what kind of scientist would Maomao be if she did not do a thorough investigation of last night’s discoveries?

Maomao lifts her face, finally meeting Yinghua’s concerned face head-on. “Yinghua, do you ever feel… feverish, but not sick?”

Yinghua blinks. “Huh?”

Perhaps it’s time to do some of that scientific investigating, then.

---

Jinshi’s foot taps a nervous rhythm against the floor, soft thuds of shoe against wood the only sign of his anxiety. Or so he hopes, at least. He’s trying his very, very best to keep his face neutral, his posture straight.

But it’s a little difficult with Suiren’s curious, narrow-eyed stare digging its claws into his very soul. She stands at the entrance to his office, a platter in her arms. The way she looks at him tells him clearly that she knows something is different about him, although not exactly what.

“I brought you some dinner, Young Master,” she says, holding out the platter. “You need to eat.”

Jinshi exhales heavily, dragging a tired hand across his face. He needs much more than just to eat. He desperately needs sleep – he’d gotten exactly none while captivated by cradling Maomao in his arms last night. He needs to give attention to the piles of untouched paperwork that look up at him mockingly from his desk.

But how could he ever focus on signing stupid complaints and regulations and work orders when all his mind keeps playing on a loop is the glisten of arousal on Maomao’s red, punished cunt, her adorable little whimpers, how she’d slept in his arms-

“You haven’t eaten today.” Suiren’s stern tone snaps him out of the images that have been branded onto his brain. His face flushes red.

“I’m not hungry,” he whines, pouting lightly.

“Eat.” Suiren marches towards his desk, all but slams the platter onto the table.

A bowl of soup sits on the platter, lets out enticing streams of steam towards his face. Nonetheless, he just can’t seem to eat today.

Jinshi purses his lips, but decides to acquiesce. “Fine.”

Brow furrowed, Suiren watches him for another long, uncomfortable moment. When she nods her head sharply, Jinshi lets out a sigh of relief.

Suiren departs, leaving him to his soup, piles of paperwork, and wild imagination.

He slumps back into his chair with a groan. His food and work lay forgotten as he focusses on the only thing that had seemed to matter over the past twenty-four hours.

His memories of the night before don’t always start the same. Sometimes, they begin with his anger, with his fear for Maomao’s safety when he’d found her sprawled on the floor. Sometimes they begin with the spanking, with the sight of her bent over his desk, clutching at her skirt as he imprints the shape of his palm into her delicate skin. Sometimes they begin with her pleasure, the moans in response to his rough treatment of her cunt, the body-shaking orgasm.

But they always end the same – with Maomao in his arms, sleeping peacefully, so happy to just be pressed against his chest. He’d never seen this kind of vulnerability, coming from her. Gods, he’d never even imagined it would be possible. If he’d known that she can turn into such a happy puddle of goo in his lap, he would have found a reason to punish her ages ago.

Jinshi smiles, eyes fluttering shut, when a knock echoes throughout his office.

He startles. His eyes turn to glare at his doors. “Come in.”

A figure walks in, slowly, and at the sight of Suiren, his scowl fades into guilt. Jinshi glances at his untouched bowl of soup.

“I will eat-”

“Young Master,” Suiren sighs. “Maomao is here to see you.”

Jinshi’s eyes go wide, breath catching in his throat. “What?”

Suiren gives him a suspicious look. “Shall I let her in?”

“Yes, yes-” Jinshi stammers quickly, straightening his robes, running fingers through his hair. “Of course. Let her in.”

Suiren nods her head, steps out of his office. Jinshi feels a sudden rush of nervousness. He straightens his posture, trying to appear unperturbed. Maomao had escaped from his grasp so quickly this morning that he was rather certain it would take a while before she would be willing to face him again. Combined with the fact that she doesn’t leave the rear palace for the outer court often these days, unless summoned by him, and this is a very pleasant surprise indeed.

He wonders if he could manage putting on a stern, authoritative face – the one that made Maomao so compliant and needy the night before.

Oh, but who is he kidding. He breaks into a massive grin as soon as her feet pad quietly into his office.

“Apothecary!” He exclaims, perhaps a little too loudly. “How are you doing today? Anything I can help you with?”

He displays his brightest, loveliest smile, leaning his chin on his hands. The vicious scowl his expression elicits on Maomao’s face is absolutely gorgeous.

Maomao bows, hiding her disgusted look behind her arms. “Master Jinshi. I have come to ask you for a favour.”

“Oh, pray tell,” Jinshi coos, smile growing. “Perhaps some soothing lotion for those nasty bruises from yesterday? Must be so sore, poor thing.”

Maomao stiffens. When she glares at him over her arms, he notes in utter delight that she’s blushing, just a little.

“I can make my own lotion, thank you.” She seems to barely restrain herself from snapping. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Jinshi raises a brow in curiosity, waiting. Maomao straightens her spine, sucking in a breath. Her eyes flicker away from his face to his desk. She stares for a long, entranced moment. When she flushes a little redder, Jinshi remembers it’s the same spot he’d bent her over the night before. He smirks.

Maomao’s eyes flutter to the floor nervously, and gods if it isn’t the loveliest of sights.

“Tell me, Maomao.” He says softly, enunciating her name. “Tell me what you need.”

Maomao sucks in another breath. And then, she looks at him directly, and with an even face and no inflection in her tone says-

“I need you to punish me, sir.”

Jinshi blinks, a little stunned. He really should have expected his blunt, straightforward Maomao to pull something like this. He just didn’t think this would happen so soon.

“You need me to punish you?” He repeats dumbly.

Maomao swallows, still keeping eye contact. “Punish me, sir.”

She doesn’t elaborate. Perhaps Jinshi wasn’t that far off – she will not admit her real desires, not so directly, not to him. Nonetheless, this is something, and with Maomao, that is everything.

His mind runs through last night’s punishment at record speed: bending her over his desk, spanking her, making her come, holding her after-

Jinshi shifts in his seat, and now he’s the one blushing. “I- uh-”

He stammers off into nothingness, a silence stretching between them. He wants to put on that veil from yesterday – the one that fills him with confidence and dominance, the one that will let him take charge just as Maomao desires. But that was fuelled by a spark of real anger, and he’s not certain he could fake it well enough to please her. And he really, really wants to please her.

Maomao’s brows furrow, thoughtful. She bites at her lip, shifting on her feet. She takes a step closer, then another. Jinshi waits with bated breath as she gets closer and closer, close enough to press her hips to his desk, to lean her palms against the wood.

Maomao looks at him across the desk, both so far and so close, those large eyes watching him carefully under her lashes. A beaded strand of hair falls over her shoulder, sways hypnotizingly before his eyes.

And then, she swats her hand across the desk, and knocks off half of his paperwork.

Parchment flutters to the ground, and Jinshi just stares, jaw slack.

He struggles to find words to use, eyes snapping back to Maomao in utter surprise.

She looks so unperturbed that he feels like he must have missed something crucial during this interaction.

“I’m sorry, Master Jinshi,” she murmurs, tilting her head just so.

“It’s- uh, it’s fine-”

Maomao swipes her hand again, and this time one of his candles clatters to the floor.

“Hey!” He exclaims. When Maomao raises her hand for another round, he grabs her wrist automatically, jerks her a little closer. She gasps as her hips shove harshly against the edge of his desk, pupils dilating.

And then, it hits him. His slow, sluggish mind puts together the pieces, and heat rushes to his gut. She’s trying to provoke him into punishing her.

Jinshi is so mesmerised by the sight of Maomao’s widening pupils that he nearly misses how she juts out her tongue, licks at her parted lips.

“I’m sorry, Master Jinshi,” she repeats, voice lower. “I’m sorry for misbehaving.”

Jinshi’s grip tightens around her wrist, bordering on painful, and she bites down on her lip.

“Is that so?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper. “You don’t seem very sorry.”

Maomao exhales softly. “Then make me sorry.”

Jinshi’s grip twitches around her wrist, for a moment, before releasing her from his grasp. Her hand falls back down to his desk obediently.

When he doesn’t respond immediately, she leans in a little closer. “Shall I bend over your desk again, sir?”

The heat in his groin stirs as Maomao slowly, carefully, lowers her chest to his desk, looking up at him through those thick lashes.

“Or would you like me in a different position?” She purrs, wetting her lips once more. “I know many.”

Jinshi grits his teeth, heat climbing up his neck. She’s teasing him. She’s leveraging her courtesan training, pricking at him to see how he reacts. It’s all another clear ploy to provoke him, but gods is it working.

He wants to fulfill her desires, give her everything she could ever want – but she must still be quite bruised from the night before. He won’t forgive himself for causing her any permanent harm, and judging by the scars on her arm, he knows she has no qualms crossing into that territory. He must take responsibility for her safety, when she’s so vulnerable before him.

And then, he sees her lower her face to hide an amused little smile, and he’d had enough.

He’s about to show her he can go blow for blow. After all, he’d read those dirty books she’d brought into the palace – he’s fairly certain his courtesan training is quite extensive now, too.

And perhaps he isn’t willing to spank her today, but there’s no reason to deny himself the pleasure of teasing her right back.

He reaches for her once more, but this time, he buries his hand in her hair. And before Maomao can complain, he grips her hair at the root tight, until she gasps.

“Apothecary,” he hisses, pulls on her hair until her back arches, until she’s forced to meet his gaze head-on and tears begin to gather at the corners of her eyes. “Are you enjoying teasing me?”

Maomao opens her mouth to answer him, but all that escapes is a soft little whimper. He eases his grip on her hair, just a little.

 “I- I-” Maomao gasps shakily, catching her breath, blinking tears away. “I’m just- just offering options, sir.”

“Oh really?” Jinshi asks, releasing her hair to cup her cheek instead. His thumb swipes at the corner of her eye, wipes away a stray tear.

“Yes,” she says softly. And then, she smiles again. “And maybe I did enjoy teasing you, Master Jinshi, just a little.”

Jinshi grips her face in response. “You really are asking for it, aren’t you?”

Maomao’s shimmering eyes light up, and she nods with a sniffle. “Oh, yes.”

And then, she shifts, her knee lifting to rest at the edge of his desk, moving herself closer to him.

“If being bent over your desk is not to your liking, sir,” she murmurs, lifting her other knee to his desk. “Then you can punish me on all fours.”

She crawls towards him, parchments crumpling under her hands and knees, the limited space between them closing tauntingly. She gets so, so close that he can feel the puffs of her breaths against his face as she lifts her head, his hand releasing her chin.

She leans in, leans past him, and the feather-light graze of her lips against his ear sends shivers down his spine. “Or over your knee, where you can pin me down to stop me from squirming away.”

Her arm reaches over his side of the desk, just as he’s imagining the delicious feeling of bending her over his lap, and he feels her brush her fingertips against his thigh. “Anything you prefer, Master Jinshi.”

“Anything?” He repeats, infusing amusement into his voice, hand grasping for hers before she can venture her fingers a little further north and find out exactly how much he’s enjoying this. “I’m sure one of these days I’ll do just that, put you over my lap and spank you like the little brat you are.”

He hears Maomao let out a needy little squeak, and she pulls back, hand slipping out of his.

Jinshi is having none of that.

He follows her motion, fingers trailing up her arm, grasping for the back of her neck gently, threateningly. She freezes, and he uses that moment to slip his own lips towards her ear.

And softly, he whispers into her ear. “I’ll probably use something other than my hand, though. Ensure the lesson really sticks – leave some really pretty bruises, make you cry again.”

This time, when Maomao tries to pull away, he lets her. His hand slips away from the back of her neck, and he watches as she sits back on her haunches, face flushed scarlet, lips wet and parted. When she trails her eyes to his, he notices that her pupils are blown so wide that her lovely irises are almost gone.

Oh. Oh. She loves it when he talks to her like this.

Looks like it’s not just the pain his Maomao enjoys. She seems to love the threat and the buildup nearly as much.

She’d never admit it – he sees her already trying to return her facial features to neutral, trying to take control of the situation. Unfortunately for her, it only makes her look pouty. It’s quite adorable, actually.

Jinshi grins, delighted by the sight. He decides it’s only right to tease his favourite toy for a little longer.

“Once I feel like you’ve learned your lesson, I think I’ll bend you over my desk after all,” he continues, leaning his chin on his hand as if deep in thought. “Make you stay that way with your bruised little backside on display, so I can enjoy the view of my handiwork.”

Maomao chokes on her spit, clearly caught off guard by the idea. “Sir-”

Jinshi stands up, then, making her sputter in surprise as he towers over Maomao’s kneeling form. He clasps his hands behind his back, looking down at her with a predatory look.

“And if you’re a really, really good girl for me, and stay as I order,” Jinshi purrs, “Maybe I’ll spank your cunt as a reward.”

“That’s not-!” Maomao exclaims suddenly, clearly affronted. She takes a quick, calming breath. “That’s not a reward, sir.”

Jinshi raises a brow. “Maybe not for an average person, no. But considering how hard you came when I did that to you, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it?”  

Maomao looks away, shy, grumbling something under her breath.

“What’s that, apothecary?” He asks softly, teasing.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “I said fine. Sir. Just… do something to me. Now.”

The needy whine in her tone is adorable.

“My, my.” Jinshi clicks his tongue. “So demanding.”

Maomao raises her chin, meeting his eyes with a glare. “Are you going to do something about it? Or are you all talk?”

His brows rise.

“Respectfully.” She corrects quickly. “Master Jinshi.”

“There was nothing respectful about that, mouthy girl,” he replies, leaning in closer. “You should watch that tone.”

Maomao grimaces, squirming. She’s clearly fighting herself on her desire to talk back to push him to punish her, since she’s usually so careful to address him in a manner worthy of his rank.

So, instead of using words, she acts.

Maomao slaps another stack of parchments off his desk.

His eye twitches. He doesn’t mind too much – he’d rather she does something harmlessly bratty than actually put herself in danger in order to evoke a punishment from him. Nonetheless, picking those up will be quite irritating. “Apothecary-”

She raises her hand again, determined, but he is quicker than her. He grabs the candle she was reaching for, pulls it out of her reach. A little droplet of wax slips down from the commotion, lands on his hand, forces a hiss from his mouth as the pinprick of heat stings his skin.

Oh, that’s it.

“Maomao,” he says evenly, sternly, meeting her gaze with a scowl. “Trust me, there is nothing more I’d like than to bend you over right now and spank that brat out of you. Unfortunately, I think you’re forgetting something.”

Maomao whines, squirming on his desk, likely attempting to alleviate a very wet heat between her thighs. “What?”

“I’m sure neither Gaoshun nor Suiren would appreciate the very vocal show you’re sure to put on for them, if we continue.”

Besides, he refuses to strike her still-healing bruises, no matter how much she wants him to.

Maomao flushes in realization, and Jinshi can’t help but let out a sharp laugh. Unlike the night before, when it had been late enough to send everyone away from his office for privacy, there are enough people lingering nearby that her lovely little noises would certainly be an issue.

“I see,” Maomao says. Her face drops.

Jinshi’s heart stutters at the sight. Gods, he can’t ask her to just leave now, not when she’s so worked up.

Besides, she’s certainly done more than enough to earn herself a punishment.

As he contemplates, another drop of wax slides down the candle in his hand, pools on his skin. He winces, looking down at the thick droplet, already solidifying on his hand. It hurts, but not too awfully. He scrapes the wax off his skin absentmindedly, noting the light spot of red left behind, the one that’s already fading, not causing any lasting damage.

And then, he gets an idea.

---

At this point, she’d all but given up on anything happening tonight. She’s sitting in a puddle of her own arousal, but her little experiment would have to end... unsatisfactorily.

But when Jinshi grins deviously, suddenly, Maomao immediately perks up.

“I have a thought,” Jinshi murmurs, “a way to punish you, as you so very deserve. Silently. No one can enter my office without knocking, so, as long as we’re not heard, I can do anything I’d like to you.”

Maomao bites at her lip, anticipation boiling in her gut.

“However,” Jinshi continues, moving the candle in his hand a little closer to her. “I need you to make me a promise.”

“Yes?” Maomao replies, voice high and breathy.

“I need you to promise,” he says, leaning closer, “to bite that lip and be very, very quiet for me.”

Maomao’s eyelashes flutter, tongue flicking out to lick at her lips as she tilts her head. “As you wish, sir.”

Jinshi hums in acknowledgement, eyes glinting in excitement. And with that, he tilts the hand holding his candle, and a bit of wax drips onto the exposed column of Maomao’s neck.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she gasps – then bites back the noise as soon as it slips past her lips. The heat stings at her skin in the most delicious way, lingering as the wax settles and hardens.

Jinshi smiles, eyes focusing on how her lip is caught between her teeth, keeping herself quiet as she’d promised. “That’s a good girl.”

He raises his free hand, dips his fingers under the collar of her shirt, pulls it aside to reveal a slender shoulder. Goosebumps gather from contact with the cool air of Jinshi’s office, and Maomao shivers, both from the cold and her building excitement, heat already raging in her cunt.

“Let’s see how well you continue to keep quiet for me.”

He begins to trail a line of wax up the slope of her skin, watching as the drops harden quickly. Maomao muffles whimpers and sighs, head feeling light from the constant assault of pricks of pain. Jinshi stops, right as he reaches the peak of her shoulder, but just as Maomao is about to whine at him to keep going-

Jinshi leans down, and bites.

The yelp Maomao hides behind her bitten lip is sharp, sparks flying up her spine and down to her cunt from how harshly he latches onto her shoulder. She curls her shaking hands into fists, only jumping lightly when he finally releases her skin with a wet pop.

“What was- what was that for?” Maomao asks, voice high and breathy.

“You looked too delicious not to have a taste.” Jinshi answers, licking his lips. When she glances to her shoulder, she notices that he’d left teeth marks, saliva glistening on her skin.

When he tips a little more wax onto those red marks, Maomao whimpers in response, shoulder jerking in an attempt to escape the heat.

“So squirmy already, and I barely even started.” Jinshi tuts disapprovingly. His fingers slip away from under her collar. He takes a step back, taking his warmth with him, and Maomao frowns involuntarily.

Jinshi levels a heavy, thoughtful look her way. “How about we expose a little more skin to work with, shall we?”

Maomao’s breath catches in her throat. Still on her haunches, her hands move to play with her skirt, but Jinshi just chuckles.

“Not there,” he purrs, “open up your shirt for me, Maomao.”

Maomao flushes, heart racing at the thought of exposing somewhere so sensitive to Jinshi’s punishment.

She swallows tightly. “Yes, Master Jinshi.”

And thus, Maomao obeys. Her hands move to her waist, begin to untie her top. As the material loosens, she finds herself less and less willing to meet Jinshi’s heated gaze. She knows how little there is to look at on her body.

Her top slips off her shoulders, pools at her waist. Left in nothing but her thin dudou, her nipples harden against the material, tightening from the cold.

“One more layer,” Jinshi murmurs, gentle.

No longer meeting his eyes at all, her hands move swiftly to untie the knot behind her neck, and the dudou drops to meet the rest of her crumpled top around her waist, leaving her bare.

The moment stretches – nothing but Jinshi’s stuttered breaths and her own exhalations sounding between them. Her nipples are painfully hard, now. She doesn’t dare look at Jinshi’s expression.

That is, until gentle fingers steeple under her chin, and lift her face upwards.

When she’s forced to look at him, she finds that his eyes are stuck to her chest, his cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“Such lovely little things,” he says softly, entranced. “So perfect. I bet so sensitive, too. Just begging to be punished.”

He presses his fingers harder under her chin, hard enough to lift her face higher, to make sure she can’t see anything he’s doing below, and Maomao feels the sudden sputter of nervousness in her stomach, the clench of delightful fear at what these drops of hot, stinging wax would feel like somewhere so, so delicate-

“I’m sorry, sorry, sir,” she whimpers automatically, not certain why, but knowing that it immediately sends a gush of heat between her thighs-

“A little late for apologies, don’t you think?”

And then, heat explodes over one of her poor, hardened nipples. Maomao bites down on her tongue, hard, muffles a desperate sob as her hand jerks up protectively to cover her punished breast.

Jinshi lets out a disapproving noise, fingers gripping her chin. “Hands behind your back. Now.”

Maomao trembles, head going fuzzy with need, the tone of command in his voice dripping straight to her cunt. Shakily, she moves her hands, clasps them tightly behind her back, chest jutting out for Jinshi to do what he’d like to.

Her nipple throbs, sore from the hardened wax, and she waits with bated breath as Jinshi’s eyes trail back down to her chest.

When she feels drops of heat on her other, untouched nipple, she nearly cries from the intensity of it all, shoulders shaking. The warmth sparks through her chest, biting at her nipples cruelly. And yet, her hands remain behind her back.

Jinshi’s fingers leave her chin, and her face drops as she blinks mist out of her eyes, looking downwards. She breathes hard, trying to center herself, world coming back into focus as she feels a sudden, warm hand cup her cheek.

“You’re okay, Maomao?” Jinshi murmurs, gentle. Maomao begins to nod, soft hiccup shaking her lungs, when suddenly, her eyes catch on something that steals her breath entirely.

There, where she’s staring at the front of Jinshi’s robes, she sees a bulge.

A very large, hard bulge.

Fuck.

Maomao stares, wide-eyed. She’d realized he was certainly larger than decently sized when she’d felt his cock in that cave, but he must have not been fully hard then.

Even just the thought of the delightful burn of being stretched around-

Maomao snaps out of her indecent thoughts with a gasp when Jinshi tilts her face upwards once more.

“See something you like?” He quips, grin wide and arrogant.

Maomao turns beet-red.

Well. They’ve had this conversation before.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she huffs petulantly.

Jinshi’s eyes narrow, grin disappearing. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Maomao snorts without thought. “If you’re talking about some decently-sized frog, I don’t-”

She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence; Jinshi shoves her back so hard that her breath leaves her in a quick gasp, her back landing on the desk behind her, scattering papers and brushes and shaking a long-forgotten bowl of soup.

“Still just decent?” He hisses, anger biting at his words. He shoves her skirt up roughly as her nails scratch at the desk, gripping for dear life as she tries and fails to keep up with the unfolding situation.

Next thing she knows she feels him grip her undergarments, and rip them clean in half.

“Master Jinshi!” She exclaims, trying and failing to sit up. What a waste of perfectly good underclothing.

“Quiet,” he snarls, reminding her of her earlier promise as he slaps his hand over her mouth, ripped undergarments still gripped between his fingers. “One day soon, I swear you’ll beg me for forgiveness for all your mockery of my cock as I use it to split your cunt open.”

And then, drops of hot wax land on her bared cunt.

Maomao wails into his palm, but he quickly pushes his fingers into her mouth, spreading the taste of her from her drenched undergarments over her tongue and muffling all her noises so they can’t be heard.

It hurts so, so good, so much that when a drop of wax catches on her clit, the shock it sends throughout her entire body forces her to bite down on Jinshi’s fingers, hard enough that it must hurt. Her face crumples, on the verge of tears as her cunt throbs, begging for more, for more of something, anything – pain, pleasure, stimulation that might send her over the edge.

He must notice the distress on her face, because then Jinshi’s hand pulls out of her mouth, only to drop her undergarments aside and press to her cheek softly. He sets aside his candle, cradling her face between his hands, for long enough that her breaths even out, that she no longer feels ready to burst into tears. Underlying it all, she feels like screaming: begging Jinshi to continue, to do more, that she can handle more, that she needs it – but she has no idea how to express any of that.

When she raises her eyes, meets Jinshi’s gaze, the way he looks at her is so, so tender, it makes her skin crawl with something… confusing.

“How about I hold you for a bit, like last night?” He says after a moment, words so sweet that Maomao’s throat tightens. “Maybe draw you a bath for all that wax, first? Or maybe I can… I can help you… finish, it doesn’t seem like you have, yet.”

Now this, this, is too much. Every word of offer and openness and care is just too much, too much to handle, especially coming from him, from Master Jinshi - no, the Moon Prince, who is of so much higher rank than her, who should never talk to her this way.

Maomao jerks away from him so quickly that even he seems stunned, eyes widening.

She can’t. She can’t do this.

Coming to him for punishment is an entirely different thing – it makes sense; he is her superior, and he can discipline her for disobedience. It was an experiment that fit within the bounds of her station. But this kind of softness? It fits within no framework of proper inter-social class interaction.

Last night he’d broken her. He must have. Because every inhibition had disappeared and all she’d wanted was to be allowed to cry and be cared for.

But now – she’s still aware, she’s not sobbing, not riding on some wave of orgasmic bliss. She can’t let him treat her like this.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Master Jinshi,” she stammers, jumping off the desk, stumbling away as her quick hands tie back up her dudou and shirt, as she straightens her skirt. “I must go.”

She takes a step back, then another. Jinshi opens his mouth to say something, face still entirely bewildered, perhaps even crestfallen, but she doesn’t let him.

And with one quick, final bow, she rushes out of his office without waiting to be dismissed.

Notes:

Please feel free to suggest any smutty scenes you'd like to see, as my plan going forward is very loose so I'll consider them :)

Just a taste of what's to come that I have planned so far:
1) Size kink for SUREEEEE - Jinshi’s frog is big and she’s loving it
2) Sex toys procured from the Verdigris House
3) Definitely more impact play at some point

Chapter 3: Deal and Consummation

Notes:

Y’all. This is 6.5k words of rough fucking. This bad boy of a chapter is LONG (almost as long as Jinshi’s -redacted-).

Anyway, read updated tags, and enjoy :)

Ch. 3 smut CW: Discipline, Dom/Sub, One (1) spank, Painplay, Bratting, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Dacryphilia, Orgasm Delay, Choking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference

Jinshi can’t fall asleep.

His sheets are beyond tangled, trapped around his legs like the silks of a spider’s web. He tosses and turns, sweat sticking to his back in a disgusting sheet of anxiety.

He’d hoped the feeling would go away, replaced by the alluring pull of sleep. Instead, the empty cover of night only leaves more room for his rushing thoughts to drown in.

He doesn’t like the way Maomao rushed away from him tonight. He really doesn’t like it.

She let him hurt her, and then ran before he could assure himself that she was alright. And now, he has no idea how she’s feeling, how she’s doing, if she’s tossing and turning just like him.

Alright, that’s it.

Jinshi steps out of bed with a huff, grabbing a robe from where he left it strewn on his nightstand. He wraps the sheet of fabric around his body as he steps out of his bedroom, a singular goal in mind.

His feet guide him out of his quarters, and with a low command for his night guards to not follow him, he makes his way into the empty night.

Jinshi’s thoughts are so tumultuous, tumbling through his mind like storm clouds, that the lengthy walk to Maomao’s room passes by in a blur.

He stops before her door, quiet. From beyond, he is greeted by nothing but silence.

He doesn’t overthink it – his hand lands on her door, and pushes it open gently.

He just wants to see her, just for a moment.

The door slides inwards, slivers of moonlight slipping into the small room, although still nice by the standards of a servant. Jinshi had ensured of that when he’d brought Maomao back to work in the palace.

The silver light of the moon crawls across floorboards, illuminates the curled-up form on the bed at the other end of the room.

Maomao sleeps soundly, if not a little tense, her brow furrowed. She’s curled around a pillow rather adorably, clutching it tightly to her chest, sweet little snores slipping from between her lips.

She’s okay.

Jinshi releases a heavy breath, shoulders slumping. She’s okay.

And he’s standing there, watching her sleep like a creep.

With a final, parting glance, Jinshi closes Maomao’s door, and leaves.

---

Maomao sits on a cushion that likely costs more than the entire Verdigris brothel, back stiff. Her eyes glance around the massive bedchambers, fit for a prince, at the large, canopied bed on the opposite side of the room, at the open balcony doors that lead to a private garden, at the polished table that stands before her, low to the floor. At the beautiful man who sits across the table.

She tries to recall how she found herself in this situation, sitting in Master Jinshi’s bedroom, the two of them completely alone.

She hadn’t heard from him, the day after she ran away from his overwhelming softness following her punishment. Nor the next day. Nor the day after that.

It took until day four of silence for Maomao to begin getting impatient once more.

What, Master Jinshi is sulking because she didn’t accept his strange actions, and so she doesn’t get to continue her experiment? That’s just bad science, really.

If she’d wanted to keep exploring the fascinating manner in which her body derives pleasure from pain, she needed to take matters into her own hands. What better way than by invoking another punishment?

And thus, began her attempts at making Jinshi mad. She’d come to his office to spill his drinks, knock down more paperwork, mouth off, anything she could think of, really. She even managed to apply an ink stain to one of his nice robes – a particularly risky move of hers. But worth it, for the sake of science.

At least it would have been, if it had worked.

On Jinshi’s part, there was nothing. No reactions whatsoever, other than requests to clean her messes. She didn’t get it. He’d seemed to enjoy punishing her, even going as far as promising to fuck her.

She’d decided that she wouldn’t even mind if he takes it that route. If she’s in search of punishment, the heavy size of his cock is sure to be painful and a decent punishment in and of itself. She’d even collected a secret stash of abortifacients, in preparation if the need may arise.

As long as he doesn’t try to go all sweet on her again, or at least she can escape his clutches before he gets the chance to, there should be no hindrance to her experiment, and no pesky complications to the bounds of her station and his.

But over a week had passed, now, and Jinshi had given no indication of wanting to punish her at all, whether sexually or otherwise.

And although it appears as if he’d finally succumbed to her antics, summoning her to his private chambers, late at night, all Maomao has to do is take a look at his face to know this night is heading nowhere near the direction she wants it to.

The look on his face is nothing less but distraught.

Maomao squirms in her seat on his cushion, wondering what he could possibly want from her in this state.

She doesn’t have to wait for long to find out, it turns out.

When Jinshi finally speaks, it is as startling as it is rushed, full of barely restrained emotion. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Maomao tenses, looking down at her hands. “I’m uncertain as to what you are referring to, sir.”

“I can’t keep playing this game with you – I can see what you’ve been trying to do, trying to anger me, but I can’t.”

Maomao raises her eyes cautiously, meeting Jinshi’s gaze. His eyes are wide, almost pleading. She’s not certain what to say.

Jinshi swallows roughly, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t-”

He cuts himself off, exhaling harshly. Maomao watches as he forces himself to take deep, even breaths.

Finally, he manages to finish his thought. “I can’t keep punishing you if you will run away, if you refuse to be in my presence for even a moment afterwards.”

Maomao considers his words, an ember of surprise tugging at her gut. She had no idea that her leaving had affected him this much. She doesn’t particularly understand why, but she does know that if there is any chance of her experiment continuing, she must at least attempt to have a conversation with him.

“I don’t… not want to be in your presence,” Maomao says, rather clumsily. She’s not lying – it’s not his presence she didn’t want to be in, but the implications of a superior treating her with the kind of care he should only ever receive from his inferiors.

Jinshi blinks. “What?”

Maomao clears her throat. “I can be in your presence. I don’t mind being in your presence.”

Probably not the most encouraging words – but for Jinshi, it seems to be enough. Immediately, something brightens within those sad, broken eyes, a flash of hope lighting in their depths.

“Alright, so…” Jinshi says, watching her carefully. “If that’s the case, then maybe we can compromise.”

Maomao remains quiet, curious to hear where this is headed.

“I would be willing to continue our… punishments, under one condition,” Jinshi continues, hands playing with the edge of his robe. “If you come to me for a punishment, you’ll need to allow me to care for you afterwards. It doesn’t have to be me holding you like the first time, necessarily, it can- it can be me drawing you a bath, washing your hair, or us having dinner, making sure you’re fed and hydrated, or even just a conversation. But you have to stay.”

Maomao is scowling before he even finishes speaking.

So this is what bothers him? This is why he wants her to stay? So that he can take care of her? Stupid. This man has a contingent of servants to care for his every need – and Maomao had always done everything for herself. Why does he think she needs him?

“I don’t need your help,” she replies automatically, back stiff.

Jinshi’s reply is swift. “What if I do?”

Silence hangs between them, growing oppressive in the large, opulent room.

Jinshi continues. “What if I need this? What if I need to make sure you’re okay, to help you through the… after? What if it’s not all about you, Maomao?”

Maomao purses her lips. There is something confident, almost triumphant, about his tone. He must have known that the idea that she needs his help would never work to convince her of anything. But turning it around on her? Making it about himself?

It’s kind of genius, actually, when she thinks about it. If this is about him, then it only further serves to fulfill her role as his servant, taking care of his every need. If this is what he needs, then who is she to deny him that?

Perhaps she overreacted that night she ran – if Jinshi was commanding her to stay, if this was just another set of her duties as a servant, there need not be anything improper about this arrangement within their relationship as superior and subordinate.

In fact, it would only be right for her to do as he says, and serve her master by remaining with him after her punishment as he needs her to. She is just his lowly servant, after all.

“I agree to your terms, sir.” Maomao acquiesces, bowing her head gently.

Jinshi nods, accepting her words. His shoulders droop, as if the weight of the world had slipped off them like a heavy boulder.

“Thank you,” he says, voice light, relaxed in a manner it hadn’t been all evening. “Thank you for having this conversation with me.”

“Sir,” Maomao says in acknowledgement as she folds her arms before her face and bows her head fully. Another moment of silence passes between them, almost comfortable. Maomao recalls how late it is getting, the fact that Jinshi certainly has responsibilities to attend to next morning, and he needs his sleep.

Maomao speaks again from behind her arms. “Shall I depart for the evening?”

“Depart?” Jinshi repeats. It sounds a bit like the whine of a hungry puppy.

Maomao raises her eyes over her folded arms, watching him carefully. “It is quite late, Master Jinshi.”

Jinshi pouts, petulant. But then, a glimmer enters his eyes.

“Come closer, apothecary.” He says softly, almost a purr.

Maomao swallows, wondering where this is leading. She’d been acting out quite a bit lately, but Jinshi had largely been ignoring that over the past few days. And none of Jinshi’s behaviour this evening had indicated the possibility of a punishment, so she’s not certain what he could want from her.

Maomao shifts to her knees, before rising to her feet. Carefully, she walks around the table, feet coming to a stop near Jinshi’s knee. “What can I do for you, Master-”

She interrupts herself with a sharp, surprised gasp as Jinshi’s hand grabs hold of her hip, and topples her down into his lap. Maomao’s hands flail out automatically, grabbing hold of Jinshi’s robes as he pulls her into his body, arms wrapping tightly around her.

She squirms in his hold, cheek squished into his chest. She finds exactly no yield.

“Master Jinshi,” Maomao hisses, voice muffled into his clothing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His arms tighten around her, one hand curling into her scalp, tugging at the ribbon holding up her hair. “I’m ensuring you make up for the cuddles you so cruelly denied me last time I saw you.”

With another gentle tug at her ribbon, Maomao feels her hair fall down, cascading freely over her shoulders as Jinshi’s fingers run softly through the strands.

Face feeling hot – Jinshi’s warm chest is pressed so tightly to her cheek that it must just be the heat of his body – Maomao grumbles indignantly. “We didn’t have this agreement last time, sir. And we hadn’t agreed on… cuddling specifically, anyway.”

Jinshi’s face presses into the crook of her neck, lips warm and wet against her skin as he continues to caress Maomao’s hair, his other arm tight and unyielding in its grip around her waist. He grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I don’t care’ into her neck, shifting her body just a little, ensuring she sits comfortably within the well of his crossed legs.

His mouth is warm and gentle, brushing against her skin as he lifts his face to look her in the eyes. Maomao finds her gaze glued to those same lips as he pulls back, the appealing shape of them parted, reddened. He leans in closer, closer, and a bolt of panic shoots straight through Maomao’s gut, instinctively forces her to pull back to avoid his lips, searching for hers.

They’ve been here before. Multiple times. It has never been a good idea to get kissed by Master Jinshi. Their new, evolving arrangement hadn’t changed that. The blurry little kisses she remembers him pressing to her face in her moment of weakness, after that first time he’d punished her, don’t change that either.

Jinshi notices her silent rejection, face freezing on its path towards hers. The corners of his lips twitch downwards, the arm around her waist gripping her even tighter. He looks so much like a kicked puppy that even Maomao feels a knot of sympathy form in her stomach.

Perhaps she can compromise. She is his servant, after all, she’s just taking care of her master’s feelings, as unconventional as they might be.

Maomao tilts her face up, presses a quick peck to Jinshi’s cheek, over that lovely scar of his.

His face lights up so quickly that one could not be faulted for mistaking his expression for that of a poor man stumbling onto a pile of riches, followed by a brothel of beautiful women.

“Can I have another?” Jinshi’s fingers press into her lower back, arching her back gently. “Please?”

Maomao sighs. She presses another kiss to his scar, before pulling back. “Happy, sir?”

“Mhmm,” Jinshi hums appreciatively, pressing his cheek into hers suddenly. “Very much so.”

The fingers on her lower back shift upwards, tracing her spine and invoking an involuntary shiver. Maomao bites her lip to stop herself from giggling, the ticklish sensation sinking into her gut. She manages to hold it back, somehow, and thanks every god she can think of that Jinshi had not yet discovered this weakness of hers.

“You know,” Jinshi murmurs, lips now close to her ear, hand settling between her shoulders, long fingers spanning her upper back. “There’s a question I just haven’t been able to shake, over the past few days.”

Maomao settles her cheek onto Jinshi’s shoulder, spurred on by the pressure of his hand on her back. “A question, sir?”

“Uh-huh,” he coos, nuzzling his nose into her hair. His tone takes on a deep, husky quality “I’ve been wondering, what you did with that wet little cunt after you ran away from me.”

Maomao lets out an undignified squeak, tensing in Jinshi’s arms. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

The intrusive memory of rushing back to her room all those days ago forces its way into her mind. The way she’d reached her hand between her damp thighs the moment she stepped into her bedroom, no undergarments to get in the way. The way she came so hard and fast that all she could was curl herself around a pillow before dropping straight to sleep. The way she’d wished desperately, in a moment of weakness, that she had more than a pillow to hold and comfort her in that moment.

Maomao sucks in a breath, face still buried in Jinshi’s shoulder. She’s glad he doesn’t have to see her expression at this moment.

“Come now, apothecary,” he purrs into her ear. One of his hands tightens its hold on her hair, to the point of a satisfying ache. “Don’t play coy. You’d made an absolute mess of your underclothes, and didn’t take me up on my offer to help finish you off.”

And then, Jinshi tugs her head back by her hair, forces her to face him head on. His other palm comes off her back, reaches for one of Maomao’s wrists and brings it up between the two of them.

“So, tell me, Maomao,” he says, an iron edge to his voice as his eyes burrow into hers. “Tell me if these small fingers are enough to touch yourself properly.”

Before she can react, Jinshi leans forward, and closes his lips around her fingers. In a picture eerily reminiscent of the first time he’d punished her, he sucks on her fingers gently, never breaking eye contact.

The warm, soft pressure of his tongue against her skin is enough to break her out of her stupor.

Maomao jerks her hand out of Jinshi’s mouth, flushing red as she squirms in his lap. “My fingers are plenty enough, thank you very much.”

“I don’t believe you.” A fire lights somewhere deep within Jinshi’s gaze, and she knows immediately that she’d stepped right into his trap. “Maybe you should show me.”

Maomao lungs stutter nervously, eyes catching on the glisten of saliva that covers her fingers. “Show you?”

Jinshi’s hands slide down her body, slowly, before coming to rest at her hips.

And then, he lifts her up, and drops her onto the table behind her.

Maomao startles at the sudden shift, hands curling into the wood beneath her. The low-rise surface brings Maomao face-to-face with Jinshi.

“That’s right,” Jinshi says softly. “You’re going to strip naked, spread your legs, and show me how you play with yourself.”

Maomao’s eyes widen. A shudder travels up her spine, raising goosebumps up her skin, funneling heat straight to her cunt.

Gods, when did he get so shameless?

She bites her lip, squirming under his watchful gaze. Her voice comes out breathy. “Is that an order, sir?”

“Would you like it to be?”

If it’s an order, then it’s no different than a punishment: something Maomao can justify to herself as just another one of her duties, something she doesn’t need to overthink.

She needs it to be an order, or else she will find no satisfying way to relieve the potent heat now growling between her thighs.

“Yes, sir.”

Jinshi’s breath comes out stuttered, eyes darkening with desire.

“Then it’s an order, apothecary.” He says, voice low enough to rumble straight to her cunt. “Strip.”

This is a little overkill, Maomao wants to tell Jinshi as she peels off her upper layers, hands travelling to her skirt as soon as her breasts are free. Why does she need to be completely naked?

Nonetheless, she follows her master’s command.

With an awkward shimmy of her hips, Maomao pushes off her skirt alongside her undergarments, until no piece of clothing remains on her body, and her bare backside plants itself on the hard, cool wood of Jinshi’s table.

Unhygienic, she can’t help but think. She squeezes her legs together tightly, not meeting his eyes.  

Jinshi curses softly, the noise drawing her attention back to him.

“Gods, just look at you,” he murmurs, pulling back a little as he takes in her body, entirely bare for him to feast his eyes upon. “Spread your legs for me, let me see you properly.”

Maomao squirms, knees twitching together. “I’ll get your table… dirty, sir.”

“Is that so?” He practically chuckles, shifting closer once more. “Are you embarrassed that your needy little cunt is already drooling all over my furniture?”

The audacity of this man. Maomao flushes. She doesn’t deign him with a response.

Jinshi hums thoughtfully, as he reaches for her, a gentle fingertip landing on her knee, circling the skin teasingly. The finger travels higher, slowly, stopping only to dig a nail harshly into the meat of her thigh, the motion so sudden that she has to bite back a gasp, more fire pooling in her gut, a fire hotter than she’d ever experienced. She can only imagine the sopping state of her thighs.

“As cute as shy Maomao is to witness, I’m running out of patience.” Jinshi says, hand leaving her thigh. The tone of his voice had taken on something darker, threatening, eliciting a shiver. “I gave you an order, and I expect to be obeyed.”

The authority that drips from Jinshi’s words is certainly not that of some administrator eunuch in the rear palace. His half-lidded eyes are hooded by shadow, unyielding, somehow looking down at her even at eye level with her gaze. These are the eyes of royalty, of someone who expects nothing less but complete and utter submission to his will. Maomao bites her lip, lowering her gaze.

The difference in their stations had never felt so potent, a real, tangible ladder of hierarchy hanging in the space between them. There is a roaring heat that growls in Maomao’s gut at the thought, the giddy feeling of giving up control, of allowing herself to be as utterly powerless as humanly possible. The feeling of not having a single worry, a single thing to concern herself with – because Jinshi is the one in charge, and all she has to do is obey and face the punishment when she doesn’t.

Maomao’s legs spread, until her thighs peel open, until the cool air of the room sinks into the heated flesh of her cunt. She doesn’t bother waiting for Jinshi to remind her of the rest of his command.

She pushes two fingers into her cunt.

She’s wet. Gods, she’s so fucking wet. Wetter than she’d ever imagined possible. Arousal drips down her hand, makes an audible noise as her fingers sink fully inside herself. She barely even feels the stretch – she’s that aroused.

Maomao lifts her gaze to catch Jinshi’s reaction.

It appears he’s sunk fully into his role for the evening, because instead of the blushing, stammering boy she’d expected to see, all she sees is that same confident, authoritative fire in his eyes, no lines of tension lining his face. He wears that assertiveness almost like a second skin, fully comfortable – from the manner in which he sits to the way he raises his brow expectantly.

Alright, then. She’ll show him just how enough her own fingers are.

Swallowing softly, Maomao curls her fingers inside herself, stoking a familiar fire. She arches her back lightly, trying to find a better angle as she tries to recall what she’d done all those nights ago.   

Her cunt was still sore, red and swollen from the candle wax, nearly oversensitive. She’d pushed her fingers inside herself, just like now, two, then three.

Maomao’s lips part with a soft, delighted moan as a third finger joins her two, finally providing the beginning spark of the heated stretch she adores so much. She pumps her fingers slowly, arch deepening in her back, hard nipples jutting up as her fingers keep curling into that torturously needy spot inside herself.

She’d gotten close, that night – but not close enough, that sweet spot inside herself never having been enough to bring her over the edge. Her fingers had dipped out of her cunt, before returning to circle her sensitive clit in harsh circles, bringing her to orgasm nearly immediately.

Maomao lets her fingers slip out with a tremor, dragging the dripping digits up to her clit, swiping against it roughly-

And this, this is where she encounters a problem.

Her cunt is soaked top to bottom, here fingers even worse. As she tries to circle her clit again, she realizes with a deep, sinking horror, that she can get exactly no traction against the sensitive nub. The pressure on her clit feels so, so good, but-

It’s not enough.

Maomao whimpers desperately, trying again to bring herself to the brink of pleasure, but she can’t. She lowers her hand, sinks her fingers inside herself once more, but even the slight, lovely stretch is just not nearly enough to make her come.

“Look at you struggling,” Jinshi purrs, drags her out of her spiral as her wide, desperate eyes snap to his in unvoiced plea. “Isn’t this adorable.”

His elbow is planted on his knee, chin leaning into his hand casually. He’s watching her in delight – her heaving chest, flushed skin, needy eyes.  

“Siiiir-” Maomao whines as she curls her fingers inside herself uselessly, more arousal pooling on her hand.

“What is it, apothecary?” He asks calmly, smile tugging at his lips. “Do you need something?”

Maomao nods her head quickly, eyes stinging, lip pulled tight between her teeth as her cunt throbs painfully with unmet need.

Jinshi leans forward, then, hand reaching up to cradle her jaw. “Does my Maomao need my help?”

She can hardly find it in herself to feel indignant over his patronizing tone, nor how horrifically wrong she’d been proven on her own fingers being enough – she just wants release so, so badly. Maomao nods again, eyes shining.

“Oh darling, come here,” he coos, wrapping his arms around her.

Horror flares to life in her gut, fingers slipping out of her cunt. “Master Jinshi, you shouldn’t call me that-”

She gasps in surprise when he rises to his feet, hauling her to his body.

“I will call you anything I like,” he says softly, almost petulantly, Maomao cradled in his arms as he makes his way towards his large, canopied bed. “Apothecary.”

Jinshi comes to a stop by the edge of his mattress. “Or maybe Maomao.”

He drops her unceremoniously, Maomao’s back landing on silky soft sheets that feel like clouds. “Perhaps darling.”

He leans over her, the look in his eyes downright predatory.

“Or, if I prefer,” he continues, hands grabbing her hips, flipping her to her stomach in a swift, dizzying move, “my favourite toy.”

And then, two long fingers pierce into her cunt from behind.

Maomao’s hips spasm in response, a heavy moan muffling into the sheets beneath her. His hands are so big, so much bigger than hers, the length of his fingers reaching a depth she’d never been able to explore herself. He begins to pump his digits in and out of her slowly, languidly, taking the time to tease her torturously. Soft, lewd noises fill his bedchambers, the noises of his fingers pushing through her arousal, the noises of her involuntary whimpers every time he squeezes past that sweet spot inside her.

“Filthy girl,” Jinshi growls, a hand on her hip, forcing her up to her knees, “dripping all over my bedsheets.”

With her hips angled up, he curls his fingers, the sudden stretch eliciting a choked keen from Maomao’s lips. Jinshi chuckles at her reaction, spreading his fingers until the burn of her tight walls protesting the stretch makes her see stars.

“So much better than your thin little fingers, isn’t it?” He coos, fingertips digging harshly into her sweet spot until a desperate sob falls past her lips, shoulders shaking from her desire. “Tell me that this is what you needed, Maomao.”

Maomao’s fingernails scratch against the duvet as she squirms from the torturous feeling clawing at her gut, Jinshi’s hand holding her hip in place unyieldingly. His fingers are stretching her dutifully, peeling her open and massaging away the ache of being filled, making sure to give lots of love to the spot inside her that makes her moan every time he touches it, but-

It’s not enough. She just can’t come, not from so little stimulation, not like this. It’s not enough.

Maomao shakes her head with a sob, eyes shut tightly. “More- I need more.”

“More?” Jinshi repeats. On his next pump, a third finger joins his two, spears her open to the sound of her sharp cry.

Her cunt aches wonderfully – and it’s still not enough.

“More-” Maomao whines, shoves her hips back into his hand.

“You needy little thing.” Jinshi lays down a hard, chiding smack to her backside, jerking her forward from the delicious sting. “If I bring something more out to play, I won’t be able to hold myself back any longer, apothecary.”

Three long fingers curl inside of her, and Maomao beats a weak fist into the sheets, frustration welling in her gut. All this talk about holding himself back – as if she’d ever asked him to do so.

Does she have to spell everything out for him?

“Are you going to keep talking,” Maomao growls desperately as she whips her head around, glaring at Jinshi over her shoulder, “or will you finally make good on your promise?”

His promise to split her cunt open with his cock – as his disobedient servant, it’s her duty to take his punishments in any manner he offers them.

Jinshi’s eyes narrow, a brow twitching dangerously. “Watch that tone.”

Perhaps he needs just a little more disobedience.

Maomao sneers, maintaining eye contact. “Unless the issue is that you don’t have anything bigger than these fingers to use, sir.”

She sees it in his eyes – the immediate darkness that blows his pupils open – and knows she fucked up.

Jinshi’s response is swift and unforgiving. He rips his fingers out of her cunt, open his robes – she barely has the time to process the sight of the heavy length that bobs up from between his thighs, leaking from a bulbous head – and shoves the thick tip of his cock into her tight, aching cunt.

Sharp hurt explodes from between her thighs, a screech clawing from her throat as Maomao scrambles desperately against Jinshi’s bed sheets.

She’d wanted more – but gods, it’s so, so much, sparks lighting up her cunt as it refuses to accommodate the girth of Jinshi’s cock, even just its tip stretching her beyond anything she could have imagined. Jinshi grips her hips once more, a loud groan rumbling from his chest, keeping her in place for him to use as he pleases, rendering her frenzied squirming useless in his grip.

Maomao lets out a broken sob as tears well in her eyes, reaching a trembling hand for a nearby pillow, pulling it under her face for comfort.

“Oh, poor, poor thing, is my cock too big for your tight little cunt?’ Jinshi snarls patronizingly, one hand pressing to the bed near her face, the other spanning over one cheek of her backside, gripping tightly. “I could swear I recall a conversation when you called it just decently sized.”

Jinshi pushes in a little further to the sound of her loud whimpers, walls barely yielding to the brutal slide of his cock as her cunt struggles to accept it.

“If it’s really so decently sized, you should be able to take it, shouldn’t you?” Jinshi leans in, whispers in her ear.

Her teeth bite down on the feather-stuffed pillow beneath her, muffling her sobs. She knows what he wants from her – sobbed apologies for calling him decently sized, for her mockery.

She bites down harder.

Jinshi feeds the next inch of cock into her cunt quickly, harshly, cheek nuzzled to hers as she trembles and sobs into his pillow. The inch after that makes her release the fabric from her teeth, cry out loudly enough to be embarrassing. “Master Jinshi- ow, ow!”

Her cries taper off into pathetic sniffles as he settles inside her once more, stretching her to the absolute limit.

“Does it hurt, my Maomao?” He purrs into her ear, before leaving a startlingly soft kiss on the trembling surface of her cheek. “But I prepared you so well. Do you have any theories on why your poor little cunt is so, so sore right now? Would a decently sized cock hurt like this?”

Tears soak into the pillow beneath her. She knows he can’t keep her in this limbo forever – stretched full but barely moving, offering her none of that pleasure of thrust and impact, undercut by a delicious current of pain. But she’s already unraveling at the seams – she’s rather sure she’ll break far before he does.

So, she concedes.

“It’s- it’s big,” she whimpers brokenly, almost a whisper. “Really big.”

She feels his triumphant chuckle, the massive grin he presses to her neck. “Is it, now? Are you sure? Not decently sized?”

Maomao shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her heated cheeks.

Maomao makes an unintelligible noise into his pillow as she feels Jinshi’s thumb grip at the fold of skin right beside her stretched opening, as he pulls her apart further.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you mean it,” he muses. “I think you need a bit more proof.”

And then, he pushes the rest his cock all the way in.  

“Jinshi!” Maomao wails as her cunt explodes. “It’s big, it’s- it’s too big, too big.”

Jinshi inhales a stuttered breath, teeth skimming her neck threateningly. “Then I suggest you bite down on that pillow, darling.”

Jinshi pulls his hips back, dragging the heavy weight of his cock out of her sore, throbbing cunt, all the way out until only the tip remains stretching her open. Maomao bites down on his pillow –

Just in time to feel him shove the entirety of his cock back inside her in one unforgiving thrust.

Maomao cries, so overwhelmed with pain and pleasure that her body can barely contain it, cunt spasming violently around Jinshi’s cock. Her body trembles, hands flailing, one tangling among the sheets, the other landing on one of Jinshi’s palms, pressed to the bed.

She grips his fingers, tightly, and holds on for dear life as he begins to fuck her in a sharp, brutal rhythm.

She barely feels it as Jinshi flips his hand underneath hers, interlocks their fingers. His loud moans ring in her ears, drown out the noises of her cries and add to the building inferno that wraps around her gut.

When she feels his free hand climb to the column of her neck, wrap around the front of it threateningly, tremors spear through her cunt. His fingers tighten, not enough to damage, but just enough to make her head swim blurrily. He pulls her back until her back arches painfully, until her body is forced to, somehow, allow him in even deeper, more aching heat lighting up from the inside.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jinshi praises her softly as his hips snap against her bottom, pressing another gentle kiss to her tear-stained cheek. “By the time I’m done with you, I’m going to make sure that the shape of my cock is imprinted into your cunt.”

Maomao whines at his words, arousal streaming down her thighs and mind blissfully empty. The hand around her throat squeezes possessively. She wonders if it will leave a mark – she hopes it does.

“Now, be a good girl, and apologize for all your mockery of my cock.”

His hand releases her throat, blood rushing to her face, the other hand unlocking from her grasp. Before she can form words, he pulls out fully, then flips her to her back. Maomao blinks open her bleary, watery eyes. What meets her gaze is truly a celestial sight.

Jinshi kneels between her legs, robes hanging open off his shoulders, revealing his sculpted chest, shining with sweat. His face is flushed with exertion, pupils blown with feral desire.

And, down below, she finally gets to feast her eyes properly on his large, imposing cock.

Maomao’s eyes grow wide. She’d seen her fair share of cocks, growing up in a brothel. She’d never seen one this impressive. It stands proudly, shining with her arousal.

Gods, that had fit inside her?

Jinshi leans a little closer, just close enough to bump the slippery head of his cock against her sore, swollen cunt, but no further. “Don’t make me repeat myself, apothecary.”

Right. Maomao clears her throat, parched and scratched raw from her cries.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she sniffs softly.

She bites her lip in anticipation as Jinshi presses closer, cock sliding between her sensitive folds. But, that delicious, painful stretch doesn’t come.

“You can do better than that. Try again.”

Maomao swallows back a whimper, head leaning back on Jinshi’s pillow, soaked through with her tears. “I’m very sorry, Master Jinshi.”

He rewards her by popping the tip of his cock back inside her, eliciting a pained cry as her exhausted cunt screams in protest. He stops.

“Again.”

 A needy sob shakes her chest. Maomao hadn’t realized just how close she’d been to coming until he’d re-introduced the wonderful stretch of his cock within her body.

“I’m so, so sorry, Master Jinshi, I’m sorry,” she cries out, interrupted by a moan as he pushes all the way back in, slowly. His hands reach for hers, hold them tightly. “I’m sorry for mocking- mocking your cock.”

Jinshi’s face presses to the crook of her neck with a groan, starting a slow, deep rhythm with his hips. “I know, I know-”

“Please,” Maomao whines pathetically, hands gripping his tightly. “I’m so sorry, please, please, faster, harder-”

“Gods, I’d fucked you to tears and you still want more.” Jinshi groans into her neck. “You are- you are something else. You are amazing.”

And then, he heeds her plea.

His cock snaps into her cunt roughly, rapidly. The inferno inside her reaches a boil, begins to spill over, so, so close-

And when his pelvis begins to grind into her clit, with just the right friction of trimmed pubic hair and pressure, that’s all it takes.

Maomao’s body spasms, the most powerful climax she’d ever experienced rocking her entire body. The haze that clouds her mind is utterly delightful, a feeling so reminiscent to the one when he’d spanked her to orgasm, but even better with the pressure of his cock still rocking inside her. She feels the delightful sensation of powerlessness as Jinshi shifts her legs, angles them better, pounding into her in search of his own end, using her for his pleasure.

A few more thrusts – perhaps an eternity – later, Jinshi pulls his cock out of her aching cunt, his seed spilling over her thighs. He flops down next to her, boneless, as she keeps floating on her cloud of happiness, a soft grin on her face.

A few beats of soft comfortable silence pass. And then, Jinshi speaks in a tired, broken voice.

“Please, don’t leave.”

Maomao’s smile drops, mind far too gone to contemplate his words.

But, she does recall one thing. She made a deal.

So, with a satisfied groan and aching muscles, Maomao flops over onto Jinshi’s chest, and promptly drifts off to sleep.

Notes:

Lots more to come :) Next chapter they'll be taking the kinky up a notch (aka time for sex toys)

Before you ask where Jinshi learned to be such a sex demon, let's just say it's a combination of Maomao's dirty books and that he's a very, very fast learner ;)

Suggestions always welcome <3 already included a few in this chapter thanks y'all ;)

Chapter 4: Toys and Games

Notes:

Yay new chapter, y'all have been so supportive and these chapters are so fun to write - check tags and enjoy :)

Ch. 4 smut CW: Discipline, Dom/Sub, Painplay, Light Spanking, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Bondage, Sex Toys, Discussion of Sex Toy Use, light exhibitionism, Fear Play, Humiliation

to explain 'light exhibitionism' tag: so this is not exactly exhibitionism, but in this chapter Jinshi and Maomao discuss sexual topics/kinks in front of other people in the Verdigris house, under the guise of seeking that information for someone else. In some way, they are involving others in their dynamic without clear consent (since who they're talking to doesn't know about their dynamic, even though the person consented to the conversation about sexual topics/kinks), so just giving a heads up if it bothers anyone.

“Apothecary,” Jinshi says softly.

In response to the disturbance, a noise of protest rumbles from the girl wrapped in his sheets, still fast asleep. At some point in the night, she’d sadly rolled away from him, choosing to wrap herself in blankets instead. Nonetheless, the fact that she’s still here at all, hours later, is a miracle in and of itself.

He smiles, enchanted by the sight of Maomao’s features, softened by a dream, the sheen of pre-dawn light warming a sliver of her cheek. Jinshi presses in closer, wrapping the cocoon of Maomao into his arms.

His face leans in, lips brushing against Maomao’s ear with a tender whisper. “Maomao.”

He doesn’t want to wake her. He never claimed he wasn’t at least a bit selfish; he’d like Maomao all to himself for just a little bit longer before she must depart. He wants to let her sleep for as long as her heart desires, consequences be damned. Unfortunately, the rest of the palace will be waking soon, and he doubts Maomao would appreciate being found naked in his bed by Suiren.

If it were up to him, he would sweep the lovely cocoon of Maomao into his arms and parade her for all to see – that she is his, that he is hers. Alas, there is a non-zero chance Maomao would castrate him for real this time, if he did that to her.

When the sweet whisper of her name proves not to be enough to wake her, only eliciting the delightful feeling of Maomao nuzzling into him subconsciously, the warmth of her body seeping through his blankets, Jinshi decides that actions speak louder than words. His fingers dig gently into the blanket wrapped around her body, slide under the fabric until he can brush the bare skin of her lower back, and-

Begin to mercilessly tickle her.

Maomao awakes with a loud gasp, body going taut in his arms for just a moment. “What-!”

Jinshi’s fingers brush quickly across her lower back, and he hides a massive smile in her hair just as Maomao dissolves into a laughing, shuddering mess. She must have thought he didn’t notice, yesterday, when it took no more than a light brush against her back to make her jump.

“Sir!” She shrieks in protest, desperately jerking away from his roving fingers, but only managing to lodge herself closer to his body. Maomao wiggles in his arms sharply, a ferocious kitten attempting to claw to freedom. His blanket tangles around her limbs, slipping off her body and revealing the lovely expanse of her naked skin.

Jinshi laughs in delight as her fist begins to beat against his chest, a loud protest even as she giggles maniacally, twisting her body violently in an attempt to escape him.

“Ah- ha! Please-” Maomao exclaims, one of her knees wedging itself between them, hiccupped laughs interrupting every syllable. “Jinshi!”

The smile on Jinshi’s face stings at the corners of his mouth, affection filling his chest at the sound of his name rolling off Maomao’s tongue. His fingers cease their assault on her lower back, wrapping around her waist instead, holding her tightly as her giggles fade away, body softening into his.

Jinshi smirks, pulling back just enough to see the flush on Maomao’s face, the flustered look in her eyes. “Good morning, darling.”

It is truly a heavenly moment, one that unfortunately disappears far too soon.

Maomao glares at him as soon as he catches her eye.

“Master Jinshi,” she grumbles with a sharp jerk of her body, finally managing to wiggle herself out of his arms. “Why did you do that?”

His delighted grin softens into something more tender. “I love hearing you laugh.”

Maomao makes an annoyed noise of protest deep in her throat, shifting to sit up in bed rapidly, blankets clutched to her chest.

And then, she goes completely rigid.

Jinshi frowns, concern tugging at his heart.

He leans up onto an elbow, reaching for her. “Are you alright-”

Maomao jerks away from the brush of his fingertips against her arm, before letting out a little hiss of discomfort from the movement.

“It appears,” Maomao says with an edge to her voice, “that you’ve left me quite… sore, sir.”

Maomao shifts in her seat, squirming with a flushed little scowl on her face.

Oh. Oh.

His frown evaporates, replaced by a sudden feral heat at the thought of his Maomao squirming all day from the ache that reminds her of how well he’d fucked her the night before.

“Is that so?” He asks, the purr of desire reverberating through his words as he scoots closer to a wriggling Maomao.

“Well, I am quite small, and you are impressively well endowed,” Maomao clarifies, chewing at her lip.

“No longer just decently sized, am I?” Jinshi teases. He manages to shift close enough behind Maomao to put his chin on her shoulder, a soft gesture he is delighted to see she doesn’t immediately pull away from.

“No, sir,” she admits softly, shoulder tensing beneath his chin for a moment, before relaxing once again. “And I have never been penetrated by anything larger than my fingers. It’s no surprise that I’m sore.”

Jinshi hums gently, pressing closer, hand reaching under the blanket Maomao clutches with curled fingers, sliding beneath until his fingers brush the taut skin of her stomach, reacting with a shiver.

 “Poor girl, tell me exactly where it’s sore,” he purrs into her ear as his hand flattens on her warm, soft stomach. His hand slips up to cup her breast. “Is it here?”

Maomao’s breath hitches delightfully as he gives her breast a squeeze, small enough that it fits perfectly within his grasp. “You already know where I’m-”

“Or maybe here,” he interrupts teasingly, fingers pinching at a hardened nipple, enjoying the way Maomao whimpers in response. “You are so, so wonderfully sensitive here.”

Jinshi slides his other hand around her until he finds her free breast, giving the other nipple the same attention as the first. “And unlike your delicate cunt, there is so much more these pretty little things can handle. There are some truly delightful punishments I have in store for them.”

For good measure, Jinshi gives her nipples a threatening twist. Maomao squeals at the feeling, jerking in his arms.

“Owww-” she whines softly, head falling back against his chest as her shoulders shudder. “Master Jinshi-”

“I asked you a question, apothecary,” Jinshi interrupts with a click of his tongue, the feeling of her squirming against him igniting a familiar heat deep in his gut. “Is this where you’re sore?”

“It’s not- ah-” She gasps out, finding her back pressing to Jinshi’s chest as she attempts and fails to squirm away from his tight grip on her nipples. “That’s not where I’m- where I’m sore, si- sir-”

Jinshi chuckles happily, releasing Maomao’s poor nipples to the sound of her stuttered sigh of relief.

And then, he impatiently slips a hand down between her thighs.

Maomao’s breath hitches, thighs spreading automatically to accommodate the eager swipe of his fingers over her tender cunt.

“Ah, maybe it’s here, then?” He muses, gently gliding his fingers over her swollen skin. When he spreads his fingers, peeling open her folds, he is delighted to find moisture already building at his fingertips.

“Yes, sir,” Maomao sighs softly, melting into his body.

“I see,” Jinshi says. A large, devious grin grows on his lips as a wonderful idea blossoms to life in his mind. Thank you for sneaking all those delicious dirty books into the palace, Maomao.

Jinshi removes his hand from between her thighs, hears the little noise of complaint that bursts from Maomao’s lungs.

And then, he slings a knee over his arm, and lifts her leg into the air as his blanket falls away from her entirely.

“What are you doing?” Maomao exclaims, squirming in an attempt to escape his sudden grip on her leg.

Well, that just won’t do.

Jinshi lifts her leg higher, until her squirming hips rise above the bed, and her feet kick uselessly in the air. Wrapping his free arm around her torso, he manhandles her easily, holding her up so that her pretty cunt is on full display to him. It still looks red and achy from the night before – a lovely reminder of how he’d stretched it on his cock until she cried.

“Oh darling,” he coos at her cunt, sore folds blooming open just for him, like the loveliest of flowers. “I’m going to kiss it better.”

With a massive grin, he leans in, and gives his beautiful flower a long, wet lick.

For a moment, Maomao simply goes still in his unyielding hold. He looks over at her face, eyes wide with surprise, mouth open enticingly. Jinshi licks his lips, feeling ravenous after getting a taste of her delicious cunt.

And then, Maomao’s feet begin to kick with renewed vigor.

“Master Jinshi!” Maomao cries out in indignation, voice verging on a snarl as her heels connect with his back, his arms. “You can’t- you can’t do that! It’s not befitting our stations, I should be the one-”

He hoists her hips higher in response, until she gasps as she dangles nearly entirely upside-down, helpless to his ministrations. With one of his arms still an iron band around her waist, he releases her leg with the other.

“Mouthy,” he chides, raising his freed hand into the air, then letting it fall as a harsh slap against Maomao’s cunt. It’s mean and he doesn’t hold back his strength – exactly how she likes it.

Maomao gasps in response, cunt twitching from the strike.

 “So presumptuous of you, telling a superior what is befitting of his station or not.” Jinshi punctuates his point with another smack.

“Ah!” Maomao yelps loudly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I doubt it,” Jinshi says with a final slap, for good measure. “But it’ll always be my pleasure to teach you some manners.”

And with that, Jinshi lowers his face to her cunt, and peppers a few sweet, gentle licks and kisses against the sore skin.

“There,” he murmurs, ending with a final kiss to her opening – an apology for the rough treatment last night, a promise for more in the future. “All better.”

He looks over just to see Maomao staring intently at the ceiling, face scarlet, a mix of embarrassment and indignation staining her expression. Smiling at the lovely sight, Jinshi lays her back down gently, unwinding his arm from her waist.

As much as he wishes he could ravage her with whatever kisses she’ll allow for hours on end, to make her come against his tongue – dawn is fast approaching, creeping through the soft light of a warming sky that seeps into his bedroom, and Jinshi knows she’ll want to leave soon.

He didn’t get a chance to take care of her properly yesterday; he won’t get much of a chance to this morning. Sometime soon, he hopes to spend a whole day just pampering his Maomao with everything she desires. He never cared much for all his wealth – but what better use for these riches than to spend them on someone beloved?

But, just for a bit, he wants to take care of her now.

Jinshi lays down, stretching his limbs out next Maomao. Cautiously, he puts a hand on her arm, rubbing it softly. “Can I hold you for a little?”

Maomao tenses up, arm going rigid in his hand. “You already held me last night, Master Jinshi. I think it’s time I head out.”

Maomao is already moving, pulling her arm out of his hold, shifting away with a wince.

Shit. Maybe he’s asking too much of her.

He doesn’t want her to leave.

“Wait,” he says quickly, releasing a quick breath of relief when he sees her pause, half-sitting on his bed. “Let me just- let me just do something, first. It’ll be quick.”

He gets up without waiting for a response, making his way across his room towards the basin he uses to splash water on his face in the mornings. Next to the basin, he picks up a small, clean cloth, dips it into the water and squeezes out any extra droplets.

He turns back towards Maomao, relieved to find she’s still there, waiting for him with a neutral look on her face, blush fading away from her skin. Slowly, he approaches her like one would a feral cat, attempting not to spook her.

“I want to wipe you down,” he says gently, giving her the room to back away if she would like to. “There is dried arousal on your thighs.”

Maomao frowns. “It’s fine. I’ll go bathe.”

“I’d like to do it, please,” he says softly, hoping the conviction in his tone gets through, cracks through some of those thick, heavy walls built up around every one of Maomao’s emotions. “I guess I feel… somewhat responsible. I’d like to take care of you, just a little. You can go bathe right after.”

Maomao levels a long, heavy stare in his direction.

A moment of silence passes, and then she breaks the tension with a long sigh. “If that’s what you desire.”

Well. He’ll take what he can get.

He smiles softly, sitting down at the edge of his bed. With a hand on Maomao’s knee, he pulls her legs open, and presses the rag gently to her thigh. She twitches, lightly, but offers no other reaction to the cool fabric on her skin.

He starts with the most sensitive part: pressing the rag to her cunt, pausing when Maomao winces at the feeling. He wonders if one day he could do this with no pain at all – a day she’d get used to taking his cock. As much as she loves the pain and so does he, he doesn’t think it has to be like this every single time.

He wants fuck her gently, stretch her out so, so slowly.

He wants to make love to her, one day, soft and sweet, coaxing nothing but pure pleasure from her lips.

He wonders if she will ever allow that.

Jinshi wipes her cunt gently, squeezing her knee reassuringly with his free hand. “Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough? You’re not too sore?”

“No, sir.” She admits softly. “It’s a pleasant ache.”

“I’m glad,” he responds, moving the rag away from her cunt, wiping at her arousal between her legs, then his own dried release on her thighs.

He finishes off carefully, cleaning every streak he can see, lingering before pulling away.

With his hand still on her knee, he pauses, the desire for her to just stay, stay in his room, in his bed, in the silence of early morning clawing at him once again.

When he feels the quick, gentle squeeze of a small, warm hand over his, there one moment, gone the next, he is almost too shocked to notice. “Thank you, Master Jinshi.”

Eyes wide, Jinshi meets her gaze. “I- Yeah, yes, of course. Always.”

Maomao nods. And then, without another lingering moment, she pulls away, already rising to her feet, searching for her clothes where they’d been discarded last night.

He watches her lithe form dress quickly, efficiently, running her fingers through her messy hair until it falls flat. It takes mere moments until she bows low behind her arms, awaiting his dismissal.

“Maomao?”

She bristles at the casual use of her name, as if he hadn’t used it half a dozen times as he’d fucked her, as if he hadn’t called her his darling too. “Yes, sir?”

Jinshi remains silent, for long enough that the air fills with tension, for long enough that Maomao raises her head to look at him.

He’s not sure what to say. He feels like there is so much more he wants to voice than words could possibly cover.

Not now. Not yet. He needs to take it slow, let her open like a blossoming flower, on her own terms. Allow her to ask for the vulnerability he so craves to offer her.

For now, bringing her joy with these delightful little games of pain and pleasure will be enough.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Of course, sir,” Maomao answers evenly. And with a final bow, she slips out of his room like the wind.

---

“How else may the Verdigris House assist you today, my Lord? Perhaps our finest room for the night?”

“No, that’s quite alright, thank you. I’ll be heading out after my appointment.”

The old madam of the Verdigris House nods in assent, albeit somewhat sourly. “Yes, my Lord. If there is anything I can do to make your stay here better, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The old woman departs with a final, deep bow.

And with that, Maomao, Jinshi, Meimei, and two servant girls are left alone in the most luxurious Verdigris House lounge.

When Jinshi had invited Maomao on an outing today, under the guise of requiring her ‘expertise’, she’d had no idea what he’d wanted her help with. Now, Jinshi sits on an opulent sofa across from Meimei, two girls in the back of the room standing with satchels of different sizes in their arms.

“Lord Jinshi,” Meimei says pleasantly, voice soft and alluring. “It’s so wonderful to have you here today – it’s not often I get booked for this kind of appointment, but it’s always a delight when I do. Do you have any questions, before we begin?”

Jinshi smiles, leaning back into the sofa. It’s a smile Maomao had been seeing all day – one hiding something very, very dangerous.

She suppresses a shiver, shifting on her feet.

“No questions yet,” Jinshi answers, “but I’m certain I’ll have many once we get started.”

Meimei smiles, nodding her head politely. “Of course, Lord Jinshi. I’m sure the Emperor is very grateful for your aid in this matter.”

His grin grows bigger, all teeth. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Meimei claps her hands in excitement. “Well then! Let’s begin.”

One of the servant girls approaches Meimei, hands her the larger satchel. When she opens the satchel, pulls out a thick, silky length of rope, an inkling of understanding begins to scratch at the back of Maomao’s brain.

“Let’s begin with something easy.” Meimei says, wrapping the length of fabric loosely around her fist. “This is a rope for simple bondage, made of pure silk. It is the best material we have to offer for beginners – it’s incredibly soft and smooth, and unlikely to leave marks or abrasions, although it doesn’t work well for suspension. His Majesty may find it to his liking to bind or be bound by his partner during intimate activities – it is both enjoyable for the binder to take control and the bound to give up control.”

“I see.” Jinshi nods as he listens intently, eyes glimmering in excitement. His hand reaches into his robes, suddenly, and pulls out a notebook. When he flips open a page, reaches for a brush, and actually begins to take notes, Maomao is genuinely impressed.

“We have a few other options of material,” Meimei continues, dropping the silk back into her satchel, pulling out a rough, coiled length of rope. “This rope is made of jute, ideal for more complex binding, strong enough to suspend a person. However, it can be more abrasive against skin, and is best not be used by beginners.”

Jinshi hums in understanding, scratching off a few quick strokes on this notebook. He shifts in his seat as he looks back up, unblinking gaze focusing on the long coil of rope in Meimei’s hands.

“If it’s a more advanced technique, I’m sure the Emperor would like to learn it eventually.” Jinshi grins, sharp and dangerous. “I must ask for a demonstration.”

Meimei smiles coyly. “Why, of course.”

Meimei looks around, gaze glossing over the two servant girls behind her, likely new to the Verdigris House and untrained in its ways. As her gaze sweeps around the room, it finally catches on Maomao. It pauses.

Oh no.

“Maomao!” She calls out. “I remember I’ve taught you some of these ties. Would you come here and let me demonstrate on you, pretty please?”

Maomao finds herself unable to look at Jinshi, neck feeling suddenly hot. “Sure.”

Maomao shuffles away from where she’s standing by Jinshi’s sofa, coming to a stop in front of Meimei. She presses her wrists together, pounding pulse point to pulse point, and holds out her hands.

“Here,” Meimei says, turning her by her arm until she half-faces Jinshi, arms held out in a manner he can observe closely. Jinshi shuffles to the edge of his seat, gaze burning into her hands. Meimei unwinds the coarse rope from its coil, placing a length of jute across Maomao’s wrists.

“This is a pretty straightforward knot,” Meimei talks as she winds the length of rope around Maomao’s wrists, begins to tie it in a simple pattern. “It works well with this material, and will be safe for the wearer for prolonged periods of time. It is not adequate for suspension, but if the Emperor desires more complex lessons on that later, I would be happy to oblige.”

Jinshi’s brush scratches diligently across his notebook as Meimei explains what she does, fingers moving smoothly as she tightens the rope just to the point of restriction, but not enough to cut off circulation. Maomao’s eyes burn holes into her bound wrists, the loss of her ability to use her hands, the loss of control, all making her feel just a little fuzzy.

She wonders, for a moment, what it would feel like if Jinshi decides to use this lesson in his own relationship with Maomao, if he binds her until she can’t move, ties her down to his bed to use as he pleases, allows her no room to escape any punishment he may decide to inflict upon her.

Maomao catches her breath getting a little short – forces herself to take slow, deep inhales. She is here to do a job – it has become clear that she's aiding Jinshi in his selection of tools for the Emperor to use during his nightly activities. She needs to get a grip.

“How is it feeling?” Meimei’s questions slips through the cracks of Maomao’s floating mind, the gentle pull of Meimei’s finger testing her binds fully dragging her back to reality.

Maomao clears her throat, forcing her tone to remain neutral. “Good. Not too tight, but tight enough to prevent easy escape.”

“Wonderful,” Meimei says, smiling in Jinshi’s direction. “Was the demonstration adequate, my Lord?”

“Quite,” Jinshi purrs, voice low and reverberating. “Come here, apothecary. Let me take a closer look.”

Maomao swallows, shuffles back towards Jinshi. She stops by his feet, holds out her arms, and finally meets his eyes.

He’s already looking at her, eyes glinting with something dark and feral, as if he’d read her earlier thoughts to the very letter. His hand reaches for her wrists, grabs the free end of the rope, gives it a gentle tug. Maomao purses her lips, heat pounding in her chest.

Gently, methodically, Jinshi turns her bound wrists this way and that, taking occasional notes in his notebook. He pauses, a few times, presses a gentle finger under the rope and asks if it chafes over that spot. She always says no.

It may have taken less than a minute, but it feels like an eternity had passed when Jinshi finally releases her wrists, nods in satisfaction.

“Good,” Jinshi says, “thank you for your help, apothecary.”

Maomao swallows. “You’re welcome, Master Jinshi.”

His eyes meet hers once more. “Could we keep these binds on your wrists for a bit longer? I would like to see how they hold up with time.”

She nods in response, throat feeling dry. “Yes, sir.”

Maomao steps aside, then, back to her post by the side of Jinshi’s sofa, now feeling hot under the collar with the unyielding press of the coarse rope around her wrists. She’s not certain what other tools Meimei will show Jinshi, but she rather hopes that he doesn’t ask her to demonstrate them too.

“Thank you, courtesan. I will certainly purchase these.” Jinshi says, attention back on Meimei. “Would you bring out your next offering?”

“Wonderful, of course!” Meimei says excitedly, tossing a pointed look at the second servant girl in line, holding out her hand for the next, smaller satchel to be dropped in. With the object in hand, Meimei opens the satchel, reaching in to pull out a small, innocuous box.

“This is something a little more advanced, and not for everyone,” Meimei warns, opening the box. “But certain women and men do find it quite pleasurable. I’m sure either the Emperor or some of his consorts would find enjoyment with this toy.”

And, from within the box, Meimei pulls out an object Maomao recognizes immediately, an object that makes a little blood drain from her face. Sure, it may not be intended for her, but judging by the curious look on Jinshi’s face, she knows this will give him many, many new ideas on how to torture her.

“This,” Meimei says evenly as she holds up the small, bulbous object, flared at the base. “Is a plug.”

“A plug…” Jinshi repeats, brow furrowed. “What is it for?”

As far as Maomao is aware, she’d included very little information on anal play in the books she’d brought into the palace for the consorts. She thought she’d start with something simpler, so if that’s where Jinshi had learned every other little thing he’d done to her, this is certainly not something he’d know much about.

“Some oil is applied to the bulbous tip for lubrication, then it can be inserted carefully into the recipient’s anus.” Meimei explains with that same coy, professional smile. She drags a finger over the curved bulb of the plug, stopping to tap a dainty nail against the base. “This flared base will prevent the plug from getting stuck inside.”

Jinshi blinks, wide-eyed, ears a little red in surprise. “And that’s… enjoyable? For the recipient?”

“Oh, yes, it can be very much so,” Meimei replies. “A lot of pleasure can be derived from the sensation. Although one must be careful, especially when attempting the insertion for the first time, as the canal can be quite tense.”

Jinshi chews on his lip, thoughts racing behind his eyes. “Can these be used on smaller-framed women?”

Maomao’s thoughts freeze, wrists tensing in their binds. Wait-.

“Yes, of course.” Meimei answers, heedless to Maomao’s wide stare.

Maomao’s brain focuses in on one single, terrifying realization.

The Emperor has never had any interest in smaller-framed women. Ever.

Oh, gods.

Jinshi isn’t getting these for the Emperor. These toys are for Maomao.

Involuntarily, Maomao makes a deep, strangled noise at the back of her throat.

Both Meimei and Jinshi turn to look at her, and humiliation rises in pink splotches to her cheeks.

“Maomao!” Meimei exclaims, almost laughing. “It’s not like you to look so embarrassed by such conversations.”

Jinshi sends her a vicious grin. “Anything to add, apothecary?”

Maomao tries to keep her voice steady. “No.”

“Don’t be shy, apothecary,” Jinshi replies teasingly, eyes shining with excitement. “I hear you’re quite well versed in this subject matter, with your upbringing here. It’s the reason I brought you here – for your expertise. So, please, do advise.”

Maomao stays quiet, maintaining hard, fiery eye contact, barely keeping herself from glaring at the man in front of Meimei and all of the servants. He planned all of this – her realization, her humiliation, her dread at seeing Meimei reveal every little toy and torture device Jinshi will undoubtedly use on her.

Jinshi didn’t ask her a direct question. Maomao stays quiet.

Jinshi is undeterred. He simply sits back into the sofa, a comfortable smile on his face. “Say, if a consort likes a bit of pain – what would you suggest?”

Maomao swallows harshly, fingers curling against the ropes around her wrists. She’s met with the sudden, intrusive mental image of being bent over Jinshi’s lap, plug being stuffed into her backside cruelly to her cries and hands tied back so she can’t interfere-

Maomao bites down on her tongue, forces herself to count her breaths. She knows she’s trapped – she must answer Jinshi’s question, and she must do so truthfully and fully. With Meimei here, she’ll know something strange is up with Maomao if she doesn’t.

“You- the Emperor, can always go for a larger plug size, if the recipient wants a bit of… pain,” Maomao says softly, mouth dry.  “Although it’s still important to work up to it properly, to avoid potential injury.”

Her eyes flit away from Jinshi’s, land on the small plug in Meimei’s hand. She is well aware how large these can get, a varied selection of sizes available for purchase at the Verdigris House. The thought threatens to send tremors to her legs.

“A demonstration of the use of this toy is not available.” Maomao feels the need to add, still staring at the plug.

Jinshi laughs sharply. “I understand. Of course, that does mean I should purchase the entire size selection this establishment has to offer, just to be safe.”

“That is wonderful to hear, I’m certain the Emperor will be glad to have the options!” Meimei practically dances in her seat, grinning widely as Maomao tremors internally in fear. “In fact, if it’s potential pain play the Emperor is looking for, I can think of just the perfect toy to satisfy all of his desires.”

With a wave of her hand, Meimei calls over one of the servant girls, whispers something in her ear and lets her scurry off out of the room. Maomao is left to wait in suspense, anxiety boiling in her gut as she wonders about the many potential implements of pain Meimei could inadvertently be inflicting upon her.

She doesn’t have to wonder for long, because far too soon the girl is returning with a tiny pouch in her hand.

When Meimei plucks the pouch out of the servant girl’s hands, she wastes no time in dumping its contents into her palm.

“This is a particularly mean little device,” Meimei explains, silver somethings glinting in her hand. “They can be particularly painful, when adjusted tightly, but also just a pleasant squeeze, when tightened loosely.”

And then, Meimei shifts her palm just a little, and Maomao can truly make out what she’s holding.

This time, the blood really does drain from Maomao’s face. She thinks it must leak straight to her cunt, because nothing else would explain the heat low in her gut.

Meimei is holding two clamps, beautifully crafted, with twistable gears to adjust the tightness.

“These go on the base of the recipient’s nipples, and can be tightened like this, creating a wonderful sensation, possibly painful, if desired,” Meimei explains, demonstrating by placing a clamp over the tip of her pinky, rotating the gear to tighten the device on her digit. “The nipples also become wonderfully sensitive after the clamps are removed – the more intense the clamping, the more sensitive afterwards.”

Maomao suddenly recalls Jinshi’s promise to prepare some ‘delightful’ punishments for her nipples. A horrified tremor climbs up her spine as she becomes rather certain that these clamps are about to climb to the top of the list.

“Oh?” Jinshi says, voice full of barely restrained delight. “How much can they be tightened?”

Meimei laughs softly. “Ah, well, that depends on the recipient’s tolerance, really. The wearer should let their partner know if the sensation becomes too much, and the partner should watch out for any purpling or darkening at the tip of the nipple, to indicate that the clamps need to be removed. Otherwise, the Emperor and his consorts may tighten to their hearts' content.”

Maomao can barely keep her legs from shaking, at this point. Jinshi tosses her a covert look, smirks at what he sees.

“These are perfect,” he purrs, returning his gaze to Meimei. “I will certainly be purchasing them.”

“Lovely!” Meimei says, clapping her hands. She turns around, dismisses the servant girls with a nod. They run off as she turns back to Jinshi, all smiles.

“Well, that’s all I had prepared for you today – for a first appointment, we usually stick to a few basics, try to ease the client into their options.” Meimei says. “My girls will prepare the purchases for you. Now, do you have any more questions, Lord Jinshi?”

“Ah, yes,” Jinshi says, scratching a few notes into his notepad. “I do.”

He looks up from his notes once he’s done, setting the brush down. “Any more suggestions for anything that will really leave a… lasting impression? Something that can work as a sort of… punishment?”

Meimei looks at him curiously, for a moment. And then, she breaks into a massive grin.

“Ah, the Emperor is looking to dabble in some roleplay, is he?” Meimei asks, giggling a little. “Well, never fear, my Lord. I have some more ideas.”

She clears her throat, brow furrowing in concentration. “Impact play is a classic- I hadn’t brought it up during this appointment, but we do sell a variety of floggers and such if you’re interested. There are also many implements one can make use of found right at home – hands, the back of a hairbrush, belts, switches, canes, amongst many others. It all depends on the intensity of the ‘punishment’ and how much the recipient can handle.”

Every suggestion only sounds more and more painful to a terrified Maomao, wet between the thighs, already considering what Jinshi might do with the idea of using a brush, a belt, a switch, something as painful as a cane, already picturing how mean he would be with the biting stripes of the cane and the resulting welts. Her hands twitch in their binds, rope pressing into her skin.

But, Meimei isn’t done.

“There’s another really fun punishment, actually, when combined with impact play,” Meimei chirps, folding her hands. “It’s something that can be made quite easily from a simple ingredient.”

She meets Jinshi’s gaze, eyes sparkling coyly. “Have you heard of figging, Lord Jinshi?”

Maomao grits her teeth against a rising wave of nervousness.

“No,” Jinshi replies, eyebrow lifting in curiosity. “What is that?”

To her horror, Meimei turns to face Maomao. “Maomao, you’re quite the expert with plants. Would you explain to Lord Jinshi the process of figging?”

Maomao forces her face to remain neutral, even as she spells out her own inevitable, terrifying fate on her tongue. “One can take a raw piece of ginger, peel it, and insert it into the anus. It will cause a sort of stinging heat, especially when combined with impact play that causes the recipient to clench their bottom. I hear it’s an effective… punishment.”

“Oh my,” Jinshi replies, and she knows by the look in his eyes that he will not be forgetting this discovery. “That sounds delightful. I’m sure you know how to properly prepare such a piece of ginger, yes?”

Maomao swallows roughly. “Yes, sir.”

She looks down, a sudden flush crawling up her neck. She has another piece of information, that perhaps she shouldn’t share, for her own sake…

But Meimei would be suspicious if she doesn’t, right?

“The figging- um,” she stammers a little, catches herself before it can devolve further. “The figging can be even more impactful when the ginger is scored with deep slits along the length, to release more of its juices.”

“Oh wow, even I didn’t know that!” Meimei exclaims from her perch. “What a great idea, my Lord, bringing Maomao here.”

“Yes, quite right,” Jinshi assents softly, gaze burning into Maomao even as she can’t meet it, fingers curling and uncurling from her palms. “I’ll certainly remember that information.”

Maomao continues to stare down, squirming in her spot. If she doesn’t get relief from the ache between her thighs soon, she worries she might lose her mind.

“Alright, thank you for all your help, courtesan,” Jinshi says definitively, rising from the sofa. “I think it’s about time I head out.”

“Of course,” Meimei answers with a bow. “I’ll unbind the rope from Maomao’s hands, and then you can make the purchases-”

“No, it’s quite alright,” he says smoothly. “I can take the binds off myself.”

Meimei stays quiet, for a moment. Then, she bows once more.

“Of course,” she murmurs. Meimei straightens, looking at Maomao. “Bye Maomao, I hope to see you soon!”

“Bye,” Maomao grumbles at Meimei’s retreating back. She only manages to meet Jinshi’s gaze once she’s gone. He steps right up to her, fingers brushing along her wrists, giving the free end of the rope a final tug.

“Let’s get this off you,” he says softly. Gently, he begins to unwind the rope from her skin, watching carefully for signs of chafing or abrasions.

Maomao watches his face as he works, the heavy lashes casting shadows over lovely cheekbones, the soft lips parted, brow furrowed in concentration.

“All of these purchases aren’t for the Emperor, are they?” She asks, rather unnecessarily.

Jinshi simply smiles.

Notes:

Suggestions always welcome <3

To address some popular ones:
- yes, a BJ is coming (it's not the only thing coming-)
- some mild exhibitionism: Maomao is going to wear her toys under her clothes in public, eventually ;)
- more impact play definitely still on the horizon
- other ideas will be implemented sporadically throughout the story (if they're not enough to make a full scene)/have been noted down for scenes in the future when they fit!

Chapter 5: Binds and Feelings

Notes:

This was a really fast update, a gift to all of y'all for showing this fic so much love <3 I definitely won't be able to keep up with this speed in the future but updates will come when they can :)

I've also updated each chapter with specific content warnings for the chapter, that way if a specific kink isn't to your liking you can skip specific chapters/sections!

This chapter is all about the feels and smut - enjoy!

Ch. 5 smut CW: Discipline, Dom/Sub, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Bratting, Cunnilingus, Size Kink, Dacryphilia, Orgasm Delay, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Biting, Nipple Play, Bondage, Praise Kink, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Subdrop (which is followed by fluff)

Maomao glares down at the soft carpet beneath her knees. She’d been kneeling, naked, for long enough that she’s getting impatient. She’d rather even be kneeling on the wooden floor, or the hard uncooked rice pellets of her childhood punishments for scientific experiments gone wrong. The ache in her knees would at least make her feel something, put her in that fuzzy headspace that never fails to make her cunt drip.

But Jinshi just has to be so fucking considerate.

Maomao tries to speak up. “Master Jinshi-”

“Quiet,” Jinshi interrupts harshly. “You’ve said enough.”

Maomao shuts her mouth, feeling chastised. She wants to be annoyed at his curt tone, but she knows she’s at fault, in this case. The anger that bites at his voice is warranted, and so is the way he ignores her as he sits at his bedroom table, working through a pile of documents.

After that stunt Jinshi pulled at the Verdigris House, humiliating her in front of Meimei, maybe she’d wanted to get back at him, just a little. Besides, what good were all those expensive toys he’d purchased if he didn’t have a reason to use them on her?

She was just being practical, really, helping him make his money’s worth.

So, after a satisfying day of mixing medicines, she’d gone into his office, and decided to use her tried and occasionally true strategy of annoying him into punishing her, with a little modification.

Her new strategy had worked better than expected.

Well, maybe she should have expected it. Aside from tipping over candles and papers, her best approach had always seemed to be mocking Jinshi’s cock. Unfortunately, after her intimate acquaintance with it, she doubts that would work all that well anymore.

So, she tried a novel avenue of attack.

She may have mentioned, in passing, something along the lines of ‘if you won’t punish me, maybe I’ll find another man who will’.

She was bluffing, of course. But, that had been enough to do the trick.

He’d seemed to freeze, for a moment, in shock, but then he was up and upon her quicker than she could realize what was happening. He’d grabbed the papers he’d been working on, and all but dragged her to his quarters.

Maomao could only hope that no one had seen the manner in which he’d manhandled her, fury in his eyes, but with the heat of excitement building in her gut, she hadn’t much had the presence of mind to care.

In his bedroom, having commanded her to strip naked and kneel on the carpet until he was ready to deal with her behaviour, he’d left her to stew in her thoughts as he finished working on the documents she’d so thoroughly distracted him from earlier.

Apparently, not well enough.

Maomao glowers again at the carpet, shifting on her far-too-comfortable knees as her feeling of chastisement slips away back into impatience.

“Would you like me to repeat myself, sir?” She says evenly, “I’d said, if you won’t punish me, I’ll find another-”

A brush slams down on wood, interrupts her as Jinshi looks up, flames playing in his eyes.

“One more word, apothecary,” he snarls, hand in a fist, “and I’ll make sure that filthy mouth is occupied with my cock for the rest of the evening. I doubt you’ll think much about other men then.”

Maomao’s stomach swoops. His promise is so sudden, so direct, that it immediately ignites a heat in her gut. There it is – something is finally happening. She licks her lips.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She asks, voice breathy. Maomao lowers her gaze pointedly, down to where she imagines Jinshi’s cock rising behind his table.

“I think you’re forgetting just how much of me there is to fit down that throat of yours,” he says, voice hard as iron. “Don’t think I’ll let you miss a single inch.”

Heat grows between her thighs, creates a sticky sheen over her core. At this point, she’s more worried that she won’t get to alleviate this ache all evening, more so than the possibility of asphyxiating on Jinshi’s cock. Perhaps she’ll try to sneak a hand between her thighs while his attention is elsewhere.

“You’re underestimating me, sir,” she teases, shifting on her knees. “What makes you think I’ve had no practice before you?”

Well, she hadn’t, aside from hearing the many graphic descriptions of the act from her sisters. But, if there’s anything she knows about his jealousy, is that this vague statement should be more than enough to send Jinshi into a frenzy.

It works like a charm.

“That’s it,” Jinshi snaps between gritted teeth, darkness clouding his glare. “Come here. Now.”

Maomao bites her lip to keep from smiling. Just to be a tease, she gets on all fours, crawls towards him slowly.

“Oh, you little brat,” he growls. As soon as she’s close enough, he reaches for her hair, grabs a fistful and drags her face over his lap. With his other hand, he quickly pulls open the layers of his robes, frees his hard cock for her to feast her eyes upon.

It’s as lovely as the first time she saw it, as lovely as the rest of him, precum shining at the tip.

She can’t help herself – she sticks out her tongue, laps at the bead of moisture curiously. It tastes surprisingly sweet, if not a little salty.

Jinshi groans, cock twitching. “Open.”

That’s the only warning she gets, spreading her lips open obediently, before he shoves her face down on his cock and forces it into her mouth.

The smell and taste of his skin surrounds her from all sides, heady and wonderful. The girth of him makes her jaw ache almost immediately, the soft head of his cock pushing back against her unyielding throat.

“Is that it?” He chuckles, voice breathy. His hand tightens in her hair again, to the point of a throbbing ache. “But there’s still so much of my cock left to go. And I’m not in much of a merciful mood right now.”

With the next press, he pushes his cock into her throat, and that’s when Maomao realizes that this will be a much more difficult task than she could have ever imagined.

Her throat spasms around him reflexively, a deep groan of pleasure emanating from Jinshi’s chest as he presses her head down deeper on his cock in response, only eliciting a stronger clenching of her airway as she chokes. Tears form at the corners of her eyes as she struggles to accept his intrusion, as she sees just how many inches of him are left to go, as she remembers that he’d promised to stuff her all evening.

Maomao’s hands climb to Jinshi’s thighs, cling tightly as she attempts to breathe through her tearful gagging. His hand eases in her hair, just a little, lets her pull back just enough to catch her breath, to meet his gleeful gaze with her watery eyes from below.

“Oh, darling, crying already?” he coos patronizingly, gaze devouring her weepy expression. “How cute.”

And with that, he pushes her back down. He begins a slow, overwhelming rhythm, pressing her down onto his cock deeper and deeper with each thrust, letting her choke on him for long enough that tears begin to drip down her cheeks steadily. He gives her short but merciful moments of respite to take a breath between each thrust, ensuring to keep her just on the verge of too much.

As Maomao takes his cock particularly deeply, her head swims, nails digging into his thighs.

“Take it all, Maomao.” Jinshi clicks his tongue, unforgiving. “This is what a naughty brat like you deserves for trying to make me jealous.”

Jinshi continues to push down on the back of her head, making her take him deeper, training her throat to open up to allow more of his cock in – and all she wants to do is let him to use her as he pleases, head starting to go fuzzy with that familiar feeling of submission she’d grown to love. At some point, she hears Jinshi’s brush begin to scratch over parchment, indicating that he’s working on the documents she’d distracted him from anew, this time with her mouth wrapped around his cock instead of backtalk. Embarrasingly, the heat of arousal slicks her thighs at the thought, so potent simply from being ignored while having her mouth used like a whore.

Maomao rubs her thighs together subtly, whimpering around Jinshi’s cock. Still bent over on all fours, she shifts one hand off Jinshi’s thigh, moves it carefully between hers.

She needs some sort of relief so, so badly.

He can’t fault her for that, right? Although she suspects he won’t be all too happy if he finds out she pleasured herself during what is supposed to be a punishment.

Oh well, better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Maomao’s fingers find the apex of her thighs just as soon as she manages to fit another inch of Jinshi’s cock into her throat. Sparks shoot from the hard swipe of her fingers across her clit, push a moan from her lungs and elicit a delighted twitch of Jinshi’s cock in her mouth in response to the feeling.

He swears loudly, all pretense of working over as his fingers tighten in her hair, as his movements grow jerkier. He holds her down on his cock until fresh tears stream down her cheeks, throat spasming, jaw aching. “Make that noise again.”

Maomao sobs from the feeling of overwhelming fullness, another reverberating moan wrapping around Jinshi’s length as she strums at her clit roughly, seeking release. Her thighs tremble around her hand, whines of pleasure growing in pitch as she approaches her climax-

And finally, somehow, she takes him in deep enough for her nose to meet the toned skin of Jinshi’s abdomen, and she comes with a throat full of his cock.

Jinshi keeps her there, nose pressed to warm, musky skin, head swimming and breath trapped in her lungs for one long, delirious moment. His cock pulses inside her, sharply, hot seed spilling down the back of her throat as he finds his own release, delicious moans falling from his lips.

Mercifully, she feels his cock soften in her mouth, give her room to catch deep, stuttered breaths as Jinshi pets her hair approvingly.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he grips her hair once more, this time pulling her off his cock entirely, leaving a wet string of saliva connecting Maomao’s parted lips to his length.

Maomao can only whine in response, head still fuzzy, mouth and throat throbbing with a deep ache from the rough treatment, cunt pounding pleasantly from her orgasm. Jinshi tilts her head up, makes her look at him through blurry, needy eyes.

He smiles at the sight of her, lips swollen and face flushed with tears and desire. “You look very pretty like this. Maybe you should mouth off to me more often.”

With a gentle trace of fingers across her cheek, he releases her head. The distance immediately makes her shiver uncomfortably. That sweet, fuzzy space she’d fallen into tugs at her heart, makes her crave to be ordered around by Jinshi.

Maomao pouts.

“I thought-” Maomao says brokenly, voice hoarse from her sore throat. “I thought you would make me suck your cock all evening, sir.”

Jinshi raises a brow, lips twitching into a lopsided smile.

“Needy girl. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckles, fingers returning to trace gently across Maomao’s cheek as she melts into the touch automatically. “You can tell yourself it’s a punishment all you want, but there’s nothing you’d like more than to enjoy my cock all day.”

Maomao frowns. “That’s not-”

She stops herself, conflicted. This is a punishment. She only craves all of this – all of this pain and sex and closeness to Jinshi – because it’s a natural progression of her experimentation with her enjoyment of pain, and because it’s her rightful role as his servant, to serve his every need.

But with the way he phrases it, he makes it sound a little too much like she wants all of this because of her own innate desires-

No. That is not something even worth considering.

Maomao shakes her head, forces those useless thoughts away. They won’t help anything.

She tries a different response.

“Master Jinshi,” she says, wincing as she sits back onto her haunches, body aching from the position she’d been holding. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the sweet-salty taste of him lingering at the back of her throat. “I only mean I don’t believe you’ve punished me enough for my misbehaviour, sir.”

Jinshi grins wider, eyes twinkling with excitement. “I haven’t, have I? Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Maomao clears her throat, flushing a little. There is no way he isn’t aware that she came. Perhaps he just wants to humiliate her further, hear her confess to touching herself because she was so aroused by sucking his cock.

“I touched myself to orgasm,” she says evenly, meeting his gaze.

“Hm,” Jinshi hums, leaning in closer. “And why is that bad?”

Maomao purses her lips, the condescension in his tone shooting straight to her cunt. “Because it happened during a punishment.”

With a smile, Jinshi leans even closer, close enough to wrap his hands around Maomao’s waist, pull her into his lap with a surprised gasp.

“I see,” he says, leaning in to press a sweet, startling kiss to her cheek. “I had been planning to occupy your mouth again as soon as I harden, but I think it’s time we establish a rule, instead.”

“A rule?” Maomao asks, curious.

Jinshi stands, still holding her, and she wraps her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“From now on,” he says steadily, carrying her towards his bed. “You don’t get to orgasm without my permission. Is that clear?”

Maomao’s breath catches in her lungs. She turns her flushed face away from his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says. Gently, he lays her down on his bedsheets, eyes tracing the naked lines of her body with what almost seems like reverence. “And now, I’m going to show you the consequences for disobeying this rule.”

Maomao bites her lip nervously, rising to her elbows as Jinshi steps away from the bed and begins to dig through a nearby cabinet. When he grins, pulling out stomach-churningly familiar lengths of silk, Maomao feels an excited shiver travel down her spine.

“Lay down on your back for me,” Jinshi says, rising to his feet. “Put your arms above your head and spread your legs.”

“As you wish, sir,” Maomao replies, lying down obediently, spreading out on the sheets as he’d asked. She lets out a satisfied sigh, sore muscles stretching from her spread-eagle position on luxurious bed sheets.

Jinshi approaches her from the side, knees dipping into the bed as he leans over her. Gently, he takes one of her wrists in his hand, begins to wind the silk rope around the joint.

He works quietly, carefully, tying the free end of the rope to a bedpost above her head. Once satisfied, he repeats the same action with her other wrist, then her ankles. As she lies there and tries not to squirm, Maomao feels a heat spark anew in her gut, spurred forth by her restraints. Once Jinshi is done, pulling back with a satisfied smile, Maomao tests her binds, finding little yield, especially in the manner her legs are held open vulnerably. The spark in her gut only glows brighter.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs, fingertips pressing to her ankle, trailing up her calf slowly.

“Soft.” His fingers push into her thigh, a gentle pressure.

“Warm.” Jinshi glides his fingertips over her cunt, eliciting a gentle gasp from her lips.

Tenderly, he begins to play with her cunt, tracing patterns on her clit until she moans. The pressure of his fingertips is perfect against the needy nub, sweet and almost loving, nothing like the rough and painful pleasure of all their previous encounters.

Maomao starts to wonder in what possible way this could turn out to be a punishment.

“Master J- Jinshi-” Maomao moans at a particularly wonderful sweep of his finger under her clit, more hot wetness pooling at her core as she squirms in her binds. “Is this supposed to be a- ah- a punishment?”

Jinshi chuckles softly, leaning closer to her, pressing his lips to the underside of her breast. His teeth nip at the sensitive spot, but not hard enough for Maomao’s liking. “Have some patience, darling. You’ll be in tears soon enough.”

Maomao pouts, squirming again, but to no avail. Nonetheless, she can appreciate the pure pleasure of the moment for what it is – the slowly but steadily building heat of her upcoming orgasm, the pleasant feeling of Jinshi swirling his tongue around a hard nipple, sucking it into his mouth. She has to admit that Jinshi’s ability to learn her body so quickly is quite impressive, and were this a normal romantic relationship, she could say he makes for quite the lover.

But a normal relationship this is not – Jinshi is her superior, and this, somehow, is a punishment. It’s better that way. It’s the only way, for the two of them.

Maomao tries to remember this as her hips begin to buck into Jinshi’s steady hand, her climax steadily approaching. He releases her nipple with a wet pop, meeting her eyes.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jinshi asks, voice cut with something sharp.

Maomao bites back a whimper, thighs shaking as she tries to parse through Jinshi’s sudden question. Forgetting something? She thinks back to their recent conversation.

Oh. Right.

Maomao swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she trembles with need. “May I come, sir?”

Needing to ask permission to do something so intimate, so personal, squeezes at her gut and nearly sends her over the edge all on its own. Nearly.

She is so, so close, but she’s holding off, just barely, cunt pounding nearly painfully with need, Jinshi’s incessant fingers still playing with her clit. She’s holding off, looking at Jinshi desperately, waiting for the confirmation to just let go-

“No.”

And then, his fingers are gone. 

Maomao whines desperately, limbs jerking uselessly as the silk ties dig into her skin. Her hips shake, cunt spasming painfully from falling down the wrong end of an orgasm, denied right at the precipice.

It takes a moment for Maomao to catch her breath, for the overwhelming need to stop pulsing in her cunt, fading into an uncomfortable ache.

Her breath comes out as a whimper, and she meets Jinshi’s smug gaze with a growing understanding.

Well. If this is her punishment, then it’s certainly an effective one.

“I’m sorry, sir, I should have asked for permission to touch myself when I sucked your cock,” she murmurs, eyes pleading. “Please make me come.”

“You should have,” he agrees, rubbing a hand up and down her thigh, eliciting sensitive spasms. “But I think a few more denials should be enough to make the lesson stick.”

Dread fills her gut. “Sir-”

Maomao cries out when, without warning, Jinshi lowers his mouth to her oversensitive cunt. She feels the insistent press of his hot, wet tongue as it laps up her arousal, eager in its exploration.

It's quite rare for a man to do such a thing for a woman, she’d found through all her research and the stories she’d heard from her sisters. The fact that this is the second time Jinshi decides to lick at her cunt happily doesn’t go unnoticed – especially considering it’s her duty to serve him.

Perhaps he really does enjoy it. She’d call him a freak if that didn’t make her a hypocrite for how aroused she got sucking his cock.

Maomao’s hips squirm, attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations of an orgasm that is already growing once more, but her binds allow no such reprieve. Jinshi hums in satisfaction, tongue dipping deeper inside of her, enjoying the sounds of Maomao’s whimpers. Slowly, he traces a path upwards, higher, and when his tongue finds its final target on her clit, lashing at it insistently, sparks shoot up her spine so sharply that Maomao can’t help but to beg.

“Please, Master Jinshi,” Maomao whines, toes curling as her legs kick within the confines of her bondage. “Please let me come, I’ll be good, I promise-”

She sputters off into a loud moan, spine arching as Jinshi uses a particularly devious technique from one of the instructional books she’d brought into the palace – placing his thumb above her clit, pulling away the fold of skin that protects her nub from the direct assault of his tongue – and ensures every nerve feels the cruel devotion of his mouth.

Gods, just the thought that this might not lead to orgasm makes her shake in terror.

Maomao’s hands spasm with the desperate want to bury her fingers in Jinshi’s long, silky hair, spilling over her thighs, to keep him pressed to her cunt until she comes undone. But she’s stuck, arms above her head, legs spread mercilessly, restrained for Jinshi to devour her.

She lets out a sob, nearly at the edge, hoping he’ll have mercy, or perhaps misjudge how close she is-

And then his mouth leaves her cunt, and Maomao nearly bursts into tears.

“Nooo-” she cries, kicking her feet. That familiar feeling of denial from earlier, magnified tenfold, burns through her body, leaves her cunt aching desperately, so close to release that it just feels so unfair.

Jinshi grins up at her from between her thighs, smug as ever, mouth and chin glistening with her arousal.

He licks his lips. “You taste delicious.”

Maomao’s mouth trembles, breaths coming out as sniffles as the ache between her thighs dulls once again, slowly, painfully, leaving behind a sensitive throbbing she thinks could explode with the smallest touch. Jinshi stretches out next to her, waits for her to calm down as he reaches a hand for her breast, plays with it gently. 

“You have no idea how much I love these,” he murmurs, eyes alight as he gives her breast a squeeze, then the other. “They’re so perfect.”

Maomao feels a warm flame heat in her chest, a blush rising to her cheeks as the need in her cunt continues to pulsate softly. She has no idea why Jinshi is so attached to her meager breasts – but she would be lying if she says that she isn’t starting to enjoy his affection for them quite a bit.

Maomao releases a stuttered breath, relaxing into the bed sheets as the heat in her cunt dulls just a bit more. “That’s very kind of you to say, sir.”

Jinshi smiles softly, something almost sad passing in his gaze. “I’m not trying to be kind. It is simply the truth.”

He leans in closer, pressing a hand to her cheek, tilting her face towards his. “You are very beautiful, Maomao.”

Maomao swallows, biting back the disagreements that rise to her tongue automatically. Who is she to argue with her superior?

“You are too, Jinshi,” she replies instead, wincing when she catches herself dropping his honorific a moment too late.

Jinshi watches her for a long, quiet moment, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone gently. He leans in, closer, his exhales now near enough to dance across her lips. His fingers glide under her chin, tilt her head up gently. She worries – or is it anticipates? – for a moment, that he will lean in to kiss her, that she might turn away and shatter this fragile moment.

He pauses, sensing her hesitation.

“I’m not going to kiss your lips, Maomao.” Jinshi speaks, voice a low murmur. “I’ll never try again, I promise.”

He leans a little further, just far enough to kiss her cheek instead, the corner of his mouth just barely brushing hers.

“But if ever there is a world in which you desire me to, all you have to do is press your lips to mine,” he continues, presses another kiss to the opposite cheek, “and I’ll know that you want it.”

Jinshi pulls away, then, sits back onto his haunches and reaches for the ties of his robes, leaving Maomao a little breathless – but more than anything grateful.

It means a lot, that he’s promising to leave this in her hands, with no expectation of action, no deadlines. It means the world that, as much as she loves giving up control to him in every other physical aspect, she gets to control this one action that brings up so many uncertain feelings and worries within her. 

As Jinshi unties his robes, removes layers of clothing until he’s as bare as she is, she can’t help but stare at the beautiful boy beside her. She’s not ready to kiss him – she’s not sure she’ll ever be – but she’s ready for everything else he’s willing to do to her.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Maomao asks, a little impatient, the buzz of heat in her denied cunt begging to be touched once more. Maybe this time, he’ll grant her a release.

“Why, of course,” Jinshi replies, wrapping a hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps until it stands big and proud. “I’ve denied you on my fingers, I’ve denied you on my tongue.”

Jinshi slides in between her spread legs, aligning his cock with her dripping entrance.

“And now,” he murmurs, the thick head of his cock pressing enticingly to her cunt. “I’m going to deny you on my cock.”

Without further preamble, he stuffs his length into her cunt. Maomao’s hips spasm, the sharp stretch sparking up her spine and eliciting a loud cry, a reminder of the last time he’d fucked her, made worse by her horror at the thought of being denied again and the sensitivity of her cunt from earlier.

Maomao looks down with a whimper. Her brain goes fuzzy with the realization that he was only able to fit half-way in with that first thrust.

“Oh darling, look at how well you’re learning to take me,” Jinshi purrs, using his fingers to spread some of her wetness down the base of his cock, giving her a merciful moment to adjust. “The first time it took quite a few thrusts before I could fill your tight little cunt to the brim.”

Maomao tries to relax her hips, breathing heavily as she prepares to take the rest of Jinshi’s cock, gut churning with both excitement and nervousness. She wonders if he will leave her aching and sore all day tomorrow, like after last time.

Jinshi adjusts the tilt of her hips, before climbing up her body, resting his elbows near her head. He smiles down at her wrecked expression, pushing some sweaty strands of hair away from her face with his fingers.

And then, he buries his face in her neck, and sinks the rest of his cock inside her with a groan.

Maomao cries out again, hands straining against her ties, body trembling like a leaf beneath Jinshi’s large frame. He begins to fuck her slowly, languidly, building up the previous fire of her denied orgasms so that she grows desperate with need so fast that’s it’s embarrassing. Jinshi’s mouth latches onto her neck with a feral need, sucks a bruise into the soft tissue as Maomao throws her head back in overwhelming desire.

“Sir, please, I’m close-” she sobs, feeling like a broken instrument, playing the same note. She grinds her hips up against the delicious stretch of Jinshi’s cock, trying to urge him on to go harder, deeper, to scratch that itch that she doesn’t know if she’ll survive missing once more.

“No,” Jinshi snarls, the sound of a wild animal, hand moving down to grip her hip in place hard enough to bruise. He bites down on her neck, leaving another mark. “Don’t you dare come without my permission.”

Maomao sobs in response, her trembling hips forbidden from moving into Jinshi’s thrusts as he holds her down. He starts to fuck into her faster, faster, rough and harsh, exactly as she loves it-

If only she could come.

“Please-” Maomao begs as tears form in her eyes, drip down her cheeks when Jinshi bites down on a fresh spot on her neck. “I need-”

“Gods, I love hearing you beg,” Jinshi growls against her shoulder, a hand travelling to her breast, squeezing meanly. “But the answer is still no.”

Maomao shakes her head with a sob, cunt spasming violently around Jinshi’s cock. “I’m s- sorry, I’m about to-”

Immediately, Jinshi stills inside her. The difference is like night and day, the sudden loss of impact dragging her violently away from an orgasm for the third time that night, an overwhelming mix of pain and euphoria flooding her every sense. This time, she starts to cry in earnest.

“I was so close-” Maomao bawls, shaking under Jinshi’s body, in his arms as he wraps them around her.

“I know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. “It’s alright, Maomao.”

Slowly, gently, he pulls out of her, ensuring not to trigger her climax as her achy cunt clings to him desperately. He kisses her hair again, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her sides as her sobs sputter off into little sniffles, as she melts into his body under a cloud of hazy satisfaction.

“You took your punishment so well, my good girl,” he continues, pulling away just a little, eliciting a strange pang of discomfort in her chest. But, he doesn’t go far, simply reaching for her wrist.

“I’m going to take these ties off you,” he explains, expert fingers tugging at silk, unwinding it carefully. “Then, I’m going to step out to grab some wet towels from my bathing room, and I’ll come back to help you finish. Does that sound alright, Maomao?”

She’s still struggling to catch her breath, exhales sharp and sniffling. When her hands are free, her first instinct is to grab onto Jinshi, to hold onto his warmth and steady presence as she tries to get a handle on her scattered feelings.

She grabs onto the bed sheets instead, biting her lip tightly against her harsh breaths.

“Yeah,” she answers once she finds her words, voice tiny, shaky. Jinshi unties her legs, leaving her able to move freely.

Maomao sits up, shaking fingers gripping the sheets so, so tightly.

“Okay,” Jinshi says, leaning in a for a tender peck to her cheek, before pulling away entirely.

When he steps away from her, it feels like something grips her heart in an iron fist and squeezes.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Jinshi murmurs. Maomao nods, squeezing her eyes shut against a sudden fresh heat stinging at her lash line.

She hears him move away, leave the room, and it feels as if with every step he takes her chest caves in on itself a bit more. She tries to control her breathing – but every inhale feels sharper and sharper, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks, hotter and hotter. A mix of dread and anxiety pull in her stomach, make it hard to breathe at all.

What is happening to her?

Shaking, Maomao slides to a corner of the bed, wraps her arms around her knees and curls in on herself, desperately trying to chase away the sudden feelings of sorrow that flood her bones. She starts to cry harder, until she’s weeping uncontrollably, loud sobs resonating in her chest, raising goosebumps on her trembling skin.

She feels so… awful, so helpless, so alone, like she’d been abandoned, like she’d been left to cry alone as she’d had to her entire childhood.

It is so, so rare for her to cry – and yet she finds herself doing it all the time around Jinshi. Perhaps it’s because she knows, intrinsically, that he won’t leave her when she’s so vulnerable. But now he’s gone, and logically she knows that he’ll be back, that he hasn’t abandoned her, but all her body can feel is the awful, profound loneliness of being so completely alone in Jinshi’s bedroom, left to shake and cry and process an overwhelming flood of feelings all by herself.

“Maomao?” She hears Jinshi’s concerned voice what feels like an eternity later, as if from a distant dream, breaking through her haze of dread like a thin ray of light.

“Jinshi,” she sobs out his name, pathetic and broken. “You left me…”

Her arms twitch around her knees, reach out for something – for comfort, for care, for support – she’s not certain.

And in a fraction of a moment, she’s once more within Jinshi’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jinshi says desperately, pulling her into his lap as he embraces her tightly, guilt eating at his tone. “I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have gone- I’m sorry-”

“Don’t leave,” Maomao sobs into his warm chest, hands clinging to his arms, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, I will never- I will never leave you,” he answers rapidly, voice shaking, one hand rubbing up and down her back steadily, soothingly, the other holding her close. “I promise, Maomao, I swear on everything in my life, I will never abandon you. I shouldn’t have left you in your state, this will never happen again – I’m so sorry.”

Maomao cries loudly, trying to cling to his soft reassurances and the gentle glide of his hand over her spine. With her tears comes a slow, growing relief, a comfort – she is not alone. Eventually, her cries slow, winding off into little whimpers, the dreadful feeling in her chest loosening with every inhale of Jinshi’s sweet, flowery scent. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, the all-encompassing warmth of his skin against her cheeks the perfect medicine to settle her scattered soul.

“I’m okay…” she murmurs hoarsely once she can manage to speak, starting to feel pleasantly hazy once again, thundering heart slowing softly to a gentle thumping.

Jinshi breathes out shakily, still rubbing her back soothingly. “No, you’re not. But we’ll talk about it later. Rest for a bit, first, my darling.”

Maomao grumbles something under her breath, soft and distant, but it doesn’t matter – she’s already closing her eyes, melting into the warmth that surrounds her.

And as long as Jinshi doesn’t let her go, she feels like everything will be alright.

---

“Maomao?”

“Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

Maomao feels so soft in his arms, warm like a furnace as he holds her under his blanket, face flushed with satisfaction. Cuddled to his chest, she fits so perfectly in his embrace, breaths gentle and even as they puff against his skin. He’s been holding her for a while, murmuring sweet reassurances as she relaxed into that melted bliss he’d been hoping to see, the same one from that first night he’d held her after a punishment. He could hold her like this for the rest of his life.

But unfortunately, tonight is not all wonderful – because he’d really, really fucked up. She’s calm, now, a sweet, happy smile on her face. But the horrific image of his beloved Maomao curled up in the corner of his bed, bawling unconsolably and begging him not to leave her just won’t leave his mind.

He knew she was in a vulnerable state – but he didn’t think about just how vulnerable. She didn’t ask him to stay, but he shouldn’t have expected his Maomao to voice such a need, he shouldn’t have expected her to know what to say after such an emotional experience.

He should have been more cautious. He should have noticed her tense up when he was leaving. He’ll never make that same mistake again.

“’m’okay,” she mumbles into his arm, burying her face into his bicep with a happy hum.

Jinshi traces a hand up and down her spine, just how she seems to love it. When she lets out a little shiver, he pulls up his blanket a little higher.

“Maomao,” he murmurs again, thumb lingering to press circles into the back of her neck. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Don’t.” Maomao’s voice comes out so suddenly sharp, so steady, that it makes him pause. After a tense moment of silence, she lets out a shuddering sigh. “Please, don’t. I’ll be fine. There is nothing to talk about.”

Jinshi exhales softly, heart panging with a desire to help, to do everything he can to make the deep hurts that clearly reside in her soul better. He wonders what kind of pain his beloved Maomao holds so deep in her heart that it would make her break down like she did.

But as much as he wants to help, he won’t force her to talk.

“Alright,” Jinshi says, returning to rubbing her spine gently. “But I won’t leave you again, not in such a state, I promise.”

Maomao nods against his chest, voice small. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jinshi leans down, presses a kiss to her hair. “There is something else I think we need to talk about.”

“What’s that, sir?”

The sudden use of his honorific hurts more than it should, but he swallows it down.

“I know sometimes you… complain and beg and say ‘no’ during these punishments, and it’s all part of the… game,” Jinshi says slowly, trying to word his thoughts correctly, “but I need a way to know if you ever really mean it, if you ever really want me to stop. Relying on your cues is risky, and I won’t forgive myself for ever going too far on accident.”

“I see,” Maomao says, breath warm against his skin. “We can agree on a specific word to signal that we should stop, just in case.”

“A word…” Jinshi repeats, thinking.

“Something I wouldn’t say otherwise.” Maomao adds.

“How about…” Jinshi murmurs, an idea coming to mind. “How about my name?”

He feels her shift to rest her chin on his chest, look up at him with a frown. “I say your name all the time, Master Jinshi.”

Jinshi looks away from her open, imploring gaze, suddenly shy. “My real name. My royal name. Zuigetsu.”

Maomao’s sharp inhale drags his gaze back to her, her face going a little pale. “Master Jinshi I couldn’t possibly-”

“Maomao,” he says, voice suddenly desperate. “Since you are so averse to using my name, then if you use it, I’ll know you really mean it – that you want me to stop.”

His hand lifts from her spine, moves up to cup her warm cheek, to feel her pounding heartbeat under her skin. “But only if you promise to actually use it, when it gets to be too much. It’s all your choice, my darling.”

Maomao swallows, still watching him with those soft, open eyes that he would drown in with a smile. He understands her aversion to talking to him so plainly – if he wanted to, he would have the power to execute her for the use of his royal name. He would never force her to use it, but he wants her to consider it so, so badly. He wants her to know, to realize, that he would do anything for her, let her do anything – that with him, there’s nothing she ever has to worry about. With him, she can be completely herself.

And finally, with an ember of what he’d like to think is trust in her gaze, Maomao nods. “Okay. I promise I’ll use it, if it gets to be too much.”

Jinshi releases a breath, a weight lifting off his chest. His arms tighten around her, desperate to keep her close. He leans down, presses another kiss to her hair.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into her scalp.

“You can use the word too, Master Jinshi,” she says, softly. “If I ever push you too far, if you need comfort. Or if you’re not in the mood to deal with my… brattiness.”

Jinshi’s breath stutters, warmth filling his rib cage at her thoughtfulness. Saying his own, real name, out loud - foreign on his tongue, but perhaps perfect for this use. “Okay.”

She hums against his chest, settling in once more, and Jinshi couldn’t imagine a moment he’d ever been happier.

I love you, he desperately wants to say. But Maomao’s breaths are already softening, drifting off to sleep, and Jinshi decides that perhaps that revelation can wait a bit longer.

Notes:

Love to hear y'all's thoughts and suggestions, as always <3

Chapter 6: Impact and Fullness

Notes:

Goddamn these chapters keep getting longer and longer. Well, the more smut the better ;)

Ch. 6 smut CW: Discipline, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Dacryphilia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Humiliation, Paddling, Anal Plug, sex with anal plug in, nettle play, outdoors sex (not in public though)

Note the nettles CW: Usually feels a bit too intense for me to write, but it’s just so perfect for maomao who loves her poisons. I tried to make it not too intense - not used on any sensitive membranes, I promise. Disclaimer - I have no experience with nettles, although I did do some research on nettle play. This fic is not an instruction manual. Don’t touch poisonous plants unless you know what you’re doing.

Enjoy!

“Apothecary!”

A shiver travels up Maomao’s spine. That high, melodious voice never fails to make her shudder, although the tremors now bring a new, heated warmth alongside the familiar feeling of disgust.

She pretends she doesn’t hear him.

“Be careful when you’re harvesting the roots,” Maomao instructs a concentrating Yinghua and Guiyuan, who actually seem not to have heard Jinshi. “Licorice root root tea will help soothe Lady Gyokuyou stomach aches, but the roots of this plant take years to mature. You want to keep the largest roots in good condition to replant for future harvest.”

Yinghua nods seriously, carefully shearing some of the smaller roots from the licorice plant in her dirt-streaked hands, setting them aside into a growing pile. Guiyuan dips the roots in a bowl of water, carefully washes the soil away. These pieces will be used to brew tea for Lady Gyokuyou, who had the misfortune of contracting an uncomfortable, although not severe, case of food poisoning.

“What’s this, a lesson in tea making? Am I not invited?”

Maomao jumps, the voice so close now that she can feel Jinshi’s breath at her ear, face leaning over her shoulder. Maomao was hoping, perhaps stupidly, that Jinshi would float away like the heavenly nymph he was, and allow her to finish her workday in peace. Unfortunately, this time, Yinghua and Guiyuan certainly notice the intruder, gasping loudly at the interruption.

“Your Highness!” Yinghua squeaks, dropping into a bow, dragging a star-struck Guiyuan along. Having publicly claimed his role as the evasive Moon Prince, Jinshi now attracts even more attention than ever before.

It’s quite unfortunate, considering any interaction with Maomao means all the more of that attention being pinpointed right at her. At least if their strange relationship is ever discovered, she could hide behind the explanation of the simple punishment of a subordinate.

Perhaps being regularly speared onto his cock would be a strange punishment to an outsider – but she’s sure she’ll find a way to explain it if needed.

Maomao bows too, a beat too late, stepping back from where Jinshi is breathing way too close to her face.

“Moon Prince,” she says in greeting, watching as Jinshi winces in response. She tries not to use his title, considering how much he seems to despise it falling from her lips, but in present company she thinks it’s for the best to be as professional as possible.

If only Jinshi cared so much for professionalism.

“Maomao,” he counters, voice tinged with amusement. Maomao cringes away internally, ignoring the looks she knows she’s getting from Lady Gyokuyou’s ladies in waiting.

She bows lower. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

“Yes,” he replies. “I’d like you to come meet me by my residence, at sunset. There’s something I need your help with. You’ve been so very… elusive, these past few days.”

Maomao purses her lips, expression hidden behind her arms. Jinshi and his games have been distracting her far too much – she has a job to do, a role to play in the imperial palace. Her work had been keeping her busy far past sunset, these days.

Maomao’s brain whirls, trying to conjure up an appropriate excuse to keep avoiding him, but she’s not quick enough.

She feels the press of insistent fingers under her chin, tilting her face up until she’s forced to look into Jinshi’s eyes.

“That’s an order, apothecary,” he says, voice stern, as if he cares not for who hears him. “Don’t be late. Otherwise, I might just have to punish you for your disobedience.”

She hears the promise in his voice, the way his lips curl around the word punish like an offering, inviting her to play once more, eliciting a familiar heat in her gut. Does he want her to be late? Perhaps he’s simply giving her the choice, the possibility to control the outcome of tonight.

Who’s to say that she can’t have it all?

Maybe she’ll finish her workday as late as she needs to, then receive an appropriate punishment at Jinshi’s hands. Win-win.

After all, who is she to avoid her punishment, if she doesn’t, totally accidentally, notice the time flying by, if she misses the sun setting beyond the horizon later tonight?

Maomao gulps lightly, keeping her face straight, knowing they are still being watched. “Yes, Master Jinshi.”

He smiles, eyes full of mirth. “Good girl.”

And with that, he departs in a flurry of opulent robes, floating away as if on a cloud. She can’t help but to stare after him, to feel a bubble of excitement grow low in her stomach.

“Maomao, what was that?”

The bubble bursts, and she turns to face Yinghua with what she hopes is a neutral expression on her face.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Maomao says evenly. “He has been very… demanding, lately.”

“Well, better not be late, tonight,” Guiyuan adds with a shudder. “His Highness sounded scary.”

Maomao sighs. These girls don’t know the half of it.

---

Jinshi’s fingers beat a steady rhythm against polished wood, annoyance biting at his thrumming fingertips.

He’d expected, all but suggested, for Maomao to show up late. But this is just rude, at this point. The sun has set so long ago that the sky is inky-black, shadows reaching through his balcony doors, split only by the soft glowing lanterns that hang in his room and throughout the leafy green of his garden. He had been all but ready to go find her himself and give her a thorough spanking right then and there, consequences be damned. 

She’s lucky that she showed up just in time before he’d done something drastic.

“You’re late.” He says, glaring at his disobedient apothecary as she stands in his doorway, bowing politely. “Very late.”

“I was busy.”

Jinshi’s scowls deepens, tone of authority weaving through voice. “Too busy to follow your master’s orders?”

Maomao looks up from above her arms, gaze sparkling. “I’m at your mercy, sir.”

Her words are nearly a purr, the satisfied smugness of a cat that had stolen a bowl of milk. The excitement in her eyes shines as bright as gemstones. Jinshi thinks it’s about time he sees some tears and apologies in them instead.

He rises to his feet, makes his way towards his bed and sits at the edge of the mattress. Maomao watches him carefully, those lovely eyes never leaving his.

“Come here,” he says simply, voice stern. “Bring my hairbrush.”

Maomao straightens, brows furrowing in uncertainty. Obediently, she makes her way past his dresser, grabbing his hairbrush as she goes.

“Would you like me to brush your hair, sir?” She asks, stopping by his feet. Disappointment bites at her tone, his sweet little masochist no longer capable of even hiding how much she craves his punishments.

Well, lucky for her, he’s about to make sure to teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget.

He reaches for her top, fingers curling into the ties that hold it together.

“No, my darling apothecary,” he says gently, watching as the fabric of her top slips down her narrow shoulders, pools on the floor. He is delighted to find that she is wearing nothing under the material, tender little buds of her nipples pebbling enticingly. “I think you’re overdue for a spanking.”

Maomao sucks her lip into her mouth, fingers tightening their grip on his hairbrush. Jinshi’s hands reach for her skirt, begin to untie it from her slender hips.

Maomao chews on her lip, shifting her elbows to give him room to work on the ties of her skirt. “What’s the hairbrush for?”

Jinshi grins, smile vicious. “Considering how late you were, I’m upgrading your spanking to a paddling.”

A little shiver shakes that lithe frame of hers, warm flush staining her cheeks in embarrassment. She looks down at the hairbrush contemplatively, as if considering its every possible use, how its flat, hard, wooden back would feel snapping against her delicate backside, every angle of attack it could take. Jinshi uses this moment to finish unwrapping her, to hook his fingers under the straps of her undergarments and drop them to the floor alongside the rest of her clothing. In the soft glow of his lanterns, she looks practically ethereal, skin glowing as if in a dream, begging to be devoured.

After a moment of heavy silence, Maomao holds out the hairbrush to him, not meeting his eyes. “I understand, Master Jinshi.”

Her tone is so soft, obedient, fingers lingering against his for a moment as she passes over the brush, before returning to her side. He wonders how long her obedience will last – considering what he’s planning to do to her tonight, he doesn’t doubt he’ll see his lovely little brat emerge sooner rather than later. But as much as he loves that version of her, he’ll enjoy the sweet submission while it lasts.

He gestures to his lap, and delights in how quickly she follows his wordless order, laying herself across his legs, presenting her bare bottom to him as her hips angle it up over his lap. As much as he wants to be as naked as her right now, there is a rush of power with the feeling of being fully dressed, fully in control, while she’s completely unravelled before him.

Jinshi runs a soft palm over the curve, mindlessly, enjoying the feeling of goosebumps that rise to prick at his hand, the way Maomao squirms softly to settle herself comfortably into position, cheek nuzzling into his bed, eyes squeezing shut and fingers gripping sheets in preparation. With the manner in which she twitches over his lap, he doesn’t think it’ll be long until his cock makes itself known against her taut stomach, even through his robes.

Jinshi gives her backside a perfunctory, tender pat, raises his hairbrush, and then brings it down against her cheek with a loud smack.

Maomao’s hips jump in response, and the noise she lets out into his sheets is nothing short of a moan, upper body melting into the bed. It’s quite adorable, how much she’d clearly been craving to be put over his knee.

Jinshi smiles as he watches a soft, pale pink splotch appear on her backside, a promise for what’s to come. He brings down the brush again, elicits another moan.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he observes, rubbing his free hand into her spine, urging her to arch her hips up higher. “That just won’t do.”

He cracks the back of his hairbrush against the pale mark of his first strike, harder than before. This time, Maomao’s breath hitches in surprise at the strength of the impact, fingers tightening into his sheets as she trembles for a short, painful moment.

“Bad girls don’t get to enjoy themselves.” Jinshi presses on her spine harder, pins her down as he spanks her again, hard enough to make her yelp, make her body slide forward, as if ready to scramble away. He wraps a tight arm around her waist with a disapproving click of his tongue, manhandles her back into proper position so she would be unable to escape. Maomao ends up with her knees pressed to his thigh, backside arched even higher than before.

“And you’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you?”

Maomao trembles nervously in response, a soft whimper the only sound to indicate her trepidation at the vulnerable pose. A long, quiet moment follows, Maomao squirming in his hold.

His grip tightens around her waist, the only warning before he raises the hairbrush high into the air, then brings it down against a sensitive spot on her upper thigh, with all the strength he can muster. She cries out loudly, torso jerking in his grasp.

“When I ask you a question,” he strikes her again, harshly, gut coiling with heat at her shrill, stuttered cry, “I expect an answer.”

He follows this up with a few more hard, painful, and entirely self-indulgent series of spanks, cock filling with hot, pounding blood as he begins to paint Moamao’s backside with a field of blooming reds.

He stops only as Maomao’s knees begin to kick into his thigh in distress, her pained cries reverberating throughout her body, held secure over his lap. She slumps back down in relief, hiccupping loudly in an attempt to catch her breath.

Her hips jump when he places the back of his brush against her burning backside threateningly.

“I- I-” Maomao stammers, voice already beginning to tremble. “I’ve been bad.”

Jinshi strikes at a sensitive sit spot, no longer attempting to hold back his strength, whatever frail self-control he’d had melting away entirely.  

“And how have you been bad?” He asks over her punched out sob, feet kicking adorably at the impact.

“Jinshi- I-” she splutters, a hand reaching back, gripping at the arm he has wrapped around her waist, tugging uselessly. “I’m sorry, I came late-”

Jinshi hums in approval, adjusting his body in preparation to make sure Maomao never forgets how a thorough paddling feels.

“This one is for the blatant disrespect of my time,” he announces sternly, striking the reddest spot on her backside, eliciting a loud sob and fingernails scratching vigorously at his binding arm. A flare of heated desire grips his chest and leaks straight to his throbbing cock at her furious struggle. He slaps her desperate hand away from his arm.

“This one is for trying to escape your punishment, for making me hold you down.” He strikes the brush down at the crack between her upper thighs, as close as he can get to her cunt with how tightly she squeezes her legs together.

Maomao howls, struggling against his hold with renewed vigor, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She exclaims shrilly. “I’m sorry- this really hurts-”

“Oh does it?” Jinshi asks mockingly, smacking the same spot as prior. “Is this too much for your poor little bottom?”

He doesn’t let her answer – he thinks this little lesson is almost over, anyway. He lays down a few more harsh, punishing spanks, hard enough that he feels a small ache knot somewhere deep in his shoulder, harder than he could have delivered with his palm, and stops only when her backside is glowing a furious scarlet, swollen and welted to his satisfaction.

By the time he’s done, she’s sobbing into the bed sheets.

He lays down his hairbrush, cups her bottom with his palm instead, satisfaction curling in his abdomen at the unimaginable heat that emanates from her punished skin, at the way she whimpers pathetically from the touch. 

“Tell me, Maomao, what did you learn today?” He asks, giving her backside a squeeze.

Maomao sobs brokenly into the sheets, but doesn’t dare to try squirming away from his hold on her cheek. “To arrive on time when my master summons me.”

Her voice is so wobbly and tearful that he almost believes this is a lesson that will actually stick. He gives her bottom a soft, satisfied pat of his hand, chuckling as the tiny motion elicits a full-body jerk from her lithe frame.

“Good,” he says, finally releasing her waist, watching as she slumps down over his lap with a whimper. He allows her to lay there and recover, gives her a moment to slow her tears. He reaches for his nightstand; retrieves a small box she hadn’t noticed yet.

Setting the box down onto the sheets, he opens the lid, pulls out a small vial of oil. As he opens the cork, dribbles some of the liquid onto the small object of interest still inside the box, he places his free hand onto Maomao’s back, rubbing her skin soothingly.

Maomao releases a low, teary sniffle, unaware of what he is doing out of her eyesight. “Is my punishment over?”

Jinshi smiles at the soft tenor of her voice, endeared. He leans down, places a quick, gentle kiss to her burning backside, then leans towards her face, presses his lips to a tear-stained cheek, upturned from the bed sheets. “Yes, darling.”

Maomao makes a face, possibly a pout, eyes blinking open blearily. “Oh. That’s… disappointing.”

The tone she says this with is almost bored, as if she hadn’t been in tears moments ago, as if she’s evaluating his performance.

Jinshi’s eye twitches, smile dropping from his face. He is unsure whether to laugh, fall deeper in love, or pick up his hairbrush and break it in half across Maomao’s backside.

“I’m nowhere near done with you, you mouthy brat,” he chuckles darkly, curving a hand around her hip, gripping tightly. “Don’t you recall that I asked you here tonight for a reason?”

He hopes the roughness in his tone screams of danger – and based on the sudden flash of nervous terror in her eyes, he thinks he succeeds.

“This-” Jinshi pinches a bruise into a tender spot on her backside, forbids her to scramble away with his hold on her hip. “-was simply your punishment for arriving late. Or did you forget that lesson already?”

“No!” She yelps as he releases his grip on her bottom. “No, sir.”

“Well, before that little act of disobedience,” Jinshi says, reaching into the box by his side, pulling out the toy for Maomao to see, “I was really going to take my time tonight, make your introduction to this little device slow and smooth, pleasure you throughout.”

Maomao’s eyes grow wide with fear as she sees what he’s been planning all day, face flushing scarlet with shame, body twisting to look at him. “Wait-”

“But, considering your late arrival, and that nasty mouth of yours,” Jinshi interrupts, releasing her hip only to brace his arms across her torso, pin her down as his hand grips one cheek of her welted bottom, pulls it open, “I don’t think I care all that much about making sure this feels good for you, right at this moment.”

And with that, he presses the tip of his oiled plug to the tight opening of her backside. The reaction is immediate; Maomao thrashes and wails in indignation, and he watches in delight as he spots her cunt peeking from between her shaking thighs, sopping wet. Sadly for her, her needy little flower will be ignored for quite some time.

But with all of his threats and posturing – he doesn’t truly mean all of it. As he begins to work the plug into her tiny frame, Maomao’s feet kicking and fists beating at him indignantly, watching in delight as slowly, but surely, the tight little ring of muscle spreads for the intruding plug, helped along by the slippery lubricating oil – he does make sure not to go too fast, and he does still care about her enjoyment.

But, well, there is something so delightful about her embarrassed cries of humiliating and disgusting and how dare you, mixed in with slight whines of pain from the stretch he’s forcing her to endure, and he doesn’t think he’d achieve the same effect if he’d truly made this night all about her pleasure.

Jinshi can’t help but laugh, overjoyed by his Maomao feeling so free to scream things she would never say to him otherwise, because she’s starting to realize, even if subconsciously, he would tolerate anything, when it comes to her.

“Jinshi! You awful- you pig- you bastard!-” Maomao shrieks her horrified complaints, backside tensing around the plug with every twist of her body and attempt to dislodge him, only spurring him on.

“My my,” he tuts, fingernails digging into her cheek as he continues to hold her open, giving the plug another press deeper, reaching closer to inserting the widest point as she cries out at the sudden increase in pressure and stretch. “If you weren’t tensing and struggling to much, darling, this would hurt a lot less.”

His cock is painfully hard at this point, but all Jinshi can focus on is the lovely girl in his lap, that way she claws at him like a feral cat, the way he’s putting her through something as humiliating as this.

All day, he’s been thinking about this – specifically, the thought of Maomao wearing this plug, stuffed full and forced to go about her day with the ever-present reminder of how he’d exposed and played with one of the most vulnerable parts of her body.

Maybe he should commission a plug engraved with his initials, so she truly never forgets who she belongs to. Yes, he should definitely do that.

As his wild fantasies run away with his mind, he’s brought back to the present by a sudden, sharp mix of a pained cry and a moan, Maomao’s body jerking in his iron grasp – and Jinshi’s gaze focuses back to the task at hand just in time to see her tight little backside stretch around the widest point of the plug, before the rest of it slips inside. It settles with the flare resting outside her body, rounded base digging into the welted cheeks of her bottom, keeping her spread open.

It's a small plug – he wanted to make sure her first time with such a toy was as safe as possible. But with the entirety of it inside her body, one can’t even tell. Jinshi gives a soft, experimental tug to the plug.

Her backside clings onto it greedily, not allowing it to move out farther than hairsbreadth at the gentle motion, and the sobbed, strangled moan that is forced from Maomao’s lungs at the action is nearly enough to make his cock find release before he’d even taken his clothes off.

He realizes that he’s no longer pinning Maomao down, but that she’s also no longer struggling. She’s tense in his lap, bed sheets in white-knuckled fists as little tremors pulse down her spine. Her bottom clenches rhythmically around the plug, furious little whimpers muffled into the bed in response to every time she tenses. He can only imagine how this feels for her, stuffed full in such an unexpected manner, the promise of great pleasure just out of reach from her embarrassment. His thumb presses to the base of the plug, pushes at it teasingly, delights in the sound of the squeal this feeling elicits.

Maomao pants as he releases the pressure of his finger, a furious growl in her voice. “What do you even hope to accomplish with this? Does humiliating me make your cock hard?”

Jinshi snorts at her brazen rudeness, grabbing her hip, pressing her down onto the hard bulge of his cock so she can feel exactly how hard this makes him.

“My darling Maomao,” he coos, keeping her in place. “You want to know what I’m hoping to accomplish?”

His free hand reaches for her face, trails his fingertips gently along her cheekbone. “Perhaps one day, I’m going to teach this tight little hole to take my cock, too.”

Her reaction is immediate – she jerks in his grasp like she’s on fire. “Absolutely not you pervert!”

He simply laughs, still tracing her cheek with his fingers. “You’re cute when you’re mad. You’ll be even cuter with your backside stuffed with my cock.”

Maomao yowls in indignation, twists her face, and bites at his fingertips.

Jinshi jerks his hand away with a yelp, fingers stinging. He retaliates quickly, grabbing the base of the plug, pulling it out with a harsh tug as her body spasms in surprise, tight ring of muscle twitching at the sudden emptiness.

“Bad Maomao,” he snarls, before shoving the plug back inside, eliciting a loud shriek and flailing limbs. 

He pulls it out again, quickly, and a loud sob falls from her lips. “Master Jinshi – it’s, ahh, please- it’s too much-”

A growl rumbles low in his throat, dark and possessive. "Girls who bite don’t get a say in how their holes are treated.”

He fucks the plug in and out of her backside once, twice, thrice, cruel and efficient while Maomao begs and cries and flails in his hold – and he catalogues every howl, every yelp and cry, as if learning the notes of a beloved instrument. He wonders if she’s so distressed more so by the overwhelming sensation of being fucked in her bottom or the embarrassment of the entire situation.

He must get distracted by the thought, because his hold on her slips, and the next moment he shoves the plug back inside her, she jerks out of his grasp entirely with a teary cry.

He lets her scramble across the sheets like a cat that’s had its tail stepped on, all limbs and claws and desperation, before stumbling to the floor ungracefully. She takes a few, shaky steps away from the bed, wincing, hands reaching back to soothe her burning backside, to feel the plug.

“You better bring those hands forward,” Jinshi warns, amusement tinging his voice as he leans back onto his hands casually. “And if you take the plug out, I will simply tie you to the bed and repeat the entire process. Perhaps with a larger plug, this time.”

Maomao shudders at the threat, hands freezing behind her. Her eyes meet his, wild and teary, lips trembling. She sees the authority on his face, the hard set of his mouth – and her breathing turns harsh, hardened nipples rising and falling. Her eyes dart around the low-lit room.

She takes a step back.

Jinshi’s eyebrows rise. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Maomao’s eyes are still jumping around nervously, as if searching for an escape. When her gaze catches on his open balcony doors, and pauses, Jinshi’s eyes widen.

He sees her make a decision – just based on the way her eyelids twitch, her mouth hardens into a line.

Jinshi is already rising, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare-”

Maomao bolts.

---

Leaves smack at her arms, trail their fuzzy fingers down her goosebump-ridden skin. Maomao breathes heavily, bare feet thundering over flattened soil as she runs through the weaving, maze-like paths of Jinshi’s sprawling garden, heart thundering the deeper she goes.

It a little hard to run, every single jolt of her feet reminding her of the throbbing bruises on her punished backside, of the dull heat from being stretched in the most humiliating of places, still wearing that torturous plug Jinshi had gleefully stuffed her with.

She should take it out, throw it somewhere deep into the bushes, where no one would find it again.

She doesn’t.

Entirely naked, Maomao dodges stray branches and trees, feeling so, so exposed, outdoors in such a state. She knows that this garden is entirely private, no less than Jinshi’s bedroom, but it’s still a scary and exhilarating feeling, the thrilling possibility of what Jinshi will do when he catches her, how he will punish her outside beneath the watchful night sky, lit only by shimmering lanterns.

She’s not certain what drew her to do something so impulsive – to run out of Jinshi’s room, her backside throbbing in pain from his rough treatment with the plug and shooting dizzying bolts of arousal straight to her dripping cunt. She just remembers seeing the predatory look in his eyes, the way he all but bared his teeth, ready to devour her when he saw her notice the open balcony doors, and knew she wanted to see how far she could push him.

Maomao runs, long enough that the ache in her backside, if not disappears, becomes familiar, long enough that she starts to wonder if Jinshi is allowing her to run, prowling behind leisurely. She knows he’s strong, fast, his stamina at its peak. The thought that he’s simply playing with her, allowing her to tire herself out, grips her gut with heat.

Eventually, her feet skid to a stop, dig into soft soil. Before her rises a tall, wooden wall, crawling with blooming vines, part of Jinshi’s sprawling quarters that cage in the garden. To her left, a similar wall blocks her in. One corner of the garden. A dead end.

Maomao huffs a breath, questioning how long she can keep this going, heart thrumming with excitement. She starts to turn-

Arms wrap around her middle, lift her into the air with ease. She gasps, stomach dropping to her feet.

“Caught you, my bratty apothecary.” Jinshi grins into her neck. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

Maomao shudders, squirming in his arms, heated backside sparking with delicious pain as it rubs against Jinshi’s robes. She breathes heavily, body twitching as her toes float off the ground, completely helpless.

“Unlucky for you, it seems you’ve run right into your next punishment,” Jinshi murmurs into her ear, past the heartbeat thundering in her head. “Look.”

Jinshi tilts his chin forward, urging her to follow his line of sight. Maomao trails her eyes ahead, focuses her gaze on a smattering of small bushes growing at the base of the wall. Her eyes parse through the unassuming plants: golden forsythia, flowering spiraea, deliciously stinging nettles…

Her mind gets distracted, and she nearly drools at the flooding memories of plucking fresh nettles with her fingers, pressing the spiky leaves to her forearm, curling up in euphoria at the blissful feeling of the burning sting of its poisonous little hairs sticking into her skin.

She hadn’t seen any nettles in the rest of the palace, and having to go long periods of time without access to one of her favourite poisons had been depressing, frankly. She’s surprised Jinshi has allowed them to grow in his garden.

Maomao shakes away her thoughts, mentally filing aside this information for later. She will certainly be sneaking some of these leaves back to her laboratory, whether Jinshi likes it or not. The thought fills her with excitement.

She looks over her shoulder, takes in the lingering fondness in Jinshi’s gaze as he’d observed the delight in her face. “I’m afraid I’m not certain what punishment you’re implying, sir.”

His smile grows, far from vicious and threatening, seemingly genuinely delighted. One of his hands flattens against her stomach, holding her softly to his body.

“The nettles, darling,” he purrs, nose nuzzling into her cheek, “I thought you’d like them, so I’ve been allowing them to grow discreetly in the corner of my garden.”

Maomao blinks, stunned. And then, a smile grows on her lips, limbs squirming no longer in complaint, but purely in excitement.

“Really?” She asks, voice more of a happy squeak than she would have liked it. “Those are for me?”

Jinshi laughs into her cheek, finally lowering her feet to the ground, unwrapping her from his hold.

“Go,” he says, patting her backside cheekily, “go pick a few leaves.”

Maomao doesn’t need to be told twice. This is the first time Jinshi had ever encouraged her to play with poison, and she will not take it for granted. Sure, this poison is not particularly dangerous, more of a nuisance than anything even for an average person, but still.

She saunters over to the nettles, eyes tracing the assortment she has to choose from with delight. Spotting the juiciest, freshest leaves, she plucks them gently, a few in each hand, before returning to Jinshi.

Soon, her fingertips begin to feel the gentle pricks of the leaves, soft stings sending heated jolts through her body. It’s not much – she knows her hands are practically immune to most poisons, at this point. She’s salivating at the thought of pressing some of the leaves to her arm, where it’s more sensitive, if Jinshi will allow her, if that’s part of his plan for tonight. She’s so excited that she’d almost forgotten about the plug still stuffing her bottom. Almost.

Jinshi looks down at Maomao with a smile, letting the silent moment stretch as she nearly bounces on her toes, looking up at him in her best mask of obedience. When he reaches for her, places a finger under her chin, tilts her face to look at him more closely, she exhales a stuttered breath.

“Tell me, Maomao,” he murmurs, eyes sparkling, “what are you thinking about right now?”

She bites her lip, cheeks flushed in desire. “I want to rub these into my arms. I haven’t felt the sting of fresh nettle in ages.”

And then – Jinshi smiles that smile, that vicious, dangerous one, the one that tells her he’s about to do something mean and wholly unexpected, and Maomao feels a glimmer of dread pool in her stomach. Too excited by the prospect of playing with poison, she’d forgotten this is supposed to be a punishment.

“Your arms. That’s cute.” Jinshi purrs, pulling his finger away from her chin. “Turn around.”

Maomao gulps nervously, but obeys. Unable to see what Jinshi is up to behind her, she shifts on her feet, trying to alleviate the heated ache that has been throbbing on and off within her cunt all night.

“I think,” Jinshi says, suddenly, making her jump, “I went too easy on you with that paddling, considering you thought it was a good idea to run from me.”

She swallows, eyes looking down at her feet.

“If I had a cane on me, I think I would add a few stripes to that bruised bottom,” he muses. “But for now, this will do.”

Maomao’s brain tries to process the implication, terrifying realization dawning-

“Press those nettles to your backside, Maomao.”

Her breath catches in her throat, heartbeat rushing in her chest. She’d never done that, with any poison. Much less on already swollen and punished skin.

A shiver shakes her shoulders, fingers gripping the nettle leaves tightly. “Sir-”

“I promise, you do not want me to repeat myself right now.”

Warmth drips down her thighs, a whimper falling from her tongue. She reaches her hands back, slowly, fingers shaking lightly. With a deep, nervous breath, she presses the leaves to her backside softly.

For a moment, nothing happens, the cool leaves almost soothing against her swollen backside. And then, she feels the pricks of pain.

It begins slowly, the tiny hairs of the nettles stinging into her skin, pinpricks like little ant bites getting stronger and stronger, beginning to feel like a soft, heady burn. From behind her, she hears the rustle of clothes, a soft groan. She wants to look – but she doesn’t dare to.

When Maomao squirms on her feet, a little whine escaping her lips, Jinshi speaks again, voice husky. “Lower, apothecary. Where it’s most sore.”

Maomao bites back a sob as the heat continues to grow, as her hands shift down to press the nettles to the sensitive crease between her thighs and backside, the one Jinshi had bruised most harshly with his hairbrush. Novel stings of heat begin to settle into this delicate, swollen skin, only adding atop the flames that continue to lick where she’d pressed the nettles initially, now setting her entire backside ablaze.

It's like the delicious sting against her arm, the one she’d missed so much – but so, so much worse, and so, so much better.

Maomao lets out an open sob, fresh tears pooling at her lash line, legs beginning to tremble. “Ow, owww-”

Jinshi groans louder, now, the sound of skin-on-skin stroking becoming apparent. She whines louder in need, feeling close to dropping to her knees, perhaps from the pain, perhaps for something else.

The noise behind her stops, and then she feels the firm, steadying grip of Jinshi’s hands on her waist, holding her up, making sure her legs don’t give out beneath her.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs into her ear, something hot and smooth and leaking bumping into her back, hard and ready to split her open. “Now, rub those nettles in.”

Hiccupping on a terrified whimper, Maomao does as he instructs, but gently, and even the slow, light swirl of the leaves against her bottom makes her see stars, feeling the drag and sting of every single cruel little nettle fibre over punished skin, tightening the coil of pleasure that resides in her cunt.

Unsatisfied, Jinshi pushes her forward, until her shaking body presses to the hard wood of the nearest wall, mean voice a hiss in her ear. “Properly.”

He releases her waist, body pinning hers against the wall, grabs her wrists, and forces her nettle-filled hands to rub. Properly.

Maomao’s teeth sink into her lip, hard, biting back a wail she’s certain would be heard far beyond the garden, sobs racking her body as an unimaginable heat engulfs her backside, licking at her skin, spurred on further and further by how harshly Jinshi forces her hands to rub the poisonous nettle hairs into her bruised skin. Her hands spasm, unable to hold the leaves, every feeling magnified, too much, too much – and the nettles drop to the dirt, thoroughly abused over her poor bottom.

Nearly delirious from heat and pain and freshly potent need, warm arousal dripping down her thighs freely, she can’t consider the repercussions of her disobedience – but Jinshi doesn’t seem to mind, simply releasing her wrists, grabbing the cheeks of her backside tightly, gripping them apart.

It is this motion that reminds her spasming body of the plug that has made her so, so embarrassed earlier, now nothing more than a pleasurable stretch in her beaten bottom, filling her up just a hairsbreadth away from where she aches to be stuffed to the brim.

It’s hard to imagine that overwhelming fullness, stuffed in both holes at once – but she doesn’t have to imagine for long, because then-

Jinshi lifts her up against the wall, toes lifting off the floor, nipples rubbing in mouthwatering hurt against the wood, and Maomao barley has a moment to brace her hands in front of her before he thrusts the entirety of his cock into her leaking cunt.

A punched-out howl tries to escape her throat, muffled only by the sudden clasp of Jinshi’s hand against her lips, grounding her amidst the harshest mix of sensations she’d ever experienced. There’s just so much to process: the press of the plug and Jinshi’s cock fighting for dominance inside the small frame of her body – the  presence of either more potent and painful and amazing than the other from every little shift of Jinshi’s body; the inferno of nettle fibres digging into her paddled bottom with the slap of Jinshi’s hips; the mind-numbingly delicious scrape of her nipples against the wall.

And when he starts to fuck her in earnest, she thinks she loses her mind entirely.

Every re-introduction of his cock to her body presses past the swell of the plug, erupts flames across her backside. Distantly, she thinks she hears Jinshi moaning something into her ear, first a mix of hot and tight and engraved plug and so fucking tight, then a string of growled syllables – and only when he bites at her ear, hard, does she hear the word he’s now repeating on a furious loop.

“Mine. Mine.” Jinshi snarls as he fucks her into the wall, arm a tight vice around her torso, the hand on her mouth now dipping trembling fingers into her mouth, pressing on her tongue.

Maomao can only babble incomprehensibly in response, drooling past his insistent fingers, her body alight with flames and overstimulation and nothing short of bliss, filled in every hole. He fucks her jerkily, roughly, and she thinks she actually comes, once, maybe twice – she has no idea because she’d lost the ability to think, but she knows it all feels like nothing she could have ever imagined.

“Mine,” Jinshi says again, but this time it’s more of a whine, desperate and delirious, needy for something Maomao can’t quite name, can’t quite comprehend.

She doesn’t know what to give him, in this wrecked, euphoric state of hers. She can’t promise to be his.

She asks for something else, instead.

“I-ide,” she tries to babble past his fingers, the deep punch of his cock into her cervix driving her mad. “I-side, come in-side. Ple-es, plea-ss-”

He understands her, somehow, because that, those words, seem to be enough. Grip punishing on her hip, her forces her down onto his cock, as deep as she can go, and his length pulses harshly inside her, spilling his seed. His release fills her gut with a welcomed heat, and possibly, maybe, elicits a third, pathetic stutter of an orgasm from Maomao’s exhausted body. 

Maomao slumps back, falling into Jinshi, knowing that once her mind returns fully, so will all the aches and pains of this night. But for now, she allows herself to float on a cotton cloud of satisfaction as she leans on the boy behind her, and he leans on her in turn.

---

Lukewarm water laps at Maomao’s skin, pinkish-white bubbles sticking to her skin in a glimmering sheen. She doesn’t mind the cooling water – it feels kind of nice, actually, gentle on the pleasantly sore and itchy ache the nettles left behind on her skin.

A royal bathhouse is not something Maomao thought she’d ever get to witness in her measly life, much less to partake in its fragrant waters.

Much less get bathed and served by a prince like she was a no less than a goddess.

Maomao leans her cheek into her elbow with a purr, folded arms resting at the edge of the massive, gilded bathtub, a gentle comb running through her washed hair. Jinshi is so careful, almost reverent, brushing her hair with such care that she feels no knots catch on the jade teeth.

She’d considered arguing, briefly, reminding Jinshi that it’s her role to serve him, not the other way around, but the look he’d given her had made her reconsider. She won’t say it out loud – Jinshi doesn’t need the encouragement – but she’s kind of glad she let him get away with it, this time.

This feels very, very nice.

Maomao sighs as Jinshi leans over, presses a soft kiss to her wet shoulder. “How is your skin? All the nettle fibres wash out okay?”

Maomao hums in agreement, eyes closed, pleased. “Yeah, you did a great job.”

Jinshi preens at the praise, shifting closer behind her. She is genuinely impressed – it is clear he did his research in advance, aware of the best practices for treating nettle stings, how to clean them out to soothe the ache and promote best healing. After she’d alleviated his concerns about finishing inside her and convinced him of her confidence in preventing pregnancy, he’d wasted no time in removing that humiliating plug and treating her irritated backside as efficiently as she would for a patient herself. For once in her life, she’d had no notes to give.

Jinshi finishes with her hair, setting down the comb before wrapping his arms around her softly. She stretches in his grasp, aching muscles burning delightfully, before twisting around to face him directly, draping her legs over his lap. She looks down, gentle fingers pressing to Jinshi’s reddened thighs. Some of the nettle hairs had transferred from her backside to his legs when he’d fucked her, now cleaned away. Although, he hadn’t seemed to mind its sting in the slightest. Masochist.

“Can I ask you something?” Maomao says suddenly, clearly catching him off-guard, fingers still tracing his thighs.

His arms tighten around her. “Of course, darling.”

“Why does it matter so much to you, that you get to take care of me?” She wonders out loud as she recalls his expression when she’d tried to object, leaning her cheek onto his shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I could have cleaned myself up just as well.”

“Oh, Maomao,” he sighs, voice soft, almost tired. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Maomao frowns. “Not really.”

Jinshi hums softly, lips pressing to her hair. “Well, others have taken care of me my entire life; from feeding me, to clothing me, to protecting me. It’s… nice, to get to take care of someone in return, to serve like others have served me.”

Oh. That makes sense. It’s simply some hidden guilt, some desire to give back, gnawing at him. That’s it. A weird, uncomfortable sensation twists her heart in her chest.

“Okay,” she says. Her voice comes out softer than she’d intended.

“You do know that’s not the main reason though, right?”

Maomao’s heart jumps into a patter. “What is it, then?”

In response, Jinshi leans in, presses a gentle, lingering kiss to her cheek, warm and inviting. He pulls back. “Does that clarify things?”

Maomao blinks, uncertainty fighting for space in her thundering heart. “I- I don’t-”

“How about this?” Jinshi leans to the side, presses a similar kiss to her other cheek. His arms shift her closer to his body, gentle. “Do you understand what this means?”

“Jinshi,” Maomao says, voice a whisper. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

He pulls back, just a little, a sad, resigned smile on his lips. “It’s alright, darling. Maybe one day.”

Maomao swallows, eyes searching his, wishing she could comprehend what they’re so desperately trying to say. She wants to beg him to just say it, to spell it out for her. But something inside her knows this is a realization she must come to herself, or she will never accept it as it is.

“I don’t understand,” she repeats, “but I’m trying to.”

“I know.” Tenderly, Jinshi pulls her in against his chest. “Take as long as you need. I will wait for an eternity, if I must.”

Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Maomao thinks to herself.

But for some reason, instead of speaking her mind, she chooses to curl up closer to Jinshi instead.

Notes:

Love y'all's thoughts/suggestions, as always <3

Chapter 7: Penance and Exhibition

Notes:

Hello again friends! As per very popular request, here is a mild exhibitionism-themed chapter, enjoy!

I want to give a very special shoutout to @sorceressX on ao3 who drew fanart for this fic out of the pure goodness of their heart. Their fic is titled 'Pain and Pleasure Fanart', and currently has some fun kinky scenes drawn for chapters 1-3 of my fic, with more to come. Please go show them some love if you want to take a look at some lovely NSFW art!

Ch. 7 smut CW: Discipline, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Dacryphilia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Orgasm Delay, Humiliation, Anal Plug, sex with anal plug in, Nipple play, Semi-Public Sex, mild exhibitionism (to the 'possibly being overheard during sex' extent), Nipple Clamps, Possessive Jinshi, Name-Calling (one (1) 'whore' in a sexy way)

As always, please do enjoy ;)

Maomao wakes up warm. So, so warm.

She presses closer to the source of warmth, pleasant against the chilly morning, wrapped around her like the softest of blankets. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, a gentle yawn stretching her mouth. When the world comes into focus, she’s met by the sight of a solid, sculpted chest, rising and falling like the tide beneath her cheek. It feels like being rocked awake gently.

Maomao squirms softly, the feeling of arms wrapped around her surprisingly comforting, only tightening around her frame in response to her movement. Her backside throbs pleasantly, a reminder of the night before. With a little groan, Maomao shifts her face, rests her chin on the chest beneath her and looks up.

She finds Jinshi deep asleep, long lashes resting on his cheekbones, casting gentle shadows across perfect skin. His lips are parted, just a little, soft breaths floating into the air as he sleeps restfully. He looks so calm, so relaxed, that Maomao can’t find it in herself to wake him. She knows he struggles to get enough sleep. And yet, with her in his arms, he looks so at peace.

She studies his face, almost entranced, finding it difficult to look away. Perhaps it’s improper, to stare at royalty so openly, to take advantage of this specific royal’s gentle embrace and warm skin – but in the middle of a dream, he has no idea how closely she traces the lines of his face with her gaze, how her eyes linger on the faded scar he’d received while trying to save her. She could look at him all she wants, and no one would be any the wiser.

Gently, carefully, she manages to raise her hand, press tender finger to the line of the scar, trace it reverently. It’s healed very well. From certain angles, one can barely even see it.

But she sees it. She sees the story it tells, the strength of Jinshi’s character, even if it often lays hidden beneath thick layers of masks.

She finds it quite beautiful, really.

She feels a grip around her wrist before she notices that anything has changed. Jinshi’s fingers wrap around her joint tenderly, thumb pressing into her pulse. She looks away from the scar just in time to see his eyes blink open blearily, heart picking up rhythm beneath her chin.

He meets her gaze, awake. He pulls on her arm, pressing her closer until her palm flattens over his scar, cups his cheek. He leans into the touch, almost unconsciously.

Maomao clears her throat, heartbeat in her stomach. “Good morning-”

“You didn’t leave.” Jinshi interrupts, voice hoarse and still sleepy. “You woke up in my arms, and you didn’t leave.”

Maomao swallows, tensing. “Would you like me to?”

Jinshi’s arms tighten around her, and it’s the only warning she gets before he flips them over, pins her beneath him, face burrowing into her chest. “Never. Never leave. Stay here forever.”

Maomao’s hands grab onto his arms automatically, steadying herself beneath his clingy body. “You wish me to never leave your room? That would be quite impossible, considering my responsibilities in the palace.”

“That’s not-” Jinshi grumbles, cuts himself off with a sigh. Not unlike a petulant child, he holds her tightly like a favourite toy. “Then let me hold you like this every night, at least. Live here. Take a room in my quarters.”

“Jinshi-” Maomao begins to complain, shifting under him, but he only squeezes closer to her body, mouth pressing to her neck.

“I’ll buy you the softest sheets, and any medicinal ingredients you could dream of,” he murmurs into her skin, as if living out a fantasy, lips shifting over the crook of her neck, kissing her tenderly. “You’ll get the nicest room I can find – gods, you can take my room if you’d like. Anything you’d like, anything that will make you happy, anything that will mean you’re near me.”

Maomao’s throat goes tight, a million thoughts racing through her mind. Live in a royal prince’s quarters? Be so close to him, close enough to seek him out anytime she’d like to, for punishment, for comfort?

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Jinshi continues, lifting his wet lips away from her neck, looking her in the eyes. “Tell me no.”

Maomao licks her lips, suddenly dry. She can refuse him, if she’d like to.

“Lady Gyokuyou will never allow it.” Maomao says instead, knowing that the high consort likes keeping her close. Maomao doesn’t say no.

“We can explain it as my need to have my personal servant nearby.” Jinshi says, voice even and so, so logical. “Besides, you’re under my hire, not hers.”

“It would… it would be improper, Master Jinshi.” She answers, voice an unsteady murmur. “I should live in the royal servants’ quarters, if anything.”

She still doesn’t say no.

Jinshi smiles at that, surprisingly, as if he’s aware she’s running out of excuses. “Darling, you earn so many punishments that frankly it would just be more convenient to have you on hand at all times. It would look more improper if I kept fetching you from the servants’ quarters every night, wouldn’t it?”

“I-” Maomao stammers, excuses and denials slipping away like wet silk, hiding behind a word that sound a lot like the opposite of ‘no’. “I-”

Jinshi notices her struggle, eyes lighting up with that devious little light she’d learned to both dread and crave. “In fact, I think I will show you right now, just how convenient it would be.”

Maomao’s stomach flips, Jinshi’s body heavy and caging over hers. “You will?”

He leans in, lips tracing gently over the shell of her ear. “I still need to punish you, for yesterday.”

Maomao shivers, nails digging into Jinshi’s biceps as his bare chest falls and rises harshly against hers, a knee slipping up between her naked thighs. “But… you already punished me yesterday.”

“I did.” Jinshi chuckles tenderly by her ear, shifting down to nuzzle his nose into her neck. “But not for breaking the rule I set for you.”

Eyes growing wide, Maomao recalls what Jinshi did to her last time she broke a rule. “The rule?”

“Mhmm,” Jinshi hums in agreement, skin warm against hers. “Three punishments worth of rule breaks, last night, if I recall your multiple orgasms correctly.”

His knee slides higher, stops only when it presses to the wet warmth at the apex of her thighs. Maomao whimpers softly, the gentle pressure heating her cunt from within, reminding her of what it feels like to be denied an orgasm over and over again.

“You noticed that?” She asks, voice high and breathy.

“Yes, Maomao,” he says lightly, pulling his knee back just a sliver, pressing it back into her cunt. “I noticed your cunt squeezing me in a death grip every time you came.”

Maomao flushes, heat crawling up her neck. She hadn’t really considered how it would feel for Jinshi, feeling her orgasm stretched around his cock. A soft moan falls from her lips, liquid seeping from her cunt as Jinshi begins a soft, torturous rhythm with his knee against her clit.

“I am quite impressed, actually,” he murmurs, “that you came so many times.”

“I’m- I’m surprised too,” she whimpers softly, nibbling at her lip. “But I don’t think those were quite… full orgasms. I was just so sensitive from all my punishments last night.”

“Not full orgasms, huh?” Jinshi says, pressing his knee into her cunt harder, enjoying the needy moan that falls from Maomao’s lips, fingers gripping onto his arms tightly. “So, you don’t think you deserve to be denied climaxes until you beg for mercy?”

Maomao’s lip trembles with a burst of fear. “N- no, sir.”

“Alright,” Jinshi purrs, his voice so delighted that Maomao gets the sinking feeling that her words were a mistake. “A different punishment, then.”

He grinds his knee into her cunt with a final press, then, hard enough to make her body spasm and a cry fall from her lips, before pulling away entirely. He leaves her cunt warm and wet, begging for attention. Maomao breathes hard, watching with wide, nervous eyes as Jinshi slips off the bed, reaches for a nearby drawer.

“Gods, how I’ve been waiting to use these,” Jinshi murmurs, almost to himself, as he pulls out something shiny and metallic-

Maomao is already scrambling away, knees and hands slipping across bed sheets, eyes searching wildly for escape, any sort of escape. The sudden speed and strength with which her heartbeat drums at her rib cage make her body spasm, horrified nerves lighting her body up so quickly that she feels lightheaded.

Jinshi’s arm wraps around her waist just as she makes it off the edge of the bed, wrangles her spine to his chest, restraining her flailing body with ease.

“No, no, no no-!” Maomao shrieks, terror and anticipation shaking her frame like a leaf in a thunderstorm. “Not those- not there- pleaaaaase-”

“It’s quite adorable, how much these scare you.” Jinshi chuckles as he holds her pinned to his body, ignoring her incessant squirming. With his free hand, he trails cool metal up her sternum, drags it slowly and threateningly towards the sensitive peaks he is about to torment.

When the cold, unforgiving edge of a clamp slides across a nipple, Maomao nearly starts to cry just from that.

Out of everything, every little torture Jinshi had threatened her with, this is one of the ones she’d been dreading the most. Her poor nipples are just so sensitive, and she knows Jinshi wants to take full advantage of that fact.

“Master Jinshi, sir,” she tries again, voice warbling, shoulders shaking as she attempts to twist her breasts away from those awful torture devices he trails against her skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please deny me, spank me, anything else-”

“Look at that, begging so prettily.” Jinshi grins into her neck, ignores her as her flailing heels kick against his legs. “Unfortunately for you, you don’t get to decide the punishment.”

He pulls the cold metal away from her hardening nipple, only to pinch it roughly between a thumb and a forefinger, squeezing at the peak until it is fully hardened, the anxiety only growing in Maomao’s gut as she whines at the feeling.

She watches with wide, terrified eyes as Jinshi pulls his fingers away, opens the teeth of a clamp, and all she has a chance to do is let out another shriek, kick her feet madly and squirm uselessly against Jinshi’s iron bar of an arm around her waist, before he brings the open clamp to her nipple-

And lets it snap shut.

The bolt that shoots from her nipple to the rest of her body is nothing short of a lightning strike, drowning out every other sensation for one blinding moment. The noise that claws its way up her throat is half a sob and half a scream, reverberating through her chest and shaking her poor, punished nipple, shooting fresh spears of hurt across her trembling skin.

Maomao hiccups through harsh sobs, the sharp sparks of pain that lance through her nipple dulling slowly, marginally, turning into a present heat that leaves her unable to take a full breath without a fresh reminder of the awful grip of teeth on the most sensitive part of her breast.

Through blurring eyes, she looks down, only to be hit with a wave of heat at the sight of her red, swelling nipple gripped in the metal clamp, protesting its torment even as the heat spreads through her body and leaks to her cunt. She spots that Jinshi hadn’t even set it to its tightest setting – the thought that it could be even worse in the future makes her want to cry in despair.

“This one,” Jinshi murmurs into neck, lips leaving a tender kiss as he squeezes at her tormented breast, “was for you first not full orgasm.”

His hand moves to her free nipple, pinches it hard enough to remind Maomao of what’s coming next, hard enough to make her knees shake in fear.

“And this one,” Jinshi continues, opening the second clamp he’d had gripped in his palm, setting its teeth above and below her nipple, “is for your second not full orgasm.”

Maomao thought she would be better prepared, the second time around.

She isn’t.

Her head falls back onto Jinshi’s chest as she cries through the feeling of a second lightning strike, the compounding heat and pain of both nipples clamped cruelly tormenting her from every direction. She tremors pathetically in Jinshi’s hold, no longer struggling against him, using the hot, steady heat of Jinshi’s bare body against her back to center herself amidst a torrent of sensations.  

She barely notices as Jinshi shifts their position, sitting down onto the edge of his bed with her in his lap and a tender kiss pressed to her cheek – at least until she feels the heavy, insistent shape of Jinshi’s cock against her bottom. “There you go, Maomao. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Maomao just shakes her head with a sob, eyes shut tightly against the tears slipping to her cheeks as she breathes through the aftershocks of Jinshi’s rough treatment of her nipples, attempts to get used to the overwhelming sensation.

“Oh, darling, it hurts?” He coos condescendingly, licking a thumb, pressing it to a swollen nipple. He circles it gently, then the other, in a gesture that would almost seem gentle and soothing if it wasn’t so torturous against the oversensitive skin of her tormented nipples. 

“Yes, sir,” Maomao manages to answer him, voice shot.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember to ask me for permission to come,” he chides, a quick hand sliding between her thighs, sweeping up her cunt once as if checking how aroused she is. “Isn’t that right?’

“Yes, Master Jinshi.” She sniffles, the needy heat between her thighs returning to the front of her mind as the initial shock of her clamped nipples wears off, now simply a sharp, steady torment gripping at her breasts.

“Good,” he says simply. Gently, he slides one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, places her onto the bed until she lays on her back, spine pressed to soft sheets. Carefully, he crawls over her, hungry eyes never leaving the tormented peaks of her breasts. “Now all that’s left is to punish you for your third not full orgasm.”

Maomao barely has an opportunity to process his words, eyes growing wide, before his cock is spearing into her wet, needy cunt in one smooth thrust.

Her back arches off the bed with a cry – but the feeling stretches across her punished nipples, jostles the clamps in such a manner that renews the awful burn on her breasts, and spills fresh tears down her temples.

“Tell me how this feels, Maomao.” Jinshi pulls out, and with the next thrust he leans in, licking up a tear with his tongue, hot and wet against her skin. “Tell me how it feels when your clamped nipples bounce with every thrust.”

Maomao gasps out, a heady burn clinging to her breasts, sparking with the harsh manner in which Jinshi punctuates his point, drives his cock into her small frame until there is no more room for him to fill.

“It feeeels-” Maomao whines hands reaching for his neck, wrapping around it tightly to steady herself. “It feels- it feels- so much-”

Jinshi chuckles lightly, presses his face to the crook of her neck. “At a loss for words, apothecary?”

Maomao can only release a broken moan in response, nails digging into the back of his neck as he pounds into her roughly, her clamped nipples shrieking with every bounce and scratching against his chest. He pulls back, just a little, just far enough to feast his gaze on her breasts once more, to watch as the sore, red tips of her nipples glare up at him angrily from between the teeth of the clamps.

He groans as a particularly vicious thrust makes her body jerk even harder, a howl of overstimulation screeching up her throat. He fucks her through it, and Maomao observes distantly as his motions begin to turn jerkier, his gaze wild and feral from the sight of her nipples, her teary eyes and sobbing lips, her cunt taking the girth of his cock. She leaks her desire around his length, dripping down her backside as she endures the overwhelming feeling of throbbing arousal between her thighs, interrupted by mind-jolting bolts of pain that shoot from her breasts. She wonders if she can come, like this, is he’ll let her, if she just asks, so, so nicely-

Jinshi’s hips slam into hers, a ragged moan tearing from his throat as he spills his seed inside of her, cock pressed deep against her womb, as if marking her, claiming her.

This thought turns out to be more appealing than Maomao had imagined, especially considering that she knows every precaution to ensure no real… consequences from this action.

Jinshi stills in her, waits until the sputtering bursts of his pulsing orgasm empty him out inside of her entirely, forcing her away from a distantly approaching climax in the stillness. Maomao sniffles softly, both in disappointment, and from the continuous burning throbbing that grips at her poor nipples.

When he pulls out of her, he does so slowly, her cunt clinging to his length the entire time, begging for him to return.

“Do you know why you can’t come without my permission?” Jinshi asks softly, voice sultry, palm pressing heavily over her aching cunt as soon as he slips out of her entirely.

Maomao’s lip trembles, cunt warm from the hot press of Jinshi’s hand to her opening, keeping her full of his seed.

“You can’t come without my permission for a very important reason.” Jinshi continues without waiting for an answer, free arm reaching over her towards his bedside drawer, palm still hot on her cunt.

“You can’t come, because this,” Jinshi says as his hand squeezes her cunt, making her whimper softly against the rough sensation, “is mine.”

Maomao flushes an indignant red.

“You don’t own my vagina-”

Jinshi squeezes a little tighter, cutting her off as a sharp gasp reverberated up her throat, sends vibrations to her throbbing, punished nipples.

He tuts, chiding. “Have you ever made your cunt come the way I can?”

Maomao grits her teeth, eyes flitting away in embarrassment. She recalls the many ways in which he’d made her fall apart, the many ways he’d made her beg to fall apart – on his fingers, tongue, cock.

“No, sir.” Her voice comes out strangled.

“Then you haven’t been taking very good care of it, have you?” Hot and heady condescension drips off his tone, fingers dipping into her cunt shallowly, pushing back at the arousal attempting to leak from inside of her, the audible sound of fingers sliding through wetness making her face turn redder. “I won’t allow such a travesty. So, it falls on me to ensure my cunt gets the treatment it deserves.”

His outstretched arm finally manages to retrieve what he’d been searching for in his drawer, pulling back towards her, displaying it smugly.

A surprised squeak falls from her lips, equal parts a familiar fury and potent humiliation. “Not this again, Jinshi, you freak!”

He holds up a new plug, slightly bigger than the one from the night before, but enough to make a nervous tremble shiver up her spine. Jinshi laughs at her reaction, reaching the plug between her legs as she prepares to scramble away.

Anticipating her every motion, Jinshi moves quickly – he pins her body down with his weight, removes his palm from her folds, and in a shocking move-

Stuffs the plug into her leaking cunt.

Maomao exclaims a soft cry, jaw dropping in surprise, body freezing. The plug is not large enough to stretch her as she’d like it to, but her cunt clings to it nonetheless.

“Now,” Jinshi says smugly, patting the plug as Maomao jumps in response, “you will make sure my seed stays in here until I decide you’ve learned who this cunt belongs to.”

The possessive purr of his voice heats her straight to her cunt, her breaths escaping in soft hiccups as she processes his words, dark and promising. Her nipples continue to burn and sting, no end in sight to their torment.

Jinshi rises, slipping off the bed, taking her hand in his. When he gives her a tug, urging her to follow him, the motion elicits fresh licks of flames snapping at her nipples, a sob wrenching from her throat as she complies, trembling the entire time.

“Someday soon, I think I’ll send you off just like this,” Jinshi says softly, holding her hand as she rises to unsteady legs, cunt clenching around the plug that keeps her stuffed full of Jinshi’s release. “You’ll throw on some clothes, but then you’ll go about your duties with your nipples clamped, cunt stuffed with a plug, or perhaps your backside. No one will be any the wiser, but we’ll know how you’re being punished all day.”

Maomao shakes her head in despair. “No, sir, please-”

“Oh, it’s alright, darling,” he coos, fingers pressing under her chin, thumb swiping away a fresh tear trailing down her cheek. “You haven’t earned that harsh of a punishment today. Instead, you’ll stay just like this, and clean my parlor while I work.”

Maomao sniffles, gaze lowering as she shifts on her feet, adjusting to the feeling of clenching around the plug inside her, the heavy burn of gravity pulling at her clamped nipples.

Clean his parlor, as she is?

She has a feeling that today is going to be a very, very long day.

---

Jinshi’s brush slides over paper, the incessant white and black of the text and documents and reports he’d been reading all blurring into a canvas of inky gibberish. He slips his brush off the paper with a flourishing stroke, the heavy, illustrious script of the Moon Prince’s signature staining the page. He sets it aside into the ‘finished’ pile, only to reveal another of an unending stack of papers to go through.

Luckily for him, he has the best of distractions to keep the boredom at bay.

He lifts his eyes, lashes heavy as his gaze bores into his beloved girl, naked on all-fours as she scrubs at a dusty patch of floor. It’s such a lovely sight, that he thinks one day he might make a new rule, and order for Maomao to strip immediately any time she enters his room. Because how dare she hide such a perfect body from his sight?

Over the last hour of cleaning, she’d let out no other noise but little whimpers here and there, clamped nipples bouncing painfully from the occasional jerky motion. He knows why she’s being so quiet – he’d warned her that just behind the main door to his parlor, guards stand watch, servants rush back and forth.

Maomao had given him the nastiest of glares in response, face going red. But it’s not like she can hide how much that little revelation had aroused her tight little cunt – he’d noticed the trail of dampness that had appeared on her thigh since, managing to drip past her plug. He notices each time she unsubtly reaches between her thighs, presses the plug back inside her cunt when it starts to slip out.

She’s in no real danger of discovery; no one is allowed to enter his parlor without explicit permission. Nonetheless, they could certainly hear any loud noises – and it’s a fact that has gotten him as hard under the robes he’d thrown over his shoulders as she’s wet.

He watches in delight as Maomao crawls an inch forward, absorbed in her work, backside facing him and giving him the perfect view of the bruises he’d inflicted with last night’s paddling, purpling on her skin. The plug shifts in tiny increments between her thighs, twitching with every clench of her cunt, holding his seed inside her womb.

It’s a thought that makes him feel a feral possession, one that screams at him to claim her as his. He sees her small hand slip to her cunt once more, press on the base of the plug with a little whimper, adjusting it back into position. It’s a sight that will forever be burned into his brain.

He doesn’t know how long he watches her for. At some point, he forgets his work entirely.

All he knows is that, eventually, he finds her rising to wobbly legs, making her way towards him with flushed cheeks and eyes lowered.

“I’m done cleaning, Master Jinshi,” she says, voice shaky. He trails his eyes over her clamped nipples, checks the flushed, swollen peaks to make sure they haven’t started to purple. Gaze drawing further down, he notices how her knees are reddened from crawling, and his cock twitches in delight at the sight.

“Is that so?” He says, trying to keep his voice even. “What about that mess you’ve made between your thighs? Even the plug wasn’t enough to stop you – I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve left a trail of arousal on the floor you were supposedly cleaning.”

Maomao’s eyes flash with something sharp, gaze rising to meet his as splotches of embarrassed red rise on her chest. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Jinshi rises without warning, smugness filling his chest at the sight of her eyes widening in surprise, scowl dropping. He approaches her quickly, but methodically, coming to a stop before her naked figure.

“Mouthy,” he reprimands her, grabbing her chin with his hand.

He begins to walk her backwards, pushing gently on her chin, guiding her where he wants her to go. “What kind of servant calls her master disgusting?”

He stops only when her back hits his door, a bitten-back whimper barely escaping her lips. “Certainly not one who has learned her lesson.”

Maomao’s lip trembles, likely already running all the possible ways he can continue tormenting her through that magnificent mind. “I’m sorry, sir-”

“Turn around.”

Maomao’s breath comes out as a stuttered whimper, big eyes blinking up at him in plea. She only waits for a short, uncertain moment, before obeying his command, turning around nervously. The sight of her submission is delicious.

He watches her shoulders twitch, shifting on her feet, face-to-face with his door. Jinshi smiles.

“Hands on the door.” His voice is stern, just the way he knows she loves it.

He watches as she flattens her palms on the thin wood of his door, waiting for his next move. Beyond the door, the noises of chattering guards, scurrying servants, all turn into a distant buzz.

The thought of them hearing Maomao’s little cries makes heat unfurl in his chest, spread to his already-hard cock, needy and potent. He will never share her with anyone else, she’s his – but in the moment, all he wants is for everybody to hear how he makes his cat yowl.

Perhaps it will be an unforgettable lesson in whom she belongs to, in who can make her cry out so prettily; a lesson for her, and for everyone within earshot.

Well, no one will know it’s her he’s making moan so loudly, but at this point he frankly doesn’t even care if they do. Let everybody know.

Without warning, he reaches between her thighs, elicits a shocked gasp as his fingers grip the base of the plug occupying Maomao’s cunt. She stifles it immediately, teeth sinking into her lip. He’s determined to ensure those noises aren’t held back for long.

With a rough jerk, Jinshi pulls the plug out of Maomao’s cunt, soaking wet from his and her arousal.

It’s so well lubricated. What a shame it would be to let it go to waste.

Jinshi grips half of her backside, pulls it open as he presses the tip of the plug to the tight ring of muscle between her cheeks. Maomao jumps in place with an indignant squeak, flushing chest to ears.

“Master Jinshi,” she hisses, a million protests heavy on her tongue. Sadly for her, she doesn’t get a chance to voice them before he’s already feeding the toy into her tense backside.

She disobeys his earlier order immediately, hands jumping off the door, reaching behind her in a poor attempt to swat his arms away.

Jinshi pinches her backside, over last night’s bruise, hard enough to make her yelp. “Hands on the door. I won’t repeat myself again.”

Maomao bites back a sob, bottom wiggling under the painful grip of his fingers. Slowly, after a long, frustrated moment of useless struggle, she reaches her shaky hands forward, places them back on the door. He releases her backside, watches as she settles back into position, whimpering softly.

This time, when he begins to work the plug into her tight little bottom once again, Maomao squirms and whines, dancing on her feet, rising to her toes in a poor attempt to escape the penetrating plug. But, her hands don’t leave the door.

Maomao bounces on her toes, slips a little lower as she loses her balance, lets out a squeal as the motion pushes the plug further into her trembling body.

“Siiiir-” she whines pathetically, voice soft and worried as her lovely lips wrap around her complaints, “it’s too big for me- for there-”

“Darling,” he coos gently, leans in to press a kiss to her trembling cheek, “I know you can do it. You’re so tense – just relax a little, let your body accept it.”

His hand rubs her backside gently, cooing soft encouragements as he holds the plug against her tight opening, no longer pressing it in, letting her allow it into her body at her own pace.

Whimpers and whines fall from her lips, soft and sweet, and he has to wonder if it’s already enough for someone to hear her behind his door, to question who he’s making feel so, so good.

Maomao lowers herself down, allowing the plug to stretch her just a little wider, before jumping back up to her toes with a squeak and losing all her progress.

One of her hands forms into a fist, beats lightly against the door with a sob. “Too much, too much…”

Her voice cracks, splintering into something pathetic and desperate.

That, that is a tone he hadn’t heard fall from his Maomao’s lips before.

And then, for just a moment, a sudden sliver of concern wedges into his chest.

There’s something about her pained noise, the trembling way in which she holds herself up on aching toes. Something that makes him… uncertain.

Perhaps this is too much, too soon? Perhaps the plug is too big, pushing her past a limit neither of them has been able to see? This is the one thing she’d fought him on as adamantly as she had – the penetration of such a vulnerable area.

He freezes, for a moment, wondering how to proceed.

Maomao must notice his pause, turning her face to look at him with a trembling pout. “Master Jinshi?”

He meets her eyes, feeling unsure of their game for the first time in a long time. “Is this too much?”

He doesn’t ask this in his usually mocking tone, and she clearly notices, something strange flashing across her features. For a moment, her brow furrows, contemplative.

And then, she turns her nose up with a petulant huff. “Yes.”

He blinks, still uncertain, but she doesn’t allow him to remain confused for long. She looks back at him quickly, this time with an annoyed scowl.

“Yes, it’s too much,” she repeats, a bratty edge to her even tone. “So maybe you need to make me take it, Jinshi.”

The challenge in her voice is loud, clear as day. Impatient, she shifts from foot to foot, still high on her toes.

Oh.

A swell of pride, affection, love, fills his chest. A love for how strong she proves herself to be, at every turn, how much she can take. A love for her attitude, for her fearlessness.

A familiar fire burns throughout his body, fills his cock further, washes away all prior uncertainties.

His hand moves to her spine, shoves her into his door. This time she cries out, clamped nipples pressing to hard wood, and he has little doubt the noise could be heard beyond his door.

One of her hands shoots away from the door, presses to her mouth in an attempt to keep herself quiet through fresh sobs.

“I thought I told you I wouldn’t repeat myself.” Jinshi snarls, holding her shaking body still against wood, allowing her no room to shift away as he presses the plug deep into her backside as punishment, nearly to the base. “What did I say about your hands?”

Maomao exclaims at the painful intrusion into her bottom, a mix of a moan and a plea and a growl even as she slams her hand back onto the door. “No- someone will hear-”

“Let them.”

Make me, she’d said. He pushes the plug all the way in.

Maomao’s entire body tenses for one long, silent moment. And then, she scrambles against the door with a shrill yowl, nails scratching at wood like a cat pleading for escape. She cuts herself off half-way through her cry, teeth biting into a swollen lip, hard enough to nearly break skin.

That won’t do. She will not hurt herself. He will not allow her.

Jinshi’s hand wraps around her jaw, forces it open.

“Let them,” he repeats roughly, delighting in the sounds of her breathy sobs and moans as he holds her, as her backside trembles around the intrusion of the plug, sitting snugly inside her, their combined arousal leaking around its edge. “They won’t know it’s you- you came through the back door last night, and you may leave the same way. I’ve already ensured you won’t be missed, today.”

Jinshi tears his robes open with a jerky, impatient hand, cock so hard it feels ready to burst. He’s been ignoring it for too long, now – it’s his turn to claim what’s his once more.

“I’m the Moon Prince,” he growls out his name like a curse, a hand heavy on Maomao’s hip, spinning her around until her back hits the wall. “Would everyone out there really be so surprised that I would take a lover?”

He lifts her up against the wall, grips her backside in his hands as her legs dangle around his torso with a shudder. He bumps his cock against her leg, slips it between her trembling thighs.

And when he feels the hot, dripping wetness that immediately coats him from the shallow contact, a combination of her fluids and his seed that she’d so diligently kept inside herself from earlier, any last threads of his control snap.

He lifts her up against the door, high enough to align himself with her entrance, then spears her back down onto his cock.

Maomao exclaims again, louder, the noise sputtering off into an incoherent string of overwhelmed babble as her drenched cunt clenches around him like a vice, spasming in response to his intrusion, all the tighter from the nearby presence of the plug. Her head falls back against the door with an open mouth, arms wrapping around his neck automatically, legs following suit around his waist quickly. Holding her hip tightly enough to leave bruises, he raises her again, drops her back down onto his cock cruelly.

The beautiful noises that she makes as he begins to fuck her go straight to his head, to his cock, only fuelling the fire as he imagines what it would be like if everyone knew this was her making these noises, that he’s the one evoking them, that she belongs to no one but him.

Tight heat building in his groin, Jinshi growls ferally, leans into her ear. “Maybe they’re all thinking I brought home a courtesan to pleasure me. Would you like to be that for me? My personal courtesan? My perfect toy?”

“Ah- ah-!” Maomao cries out incoherently, knees knocking against his torso uselessly as he fucks her onto his cock, his arms growing sore with the repeated motion. Not like it matters – he won’t be lasting for long anyway, not now.

“You would be my courtesan, only mine,” he growls, his own train of thought splitting in all directions, the only thing left clear being Maomao, his Maomao, at the center of his mind. “You’d be my good little whore for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck!” Maomao cries out, the first clear word in recent memory. Her cunt spasms madly around him, and she whimpers quietly. “Yes, yes- may I come- please, sir, please-”

The groan he releases certainly rivals hers, loud and needy.

He snarls, hand dropping from her jaw, reaching for her chest. “Yes.”

And then, he grabs a clamped nipple, pinches it, and that’s all it takes.

Beautifully, harmoniously, they finish nearly simultaneously. Jinshi releases her breast, wrapping an arm around her waist as he empties his seed into her with a moan, face buried in her neck. A string of mind-shattering squeezes of her climaxing cunt around his cock nearly send him to heaven, he thinks, her blissed-out cries the symphony that would guide him to the afterlife.

He slips out of her with a wet squelch, unwrapping her legs from his body, lowering her feet to the floor. He realizes immediately that she certainly cannot stand on her own right now, so he sweeps her into his arms, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

He himself feels about ready for his legs to give out beneath him.

He looks down at Maomao, floppy goo in his arms, at the clamps still gripping her nipples, ready to be removed, at the blissed-out expression on her face. Somehow, she notices him looking at her, and her eyes focus for one long, lucid moment.

“Jinshi?” She says, voice hoarse.

“Yes, darling?” He murmurs in response, a smile gracing his lips.

“Why do you want me to move into your quarters – why do you really?”

The sudden question startles him, brings him back to earlier that morning. She sounds like she’s chewing through a particularly complicated riddle, mind ablaze, so close to the truth of what he’d been trying to tell her.

Jinshi looks down at her, tender. “I want nothing more than to have you near me.”

Her eyes stare into his, unyielding, contemplative. When her gaze drops, it does so slowly, trailing down the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips-

It pauses.

Jinshi’s breath catches in his throat, mouth feeling suddenly dry. He licks at his lips, and Maomao’s eyes follow the motion. She continues to stare, enraptured by his mouth, and his heart beats faster, rising heavy in his throat-

Is she going to kiss him?

As soon as that thought lights up his mind, her eyes tear away from his face as if on fire, splotches of red rising to her cheeks. Disappointments sinks heavy into his gut, but he tries not to let it show. Maomao simply pouts, clearly frustrated with him, herself, something.

She clears her throat. “You were right.”

Jinshi tilts his head. “About what?”

“This arrangement would be quite convenient, for my punishments.” She answers, not meeting his eyes.

Jinshi’s eyes narrow, uncertain. He stays quiet, waiting for her to elaborate.

Finally, her eyes meet his.

“I accept your request to move into your quarters, but under one condition.”

Jinshi blinks, hardly daring to hope. "Anything."

"Remove my plug." The cutest little pout forms on her face. "And take off these godsforsaken clamps before I make sure they find their way onto your nipples in the middle of the night."

Jinshi grins in delight at her petulant tone, at the pure candor of every word she says.

Gods, what a perfect, wonderful girl he gets to love.

He's not sure how he possibly got so lucky.

Notes:

They'll be moving in together and possibly have been overheard and - what is this? Actual plot progress?? In my fic???

It's more likely than you think!

But jokes aside i definitely do feel this fic getting a bit repetitive (not necessarily a bad thing for smut haha), so although I see no end in sight quite yet, I think I'll start moving it forward just a bit.

Anyway, upcoming things for you to look forward to:
1) Next chapter will feature a very bratty Maomao and very angry Jinshi who can't wait to get his hands on a cane and some ginger ;)
2) There will be another semi-public fun times/mild exhibitionism chapter!!! There was way too much content I wanted to but couldn't fit in this chapter (think Maomao actually going about her day with a plug, perhaps some under the table action in public), so think of this chapter as a taste of more risky fun to come ;)

As always, feel free to leave your thoughts/suggestions <3 I love involving y'all's beautiful minds in the progression of this fic

Chapter 8: Discipline and Confessions

Notes:

Hey y’all – decided to go off anonymous, hello :) Sorry this chapter took forever! As a treat, this is my longest chapter as of yet, with lots of smut (and quite a bit of relationship progression!).

One of the lines in this chapter was taken directly from one of the LNs because it’s so cute (not a spoiler, dw), iykyk ;)

PS. Day 1-7 align with chapters 1-7, in case it’s unclear. You’ll see what that means :)

Ch. 8 smut CW: Discipline, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia, Humiliation, Possessive Jinshi (very much so), Caning, Figging, Fingering, Domspace, Domdrop (which is followed by fluff)

Enjoy!

“Did you hear…”

“… oh, yes, quite a surprise…”

“Who do you think she is?”

“… how scandalous.”

Maomao quickens her steps, head ducked low to avoid catching any stray gazes. Frankly, this is just getting annoying, at this point. It’s been weeks since what feels like half the palace had heard her being fucked against Jinshi’s door, and still the only thing anyone wants to discuss is the very mysterious, very loud lover he has acquired.

And, most unfortunately, ever since she’d returned to serving Jinshi directly, she’d become the juiciest source of potential gossip for all the bored and curious women and men of the palace alike.

“Maomao! Hey, come here for a second!”

Dammit, not again. Maomao slows down, stops. Looking up from the basket of laundry she’d helped fold for Suiren, she glares at Yinghua stonily, unamused.

“No, I still do not know who’s been keeping the Moon Prince company.” Please stop asking.

Yinghua smiles, letting out a giggle of amusement. “No, not that, silly. Empress Gyokuyou is requesting your presence in her pavilion.”

Right – Empress. That had happened recently, with the public presentation of the new Crown Prince. As much as Maomao could not deny a direct summons from Lady Gyokuyou, she definitely could not deny a direct summons from Empress Gyokuyou.

Maomao bows her head shallowly, lips pursed. “Of course.”

Leaving the laundry behind (sorry, Suiren), Maomao follows Yinghua as she sets off down a nostalgic, familiar path. It is one she’d walked many times, going to Jinshi’s residence, searching for punishment.

It really is convenient, not to make this lengthy trek anymore. And her new room in Jinshi’s quarters is very nice, and very close to his. If it means easier access, and lots more punishments for her, well, that’s just something she’ll have to accept.

She’s glad Yinghua walks in front of her, lest she see the evidence of what she’d been spending her nights doing with Jinshi written all over her face. No one knows it is her Jinshi takes into his bed, and she’d like to keep it that way.

By the time they enter Gyokuyou’s pavilion, Maomao thinks she’d done a decent job re-forming her mask of neutrality.

Unfortunately, that mask slips the moment she spots who else is in the Empress’ parlor, sitting across from her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Apothecary,” Jinshi says, a little tension pulling at his lip. “The Empress and I have been having a very interesting discussion – would you settle an argument for us?”

Maomao blinks quickly, eyes darting between Gyokuyou’s secretive little smile and Jinshi’s smug grin. “What is the issue, Moon Prince?”

No, she definitely doesn’t use his title to get back at him for whatever this clearly contrived situation is about to be. Not at all.

Jinshi’s eyes narrow the slightest amount, and a smug feeling fills her chest at the sight.

“I was just telling the Prince that I would like Maomao back as a lady-in-waiting, since I am Empress now.” Gyokuyou’s lilting voice drifts across the room, something devious at the edge of her tone. “It is a difficult job, you know. I need all the support I can get.”

“Well,” Jinshi says, voice cooler. “Respectfully, Empress, I’ve been saying that since Maomao is under my hire, it’s only right for her to continue to live in my residence, and to serve me alone.”

The way Jinshi says those words sends a shiver through her gut, the possessive note in his tone not going unnoticed by anyone in the room.

Gyokuyou’s delighted little giggle breaks through the silence that follows Jinshi’s statement, a delicate hand covering her mouth. “Well, that’s quite an argument. What are your thoughts, Maomao? What do you think about serving the Prince alone?”

Weighed down by the combined forces of both their gazes, Maomao bows behind her arms, hiding her suddenly flushed expression. This is becoming quite a problem. She never had this much of an issue with keeping a straight face before all of… this.

“It would not be up to me to decide, Empress Gyokuyou,” Maomao says once she trusts her voice to remain even, eyes peeking over her arms.

Gyokuyou pouts, almost theatrically. “Oh, Maomao, don’t you miss me at all?”

Maomao is unsure how to respond, and is grateful when Jinshi saves her from having to do so.

“Oh, please,” Jinshi huffs petulantly, crossing his arms. “She can still come visit you any time, Empress. You have plenty of ladies in waiting at your beck and call. You don’t need her. I do.”

“Oh you need her, do you?” Gyokuyou fires back quickly, a triumphant grin curling on her lips.

Jinshi falters, a sudden flush climbing up his neck. Gyokuyou doesn’t let him respond.

“I would imagine you don’t need her all that much, considering all these rumors of a new lover warming your bed at night.”

Maomao chokes on a gasp, stunned by Gyokuyou’s bluntness.

The Empress simply blinks innocently, but this time, she meets Maomao’s eyes as she speaks. “Unless this mystery woman can’t serve you as adequately as Maomao?”

Jinshi just stares, for another moment. And yet, he recovers much more quickly than Maomao.

The sudden grin he throws Gyokuyou’s way is both blinding and vicious. “Trust me, her performance is much more than adequate.”

“I’m sure it is,” Gyokuyou murmurs in response, still looking at Maomao. “So much more than adequate that her… performance was heard rooms away, or so I hear.”

Jinshi just settles back into his seat in response, shifting his own gleaming gaze to Maomao. “You see why I must keep her now, Empress?”

Weren’t they just talking about the hypothetical lover of Jinshi’s? How did the conversation return to Maomao?

“Hmm,” Gyokuyou hums thoughtfully, tilting her head. “I see. Who am I to stand in the way of a good performance, then?”

A knowing light glimmers deep in the Empress’ gaze, delighted and joyful.

Wait-

Gyokuyou doesn’t know that it’s Maomao who puts on said performance, does she?

No, no, absolutely not-

Maomao’s eyes dart once again, sharp anxiety gnawing at her gut as she watches the two figures that stand closest to the top of the hierarchy of this nation discuss her nightly performance in barely veiled language.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Jinshi purrs, heedless to the sharp thoughts that rush through Maomao’s brain. “Maomao stays with me.”

And with that, Jinshi all but confirms for the Empress that the so-called mystery woman is no one other than Maomao.

The embarrassment that burns through her body is as sudden as the fury that licks at her chest. That idiot – if people find out, it will cause nothing but trouble for the both of them.

Not to mention, his unending talk about her performance in front of the Empress – how utterly humiliating.

Maomao glares down at the floor, hides her face behind her arms once more. She seethes even as Gyokuyou giggles again, far too proud of herself.

Jinshi – that idiot, that godsdamned sadist. He just loves to see her squirm.

He wants to comment on her performance so badly? Fine, then, she’ll make sure he knows exactly how that feels.

When Maomao is finally dismissed, she makes her way directly to Jinshi’s office.

---

Jinshi’s pace as he walks towards his quarters later that day is slow, languid.

It’s the pace of a man who knows that, finally, his dreams and goals and life are falling into place.

The naming of the new Crown Prince is like a boulder lifted off of Jinshi’s shoulders. The close proximity of Maomao and the delightful nights he’d spent with her ever since she’d moved into his home are nothing short of paradise. And, sure, she might still be convincing herself that their arrangement is all about her serving him and taking his punishments – but to him, he sees it as his beloved darling coming one step closer to being officially his.

Overall, not an awful time to be Jinshi.

He steps into his office, and not even the daunting pile of reports that sits on the edge of his desk can ruin his good mood. He makes his way towards the table, faltering when he notices a stray piece of parchment right in the middle of his desk, alone in the space he knows he’d left empty earlier that morning.

Jinshi frowns, stepping closer. “Gaoshun?”

“Yes, Young Master?” He replies from his post by the office door.

“Has anyone entered my office today?” Jinshi’s fingers linger by the edge of the paper, eyes roving curiously over short, neat columns of text.

 

Performance review:

Day 1 – uncreative. 2/5

Day 2 – left unfinished. 3/5…

 

“Aside from the usual servants and guards, only Xiaomao.”

 

Day 3 – painful frog. 4/5

Day 4 – humiliating. 2/5

Day 5 – just mean. 3/5…

 

“You did say she can come and go within your residence as she pleases.”

 

Day 6 – poison. 5/5

Day 7 – even more humiliating. 1/5

 

Jinshi’s throat is dry, parched. His hands now grip the piece of paper between white-knuckled fists. His eyes flit back and forth between columns of text, mind rushing, deciphering. Day 1-7. Unfinished… humiliating… frog. Frog.

Oh. Oh.

Did she just… rate their sexual encounters? And leave it on his desk for all to see?

And most importantly – two out of five? One out of five?

“Did anyone else see this?”

Gaoshun clears his throat. “Likely the servants that have passed through, before I noticed it. There’s certainly been some… gossip, flying around.”

Before he noticed it. Jinshi’s eyes flick upwards, towards his loyal attendant. “Did you read this.”

Gaoshun’s eyes don’t meet his. “I don’t believe this is a discussion you want to have with me, Young Master.”

Jinshi glares back down at the offending parchment in his hands, flush rising to his cheeks. Performance review. A growing anger licks at his throat, makes him want to find a certain apothecary and show her exactly what he thinks of her little stunt.

She wanted to tease him with the possibility of discovery of their relationship? Fine – in fact, he’s all for it. He’s rather sure half of his residence – including Gaoshun and Suiren, embarrassingly – are already more than aware that Maomao doesn’t live one door down from him in the finest suite simply as his ‘servant’.

But to rate his ‘performance’, to leave it in plain sight, to publicly humiliate him and give him as low as a one out of five?

A naughty little cat is about to pay.

It appears he’ll be clearing his plans for the rest of the day.

---

Maomao shifts from foot to foot, nerves pooling in her gut. Jinshi sits at his bedroom table, sipping on a steaming cup of jasmine tea, almost casually. Very little else about this situation is casual.

In front of him, across the otherwise empty table, lies a long, thin rod of green bamboo, capped off by a simple handle.

She’s terrified to confirm what she already knows he’s planning.

“You know why I called you here, tonight?” Jinshi’s voice startles her out of her haze, the eyes that had burned the shape of the cane into her retinas jumping to meet his.

Maomao purses her lips, irritation flaring. “Because I got payback for that humiliating display in front of the Empress, and you can’t handle the taste of your own medicine, sir.”

This was the wrong thing to say.

Jinshi places his cup down, rises to his feet slowly, measuredly. Every step is self-assured, every movement accounted for – the assertiveness rolling off his shoulders like a potent wave of dominance that washes over her as he approaches. Something sudden and warm lights her chest at the sight of confidence he’d found in his role with her.

Without a word, he comes to a stop right in front of her, cranes his neck down to look at her, letting her squirm in the silence.

When he does speak, he does so softly, enunciating every word. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, apothecary? For that little stunt you pulled rating my performance? Humiliating me in a manner anyone could see?”

Maomao swallows, a shiver running down her spine. She can’t seem to find her voice.

His eyes are hard, stony. The lick of real anger that dances in his pupils makes her gut clench in desire.

Her eyes flit past Jinshi, drop back down to the awful length of bamboo. She remembers the sting of Gram’s disciplinary rod against her hands, chastising her for pouring tea incorrectly, or breaking a vase. But this, will be so much worse.

Maomao gulps. “Seems like an overreaction.”

Jinshis raises a brow, unamused. “Mouthing off again, are we? That’s an extra stroke of the cane, apothecary.”

Fuck.

“Please, not the cane, Master Jinshi.” Maomao manages to whisper.

“Not yet, darling,” Jinshi replies, stern, “you’re going to prepare something for me, first.”

Maomao inhales a stuttered breath, nervous. “Prepare what?”

Jinshi grins, but not with glee. He looks downright predatory.

Maomao thinks she might be in for a longer night than she’d anticipated.

---

Maomao stands in a shadowy corner of Jinshi’s private kitchen, hands moving methodically, conducting her preparation.

She can only pray that no one stumbles upon her. Her hands shake, just a little, her breaths shallow. Her face is on fire.

She cannot believe this jerk. He actually went through with his threat.

Everything gets exponentially worse when she hears a pair of footsteps join her in the kitchen.

“Maomao? What are you doing in the kitchen at such a late hour?”

Maomao tilts her face away from the sound of Suiren’s voice, hiding her darkening flush. She looks down at her hands once more, a thrill of anxiety rushing through her gut at the sight of what she’s holding.

A length of raw ginger, half-peeled.

“M- master Jinshi requested some ginger tea,” Maomao lies, voice coming out stuttered. Her shaky hand slices off another piece of the peel, watches it flutter down into the basket by her feet.

“Hm.” Suiren’s response is short. “I see.”

The disbelief in her tone is palpable.

Gods, no, if Suiren has any inkling as to what goes on between her and Jinshi-

No. No. Right?

“He’s had a sore throat, and a bit of a cough,” Maomao rambles as she continues peeling the ginger, still not daring to look at Suiren. “Ginger would soothe the ache in his throat, and speed up his recovery. And a tea would provide him with much-needed fluids.”

“Of course,” Suiren interrupts her ramble, sounding almost amused. “I’m sure you know best, as his personal apothecary.”

“Yeah,” Maomao chokes out rather pathetically, humiliation gripping at her throat.

“Alright, then,” Suiren says lightly, “I’m sure I’m leaving the Young Master in good hands.”

Maomao can only hum in response, nodding her head as she continues her task. Suiren steps out, then, thankfully, leaving her alone in the far-too-loud silence. Maomao continues her work, every slip of her knife bringing her one step closer to pain and torment.

What a petulant man – he embarrasses her and then gets indignant about her doing it right back to him.

Nonetheless, she finishes her work dutifully, unwilling to incur any more of Jinshi’s wrath. Her knife releases the last bit of peel, and she steps back, raw, peeled ginger in her grasp, a little too big for her comfort, but the smallest one she could find that is well-shaped for figging. Before Maomao leaves the kitchen to face her doom, she ensures to slice deep scores into the ginger so the juices flow freely, lest Jinshi sends her back to do this humiliating task all over again.

On her walk back, she doesn’t think about the leaking ginger juices, about how they will feel punishing her from the inside, how much it will hurt every time she clenches around the root-

She doesn’t think about it. And she definitely doesn’t think about the bite of that awful bamboo cane, lashing unforgiving stripes into her poor backside, stuffed with ginger.

It’s a very, very long walk back to Jinshi’s bedroom.

By the time she returns, it feels like she’d ran the distance, breaths shallow.

She finds him sitting at his table once again, sipping on his tea as if nothing is amiss. The cane still lies before him, somehow appearing even more threatening than before. Jinshi sees her – but he lets her wait, lets her stew in her own nervousness as he finishes his cup, slowly, sets it down carefully before him. His eyes drop to the ginger clenched in her shaking hand, his lips slant sharply.

“Bring that over here,” he says, dangerous edge to his voice. “Then hand me my cane.”

Maomao sucks in a sharp breath, fingers squeezing into a white-knuckled grip. Shit. Right now? Already?

Fuck.

“Jinshi- Master Jinshi, sir,” Maomao stammers, eyes tracing the length of the cane, very unlike herself. “I don’t-”

“You’re on thin ice, apothecary.” Jinshi speaks over her, not allowing her to finish her thought – whether it was going to come out as indignation, apology, or plea. “No more interruptions – hesitate to obey me again, and I will keep tacking on the strikes.”

Maomao whimpers, lip already beginning to tremble with the promise of tears. The possibility of another extra stroke – how many would that be in total? The fear, the desperation, it all pools together into a medley of heat and need and desire deep in her gut.

She moves, then, obediently, places the ginger into Jinshi’s waiting palm, wraps her fingers around the handle of the cane. He’s an arm’s length away, he could pick it up himself, Maomao thinks, pouting. Annoying.

When she lifts her implement of torment, she notices immediately how light it is, how the tip of the bamboo cane sways just a bit, flexible. In a way, it’s almost like a switch, bendy and whippy.

Somehow, the thought only scares her further. A hard cane would hurt, but in a solid, even manner. This bamboo cane can flick almost like a whip, with enough force, while maintaining the rough ridges and bumps of solid bamboo.

She forces her arm to reach out, to hand the cane to Jinshi before he considers this terrified pause as hesitation, before she can spiral enough to snap the cane in half and run away.

“Good,” Jinshi says simply, pulling the cane from her trembling fingers. “Strip, bend over, and put your hands on the wall”

There’s not much Maomao can do to put off the inevitable – she drops her clothing, walks over to the wall slowly, manages to get away with hesitating for a moment, looking over her shoulder with fear in her eyes, to find nothing but determination in Jinshi’s gaze. A raised, dangerous eyebrow from him later, and then she’s bending at the hips, exposing her backside to the cool room, palms pressed to painted wood.

She wonders if she should try to plead again, to beg him not to use the cane on her – but her terrified lips are far too worried about getting another extra stroke added on for speaking at all.

Eventually, she hears him shift, get to his feet. Maomao breathes heavily, wide eyes staring down at the floor, not daring to look over her shoulder to see what Jinshi is doing. His footsteps approach, measured and self-assured.

“You know,” Jinshi muses out loud, suddenly, almost conversationally, “I think I just might need to schedule some regular spankings for you as a precaution, instead of waiting until you act up. Set aside some time, maybe once a week, to put you over my knee and remind you of your place. More often if you’re acting particularly bratty, less if you’re being a good girl. What do you think about that, darling?”

She flushes in response, the idea of scheduling spankings clearly just another ploy to humiliate her further. Her fingers curl into the wall, brow forming into a scowl.

“I think you’re an asshole.”

A beat of heavy silence follows. Maomao bites down on her lip, a wave of regret washing through her body. Why has it become so damn hard to watch her mouth around him?

When Jinshi speaks once more, his tone is no longer conversational. “Second extra stroke of the cane for you, then.”

And then, the tip of something blunt and slippery presses between the cheeks of her backside, the tip of something she’d forgotten about entirely in the past few moments.

Maomao is so startled that she nearly jumps out of position against the wall, catching herself just in time before Jinshi can reprimand her. She forces herself to keep her backside presented for her figging even as she flushes in potent indignation, even as she curses him out under her breath, only to exclaim a choked cry as Jinshi pushes the entire head of the ginger into her bottom in one cruel thrust, tremors spearing through her body.

“This asshole is going to enjoy watching yours struggle not to clench around the ginger with every strike,” he says, brushing his knuckles over her bottom to the sound of her whimpers, tight hole spasming painfully around the sudden intrusion, unable to adjust as quickly as he’d forced her opening to spread, “and to see you get progressively more frantic as the burn really sets in.”

Maomao grits her teeth, shifting her weight from heel to heel, palms flattened against the wall, the heat of the ginger juices not yet soaked into her sensitive tissue, not yet setting her aflame from within. Knowing her luck, the moment the pain of being stretched begins to abate, the burn of the root will take her to a whole new level of torment. Her backside clenches at the thought, sending a heated flush of shame to her face.

She’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but she thinks her stretched opening is already beginning to feel a little warmer than it should.

Jinshi steps away, a gentle breeze of air indicating his distance.

“For your first review – what was it, two out of five, uncreative?” Jinshi says, irritation biting at his tone. “You’ll be getting three. Count, out loud.”

That’s the only warning she gets.

The first stroke of the cane whistles loudly through the air. It cracks across the curve of her backside before she can flinch at the noise, and all thoughts of staying in position fly out of her brain like terrified birds.

A bolt of hot lightning spears through her pelvis, brutally harsh – Maomao bolts upright with a shriek, twisting around sharply to hide her back against the wall. She bounces from foot to foot in an attempt to alleviate the hurt, her hands flying back to press to her backside, covering the stinging, rising line that throbs hot and swollen on her skin. Her bottom tremors around the ginger, soft tingles of warmth beginning to fire her up from the inside as wet heat gathers in her neglected cunt.

Holy fuck.  

Maomao looks up at Jinshi through wide, shining eyes, still processing the overwhelming sensations that have assaulted her from all directions. A little moan whistles past her lips as her fingers press against the growing welt, elicit a delicious sting. The corner of Jinshi’s mouth twitches up.

“That’s a third extra, Maomao, for moving.” He taps the cane threateningly against his palm. “And we’ll be starting from the beginning, since you didn’t count out loud. Get back into position, and do not break it again.”

She cowers against the wall, terrified. Starting from the beginning… oh, gods, how many is she going to end up receiving?

He raises a brow. “Do you want a fourth extra?”

That sends her into action. She pouts a trembling lip, shaking her head at the unfairness of it all as she turns around slowly. The jerk started it by teasing her in front of Gyokuyou, and now she has to pay. She can’t help but to whimper as her hands shift away from her backside, press to the wall, removing the last layer of protection from Jinshi’s cane. She bends at the hips, and the shift brings with it a hotter flush of warmth from the ginger inside her, its stinging juices starting to truly sink into her skin.

For a moment, nothing happens. She hears footsteps walk away, hands rummage in a cabinet. Before she can wonder what he’s planning, Jinshi is back at her side, this time with a familiar rope in his hands. With a single hand, he pulls both of her arms together, shoves them down lower so she’s bent at a steeper angle, and begins to wind the rope around her wrists.

“This is for your own good,” he chides, so patronizingly that her cheeks burn scarlet, her cunt too. “This way you won’t be able to reach back, and get your arms in the way of the cane. We wouldn’t want to injure your hands, would we?”

How does this prick manage to make something so thoughtful sound so condescending?

Maomao pouts, unwilling to snap back and incur more strokes of that awful cane. The welting line on her backside continues to burn. Jinshi leans back, then, satisfied with his work, and all it takes is a little jerk of her wrists for Maomao to confirm that he’d secured her hands well enough that she won’t be freeing them anytime soon.

She jumps to her toes when she feels the sudden press of the cane against her bottom, reminding her of what he’s here to do, threatening her with what is to come.

“Now, let’s continue. If your spanking was so uncreative that first time, I’m sure this has got to be better.” Jinshi says lightly, rubbing the cane against her trembling skin. “Isn’t that right, Maomao?”

Maomao bites her lip, hard, not wanting to answer, debating if her silence is worth further punishment.

Jinshi doesn’t give her a chance to decide.

The cane lifts from her skin, and as quickly as it’s gone, it’s whipping back down against her backside once again.

“Ah- ahh!” Maomao cries out, elbows bending as she jerks forward from the impact, a parallel line of torment beneath the one that still throbs from moments ago. Her backside clenches inadvertently, and her head swims from the sudden flush of stinging heat that burns at her insides, the ginger only more potent moment by moment. “Ow, owww…”

She sobs out harsh breaths, the fires of the cane and ginger glowing hot through her bottom. A silence stretches, for a moment, and a pulse of horror shoots through her heart as she recalls Jinshi’s command.

“One! O- one…” Maomao whimpers, straightening her elbows to her original position, praying her hesitancy didn’t earn her another strike.

“Good girl.”

She doesn’t get to feel the opportunity to feel relief at his words, before the cane meets its target with a loud, punishing crack, followed immediately by another.

“Fuck!” Maomao exclaims, slapping her palms against the wall at the fresh sting, double the pain, bringing tears to her eyes. “Two, three- three, sir…”

The ginger burns through her backside, waves of pain slicing at her with every clench of her bottom. A string of whimpers falls from her lips.

“Let’s move onto the next review of yours,” Jinshi states evenly, over her pathetic little noises of despair. “Three out of five – left unfinished? We’ll finish it today, then. That’s two more for you.”

The next strike lands below the prior three, a burning line across the sensitive skin where her thighs meet her backside. The tears spill, throat curling around a sob. “F- four.”

When the cane lifts from her skin, Maomao can’t help but to clench her backside in preparation, hoping to soften the blow, which only drags a sharp gasp from her lips as the ginger retaliates for her motion. She relaxes her bottom, almost inadvertently, and Jinshi chooses that moment to lay down the next strike, when her trembling skin is most vulnerable.

“Fiiiive!” Maomao wails, bouncing to her toes from the impact, now on the thin skin of her upper thighs, cruel and biting. Her shoulders curl in, but she remains in position, bent at the hips, staring down at the floor below her as a tear makes it to her chin, drips off her face to land in a tiny puddle.

The ginger inside her gives her no rest, no moment of reprieve, burning steadily, now, igniting her from within, licking flames up her gut any time she tenses and making her head go fuzzy with red-tinged bliss.

“For your four out of five review of my frog, you’ll only be getting one.”

Crack! Maomao sobs louder, fingers curling into fists against the wall, straining uselessly against her binds. “Six.”

“For the two out of five on day four, you’ll pay with three more.”

Crack! “Seven!” Crack! “Ahh- ah! Ei- eight…Jinshi-” Crack! “Jinshi- Jinshi, owwww, niiiine…”

“For the three out of five, when I was just so mean, you’ve earned two.”

“No, no-” Crack! “Ow! Ten, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Crack! “AH! Eleven… el- el- eleven…”

Jinshi pauses, mercifully, lets her process the swarm of sensations spearing through her body.

Maomao cries, tears now dripping freely off her chin. Her entire backside burns, a sheet of fire covering her from her thighs to the upper curve of her bottom. The length of awful ginger had reached its peak potency, she thinks, adding to the flames whether she clenches around it or not, the most humiliating of punishments. Her cunt betrays her, leaking down trembling thighs. Her arms shake from holding herself up against the wall, hips aching from her position.

And yet, there are still two more reviews left to go, not to mention the ‘extra’ strikes she’d earned.

She’s so fucked.

---

Jinshi’s gaze roves over the bare, trembling curves and angles of Maomao’s body, open and vulnerable to him. Sobbed little whimpers fall from her lips continuously, tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s such a beautiful sight, as always, whether if she’s smiling with joy, resting peacefully, or crying in blissful pain.

He gives her this moment to catch her breath, to prepare herself for the rest of her punishment, although rather selfishly – he just wants to watch her for a little longer, haze of lust and desire clouding every ounce of his thoughts. Red welts bloom hot across her backside in parallel lines, not hard enough to break skin. He’d been careful, very careful. He’d practiced his aim days before now, until he knew he wouldn’t hurt her more than she could handle – no, frankly, more than he could handle. He’s rather sure she could take a lot more than he could give, but he has his own limits, too.

His hand lands gently on her lower back, giving her a soft caress. “Since you gave the nettles a five out of five, you won’t be getting any strokes for that. I’m very glad you enjoyed it.”

Maomao sniffles in response, shifting on her feet.

He takes another pause, presses a gentle palm to her thoroughly chastised bottom, enjoys the feeling of her swollen, burning skin, of her flinching in response. Inadvertently, she clenches around the ginger protruding from between her cheeks, falling into a fresh set of sobs as the tensing surely only worsens the burn inside her tight little backside.

“Oh, darling, does it hurt here?” Jinshi coos, fingers sliding towards the base of the ginger, gripping it lightly. He gives it a cruel twist.

Maomao howls. She cries and shakes, squirming away from the feeling, unable to escape the fresh burn. And yet, she remains in position, bound hands on the wall, bent at the hips – just as he’d commanded.

“Or maybe here?” Jinshi slips his hand lower, leaves her backside to tremor in pain as he swipes his fingers gently through the folds of her cunt.

She’s so soaking wet, dripping down his fingers, that he can’t help but to chuckle. She moans tearfully, hips bucking into his hand, needy.

“No? Doesn’t hurt here?” He says lightly, swirling his digits through her wetness, rewarding her with a swipe against her clit. “It will soon.”

He feels Maomao freeze under his hand, a concerned little whimper falling from her lips. He’ll let her wonder what he means, for the next little bit; it’s more fun when she can build up her own fear, fear of the unknown. He has something truly fun planned for that wet little cunt of hers – but it will have to wait.

“For your final review, for the one out of five, I’m tempted to simply cane you until you lose your voice screaming,” Jinshi warns, stepping back, lining up the edge of the cane with an untouched sliver of her backside. “But I think the four points-worth that you denied me will do.”

And so, he continues taking his anger out on his favourite toy.

He lays down a harsh, even line on her skin, watches as red blooms to life, as Maomao cries out ‘twelve!’ and trembles from head to toe.

“You wrote out a performance review, left it out for all to see, for all to think that I’ve been underperforming for you,” Jinshi says, recalling his earlier frustration, infusing it into his tone. “What do you have to say to me?”

“I- I- I’m sorry,” Maomao blubbers, still squirming, on her toes now. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left the note there- OW! Thir- thirteen…”

“Are you, now?” He chides lowly.

He whips the cane down again, paints another line onto hurt skin.

“Fuck- fuck- fourteen! Jinshi-”

“You’re really sorry?”

Maomao opens her mouth, begins to plead her apologies once more.

He lifts the cane, readies himself-

And for the final stroke, snaps it diagonally across the stripes on her skin.

Maomao crumples. He anticipates her, curls an arm under her belly before she can fall and hurt herself, pulling her to his body as she shrieks.

“Fifteen… fifteen…” Maomao cries, bound hands clinging onto his arm, knees shaking, unable to hold herself up any longer. She turns and burrows her face in his chest with a string of sobs, arms curling into his chest, clinging to him for comfort.

Jinshi pulls her into his arms, careful to avoid her punished skin, carries her to his bed. Gently, he lays her down onto her stomach, giving her poor bottom a rest, red and swollen with welts, ginger sticking out threateningly.

Maomao curls her hands into the sheets, adjusting her bound wrists beneath her. She sniffles against the fabric, and Jinshi leans down to place a kiss to her glowing bottom.

“Pain, pain, go away,” he murmurs softly against her welts, a sly little smile gracing his lips when he notices Maomao shift to toss an indignant glare over her shoulder.

Tear-streaked and still shaking, yet fiery and bratty. Perfect, time to move on to the step he’d been most excited for.

His grin grows bigger, dangerous, and it’s such a joy, as always, to see that adorable little scowl turn into apprehension. “You haven’t forgotten about those extra strokes you’ve earned, have you?”

That apprehension transforms entirely into terror.

“Jinshi-”

“Get on your knees.”

Maomao sucks in a whimpering breath, wide eyes filling with fresh, fearful tears. “Sir- it hurts-”

“Now, apothecary.”

Her lower lip trembles, and she sucks it in, stills it in her mouth. A moment passes as they stare each other down, then another, and he sees the shift – the way her eyes develop a hazy shine, the way her brows draw upwards. He sees the veil of submission that curls over her shoulders, that extends her tied hands above her head and slides her knees up under her to lift her backside into the air. There’s this openness in her gaze, in her gestures, this faith, faith in him, in what he will do to her, in how he will care for her. It’s this utter yielding of control, of her body and mind, which feeds the dominant side of him, the side that wants to own, to protect, to devote himself to her and everything she stands for.

Jinshi feels that heat of being in total control flooding him to the core, filling him with confidence and desire to push her to the point of delirious bliss, to claim his Maomao as his own as she begs him to do so without word, but with every fiber of her being.

He places a gentle hand on her bottom, watches the shiver that racks up her spine, the way she trembles around the ginger still burning at her punishingly. A hot, heady haze descends over his gaze, his mind, his cock, paints everything a muted, demanding red. He wants her, all of her, every crevice of her body, every nook and cranny of that beautiful mind, he wants it intertwined with his soul until he forgets where he ends and she begins, until she feels his love, devotion, worship, as her own.

“Spread your knees,” Jinshi commands, as if from a distance, thumb circling over a welt in a particularly pretty shade of scarlet, gaze burning into the slick space between her thighs that slowly reveals itself as she does as he says.

Mine. The thought pulses through him so potently that it results in a real shiver, that it causes his hand to twitch and grip to tighten over a cheek of her bottom, eliciting a soft whine as he presses on her cane marks, as the ginger shifts inside her from the motion. “Wider.”

Maomao lets out a scared sob, possibly anticipating what he’s planning, likely wondering if he’s really about to do it, but she follows his order immediately, knees sliding as far apart as they can, hips tilting up, arching her back to a nearly painful angle, presenting her open cunt to him.

He stares as her folds part for him naturally from the stretch of her thighs, welcoming him inside, arousal dribbling to her clit, dripping to the sheets. Mine.

With a final, possessive squeeze of her bottom, he lets her go, takes a moment to finish basking in the sight of her weeping cunt, exposed and vulnerable, offered up for punishment while surrounded by the scarlet, swollen evidence of the pain her backside had endured all evening. Right above, he can see how her bottom twitches around the girth of the ginger, bigger than he thought she would have chosen – although to no complaints from him.

The idea of her staring down at the selection of ginger available, telling, convincing herself that she’s choosing this one for some arbitrary reason, when really, deep down, she knows just how big of a piece of ginger she deserves to be punished with? It fills his cock with boiling desire for his obedient little apothecary, and only deepens the red haze of dominance and control that had settled over his body.

Jinshi has to force himself to take a deep breath, then to exhale it. If he continues to stare, she will end up just staying like this all night.

Not a bad thought – Jinshi saves the idea for another time.

“Do you remember how many extra strokes you’ve earned, darling?” Jinshi asks with a purr in his voice, reaching out for her cunt, startling her into a little gasp when his thumb traces straight down the wet seam, peels it open further.

“Th- three, sir,” Maomao whimpers into the bed, the fingers of her tied hands curling into the sheets, tightly enough to shake.

“That’s right.” Jinshi hums in approval, pulling away once more. This time, he readies himself – between her thighs, he places the cane into a position he’d practiced for just this moment, uses his free hand to pull back on the flexible tip to create a bit of upward tension - just enough. “Count.”

And, without further delay, he releases the tip, and allows it to snap down on Maomao’s waiting cunt.

Like a man starved, he drinks up her shocked, pained reaction with every sense the gods have bestowed up on him.

Her response is delayed – the cane makes contact with her folds, a little skewed to the right, and for a prolonged, delicious moment, she simply freezes.

And then, she feels it.

Her body jerks forward violently with a howl, knees folding in together automatically in a useless attempt to protect her cunt. Her backside squeezes, clenching so tightly around the ginger insider her that it only seems to add to her loud cries. No later than the shriek peters out, she begins to bawl anew.

“JINSHI, JINSHI,” she wails his name into the bed, bound hands slapping at the sheets, eyes squeezed shut into tight, overwhelmed lines, “OW- owww, ahh… o- one…”

He grins, delighted. He grabs her thigh, manhandles her back into position to the chorus of her sobs, spread and open for him. He does a quick check, sees a pale pink line swell over her folds from the flick of the cane, nothing serious or damaging. He’s sure it feels a lot worse than it looks, but, well, that’s rather the point – giving his beloved masochist all the pain she desires, while ensuring no long-term physical harm.  

He trails a casual thumb over the light red strip, commends himself on his aim across one side of her folds.

Now, for the other side.

He shifts the cane slightly to the side, pulls back on the tip with his free hand, and allows it to land a matching line on the left, unmarked side of her folds.

Having already been steadily weeping, Maomao’s only reaction is a temporarily loud hitch in her sobs, and a violent tremor traveling down her legs. She remains on her knees, bottom tight around the punishing ginger.

“Two!” she cries, face fully buried in the sheets, now.

“You’re taking it so well, my darling,” he praises her, the rumble of dominance shaking his chest, filling him with pride at how well his submissive takes her punishment. “Now, for the last one, spread your knees just a bit wider for me.”

Maomao obeys without hesitation, deep in that space that makes her melt for him to order her around. Her knees slide open as far as she can manage, the motion peeling her folds apart just a bit further, allowing more moisture to dribble down her slit.

Jinshi aligns his cane right down the middle. Her neglected little hole peers up at him, weeping arousal, her clit peeking out from under its hood below, searching for pleasure. He pulls back on the tip of the cane, aims, releases-

And lands a perfect strike from clit to opening.

Maomao’s hips drop, feet kicking so hard that the bed shakes. She muffles a howl into the sheets, thighs trembling from overstimulation. The manner in which she trembles and whines is nothing short of divine, narrowing his eyesight, his mind, into the singular goal of loving her, devouring her, protecting her, owning her. Jinshi grabs her hips, manhandles her back to her knees. She can only let out another loud, desperate sob, before Jinshi forces open her thighs, and shoves two long fingers deep into her swollen cunt.

“It hurts now, doesn’t it?” Jinshi growls, curling his fingers, seeking out that sweet spot inside her that begs for his torment. “Getting your caned cunt fingerfucked as you struggle not to clench around the ginger, forced towards orgasm as every ounce of pleasure only compounds the pain.”

Vulgarities drip off Jinshi’s tongue, slide down his throat and make red lust pulse in the corners of his vision. He reaches into his robes, grasps his hard, leaking cock, the first stroke making him groan.

His eyes can’t seem to lock onto anything in particular, jumping from Maomao’s sore, leaking cunt stretching around two, three fingers, to Maomao’s caned backside, red and welted, to how Maomao squeezes around the ginger painfully, to Maomao’s shaking torso, to Maomao’s mindless, blissed-out eyes and mouth open in a perpetual moan, to Maomao, Maomao, Maomao.

Maomao, his Maomao, a vessel of pleasure, beautiful, perfect, a goddess, his, his, his-

Jinshi finishes across her punished backside with a stuttered moan, hot arousal spilling onto her skin, claiming her, owning her. He re-doubles his efforts in her cunt, reaching a thumb for her sore clit, rubbing it roughly as she cries out in pain and pleasure at the feeling, body spasming.

“Please- sir, please, please can I come-” Maomao begs, voice shot, barely-there, still recalling to ask him for permission, still remembering, even in the middle of her bliss.

The possessive heat in his chest swells, fills him to the brim. “Yes, Maomao. Come for me.”

And that she does.

Her cunt clenches around his fingers, throbs with her orgasm, sobbed cries spilling from her lips as the climax forces her to tighten around the ginger even harder.

He watches as her spasms slow, as her orgasm ebbs away into a gentle thrum under her skin, body going slack. He removes his fingers to no response, Maomao’s face entirely relaxed with bliss, eyes half-shut, mouth open and drooling slightly onto his sheets.

He watches in delight, but only at first, his own heat and arousal and possessiveness fading away, the kind of high he'd never felt before, slowly but surely, taking his delight with them. His sweat clings to his skin, cooling, now, sending a shiver up his spine. He feels both too hot and too cold all at once, dropping the rest of his robes to the floor, needing the air. His eyes slip to Maomao’s backside once more, taking in the red lines of the cane, now seeming much darker and more awful than before, the ginger that sticks out of her too large, too cruel.

He shivers again, averting his eyes.

Maomao whimpers, a small, painful and tragic sound, and his heart skips an uncomfortable beat in his chest.

He needs to take care of her now, that’s his job. Jinshi returns his gaze to her slack body, something painful squeezing at his chest.

He’s not sure what he’s feeling, why he’s feeling, but gods, it’s awful. He feels… hateful, of himself. He stares down at his hands, clenches those punishing fingers into fists. Guilt eats at his raw heart, no buffer of arousal left to relieve the pain.

Take care of her. Now, Jinshi.

Jinshi reaches over, wraps his fingers around the base of the ginger. He gives it a gentle pull, but it doesn’t budge, only eliciting a choked little cry from Maomao as her body gives a spasm. The hate in his chest grows, gnaws, as he forces himself to pull harder, until the ginger pops out of her entirely. He sets it aside, reaches for her hands, only for his eyes to begin to burn as he unwraps the rope from her wrists, see the red lines the restraints have left on her delicate skin.

He inhales a broken, stuttering breath. He suddenly feels like he just wants to cry.

He looks up at the ceiling, blinks the moisture away. Stop that – Maomao is the one who’s hurt, the one he hurt, he needs to take care of her.

He can’t help it – the strange emotions fill his chest, expand it to the brim. A tear forms, rolls down his cheek, then another. He’s unable to stop it before it drips down, lands on the back of Maomao’s neck, a little whimper forcing itself from his throat.

He feels Maomao tense beneath him, her slack body going suddenly rigid.

A shaky hand reaches for the back of her neck, traces the tearstain he left behind. A few more tears drip, land on her hand. His breaths are almost sobs, now.

Maomao twists around, the hazy look in her eyes lighting up with focus, brow furrowed in concern.

“Jinshi, are you okay?” Even her voice is hoarse, scratched from her screams, and Jinshi can’t help but to let out a real sob, now.

“I- I’m sorry…” he hiccups tearfully, shoulders curling in, trying to make himself smaller. He’s not sure what he’s apologizing her. For this sudden, unexpected burst of emotion, contrasting the delirious high from moments ago. For hurting her – today, every other time. For dragging her into this, into his life, at all.

He looks into her eyes. She looks so, so sad. Just another thing that’s his fault – he made her sad.

“Jinshi,” Maomao murmurs, reaching for him, “my Jinshi, what’s wrong?”

Hers. That – that’s enough to fully break him.

He returns her embrace, wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her into his body, cries into her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Maomao’s hand travels into his hair, the other trailing to his back, rubbing it comfortingly. “Why are you sorry?”

“Why?” He repeats, incredulous, sob rocking through his chest, pulling her in tighter, selfishly. He should let her go, let her free. “I hurt you. I keep hurting you. Worse and worse – and you don’t stop me. Why do you let me hurt you?”

He knows she likes pain – but she could do that to herself, she could control exactly what kind of pain she craves. Why him?

Maomao’s hand freezes on his back, inhale sharp. After a moment, she pulls back. The hand in his hair trails down to his neck, presses on it gently until he looks down, meets her eyes.

Her teeth are biting on her lip, eyes serious. “Because I trust you. I trust you more than… anyone. More than myself sometimes, I think.”

Her hand slips away from his back, cups his cheek. The warmth of her palm is palm is so, so nice. Jinshi leans into it, feeling more centered, more comforted, hiccupping through a soft sob.

“I enjoy the lack of control,” she says, eyes so, so earnest, “because I know you will never hurt me in a manner I don’t desire. I trust you, Jinshi. I need you to trust me, trust that I will tell you if it gets to be too much, that I will keep my promise. Do you trust me?”

Does he trust her?

Of course. With his life.

Jinshi sniffles, nuzzles into her hand. “You’re okay?”

Maomao nods. “I’m okay.”

Jinshi swallows past the lump in his throat, trails his eyes to her flushed, parted lips. “Okay. I trust you.”

Maomao hums softly, the thumb on his cheek moving gently, caressing his cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

Jinshi sniffles away his tears. “Better.”

“I promise,” she murmurs, eyes flitting away shyly, “there is nothing about our arrangement I regret. I don’t regret the punishments.”

Jinshi’s heart thumps painfully, deep in his chest. Punishments. She still thinks of it as simply punishments.

Perhaps that’s his fault. Perhaps he needs to trust her, trust that she will accept his feelings, that she will hear him. Perhaps it’s time, time to tell her the truth.

I trust you, she’d said, so, so sincerely. She trusts him more than anyone.

Perhaps it’s time.

His hand moves to hers, holds it tighter against his cheek.

He doesn’t expect her to respond. He just hopes she doesn’t reject him, doesn’t run.

He takes a deep breath, meets her open gaze. “I love you, Maomao.”

Her breath catches in her lungs – her eyes go wide. She freezes, for a moment, and he fears the worst – that she will tell him off, that she will leave his embrace and make him face the night alone, while he’s still so rattled.

“You- you-” she chokes out, tremor in her voice. A soft, pretty blush rises to her cheeks, mouth parting.

“I love you,” he repeats, emboldened by the sight of her, so lovely, so perfect. “I love-”

He cuts himself off with a startled inhale, because Maomao has moved, because she has leaned in closer, breaths no more than small puffs of warm air, sliding against his chin.

And then she presses her mouth to his, and Jinshi forgets how to breathe.

She pulls away quickly, the kiss no more than a quick brush of lips. Perhaps a way to shut him up, to tell him his words are too much, too early. But it’s a kiss, an admission that some part of her accepts the reality, accepts this – and to him it is everything.

He stares at her, mouth open like a stupid beached fish, unable to formulate a single sentence. He should say something, anything-

But then she flushes redder, and presses her face to chest, hiding. She snuggles into him, body so, so warm. Her soft, tender hand returns to his back, rubs his spine comfortingly.

“I’m more careful now, you know,” Maomao murmurs into his chest, still hiding her face. “When I do my experiments, I don’t put myself at risk like before.”

A moment of silence falls, stretches, and Jinshi doesn’t dare to make a sound, to breathe, waiting to hear what else she has to say.

When she speaks again, her words are so quiet that he can barely hear her. “And I haven’t experimented on myself once since we began our… game, Jinshi. I much prefer when you experiment on me, so to speak.”

His eyes well up again, but this time, it’s not out of sadness, guilt. She doesn’t hurt herself anymore. And it’s because of something he did, because of how he makes her feel, how he devotes himself to her pleasure.

He’s so, so proud of her.

His arms tighten around Maomao, heart thrumming loudly, hopefully.

And for the first time, she didn’t call what they do a punishment.

This time, he’s the one to pull back, to reveal her still-flustered, blushing face.

“I’m going to kiss you again, now.” Is all Jinshi says.

Maomao bites her lip, adorably. She nods.

Eventually, he lifts her out of bed, helps her bathe, returns to bed and falls asleep in her arms as she cradles him, cares for him. And the entire time, he doesn’t think his lips leave hers.

Notes:

Next chapter: Jealous Maomao + overstimulation!

As always, thoughts and suggestions are welcome <3 Quite a few requests ended up covered in this chapter :)

Chapter 9: Devotion and Commitment

Notes:

Well! This is 9k word long! Who would have guessed, adding significant relationship development to porn would make the chapter twice as long 😅 Take breaks lolol

I will preface this by saying the chapter went into a slightly different direction than I expected (there is still jealous maomao and overstimulation, don't worry!) with quite a bit of relationship development and fluff. This chapter is also a bit different from the ones I've written before, best summarized as 'soft domming with feelings', but we will be getting back to our regularly scheduled kinky bdsm soon, don't you worry ;)

Anywho, I hope you enjoy, as always!

Ch. 9 smut CW: Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia (just a lil at the end), Humiliation, Possessive/Jealous Maomao, Orgasm Delay, Penis in Vagina Sex, Anal Plug, sex with anal plug in, soft dom Jinshi, Aphrodisiacs, collaring (the BDSM practice), Sexual Overstimulation, squirting

Jinshi wakes slowly, gently. A tender streak of sunlight warms his cheek, his eyelid, makes him squint and curl up tighter under his sheets. His arm reaches out automatically, fingers grasping, searching for a beloved body.

He feels an empty space where there shouldn’t be one.

Jinshi’s brow furrows, heart skipping an uncomfortable beat as his eyes blink open blearily. He shifts his head, looking out into his room, Maomao’s name already on his lips – but his voice gets stuck in his throat when he spots the most enchanting of sights.

There she stands, the bare lines of her body bathed by sunlight, gorgeous from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. His eyes linger, taking in the pink peaks of her hardened nipples, the mouth-watering lines and curves that lead to the patch of delicate hairs hiding his sweet little cunt. Her body faces him, but her face is turned to look over her shoulder, the elegant line of her neck delicious enough to bite. Behind her, she’s admiring her backside in his polished bronze mirror, eyes glinting, lip bit between her teeth, the lovely curves of her cheekbones dusted with a soft flush.

Her hand is trailing gentle fingers over the stripes of welts on her bottom, raised and red. A fingertip drags a tender line across a spot where two welts intersect, and Jinshi can hear how her breath hitches, see the satisfied little smile that pulls at one corner of her mouth.

Under her delighted scrutiny, her reverent glide of fingers over skin, the patchwork of cane marks almost looks more like a lovely painting than a punishment.

A happiness fills Jinshi’s chest, makes him feel lighter than air. He rises from his bed, approaches her, quietly, eyes unable to leave Maomao’s figure. She doesn’t notice him move, so enraptured by the sight in the mirror.

She gasps when his arms wrap around her waist, face twisting to gaze up at him with the look of a startled cat in her eyes.

“Good morning, darling,” Jinshi purrs. “Admiring the consequences of your punishment? I’m sure you’ll be struggling to sit today.”

Maomao flushes, a little scowl forming on her brow. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

Her hands settle on his chest as he chuckles, as if to push him away, but making no move to actually do so. Her fingers curl into his body instead, and he feels her relax into his frame.

Jinshi grins, leans down to press a kiss to her lips. Maomao squeaks in surprise, lips parting beneath his as if by instinct, and he swallows up the delightful sound. She doesn’t pull back – and he finds a tension he didn’t realize was clinging to his shoulders melt away. Sure, she’d been happy to kiss him last night, but this wouldn’t have been the first time she’d ran from something she’d done with him the night before.

His arms tighten around her waist, pulling her closer to his body, deepening the kiss with a happy sigh. One of his hands slides softly down her body, cups her caned bottom, kneads it gently. Maomao’s palms glide up his chest with a whimper, around his neck, tugging on his hair as she lets his tongue slip into her mouth. After a moment that feels far too short, she pulls back.

He follows her, lips clinging to hers, neck aching from how he cranes it down, unwilling to part from her.

“Jinshi,” she murmurs against his demanding mouth.

“Hm?” Jinshi mumbles, barely coherent, dragging her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. His hand squeezes her backside, elicits a delightful gasp.

“Jinshi.”

Her voice is stern. Jinshi pauses, stops. He releases her lip, brings his hand back to her waist, pulling back with a question in his eyes.

Maomao is flushed, lips parted and swollen from his attention. The sight just makes him want to devour her.

“What’s wrong?” He manages to ask, bringing his fingers to her face, curling a strand of hair behind her ear, beautiful in how it falls loosely down her shoulders.

Maomao crinkles her nose. “I should go wash my mouth before we kiss. I just woke up – it’s gross.”

Jinshi smiles. He leans down, leaves a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Nothing about you will ever be gross to me.”

Maomao purses her lips, as if annoyed. But he sees the way her eyes flit away shyly, for just a moment, how her skin gets a little redder. He sees.

“Have you considered that your breath might be gross?” She mumbles back, squirming out of his hold.

He releases her with a gentle laugh, enjoying the way her body curves and bends as she slips away, begins to grab at the clothes she’d stepped out of last night. He thinks he might order some more clothing for her, hang it up in his closet so she has something clean to dress with in the morning, when she sleeps in his bed. It’s probably a bit too soon to ask her to officially move into his bedroom. It's probably not possible, anyway – the excuse that he needs his servant nearby won’t really work quite to the extent of sharing a bed.

Well, there is one way to get her to move into his room permanently, to officially make her his before the gods and empire…

No. Definitely too soon.

One day.

The thought fills him with a warm, hopeful light. Jinshi’s smile grows, grows until it stings his cheeks, his eyes. He watches as Maomao dresses, as she does it leisurely, not bothering to hide herself from him, fully comfortable with his gaze on the naked curves of her body. The heat of her kiss still warms his lips. The way she didn’t run from his love confession still warms his heart.

One day, he will make Maomao his wife.

---

Maomao flits through an airy, sunlit parlor, slipping in-between bodies, arms laden with a tray of delicacies for the nobility to enjoy. The large, open space is heavy with light chatter, twinkles of laughter bubbling from every corner, hands reaching for the finger foods on Maomao’s plate without sparing her a glance.

As an official royal servant, Maomao does have some duties aside from indulging in her experiments and getting punished by Jinshi, after all. Today, the outer courts are hosting a lavish luncheon for the nobles, featuring troughs of flowing wine, piles of delicious foods, and wealthy, perfumed nobles. Maomao walks among them, alongside the other high-ranking servants, passing out food, avoiding unsavoury figures like the freak strategist. It’s not a difficult job, although she wishes she could be one of the poisons tasters instead, sitting on the sidelines.

Unfortunately, she’s considered important enough now to not be allowed to take such a risk.

She continues on her path, circling the parlor, passing by a concentrated clump of nobles. Laughter bubbles up from the group, a string of it particularly sweet and charming – not for the first time today. And not for the first time today, something dark crumples her heart.

Maomao grits her teeth, trying to ignore the annoying thumping in her chest. But like every time she’d passed by this particular group of nobles, she can’t help but to let her gaze be drawn into the throng of people, primarily young, unmarried, beautiful noble girls, all surrounding the one figure everyone here wants to talk to.

Jinshi fields questions and compliments and eager giggles like a professional courtesan, all polite smiles and half-lidded looks, giving the crowd just enough to hook them, not enough to make any promises. And usually, this wouldn’t bother Maomao. And usually, Maomao understands the realities of the situation, Jinshi’s need to charm and play the people of the court. And usually, she would simply shudder at the fake charm and hope he doesn’t try to use it on her.

But this is not usual, this is not usual, because this time, there is one pretty noble girl standing particularly close to him, one pretty noble girl giggling more delicately than the others, one pretty noble girl with dark hair a similar shade to Maomao’s, with a short stature like Maomao, with big, curious eyes like Maomao, but with delicate curves that compliment her frame perfectly, with jewels and clothes of the most expensive kind, with easy smiles and gentle words, unlike Maomao. There is one pretty noble girl Jinshi seems to be standing particularly close to, gifting her smiles and quick replies.

And Maomao’s heart is twisting darkly in her chest, and she doesn’t understand why.

She’s not stupid, she knows Jinshi will need to marry eventually, that their tentative relationship will not last. But is that it? That she worries he will no longer punish her, will no longer play this game with her, once he has another woman to be intimate with?

That doesn’t feel quite right – she’s survived many years without sexual intimacy, and she had been getting on quite well getting her fix of pain on her own. She’s sure she would survive this too.

So that just doesn’t explain the terrifyingly dark feeling in her chest every time the pretty noble girl leans in a little closer, bats her lashes in that certain manner. The way Maomao’s teeth grit hard enough to induce a headache, the way red seeps into the edges of her vision. 

She’d never reacted this way to an obstacle or a problem. Anger would be the closest emotion she could name, but even that can’t be right. She’s not angry at the noble girl, not really – she’s just doing what she can to make her way in this world, to follow the path laid out for her. She’s not mad at Jinshi – he’s playing the courtly game she’s all too familiar with.

Old, fading welts from Jinshi’s cane still sting at her bottom, the warmth of his endless kisses still heats her lips, and somehow, all of that only makes the sight of him laughing with the pretty noble girl who looks a little too much like the better version of Maomao hurt even more. She’s hit with the sudden urge to march right up to Jinshi and do something downright treasonous – perhaps slap him, perhaps grab his face and kiss him in front of the entire room, lay a claim to him that would keep him away from all these other pretty noble girls waiting to pounce.

Maomao tears her gaze away forcefully, makes her feet continue to move, to guide her to the other side of the parlor, away from Jinshi, hoping the distance would eat away at the dangerous thoughts and the painful feeling in her heart, would dissipate the nausea growing in her stomach.

She just wants this luncheon to be over. She wants to go back to her room, lock herself away, and not come out until these confusing feelings have devoured themselves into her usual neutrality, until they join the same locked box within her heart where she’d stored away Jinshi’s startling and entirely unhelpful confession of love, hidden away beneath a haze of kisses and uncomplicated punishments.

It’s a box she’s very careful not to touch, not to roll it over in her mind, lest it cracks open and hits her with a reality she’s far too afraid to face.

Maomao glares down at the floor, lingers at the edge of the room, half-empty platter of delicacies cold in her hands. She’s not certain how long she stands there, frowning, before a familiar and currently unwelcome voice snaps her out of her reverie.

“Apothecary,” Jinshi says evenly, approaching her from a polite distance. Maomao looks up with a scowl, angry at herself when her heart tremors in relief the sight of Jinshi alone, affection crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What do you want?” Maomao snaps, rather unwisely. They’re still in public. Who knows who may overhear them.

Jinshi’s polite mask drops, just a little, uncertainty filling in the cracks. His voice goes soft, quiet, so as to only be heard by her. “Maomao? What’s wrong?”

Maomao purses her lips, looks down once more. “Why would something be wrong? Everything is perfect. Just perfect.”

“Did I do something wrong? I don’t-”

“Why don’t you go back to your gaggle of sycophants and stop bothering me, I’m trying to work here.” Maomao interrupts, dragging her glare back to Jinshi’s face.

She tries to remind herself that she’s not angry. She has no idea why her novel feelings are coming out in the form of straight-up rudeness. She’s not even trying to be a brat, to evoke a reaction – not this time.

Jinshi blinks at her, concern etching his features. For a moment, he’s simply silent. And then, slowly, dangerously, a glint enters his eyes. The concern slips away from his features, only to be replaced by incredulousness, and then pure, unfiltered wonder.

“Maomao,” Jinshi says, slowly, voice like velvet, “are you jealous?”

Maomao feels herself grow hot under her collar.

“No!” She snaps too quickly.

Jinshi grins, then hides it with a sleeve. “You are jealous.”

He takes a small step forward, just breaching their little bubble of politeness. Maomao takes the same step back. Then another.

“Please excuse me, Moon Prince,” she says, voice shaky, eyes flitting everywhere but to him. “I must go serve the guests.”

And with that, she slips back into the crowd, a faceless servant, wanting nothing more but to disappear forever.

---

Maomao makes her way towards Jinshi’s quarter’s slowly, dragging her feet. She doesn’t want to talk to him. She just wants to be left alone.

But Suiren had come to her, told her that Jinshi requested her to have evening tea with him tonight. What else could she do but to follow Suiren obediently, annoyance and distress both eating at her soul?

The door to Jinshi’s dining room is open, when they get there. Maomao makes her way in, past Suiren, gaze stuck firmly to the floor. She know Jinshi is sitting there, watching her – she knows. But for some reason, she does not want to meet his eyes.

“Please make sure we get some privacy tonight, Suiren.” She hears Jinshi say, tone even.

Maomao flushes as Suiren lets out a knowing chuckle. “I always do, Young Master.”

Well. There is little Maomao can do to convince herself that Suiren has no idea about her relationship with Jinshi, at this point. She can only pray the woman doesn’t know the extent of their depravity.

Suiren’s footsteps fade away, the door to the dining room closes behind her with a resounding thud. Silence follows, for a long, tense moment. Maomao shifts from foot to foot, resolutely not looking up.

“Maomao.”

She continues to glare down at the floor.

“Darling.”

His voice is soft, gentle. Not mocking, like earlier, not teasing her for her messy feelings.

Maomao swallows, looks up tentatively. 

When she meets his gaze, he smiles, kindly. He gestures next to where he sits at his dining table. “Please, join me for some tea.”

Maomao purses her lips. “Is that an order, sir?”

Something sad passes over his gaze, for just a moment. “No, Maomao. It’s a request. I want to talk about earlier-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Maomao snaps, immediately on edge. She crosses her arms across her chest protectively. “Nothing happened, sir.”

Jinshi sighs. He stands, slowly, walks around the table, approaches her carefully. When she doesn’t move away, Jinshi reaches out a hand, places it gently on her cheek. Despite herself and the confusing feelings all churning in her chest, Maomao leans into his touch.

“Alright,” he murmurs, gentle thumb tracing her cheekbone. “We don’t need to talk. Please, darling, just sit with me.”

His voice is so, so earnest. His eyes even more so, looking deep into hers, a million unsaid thoughts behind those lovely pupils. She nods against his palm, gaze not leaving his.

His hand grasps hers, warm. Maomao looks down, fingers twitching in surprise, assessing the strange sight of her hand in Jinshi’s, almost domestic.

It feels really nice.

He pulls her along with him, towards the table, not letting go of her fingers. When he sits, he guides her down with him, tugs her into his lap instead of the empty seat next to him.

Maomao settles into the well between his crossed legs, feeling suddenly warm. Jinshi wraps an arm loosely around her torso, presses a kiss to the top of her head that makes her squirm.

She should be mad. No, not mad – confused, upset, uncertain, whatever it is she was feeling at the luncheon and over the hours since then. But the beat of Jinshi’s heart against her cheek calms her, loosens the tendrils of possessive darkness that had twisted into vines within her chest.

Her hand is still in his. His thumb is now tracing circles into the back of her palm, soothing.

That pretty noble girl doesn’t get to know what it feels like to hold Jinshi’s hand.

The thought hits Maomao suddenly and shamefully, making her flush. What was that? Gods, why, why does she care so much?

Pathetic. Gods, she’s acting so pathetic.

Maomao clears her throat, unwinds her fingers from Jinshi’s before she can embarrass herself further. She reaches across the table for something to do, grabs the closest cup of tea – Jinshi’s – and takes a gulp.

“Is this all you called me here for tonight?” Maomao asks, trying to keep her voice even. “Tea and conversation?”

Jinshi lowers his face, voice a whisper into her ear. “Would you like it to be?”

Maomao represses a shiver, a warm flush climbing up her spine. Maybe this is what she needs – something familiar, a reminder of her and Jinshi’s dynamic, a blissful emptying of her thoughts under Jinshi’s command and a distraction from all the confusing feelings that have never had a place in her heart.

Maomao squirms in Jinshi’s lap. “No, sir.”

She can feel Jinshi smile against the curve of her ear. “Alright, then. There is something else I have planned.”

The smooth, seductive tenor of his voice slips into her ear, slithers straight to her gut. Maomao’s fingers tighten around Jinshi’s teacup, bring it to her mouth for another gulp. As soon as she lowers the cup, she feels Jinshi’s hand move to her face, cradle her jaw. His thumb swipes at a stray drop of tea at the corner of her mouth, tilts her face up to look at him.

“I know you don’t want to talk,” Jinshi murmurs, voice gentle. He leans down, presses a kiss to the dried corner of her lips. “So, we don’t have to. But there is something I want to do for you.”

Maomao swallows, throat dry, gaze stuck to Jinshi’s. “What’s that?”

“I want to remind you how much I cherish you,” Jinshi says simply, thumb still on her lip, tracing the curve lightly. “I have a few gifts for you.”

Maomao pouts. Does he think he can win her over with some silly gifts?

They better be poison-adjacent, at the very least.

Jinshi traces his thumb along her pout, mischievous little smile playing on his lips. His free arm slides around her, reaches under the dining table. Maomao looks over, watches as he pulls out three parcels, one by one.

“This one took me a long time to find; I’ve been looking for a good moment to gift it to you.” Jinshi picks up the smallest parcel, places it into her palm.

Carefully, Maomao unravels the silks that cradle the small object inside, threads falling open to reveal what looks like a yellow stone, the scent of musk and warmth drifting up to her nostrils.

Her jaw drops, hardly believing her eyes.

“This is just a sample, I’ve had a few bigger chunks brought to your laboratory, so you can play with them as you’d like. Do you recognize it?”

Maomao just continues to stare, eyes wide. Of course she recognizes it. It’s only one of the rarest ingredients she’d never even hoped she would get her hands upon – ambergris – a waxy substance produced rarely within whales, incredibly unlikely to wash up on any shore, much less near Li. It can be used as a medicine, particularly for respiratory ailments, and as the loveliest of perfume scents. It is rare enough that many of its uses may still be unknown, lying at Maomao’s fingertips for discovery.

It's also a potent aphrodisiac.

She wants to shove it in her mouth immediately.

Maomao looks up at Jinshi, eyes shining with excitement, smiling widely. Just by the heavy, affectionate look in his eyes, she can tell immediately that he’s thinking the same thing as her.

Jinshi reaches for the piece of ambergris, and Maomao watches as he does, enchanted.

“I want you to take this aphrodisiac,” Jinshi murmurs, “I want to pull out every ounce of pleasure your body has to offer. I want to show you how much your pleasure matters to me, how much you matter to me. Just you, Maomao. Only you.”

Her, only her. Not any of those pretty noble girls.

Maomao nods, warmth filling her chest.

Jinshi tilts her face up. “Open.”

Maomao opens her lips obediently, allows Jinshi to place the ambergris in her mouth, waits as his fingers linger, press down on her tongue. “Good girl.”

Flushing, she closes her lips around his fingers, sucks on them gently, the sudden explosion of tastes from the ambergris making her eyes shut flutter shut with a soft moan. Sweet, musky, a little oceanic, it crumbles like truffle on her tongue, coats her mouth delightfully. It’s not poison, not quite – but its mind-altering aphrodisiac properties will be just as delicious to experience. Maomao sucks on his fingers harder, overwhelming flavour dripping down her throat, whining softly when he pops his digits out of her mouth with a chuckle.

“So enthusiastic already,” Jinshi purrs, leaning down to press a quick peck to her lips. “Let’s get you undressed, shall we?”

“Yes, sir,” Maomao agrees, feeling warm, hands already working on untying her top. She swallows the rest of the ambergris hesitantly, torn between enjoying its taste for longer and experiencing its effects as soon as possible.

Jinshi helps her with her skirt while she removes her top, then slips out of her dudou. As she shimmies out of her loosened skirt and undergarments alike, Jinshi reaches under the table once again, pulls out a familiar length of rope, prepared just for her. Maomao squirms, warmth beginning to spread, grow, concentrating under her breasts, between her thighs.

“Today, you don’t have to ask for permission to come.” Jinshi grips her waist, turns her around in his lap until she faces away from him. “But I need to make sure you can’t touch yourself once the need really sets in. Only I will be controlling your pleasure today. Now, cross your arms behind your back, darling.”

Maomao shudders, a chill spearing through the heat radiating off her body. Hesitantly, she reaches behind her back, grips her elbows with her hands. The thought of being unable to touch herself at all, suffering through the effects of the aphrodisiac as it builds in her system, is both exciting and terrifying.

Jinshi leans in from behind her, presses his lips to her neck, as if to comfort her. His hands place the rope against her wrists, begin to wind it around her arms. His lips linger on her skin as he works, continue to press wet, open-mouthed kisses up the column of her neck, pausing to suck gently at the curve of her jaw. Maomao tilts her head to the side, giving him better access, a soft sigh on her lips.

The heat of his mouth is like molten lava, dripping down her throat, pooling through her overheated body, dripping to her quickly dampening cunt. The growing warmth of the aphrodisiac pulses through her blood. His teeth graze her skin on his path to her ear, bite down gently on the lobe.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, hands giving the rope a gentle tug, making her gasp from the pull of the crossing threads against her skin. By the time the rope winds intricately up and across her arms, keeping them secure behind her back, she’s already on edge. Maomao moans as the rope digs into her skin as she squirms.

Her cunt drips steadily into Jinshi’s lap, ruining his robes. Her nipples are hard and throbbing, begging for attention. The trail of saliva Jinshi had left on her neck sends delicious shivers over her skin. Heat fills every corner of her body.

She doesn’t think she’ll last much longer before pleading for pleasure, now.

“Now that you’re all restrained and needy,” Jinshi purrs, giving her thorough restraints a final tug, “I think it’s time for your second gift.”

Maomao squirms in his lap, shifts closer to his body, hot all over. Her thighs clench, rub together subtly, attempt to alleviate the ache in her cunt. She watches as Jinshi reaches for the second parcel on the floor, the largest one. He unwraps it, reveals an eerily familiar box.

Slowly, he opens it.

Maomao flushes red. It’s another set of godsdamned plugs.

“How many sets of these do you need,” she whines, voice less indignant than she would have liked it. She pouts in embarrassment, boiling heat coiling in her belly.

He pulls out one of the plugs, a medium size, and brings it towards her. “Take a closer look.”

Maomao scowls, glaring at the offending toy in his hand. Every time he humiliates her like this, he uses a slightly bigger plug, working towards the eventual goal she doesn’t want to think about, lest she combust on the spot out of shame.

She looks closely at the bulge of the end that will torment her from the inside, at the flared base, at the markings-

Wait-

“For this second gift, I wanted to give you something with my mark on it,” Jinshi explains evenly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, the sight of his fucking crest engraved into the plug.

This isn’t normal. Not only is the gifting of one’s crest the closest thing to a proposal, but it’s on a plug.

 “You can’t be serious.”

Jinshi laughs, delighted. “Oh, but I am.”

He reaches down, presses the cool edge of the plug against her soaked cunt before she can protest.

“In fact, I’m so serious,” Jinshi purrs, gliding the plug back and forth through her wetness, making her shudder with every pass over her clit, “that I think I’m going to make you beg for it.”

Maomao whimpers when Jinshi puts a little more pressure behind the plug, dragging it torturously over her sensitive folds. He leans in closer, arm around her waist. “Beg me to put this plug into your bottom.”

Maomao half-whines half-growls, clit throbbing almost painfully, now, tender and heated, begging for more. “Absolutely not.”

Jinshi clicks his tongue in disapproval, pausing to dig the plug into her clit until stars spark in her vision, body jerking against the toy in need. He presses a kiss to her cheek, surprisingly tender. “You don’t get to start coming until you do, darling.”

“Jinshi,” Maomao gasps, thighs trembling, arousal dripping down her skin, over the plug. He continues that awful, torturous rhythm, gliding the plug over her cunt, pressing it into her clit, not quite hard enough.

She doesn’t get to start coming until she begs, until she begs for the most humiliating thing possible.

“Jinshi-” This time, his name sounds more like a sob on her tongue. She’s so close, already, the heat of the aphrodisiac boiling in her belly, coiling into a spring on the edge of release. Her body aches – nipples, cunt, everything – and she wants. His arm tightens around her waist when she trembles a violent shudder, whining.

He pulls the plug back a little, denying her release, cooing gently and pressing tender kisses to her cheek as she whimpers pathetically. “Just ask, my darling. Just ask to be filled with the plug – I know you want to. I know you want it so badly. And then you can come as many times as you desire.”

Maomao’s lip trembles, set into a stubborn line. He’s being so uncharacteristically gentle, pressing kisses to her face, purring sweet words into her ear – she almost wishes he would be mean again, punish her, hurt her, then maybe she could avoid this awful embarrassment-

She can’t beg, not for this.

“Jinshi, I can’t, it’s- it’s embarrassing,” she sobs, head falling back onto his shoulder, bound arms straining against rope, body still trembling. Her cunt heats hotter and hotter, the plug now making its tormenting path over the swollen, needy folds of her cunt once again.

“You can, Maomao,” he murmurs, still so gentle, “you can ask for what you want, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I want to know every desire in that head of yours, no matter how small, how big, how embarrassing, how depraved. I want it all, darling.”

Maomao squeezes her eyes shut, sucking her lip into her mouth, desperate. “I- I- I want-”

“Ask me. Ask me, my love.”

Fuck. There’s that word again, that awful four-letter word she’d locked deep into a box in her heart.

A box that has just developed a shallow, traitorous crack right down its center.

“Please, Jinshi, please… put it in.”

“Put what where, Maomao?” He murmurs, kisses her ear.

Maomao whines as her hips jerk against the movement of the plug over her cunt, entirely soaked. She so close, so hot, so wet, so wanting-

And so, she breaks.

“Please put the plug in- into my backside, please, Jinshi. Please.”

She feels another kiss, this time pressed to her lips. “Anything for you, darling.”

Her trails the soaked plug towards her empty bottom, presses it to the tight ring of muscle. Slowly, he begins to work it in, bit by bit, so sweetly and gently that Maomao feels the empty space left behind by the lack of pain like a hole in her gut.

“Jinshi,” she whines, hips jerking, legs kicking, “harder.”

“No.” With his free hand, Jinshi holds down her kicking leg, still gentle. His lips travel to her neck, kiss the skin reverently. He presses on the plug softly, pushing it just a bit further. “Patience, Maomao. No pain, today, just pleasure.”

Maomao’s lip trembles, hips squirming to hurry it up to no avail.

He ignores her whines, stretching her slowly, gently, and by the time the plug settles deep into her backside, filling her to the brim, her clit feels on the verge of exploding.

“Come. I need to come.” Maomao demands, petulant tone shaky, desperate.

“You look cute like this, marked with my crest.” Jinshi taps on her plug with a delighted chuckle, making sparks shoot up her spine, her body so hot she’s nearly feverish. “Don’t worry, you’ll be coming soon enough.”

He grabs her waist, lifts her, suddenly, eliciting a surprised squeak. He turns her around until she faces him, straddling his thigh, a jolt of heat spearing up her body from the sudden contact of his silky robes against sensitive cunt. Maomao balances on trembling knees, Jinshi’s hands supporting her body, her arms still bound and unable to keep her stable.

Maomao inhales a shaky breath, gaze catching on Jinshi’s lap, cheeks growing hot as she spots the dark pool of her arousal that had seeped into his robes. She wonders, if she weren’t too humiliated to look down, if she would find her cunt drooling onto Jinshi’s thigh already.

She shudders heatedly, wide, needy eyes boring into his. “Please, sir, let me come.”

He smiles, pushes a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “You don’t have to ask permission today, remember?”

“But…” Maomao forces herself to look down, down at where her cunt meets Jinshi’s robes, on edge. Mortified, she does notice a wet spot already seeping into the material. “But you’re not doing anything to make me orgasm.”

She squirms on his leg, trying to make a point, only to scowl when she sees the clear amusement painted on his face.

“No, I’m not,” Jinshi says simply. He releases her waist, slowly, lets her find her balance on her thigh. He leans back onto his hands, casually, watching her expectantly.

Maomao frowns, confused. She wiggles again, cunt scratching against Jinshi’s robes, more heat pooling in her gut at the feeling, aphrodisiac pounding through her blood, only growing more potent.

She whimpers. “You promised I could come.”

“You can,” he replies quickly. Then, he grins, a vicious thing. “Go ahead.”

Maomao blinks. She looks down, down at her dripping cunt pressed to Jinshi’s thigh. She looks up at Jinshi.

“Show me how badly you want it,” he purrs, and a sinking feeling grows in her stomach, making her thighs tremble. “Ride my thigh, darling. Take all the orgasms you desire”

Fuck. Maomao’s chest flushes with a sudden heat. The binds around her arms feel suddenly tight, restricting her from stabilizing herself against Jinshi. The promise of an ache in her thighs from her position is already stinging at her muscles.

“Excuse me?” She squeals, voice higher than she’d like it to be. “I’m not humping your thigh.”

“I can sit here all night, Maomao. You’re the one high on aphrodisiacs, soaking through my clothing from desperation.”

‘No pain, just pleasure’ her ass. This humiliation is worse than any hurt he can inflict upon her.

Maomao scowls, face red, not meeting Jinshi’s eyes. She thinks she could strangle him.

Well, if her hands weren’t otherwise occupied.

And she’s already so, so close, just from the consistent pressure of his thigh against her cunt, from his teasing with the plug. She’s so hot, brimming with desire, with need.  

Maomao squirms again, shame bubbling in her chest at just how good it feels to have the threads of Jinshi’s robes scrape against her throbbing clit, how if she puts just a little more pressure behind the movements, she’ll be moments away from coming-

She jerks against him again, harder this time, moans brokenly at the shooting heat that spears through her belly. She can no longer help it – she does it again, and again, movements jerky and inelegant, clit pressing into his thigh with every thrust. Her flighty gaze meets Jinshi’s, then, takes in the wild look in his eyes, the way he watches her shuddering body, grinding on his thigh. She feels the muscle of his thigh tense, eliciting a broken whine from her lips. She can only imagine what she looks like to him – lips parted and whining, eyes shining, face flushed, hard nipples bouncing, hips jerking without her permission, needing the stimulation so badly.

A sob ricochets up her throat, the humiliation of grinding onto Jinshi’s thigh like a cat in heat eating at the coil in her gut, making her shoulders tremor. That same coil tightens, tightens, ready to burst-

“That’s it, Maomao, ride my thigh like the insatiable little thing you are.”

He doesn’t even touch her – he doesn’t need to. Her orgasm hits her fast and hard, explodes in her stomach and blanks out her mind. Maomao cries out sputtering moans, body jerking, falling forward. Jinshi catches her while her hands can’t, stabilizes her on his thigh, holds her waist until she can hold her balance once again.

As soon as he releases her, her hips begin to move once more.

Perhaps it’s pathetic, and even more humiliating when Jinshi barks out a delighted laugh, but she’s still so wound up, the aphrodisiac reaching its peak in potency, begging her to relieve the need pooling in her cunt again and again. Her thighs burn, her backside clenches rhythmically around her plug; her jerky movements turn even harsher, barely able to keep herself up. She begins to slump into him, and he takes pity on her, a gently hand landing on her hip, helping her move through her pleasure.

His robes stick to his thigh, soaked through, offering distressingly little of that friction that had pushed her to the edge before – but her body tries anyway, searches for that pleasure, cunt bouncing against Jinshi’s thigh shamefully with his help.

When Jinshi’s hand reaches for her face, presses gentle fingers to her cheek, the touch feels cool against her feverish skin. Maomao nuzzles into the contact, loud whimpers spilling from her lips.

“If you beg really prettily,” Jinshi murmurs, tilts her face until she looks at him, “I’ll let you do this on my cock.”

Once more, it’s his voice that does it for her, sets her cunt on fire and shoots her towards the edge, makes her blubber humiliating words of need. “Please, Jinshi, let me go on your cock- please.”

Jinshi hums, reaches leisurely for his robes, begins to untie them slowly. “Are you sure? Is that what you really want?”

Maomao nods so quickly that her hair beads bounce on her collarbones, haze of lust clouding every other thought. “Yes, yes.”

He watches her, focused entirely on her, eyes bright. It strikes her just how beautiful he looks in this moment – honest and open, perfect. Maomao presses forward, crashes her lips to his, cunt hot on his thigh, mouth hotter on his.

She pulls back, just a bit, voice scratchy. “I want this, I want you. I want you, Jinshi.”

She presses back in, kisses him again, tastes his desire on his tongue.

She doesn’t want any pretty noble girls to talk to him, to look at him. This is hers, the feeling of his mouth against hers, the tenderness with which he responds to her kiss, the sweetness of his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close.

She doesn’t want any of those pretty noble girls around him, because he’s hers. Because as much of a claim as he had lain on her, she yearns to return it upon him tenfold.

He’s hers.

“I want you,” she murmurs in between kisses, pecks turning gentler, softer, lips lingering like they’re meant to be pressed together. “You are mine.”

Jinshi freezes, lips slipping open under hers, stunned into stillness. She'd called him hers, once, offhand, but this feels so much more like a promise.

He pulls back, stares at her with wide eyes. “You mean that?”

He is looking at her so intently that it makes her squirm. Maomao looks away, face flushing. “Well, you keep telling me how much I’m yours, so it’s only fair.”

Jinshi’s arms tighten around her waist, pull her in until his warmth surrounds her. “I’m yours. Of course I’m yours. Only yours.”

When she feels her body being lifted, suddenly, Maomao can’t help but squeal in surprise, plug shifting in her backside, legs wrapping around Jinshi’s waist for stability. He picks up the final gift she has yet to see, and he carries her, carries her out of the dining room, towards his bedroom.

“I’m yours, Maomao,” he murmurs into her hair, holds her securely. “Forever.”

And with that, the locked box in her heart cracks just a bit more.

---

Maomao is slumped against Jinshi’s chest, legs entirely jelly, twitching on top of him as she straddles him in bed, riding his cock. A dozen of her orgasms and the fading effects of the aphrodisiac later, and Jinshi is left doing most of the riding for her.

He doesn’t mind – he gets the pleasure of holding onto her hips, rolling them gently over his, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure her body is willing to give. Her arms are thrown around his neck, untied now, loud purrs rumbling from her chest, face nuzzled into his neck.

Truly, if there is one word to describe his situation, it’s paradise.

He feels Maomao’s cunt twitch sharply, squeezing his cock, all the tighter from the plug stuffing her backside, and he knows he managed to pull out another orgasm from her overworked body, the purring hitching into a whiny little moan for a short, delicious second.

She looks so lovely, cuddled into him, all his. All hers. She wants him to be hers. He still can’t believe those words came out of her mouth, that she wants him as much as he wants her.

Gods, he loves her so, so much.

Jinshi twists, then, gently, lays her on her back to the sound of her tender whine, presses into her from above.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pulling back just a little, just to look at her.

Maomao makes a little noise at the back of her throat. Her weak, shaky arms pull him down by his neck, drag his lips to hers. Perhaps he should tell her he loves her more often, if it will mean she kisses him like this every time he does.

His hips roll into hers, deeply and slowly, ensuring she feels every inch of his devotion, her lips soft and trembling against his. He feels her begin to squirm, last dredges of energy rising to the surface, her purrs turning into little gasps as he presses into the very depths of her cunt, hot and tight as she accommodates his girth alongside her plug.

“Jinshi,” Maomao whimpers, voice shot. “Jinshi, too deep, I’m too sensitive…”

Heat coils in his gut, sends a possessive tremor up his spine. “But you were taking it so well earlier.”

Jinshi curls a tender hand under her knee, raises her leg until it rests near her head, spreading her completely open for him. He drives his cock into her again, slowly, reaching even deeper, delighting in the soft cry this motion elicits.

The thought of Maomao completely undone, every nerve on fire from overstimulation, from the aftereffects of the aphrodisiac, makes him want to push her to the limit, to see just how much her body can give him, the extent of pleasure he can make her endure for him.

“This is- is different.” Maomao lets out a sob, leg tremoring under his grip.

“I promised you pleasure,” he says, free hand curling under her trembling bottom, fingertips tracing the lines of his crest on the base of her plug, “and I will give you so much pleasure that you forget you’ve ever felt anything else.”

He will make certain of this, he thinks as his fingers wrap around the base of the plug, tug on it steadily until it begins to slip out of her trembling body. He will make certain that she never has to feel sadness ever again.

As Jinshi thrusts back in, deeply, he presses on the plug, pushes it alongside his cock, fucks her in both holes. He groans at the feeling, at the sound of Maomao’s overwhelmed cry, at the shudder of her exhausted limbs.

He will make certain she’s happy, she’s happy with him.

Soft, lovely sobs start to fall from her lips, overstimulated with pleasure, pleas falling from her lips. When she comes, sharply, explosively, he doesn’t even stop.

Maomao’s nails dig into the back of his neck, desperate.

“Jinshi, Jinshi, Jinshi,” she sobs his name, fucked out of her mind, eyes squeezed shut and tears budding at her lashes.

“I love you,” he responds, captures her trembling lips with his.

 He fucks his cock into her cunt, plug into her backside, one at a time, at the same time, alternating the rhythm, but always pushing all the way into the deepest parts he can reach, filling her up to the brim.

The next time his pelvis meets hers, he grinds his pubic bone into her clit, just the way she likes it, and gets rewarded with a sharp, broken cry and another orgasm, even stronger than before, clutching onto his cock as if to keep him inside forever.

Tears spill down her cheeks, overstimulation etched into every line of her expression.

He keeps going. There’s more – he knows there is more she can give, more pleasure to extract, more.

With every brush of his pubic bone against her clit she yelps, with every stroke of his cock she cries out, with every press of the plug she sobs. But now her hands cling to him, hold onto his shoulders, grip him as if afraid he could disappear at any moment. He lifts her leg a little higher, rests it over his shoulder.

“No one and nothing will ever make me leave you, I’ll never let anything separate us,” Jinshi says, his words a rush, his own pleasure chasing him, heat filling his cock. He presses a long, lingering kiss to her parted lips.

Maomao whimpers against his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders, babbling in near delirium. She lets out another cry at a particularly gentle press of his cock, deep and slow, trails off into a flurry of sobs. “Oh gods, oh gods, too much-”

He captures every sob, every cry with his mouth. “I love you so much, Maomao.”

And when she finally comes, again, her cunt clenching around him in a white-knuckled grip, he feels a sudden something, a sputtering splash of warm liquid low on his abdomen.

He pauses his strokes, looks down, eyes wide.

“Is that…”

Maomao babbles something incomprehensible, still intoxicated on overstimulation, but her gaze has managed to lock onto the evidence of her pleasure, and she stares open-mouthed at the sheen of liquid dripping down Jinshi’s pelvis, face red. Her cunt squeezes around him without real rhythm, backside clenching onto her plug.

And that, all of that combined, is enough to drive him over a sudden, unexpected edge. His cock sputters inside her, pleasure pulsing through him, and he braces a hand on the bed, catches himself before he can fall.

He continues to stare down at his abdomen, full of wonder.

He thinks he knows what happened – he’d read about it. But he knows how rare it is. He didn’t think he could ever actually-

His thumb swipes across the wetness, makes sure it’s real.

He did this. He made Maomao feel so good that he actually managed to make her ejaculate.

He did this.

Jinshi pulls the plug, his cock, out of her, slowly, gathers her into his arms immediately. Maomao flops into his embrace, still embarrassed, flushed face hiding against his chest.

He did this.

He doesn’t think he’d ever been prouder of himself than in this exact moment.

---

Maomao clings onto Jinshi, body thrumming with spasms of latent pleasure, mind hazy. The warmth of his skin is so pleasant against hers, his chest a solid pillow under her cheek. She’s starting to realize how much she craves this, this intimacy, this gentle aftercare with Jinshi. It’s a scary, vulnerable thought – because if one day he no longer wants to care for her, she’s not sure she’ll be able to re-learn how to exist without him.

He's hers, now. She won’t let him go, not for anything or anyone.

None of those pretty noble girls will ever lay a claim on him, not like Maomao.

Maomao shifts closer, nuzzling into the cuddles. She feels his hand travel across her spine in a soothing motion.

“How are you feeling?” Jinshi asks, leaving a lingering kiss on the top of her head.

“Better,” she mumbles, voice a cracked murmur. She really, really tries not to think about the humiliating trail of wetness she left low on Jinshi's abdomen. She's just glad he doesn't tease her about it.

“I’m glad,” he answers. Silence follows, for a moment, deep and comfortable, before he speaks again, voice soft. “I do hope you realize that you have nothing to be jealous of, Maomao. I only want you – your spirit, your soul, your sharp words and sharper mind. Only you.”

Maomao pouts. She hides her face in his chest, a mix of emotions piling up under her rib cage, filling her up in the most confusing way. “I’m not jealous.”

Her voice comes out as a mix of angry and whiny. He chuckles softly at her petulance.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling, don’t be mad,” Jinshi coos, rubs a gentle circle low into her spine. “How about I show you your final gift, hm?”

Maomao blinks, scowl fading. Right, the final parcel.

She shifts away, tired body protesting at the motion, just enough to look up at Jinshi.

“What is it.” Maomao deadpans, already wondering what sort of humiliation he has planned for her next.

Jinshi simply smiles. He reaches for his bedside table, brings the parcel over, begins to unwrap it.

“This is a gift for… both of us, I guess,” Jinshi says, and this time Maomao notices something different, almost shy, about the way he speaks. She watches as a little flush rises to his cheeks. Interesting.

The parcel opens, reveals polished silver.

“I had these specially made,” Jinshi murmurs as Maomao’s brow furrows, observing the objects in his hands: two necklaces, matching, yet very different in style. One is a smooth, seamless circlet necklace of pure silver, the other a chain with a thin silver cylinder hanging from it.

“The circlet is for you,” Jinshi continues, “it has a small pinhole lock to lock it into place around your neck. The other necklace is mine – from it hangs the key.”

Maomao swallows, mouth suddenly dry, eyes stuck to the silver circlet. For a moment, he stays quiet, lets her process the sight, his words, waits as she reaches out a shaky hand, traces gentle fingertips around the edge of the necklace.

It’s perfectly smooth, simple. It won’t attract attention; it will sit comfortably on her collarbones. The seam that closes it is nearly invisible, the pinhole Jinshi had mentioned even more hidden, a tiny hole on its underside.

When Maomao finds her voice, a single word comes out. “Why?”

Jinshi leans over, at that, presses a short, tender kiss to her lips.

“It’s a sign of my commitment to you, to us,” he says, lips brushing over hers, “a locked, permanent symbol of… ownership, of protection, of belonging. You are mine, and I am yours.”

So dramatic, Maomao can’t help but think, pulling back from his lips, fingers light against cool silver. Ownership. Protection. Belonging. At this point, just give her an engagement ring already.

The thought is strange, sudden, brings a flush to her cheeks. Stupid, stupid, useless, impossible thought. She lifts her hand away from the circlet, settles it back down by her side.

Jinshi is clearly alarmed by the action, tensing beside her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to – I mean, we don’t have to wear these all the time, you can take some time to think about it, or we can forget it entirely-”

“Jinshi. Put it on me.”

He goes quiet, for a moment, ramble trailing off. “Are you sure?”

Maomao nods, not meeting his eyes. “Yes. I want to.”

When she feels the gentle brush of knuckles against her neck, the cool of silver against her collarbone, she meets his gaze. He watches her openly, shamelessly, emotions worth a thousand words playing across his face as he places the necklace around her neck, closes it with a little snap. Maomao shivers, cool metal settling on her skin, warming quickly. The circlet collars her low around the base of her neck, sitting right above her collarbones. It’s not tight enough to choke her, but just heavy enough to remind her of its weight, of what it means.

She nibbles on her lip, gaze going a little hazy, the soft throb of desire starting to pulse at the back of her head. Wordlessly – who needs words, anyway? – Jinshi lifts the thin key, inserts into the circlet.

He leans down to press his lips to hers - and with a final, definitive click, locks the collar into place.

When Jinshi separates from her lips, she finds herself startlingly breathless. Her hand reaches for his automatically, paws at the key, at his chain. He lets her take it, lets her pull back, just far enough to allow her to reach up, to place the thin silver chain around his neck, to let the key hang gently at his sternum. She lingers, palm pressing to the key, to his heart. It beats rapidly under her hand, matches her racing pulse.

This, this simple exchange of jewellery, somehow feels so much bigger than any part of their relationship so far. It’s a tangible commitment, a physical representation of their complex bond, of the unconventional games they play and how they slowly heal the broken parts deep inside them both. A symbol of trust, devotion, between two souls growing together.

Maomao swallows, looks back into his eyes, eyes that now shine in the low light of his bedroom. Hand still pressed to the key, to his heart, she leans in, kisses his lips deeply.

It’s a confirmation of how much she wants this. It’s an acceptance of his promise to be hers, a trust that no one else, no matter how noble, how pretty, will ever take him away from her.

Perhaps it’s delusional, unrealistic. In some way, he will be taken away from her eventually, whether through duty, a political marriage, general circumstances.

But she can now trust that no matter what happens, it will never erase that… that love he reserves only for her.

For the time being, that is enough for Maomao.

And maybe, just maybe, as she continues to kiss him, as the box deep in her heart cracks, cracks, cracks open and forces her to face the truth of Jinshi’s love, she starts to notice that the love within that box isn’t only his.

---

When Jinshi wakes in the morning, he does so alone. His hand moves to the chain around his neck, grips it gently for comfort, knowing that Maomao had to leave early today. He gets out of bed, notices that although Maomao had gone, she hadn’t left him entirely alone.

On his bedside table, lies a note.

 

Updated performance review: 5/5*

*Subject to change (start going easy on me like last night, and it will be dropping to a 0)

 

Jinshi grins so hard it hurts. He can’t wait to one day marry this girl.

Notes:

Ok so, current plan (in no certain order quite yet):
1. That follow-up exhibitonism chapter I've been talking about
2. Definitely another impact play/punishment chapter at some point
3. More denial, perhaps take it up a notch with a chastity belt of sorts 👀
4. Probably eventual anal we'll see

Anyway, I will keep writing until I physically run out of ideas/suggestions, and I already have a very vague (happy) ending planned for this fic once that does happen :) As always, happy to take suggestions!

Hope you enjoyed <3

Chapter 10: Display and Hunger

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, life has been lifeing 🙃

Enjoy! ;)

Ch. 10 smut CW: Discipline, a few lil spanks, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia, Humiliation, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Bondage, Orgasm Control, Nipple Clamps, squirting (mentioned), mild exhibitionism (possibility of getting caught vibes), wooden horse*

*see this for a vague reference of what I’m getting at for the wooden horse, honestly have no idea if I did the description justice (come back to this link when you reach the right part if you don’t want any spoilers): https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/ARsAAOSwCEdk9qkS/s-l1600.jpg)

“Very well, Gaoshun. Who’s next?”

Gaoshun clears his throat, hand on the office door. “A minister from a nearby town. He claims they were overtaxed for this past harvest. Should I let him in?”

Jinshi lets out a sigh, running a tired hand over his face. “Yes, please. Let’s get it over with.”

Maomao watches them in boredom, standing by the wall, blending into the background. With a deep breath, Jinshi re-forms his mask of polite neutrality, and sits up straighter behind his desk as the door opens.

What follows is a scene she’d seen unfold many times over the past few hours – a disgruntled citizen saunters in, explains their concern of utmost importance, and awaits as Jinshi offers a solution. It’s quite admirable, actually, Jinshi’s interest in helping the people, but Maomao would admire it a lot more if she just wasn’t so godsdamned bored.

She wishes she could be in her lab, in the clinic, instead of standing here uselessly all day among a line of servants, fulfilling her duties under Jinshi’s hire, attending to him and his needs. Perhaps she should be grateful – the truth is, she does very little actual serving, what with Jinshi sending her off to do what she likes most of the time, unless her presence is required for appearances’ sake. She’d even had the opportunity to make a new discovery, recently, finding that the rare ambergris she’d been gifted may help alleviate sporadic convulsions that a few inhabitants of the palace seem to suffer from.

These days of boring servitude are rare. She still spends most of her time playing with medicines and poisons.

Although, more carefully than she used to. She’d meant what she’d said to Jinshi, that first night they’d kissed.

There is now a steady, familiar weight at the base of her neck, reminding her of her devotion to someone other than herself. It’s a startlingly enjoyable feeling, as it has been ever since Jinshi had gifted it to her. She finds herself caring a lot more for her own safety nowadays, with how much it matters to the one who’d put the collar on her, the one who loves her.

Her hand flutters subtly to her neck, as if attempting to scratch at a persistent itch. Instead, her fingertips glide against skin-warmed silver, now familiar to the touch. Feeling a lot less bored, now, she can’t help but to repeat the motion, again and again, as ministers and soldiers and various civilians come and go, as Jinshi addresses their concerns justly and carefully, even with the lines of exhaustion pulling at the corners of his eyes. Her eyes slip down, not for the first time, down to the peeking glint of the silver chain around his neck, the one that connects him to her, the one that marks her as his.

A shiver traces up her spine, elicits a pleasant tingle at her fingertips. She’s finding it a little difficult to focus on the current conversation, now with a disgruntled farmer who is complaining about some theft or other. Jinshi’s shoulders droop, almost imperceptibly, tired. Her fingers squeeze her collar, heart thrumming. She wishes she could get him into bed, tuck him in. Maybe curl up in his arms. This amount of work can’t be healthy.

“Maomao.” A little voice whispers next to her, too quiet to be overheard by the rest of the room.

Maomao tilts her head, meets the eyes of the young servant girl standing next to her, ripped out of her thoughts. “Hm?”

“That’s an interesting necklace you’ve been wearing for the last few weeks. Where did you get it?”

Maomao’s breath catches in her throat, a sudden heat climbing up her neck. Her hand moves a little higher, hiding the collar, subconsciously protective.

“I believe the Moon Prince is almost done for the day.” She deflects rather poorly, eyes staring resolutely at her feet. “We should be quiet.”

The girl lets out a little huff. “Fine, be like that.”

Maomao reaches for a nearby pitcher of water just to give her hands something to do, heat still stinging at her skin, grateful the girl doesn’t push the issue any further. She approaches Jinshi’s desk, carefully drips a few drops of water into his very full cup.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jinshi toss her a quick look, before returning to the farmer still standing across for him.

“Very well,” Jinshi says, loud and commanding. “I will consider your complaint and issue my verdict later. This is enough for the day. Gaoshun, please notify anyone still waiting that I shall continue this tomorrow. Everyone but my apothecary can depart.”

Low noises rise from the room – mutterings, the sway of clothing, shuffling feet – but no one dares to disobey the Moon Prince out loud. My apothecary. It’s a claim, if she’d ever heard one, although one veiled by a fragile film of professionalism.

Maomao swallows, forces herself to step away from Jinshi’s desk with a performative bow. “Of course, Moon Prince.”

She remains bowed, pitcher before her face, unmoving until all footsteps fade away, until they are truly alone in his office. When she rises, she sees that he’s already watching her.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asks, voice soft.

“Fine,” Maomao mutters, setting down the pitcher with a heavy sigh. “People are just far too nosy.”

“Hm,” Jinshi hums sympathetically, reaching for her hand, taking it in his. “Do they still ask about the necklace?”

The kindness in his tone is underlined by a certain edge, a glint of satisfaction. Maomao scowls, flush hot on her chest. He smirks a little, squeezes her hand. That jerk.

“It’s a little hard to miss, sir.” Maomao grumbles, raising her free hand to the collar, tracing it without thought.

“Would you like to take it off?”

This is not the first time he’d asked this. This is also not the first time Maomao had answered.

“No.”

Smiling, Jinshi brings her hand up to his lips, kisses the back of it gently. “Good.”

Maomao shivers at the praise despite herself, watching as Jinshi peppers kisses over her knuckles. She opens her lips, ready to say something, something she forgets the moment Jinshi’s mouth opens against the fleshy base of her thumb, bites on it softly.

The door to Jinshi’s office screeches open with a vengeance.

Cold shock spears through her body, and Maomao jerks her hand out of Jinshi’s grasp immediately, twisting to see who had entered to witness their impropriety.

Gaoshun stands there, face tight, resolutely not looking at either of them. “The Grand Commandant Kan is on his way to… talk. He is not taking no for an answer.”

Sudden disgust twists her stomach into a knot. “I’m going to leave, now.”

Maomao takes a step in the direction of the door, before the sounds of loud, approaching footsteps make her freeze in her tracks. She has mere moments to spare before the monocled freak spots her there, attempts to force her into a conversation – and she’d rather rip her tongue out. Her head swivels around in panic, looking for an escape. Where, where, where…

The footsteps make their final approach, the old bastard about to enter the room, and-

Maomao throws herself to the floor, and slips under the royal floor-length tablecloth that hides the space under Jinshi’s desk.

“What-” Jinshi manages to choke out as she disappears beneath the fabric, only to cut himself off as a new, disgusting, awful voice joins the conversation.

“Moon Prince. A pleasure.”

The freak strategist’s tone indicates this conversation is about to be anything but pleasurable.

“Commandant Kan.” For his part, Jinshi does a good job recovering from her sudden duck under his table. “What is so urgent that you storm into my office after I’m done taking visitors?”

Jinshi’s tone is hard and reprimanding, sharper than she’d heard it before. A warm shiver travels down Maomao’s spine, and her knees scrape against the floor as she crawls a little closer to his legs, away from the old bastard’s presence. She wonders what she has to do to get Jinshi to use this exact voice on her, sometime.

“I wish I could say I was here for a friendly conversation. But alas, there is a critically urgent matter I must address with you at once, Your Highness.” The monocled freak replies, voice even but anger biting at a tone he’s clearly trying to keep composed. “It’s about my dearest daughter, and those awful, disgusting rumors I have been hearing.”

A silence descends upon the room, deep and unyielding. Maomao’s heart hammers in her chest, anxious. What rumors exactly? Jinshi appears no less nervous, leg muscles tensing beside her.

She shifts closer to him, side pressing into his leg. The discomfort in his body eases, and she leans into him fully, cheek pressing to his knee in support.

“Gaoshun,” Jinshi says, voice tight. “Please give us some privacy.”

Gaoshun seems to acquiesce, the sound of the opening and closing office door leaving her, Jinshi, and the old bastard alone.

“The apothecary has been nothing but the most diligent and professional of servants that I have ever had,” Jinshi says, leg beginning to bounce softly beside her, nervous. “I am certain any rumors you may have heard are entirely false and slanderous.”

Maomao’s hand moves to his knee, presses on it until he stops shaking, a roving thumb rubbing circles under his kneecap. These stresses really are getting to him. Maybe she’ll draw him a warm bath, later, help with the tension. Maybe she’ll join him in it.

“Usually, I would not let frivolous rumors concern me. But when it comes to the defilement of my sweet girl, I shall not let them stand uncontested.”

Defilement? Maomao thinks. Her hand grips Jinshi’s knee, anger flaring. His girl? The only one who has any claim upon her is Jinshi.

“She’s not yours to concern yourself with, Commandant.” Jinshi replies evenly. “You have no official claim upon her.”

Deep, potent satisfaction settles in her gut. She’s mine alone, Maomao wishes he’d add. Her hand slides up Jinshi’s thigh, slow, claiming, appreciative. A dark heat grips at her gut, heats her cunt suddenly when Jinshi lets out a low, startled gasp at her touch. He composes himself quickly, clearing his throat to hide the noise.

An evil, wonderful thought snakes into her mind, a thought to please her Jinshi, to spite the monocled freak.

And if this incurs a punishment, then she’ll just have to deal with the consequences her master decides to dole out.

“When it comes to rumors of impropriety around my innocent princess, I have every claim in the world.”

Innocent princess? She’ll show the old bastard just how innocent she is.

Her hand slips higher up Jinshi’s thigh, rests over his crotch with no preamble. This time, Jinshi can’t help the noise he makes, choking on his spit, covering it up quickly with a cough. Maomao grins to herself, feeling his cock grow quickly under her grasp, responsive to her touch. She leans down, presses a kiss to his thigh through his robes, begins to shift aside the layers in search of her favourite toy.

“I- uh- I think this conversation should wait for another time, Commandant.” Jinshi fights his stammer, attempting to keep it together.

“No, I don’t think it should, Moon Prince,” the old bastard replies smoothly, anger still biting at his tone. Maomao peels open Jinshi’s robes further, salivates a little when his lovely, imposing cock pops up before her face. “That is, considering the rumors of my daughter’s defilement concern you specifically.”

Jinshi begins to reply, something along the lines of ‘I would never’, which is when Maomao decides to trace a heavy, teasing finger up the length of his cock, lingering by the tip, circling it as he leaks with precum.

Jinshi cuts himself off, likely bites on his tongue to hold back the lewd noise she knows he’s begging to make.

“- I- I would never defile her. I did not.” Jinshi manages to gasp out once he finds his voice once more, a hand gripping at the edge of his seat, knuckles turning white. Maomao leans in, follows the prior path of her finger with her tongue. The salty, musky taste of him heats her up from within, makes her cunt drool with desire, desire to please.

Luckily for Jinshi, it appears that his half-hearted rebuttal had been enough for the old bastard to continue on his rant, to allow Jinshi a silent moment to bite back his moans as Maomao takes him into her mouth, lips closing around the thick head of his length. The freak strategist snaps about his poor daughter, the scheming prince, about disgust and fury, but Maomao barely hears him anymore, pressing in deeper, head swimming pleasantly with the feeling of her throat contracting around the unyielding girth of Jinshi’s cock, taking him in as far as she can without choking.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed having his cock down her throat until she finally has him on her tongue once more. It has been days, which for her is quite too long to go without tasting him. She gives him a deep, steady suck, eyes half-lidded with the delight of pleasuring her master. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t mind the droning voice of the freak strategist playing on a loop in the background, at least not with the way she continues to defile her throat with Jinshi’s cock right under his nose.

Fuck you, monocled freak.

Maomao reaches a steady hand under Jinshi’s cock, curls it around his testicles with a gentle squeeze, the manner in which her sisters had promised any man would fall to his knees for.

“Fuck-” Jinshi snarls at the feeling, knees spasming briefly, interrupting the old bastard. “Fuck… fuck you, you don’t get to insult me to my face in- in such a manner. You have no proof of any wrongdoings, only baseless rumors.”

A short, stunned paused follows.

“Quite the outburst, Your Highness,” the old bastard says, eventually. Jinshi’s breaths are hard as Maomao moves up and down his cock, rolls his testicles within her palm, feeling him pulse in her throat with need. Perhaps Jinshi’s supposed ‘outburst’ will be an adequate cover up for his heavy breathing, for the flush likely staining his cheeks.

The next time Maomao bobs up his length, she lets her teeth slide along his length, so lightly.

Jinshi chokes again. “A- out, it’s time for you to get out, Commandant.”

Oh, he is close. She knows he is close; she can feel it by the rhythm of the pulsing cock in her mouth. On her next descent, she takes him in just a bit deeper, plays with the edge of her gag reflex, the risk of discovery sending a wet gush to her thighs.

“That is incredibly unwise, Moon Prince. I may not have proof, but I will not rest until I ensure my darling daughter has not been sullied under your employ.”

“Out, now. Or you will be dragged out.” Jinshi orders, the snarl in his tone leaving no room for discussion. The sound only adds to the heat of her cunt and her submission, wanting to hear that anger and command turned onto her.

Maomao hears a muted, angry growl, a petulantly stomping foot.

“Fine.” The old bastard finally snarls. “You are a royal prince, so I must attempt to say this with the utmost respect – but if I find out you have done anything to my princess, or if you dare put a single disgusting finger on my precious flower from now on, I will ensure you never find pleasure in a woman’s touch ever again.”

Making Jinshi an actual eunuch? She’ll castrate the old bastard herself before she allows him anywhere near her beloved cock.

The monocled freak finally leaves, feet storming out of the office doors, slamming them shut behind him. Rapidly, she feels the steely grip of fingers in her hair, forcing her off her toy with a whine, her hand releasing its hold on his testicles. A bit of drool spills down her chin, eyes glossy with desire.

Jinshi pulls on her hair harshly until she looks up.

When she faces him, she does so with a cheeky grin on her lips.

---

“Would you like me to finish you off, master?”

That is the first thing the evil little brat says to him, staring at his painfully hard length with a glint in her eyes, lips flushed and swollen from sucking his cock. The way she rolls the word ‘master’ on her tongue is nothing short of sinful, throbbing straight through his gut in a way it hadn’t before. Hearing her use the honorific now – clearly not in an attempt to distance herself from him or for propriety’s sake, but simply as a way to play with him – makes him rather enjoy the sound of the syllables on her tongue. Combined with the collar still proudly displayed on her collarbones, marking her as his, it makes for quite an image: Maomao on her knees, flushed from servicing his cock, collared and calling him her master. It's an image he’s sure he’ll be revisiting many times during the nights to come.

But first, he thinks it’s time to remind her who’s in charge.

His hand moves to her jaw, grips it tightly. “You are in serious trouble, you little menace.”

Maomao simply grins, alighting a furious flame within him. “And you are still hard.”

Jinshi shoves his throbbing cock back into his robes, wincing with need. And then, he bends down, wraps his arms around her waist, and throws Maomao over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She lets out a startled little shriek, hands grasping at his robes, upper body hanging down his back.

“Wha- what are you doing? Put me down!” The brat is gone – replaced by shocked gasps and embarrassment. Jinshi stands, arm secure around her torso to keep her in place. Maomao begins to beat her fists against his back as soon as he steps towards his office doors, making it clear he won’t be putting her down anytime soon.

He’d manhandled her once before, storming out of his office – grabbed her arm and dragged out her after him.

But never quite this intimately.

“Jinshi!” She exclaims, voice nervous. “Where are you going – people will see us!”

“Good,” he replies evenly, opening the door with a flourish. He steps out into the guard-lined hall, all tossing looks curious they’re trying desperately to keep hidden. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about misbehaving in public, then.”

She doesn’t give up – squirming and whining over his shoulder, still spewing complaints, and he has the delightful thought that if she really cares so much about their public appearance, she wouldn’t be acting out quite so loudly right now.

Perhaps Maomao is more okay with the thought of them being together, publicly, than he’d thought she is. Maybe she’s genuinely considering it as a possibility.

He can’t help the delighted grin that crosses his face. He squeezes her hip, tight, when she exclaims a particularly disgruntled expletive from behind him.

“Keep up that attitude, and I’ll pull up your skirt and give you a spanking right here, right now, in front of the entire palace,” Jinshi warns tersely. “You’ll never be able to look anyone in the eye again, because they’ll know how loudly you cry when I bruise up your backside.”

That seems to do the trick.

Maomao freezes over his shoulder with a soft gasp, horrified at even the possibility. She goes silent.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, satisfied.

The rest of the walk towards his quarters is much more peaceful, as Maomao remains still over his shoulder in fear.

If there were rumors spreading already, well, he’s sure this is not going to help them, with the looks he’s getting from guards and servants and court ministers and ladies alike. Nonetheless, he finds he rather enjoys the feeling, the feeling of this public confirmation that Maomao is his. He’s hoping to find a way to publicly court her sooner rather than later anyway, and for now they have the flimsy veil of deniability in the form of a master deciding to personally punish his servant.

And punish her he will.

He pushes past doors and walks confidently down hallways, Maomao still in tow, approaching his bedroom. He doesn’t set her down until he’s there, in complete privacy, his cock still throbbing angrily under his robes, mercifully hidden by the many layers as he’d walked.

He drops her onto his bed unceremoniously, watching as she lands on her back with a soft oomph, scrambling against the sheets. Jinshi reaches for her skirt without preamble, jerks it down her hips alongside her undergarments, baring her lower body in moments.

Maomao whimpers softly at his rough motions, thighs trembling shut, but not before he notices the wet sheen on his disobedient little cunt.

“Naughty cat,” he admonishes, reaching for her top, tearing it off roughly until she’s entirely bare, “all wet from stuffing your throat with my cock. Whatever shall I do to remind you who this cunt belongs to?”

Jinshi tears her legs apart, lays down a sharp smack against her bared folds. “Bad.”

Another smack, harsh. “Girl.”

Maomao whines, hips jumping. Jinshi stops, then, runs a soft thumb through her swollen flower, gathering moisture at his fingertip. “I think I know exactly what punishment my cunt needs right now. Lie down on your stomach.”

Maomao inhales a stuttering breath, eyes big and needy. She looks so lovely, still flushed, naked save for the collar around her neck, marking her as his. Jinshi raises a brow, rush of power coiling in his belly as she squeaks at the look, flipping to her stomach like he’d commanded.

He lets her lie there, stewing in her nervousness, while he begins his search for the various tools he’ll be using on her tonight. A few are familiar – a few well-used lengths of rope from his bottom drawer, the mean set of nipple clamps that make her cry so hard. One is new; a piece of artisan-crafted furniture that he has to pull out of a hidden corner of his closet, a piece he is particularly excited to try out.

He returns to Maomao, places the piece of furniture perpendicular to the foot of the bed – a sleek, knee-high beam shaped like a triangular prism, pointing upwards, the sharp apex sanded down into a rounded point – enough to hurt and punish, not enough to cause Maomao harm. He doesn’t give her the opportunity to take a look – he’s upon her in moments, kneeling over her prone body, tugging her arms behind her back, wrapping a length of rope around the trembling limbs.

“Tonight, you’ll be making it up to me for your little stunt in my office,” Jinshi says, tying off his work with a sharp tug, ensuring Maomao’s arms are secured tightly behind her. He reaches for another piece of rope, winds it around her thigh. “You’ll be spending the rest of your punishment with my cock down your throat.”

Maomao whimpers at his proclamation, squirming softly against his sheets. With his rope half-wound around the fleshy part of her thigh, he grabs her calf, raises it until her heel rests against her backside. This time, when he resumes his restraining, he winds the rope around both her thigh and calf, binds the two together tightly.

When he takes a third length of rope, repeats the same motions on her other leg, she’s left unable to run away, entirely under his mercy. One day, he’d love to bind her with even more intricate knots, perhaps suspend her from the ceiling, leave her open and immobile for him to use as he pleases. He’s sure she’d love that too.

Maomao wiggles against his sheets experimentally, toes curling, thighs bound to calves, arms stuck behind her back. When she finds that she’s struggling to so much as turn over, she lets out a little whine, body going slack, giving up control.

“I’m stuck,” she grumbles, scowl hidden into his sheets.

Jinshi grins, grabs her waist, turns her to face him and pulls her into his lap. “That’s rather the point, darling.”

She pouts up at him, lip trembling, face flushed. He’s tempted to press a gentle kiss to that soft lip – but if he’s going to punish her, he really should be a little less sweet.

He lifts her into his arms as he stands, ready to introduce her to his newest toy in their collection. It’s one he thinks she’ll both love and hate on a particularly vicious level, considering it will allow him to continuously punish her wet little cunt without lifting a finger.

He takes her to the foot of his bed, hovers her over the triangular prism. He throws her a dangerous grin. “Look down.”

Maomao frowns, gaze drawing downwards. Beneath where she hovers, she notices the harsh, rounded apex of the beam, takes a moment to process it.

Her face leeches of colour.

“What is that?” Her voice comes out as a whisper, shaking.

“You’re a smart girl,” Jinshi purrs, “I’m sure you’ve figured it out.”

Maomao visibly gulps, breaths shallow.

“You’re going to make me sit on that,” she breathes out, terror in her voice.

Jinshi smiles wider. And then, he begins to lower her body towards the beam.

He lowers her, lowers her until her legs spread around the edges of the prism, wide, wider, held open by the thick base of the beam, until her cunt just grazes the pointed line of the apex, bound thighs and calves straddling the sides of the structure. Maomao shakes in his grasp, terrified; Jinshi bites his lip, concentrating as he ensures to align the center of her cunt straight down the ridge of the beam, and then-

He releases her.

Maomao’s full body weight drops her down onto the structure below her, cunt splitting in half around the pointed ridge. She lets out a shriek, body spasming, squirming, attempting to escape the pressure of her weight against the beam drawing a tormenting line down her delicate cunt, from clit to opening. She nearly topples over – legs and arms immobilized – but Jinshi quickly grabs her shoulders, holds her in place until her violent spasms turn into shivers, until her wail fades into sharp whines. Her knees hang down the sides of the beam without reaching the floor, ensuring that the only way for her to take any pressure off her center is to attempt squeezing her thighs against the beam, to lift herself up, but he can tell she quickly realizes just how unsustainable that will actually be.

Her shaking thighs relax from exertion, drop her a little lower against the ridge, elicit a loud sob. “Jinshi- master, this hurts.”

“I know,” Jinshi murmurs, pushes a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Straighten your back. The clamps are next.”

Big, shining eyes look up at him woefully, lips pursed. As sweet and lovely as those doe eyes are, they don’t stop him from grasping the nipple clamps into his fist, reaching for a perky little breast with his free hand. She straightens her back with a pathetic whimper, hips squirming from balancing on the beam, poor cunt taking the brunt of his anger.

The clamps go on quickly – Maomao cries out so beautifully with each one, rosy nipples swelling red under the grips of the clamps, shining under the setting sunlight filling his bedroom. It’s a similar glint to the one glistening atop her collarbones, striking the smooth silver of her collar. Maybe he’ll decorate her some more one day, attach some pretty chains to her nipples, her collar. Tug her around into any position he’d like.

Quite the thought.

Jinshi takes Maomao’s trembling chin in hand, tilts her teary face up to look at him. Her eyes wince at the multiple points of pain on her body, cheeks flushing with need.

With his other hand, he undoes his robes.

“Now, you can finish me off.”

---

Maomao trembles, sobs muffled into nothing by the deep press of Jinshi’s cock, pushing itself down her throat far past the point of comfort. She thinks at some point she must have lost the ability to gag – after Jinshi’s second orgasm and no end in sight to her torment, her throat had forced itself to accommodate his girth to its very depths.

With the steel grip of Jinshi’s fingers in her hair, dislodging beads and ribbons while bobbing her head down mercilessly, there’s not much she can do about the presence in her throat anyway.

With every thrust into her mouth, Jinshi tilts her forward, forces more pressure against her tormented clit, pressing into the hard ridge that splits her cunt in half. Her bound thighs shake, exhausted, no more strength left to squeeze against the beam and lift her up, to give her any moment of respite from the unrelenting torment against her clit. Every inch of skin between her thighs is on fire, so much heat and slick and pressure that she can no longer find where the pain ends and the pleasure begins, all sensations melting into one massive pool of overstimulating ache – the ridge under her cunt, the clamps torturing her nipples, the ropes keeping her entirely immobile for Jinshi to use as he pleases. In her mind, she’s already floating high above the clouds, softened into a pile of submissive goo – but her body burns.

Jinshi finishes – a loud groan escapes his throat, ropes of hot seed spilling down her throat for the third time that evening. Slowly, he softens inside her, gives her a much-needed moment to breathe, drool pooling in her mouth.

Jinshi’s hand presses to her cheek with a satisfied sigh. “If only the Grand Commandant could see his precious, innocent princess now.”

Maomao whimpers around Jinshi’s softened cock, flash of satisfaction warming her body. That would truly be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the monocled freak.

Lifting her teary gaze, she looks up at Jinshi fondly, warmth filling her chest. Precious, innocent princess. She’d never been innocent, nor a princess.

But when Jinshi smiles down at her, wipes at a stray tear tenderly with a loving thumb, she feels so very precious. He pulls her off his cock, then, a string of saliva and seed connecting her to him, and a satisfied purr rumbles up her throat. Her eyelids flutter, half-lidded, and she turns her face into his palm, nuzzling his warm skin.

“Jinshi…” she murmurs, voice barely-there, throat so hoarse from fucking that he leans in to hear her. “Can you make me come, please?”

Jinshi hums lightly, tilts his face to press his lips to hers. “Darling, you sucked my cock in front of a man who would try to castrate me for even breathing too close to you. I’m tempted not to let you come for a month.”

Her eyes widen in horror. “No-”

It is then that Jinshi decides to grab her waist and lift her off the beam below her.

Blood rushes into her cunt from the sudden release of pressure, ignites every tormented nerve.

Maomao wails.

“Oh no,” Jinshi coos, lays her down on the bed, peels the swollen folds of her cunt open with two fingers, “my lovely cunt is so red and angry – that looks like it hurts.”

Maomao shakes against the bedsheets, unable to wiggle far in her restricting binds, every heartbeat pulsing painfully between her thighs. She can only imagine how her cunt looks after being punished all evening.

“It does,” Maomao sobs with a scratchy voice, tears streaming down her cheeks as slides his fingers upwards, peels back the hood of her clit.

“Ouch,” he says patronizingly. “This little spot especially looks very upset.”

And then Jinshi glides his thumb against her exposed clit, roughly, and Maomao sees stars.

“Fuck-” she chokes out, “please, please let me come, master.”

“How about this,” Jinshi answers, flicking his thumb at her sore, overstimulated clit again, and again, made all the more awful by the knowledge that Maomao has to force herself away from the painful edge, to not come without permission. “I’ll let you come if you promise me something.”

“Anything, anything!” Maomao cries out immediately, unable to stop her hips from jerking into Jinshi’s hand.

Jinshi grins mischievously. “I’ll let you come if you promise to ejaculate for me again.”

Maomao flushes an embarrassed red, cunt squeezing around nothing in sudden need. “I can’t- I can’t control that.”

Jinshi shrugs, elicits a punched-out sob when he removes his torturous thumb. “Then we’ll just keep going until you learn to.”

He slips down her body, hands pressing to her knees to keep her open, layering little kisses over her sore breasts, across her stomach and between her thighs.

He comes to a stop at the place that aches for him most, red and needy. Gently, he presses a kiss to her clit. “My lovely girl.”

Maomao’s exhale is shaky, sobs still sticking to the back of her throat. The tenderness of his voice seeps through her skin, heats her from the inside.

“Jinshi, I- I-” Maomao stammers, uncertain what to say, how to express the warm feeling coursing through her body.

“It’s okay,” Jinshi murmurs, presses another kiss to her clit. “You don’t have to say anything, my love.”

Maomao lets out a soft sob, overstimulated, overwhelmed by the happiness filling her chest.

She’s grateful, grateful for what she’s not exactly certain – how much Jinshi cares about her, how he values her pleasure, how he loves her, how he’d given her the opportunity to love him back.

Love? She thinks so, now.

“Thank you,” she says instead, soft and desperate, desperate to be heard to be understood.

Another kiss to her clit – an acknowledgement.

And then, he puts his mouth on her fully.

He is gentle, to start – surprisingly so, considering her punishment never officially ended. His tongue is hot, but soft and soothing against her punished cunt. He laps at her with a fondness, an affection, satisfied little purrs rumbling from his chest. Maomao moans softly, hips pressing up towards his mouth, needy, desire overtaking the pain over her sore cunt.

He pleasures her like this, gently, lovingly, until she begs for her orgasm, until he allows it, lets it roll through her tired body. Maomao sighs in happy satisfaction, goofy smile on her face.

“You are so delicious,” Jinshi murmurs, shifting his face to the side, peppering the inside of a bound thigh with kisses. “I love making you feel good. I love you.”

Maomao swallows, heart skipping in her chest. I think I love you too.

She doesn’t think she can say it, yet. But maybe she can show it.

“Jinshi,” she murmurs, “keep going, keep going. I want to… I want to ejaculate for you.”

“Gods, Maomao,” Jinshi groans, licks another stripe up her cunt. “Anything for you, always. Just ask, and I’ll give you the world.”

The world. Quite a promise. She’d settle for a greenhouse. And, in her newest of dreams, maybe an official courtship, an engagement, more.

More.

“More,” Maomao moans.

And thus, Jinshi’s mouth returns to his dutiful worship, and more he gives her.

---

Soft snores rumble from an open mouth, drooling lightly onto his chest. With her hair a thunderstorm and body slack on top of his, so open and vulnerable, Maomao looks nothing short of divine.

And very, very adorable.

Jinshi runs his fingers tenderly up and down her spine, smiling. He likes to wake her up this way – softly, gently, ensuring she awakes just as pleasantly as she dozes off on his chest. The sun rays are starting to pour from his windows, dragging the early morning light into the room; he knows his time will no longer be his own soon, he will have to leave to attend to his duties.

But for now, he can enjoy this simple, domestic moment with the love of his life cradled in his arms.

He thinks about the night before – the many times she came on his tongue, the multiple ejaculations of her pleasure dripping off his chin. He could devour her for days, watch her back arch against the bed, fingers gripping, ripping sheets, collar glinting over her collarbones.

His gaze shifts lower, catches on the flash of silver that wraps around her neck, matching the chain he never takes off his own body. The fact that she hadn’t considered taking it off, not once, feels like a sign much deeper than Maomao can even admit to herself.

This devotion to him – he doesn’t want to call it love, doesn’t want the disappointment if that’s not what Maomao feels, but it certainly feels like it at times.

Jinshi tilts his face to the side, presses a kiss to the arm that curls by his neck, uneven ridges of scars brushing against his lips. He’s not sure when Maomao had started taking her bandage off around him, but he’s glad she has. It gives him all the more opportunity to give love to every inch of her, to remind her how much her health, her safety matters to him.

His lips linger, press a gentle trail of devotion across the scars on her forearm, happy to see that they’re old and faded. When he lets a kiss linger on a particularly raised ridge of scarring, he feels Maomao shift, finally awake.

But instead of pulling away, removing her arm from where he can pepper it with his love, she only moves closer, hands curling around his neck, leg intertwining with his.

“Good morning, darling,” he murmurs, enamored.

Maomao hums softly, sleepy. “Can we cuddle for a little longer?”

In response, Jinshi tightens his hold on her, pulling her closer to his chest. He feels like the luckiest man on earth, like he’d won the love of a particularly precious if not hissy cat. And if love is still too strong of a word for her feelings – then he can only dream of the day he’ll get to see what a loving Maomao would be like.

Based on how she holds onto him now, she’ll be so clingy.

He would love nothing more.

His fingers continue their gentle path up and down Maomao’s spine, eliciting pleasant shivers. She sighs, nose nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You wouldn’t really make me wait a month… right?”

It takes Jinshi a moment to understand her words, before he recalls his threat from the night before. He chuckles softly. “It’s a tempting punishment. Imagine how needy you would be – after a month of denial I’m sure you’ll be my good girl again. And if not, I can always repeat the experiment again, and again, for as many months as it takes.”

Maomao shudders, grumbling into his neck. “Months… I am not certain we’ll manage to keep our game hidden for months.”

Jinshi falters, hand freezing on her back. It’s perhaps already a little too late for ‘hidden’ – there may not be any obvious proof of their relationship yet, but even the Emperor has given him a few raised eyebrows recently. It won’t be long before he’s questioned outright.

“Why do we have to keep it hidden?” Jinshi murmurs, voice soft.

Maomao pulls away from him, just far enough to send him a glare. “I know you threatened to spank me in front of everyone yesterday, but I’m telling you right now that if you actually try to do that it won’t be the monocled freak ensuring you never find pleasure in a woman’s touch ever again.”

Jinshi laughs – sharp and loud. “No, no, I didn’t mean revealing our games, per se. I meant our relationship, that we’re together.”

With a gentle tug, he pulls Maomao back to him, tilts his face to kiss her cheek. “Let me court you officially, my love.”

Maomao pulls back again, but this time she’s not glaring – her brow is furrowed, cheeks flushed. “It would never work. You’re royalty, Jinshi.”

Jinshi smiles a sad, wistful smile. This is a conversation he’d had with himself more times than he can count. There’s only one solution he can see. But if he prepares the perfect approach, crafts the ideal plan, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a chance.

“If I could remove all the obstacles, if I could make it work, would you want me to court you? Would you want me publicly?”

Maomao chews on her lip, eyes searching his. Whatever it is she’s looking for within his gaze, within herself, she must find it, because then she sighs, her eyes dart away, and-

“Yes,” she says, softly. Her hand moves to her neck almost subconsciously, grazes her collar. Her eyes shift to the key hanging from his chain. “You are mine, and I am yours. Always, whether alone or in public.”

Jinshi grins, joyous heat radiating through his chest. Happiness fills him to the brim, vibrates through his body. Jinshi moves – he launches himself at Maomao, tackles her to her back, peppers her face with kisses as she shrieks in surprise before erupting into sudden giggles.

He pulls back, breaths heavy, delighted to see a matching grin on Maomao’s beautiful face.

“One more thing though,” Jinshi says, basking in her smile. “Don’t snub Lakan too much, for now. We will have to have a conversation with him eventually. He’ll murder me in my sleep if I don’t at least attempt to get his blessing for our union, whether I’m royalty or not.”

Maomao’s beautiful smile evaporates from her beautiful face.

Jinshi grimaces. “Sorry.”

Then he leans back in for another kiss.

Notes:

I don't know how this became so tender so quickly again 😭 I promise there's gonna be more rough kinky stuff to come. (Although with all their new toys i think jinshi is almost ready to straight up build them a sex dungeon lolol)

Thank you for the lovely suggestions last chapter, hope y'all enjoyed them here :)

More suggestions welcome, as always <333

Chapter 11: Reversal and Correction

Notes:

Been missing some impact play, so this chapter is bringing it back ;) But followed by lots of angst and very mushy fluff, be warned.

Enjoy!

Ch. 11 smut CW: Discipline, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia, Humiliation, spanking, belting, very bratty maomao+brat tamer jinshi my beloveds, orgasm delay/denial, light bondage, penis in vagina sex, subdrop, safeword use (followed by aftercare and lots of feelings <3).

Smack!

Maomao yelps softly, fingers gripping the bed sheets. Her thighs tense in anticipation, hips raised over Jinshi’s lap, nightgown bunched up around her waist and undergarments pulled down to her knees.

Smack!

Her body shudders, the heat of Jinshi’s handprint stinging at her sore bottom as she buries her face in the sheets with a whine.

Turns out her wasn’t joking about those regularly scheduled spankings. It’s an especially potent level of embarrassment, to be put over Jinshi’s knee on schedule without even having done anything to earn it.

Smack!

Maomao bites down on the sheets, face flushed a splotchy red, close to tears, more so from humiliation than pain. Jinshi never makes these planned spankings too hard, simply using them as a way to remind her to ‘be a good girl’, as he puts it. Nonetheless, she always finds herself dreading the idea of sitting the next day after these… sessions.

SMACK!

“Ow!” Maomao exclaims, caught off-guard by the sudden strength of Jinshi’s strike against a punished sit-spot. Perhaps he’s still getting back at her for when she’d sucked his cock in front of the monocled freak.

Jinshi pauses, then, gentle palm pressing to her backside, rubbing soothing circles into her heated skin. “One more hard one, darling, and then you’re all done.”

Maomao inhales in anticipation, body tensing.

SMACK!

As he lands a matching handprint on her other sit spot, Maomao yelps again, voice tinged with the promise of tears. Her backside throbs angrily, red and sore. She reaches back a hand, rubs at her skin as she shifts to her knees with a sniffle, glad it’s over.

“You took it so well, come here, my love,” Jinshi coos softly, wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into a gentle embrace. Despite her indignation, Maomao can’t help but to melt into the touch, seeking comfort from the soothing smell of Jinshi’s skin, the warmth of his body against hers. She sighs softly, a low heat making itself known between her thighs, now that the pain of the spanking no longer masks the sensation.

Pouting, Maomao hides her face in Jinshi’s shoulder. From experience, she knows he’s not about to help her take care of the warmth in her cunt. ‘It would ruin the whole point of the spanking, darling,’ he’d said the first time she’d begged him to.

As if the jerk had never made her orgasm after a punishment. Infuriating hypocrite.

Sure, she’ll just have to make it through the night, and as long as she’s good, she knows Jinshi will give her all the orgasms she wants in the morning. But it will be a very, very long night of squirming and rubbing her thighs together unsubtly.

The annoyance simmers deep in her gut as Jinshi pulls up her undergarments, lowers the hem of her nightgown down her thighs gently. He shifts under the covers, tugs her down with him, lays her head onto his chest, bodies separated only by their thin layers of sleeping clothes. Usually, there is something she finds really pleasant about the feeling – laying down with Jinshi clothed and outside the throes of passion, simply there to enjoy his warmth as she drifts off to sleep. It’s so pleasant, that she doesn’t remember the last time she’d slept in her own bed, that she now has her own drawer of toiletries and clothing in Jinshi’s room. Usually, it’s pleasant.

Not tonight.

Maomao scowls, heat still angry and demanding between her thighs. Can’t he even imagine what it feels like, denying her like this time and time again? She squirms in frustration, achieving no relief from the motion.

Jinshi chuckles as she huffs petulantly against his chest. “Is something bothering you, Maomao?”

His tone is light, teasing. Maomao scowls harder. “Don’t be a jerk. You know what the issue is.”

That earns her a light swat of Jinshi’s palm against her sore backside, elicits a surprised little yelp. “Mouthy girl.”

Maomao clenches her jaw in indignation, teeth grinding, fingers curling tightly into Jinshi’s top. Mouthy girl – like she’s some pet, reprimanded for hissing too loudly. What’s next – he’ll try to leash train her?

How humiliating.

Maomao lays there, seething quietly, kept wide awake by the pounding need in her cunt, the fury in her chest. Jinshi’s hand traces up her spine gently, settles on the nape of her neck, where he can feel the warm silver of her collar against his skin. Usually, she finds the solid weight of his hand on the back of her neck soothing, comforting – it makes her feel safe, protected, loved.

But right now, all she can think about is how that hand would be of much better use between her thighs.

Jerk. Asshole. Sadist.

He should know what this feels like. The thought arises within Maomao, slithering through her mind like a devious serpent.

He should know what this feels like.

A nervous excitement begins to bubble in her chest, a tentative idea forming. Jinshi’s hand tightens on the back of her neck slightly, and she purrs, eyes half-lidded.

Oh yes, tomorrow morning, he will definitely know what this feels like.

Maomao drifts off to sleep with a smile on her face.

---

“Oh Jinshi, darling, are you awake?”

Maomao’s voice is light, teasing, floating into his sleepy mind like from the loveliest of dreams.

Jinshi feels a slow, tender smile grow across his face, the unexpected way she’d called him ‘darling’ warming him up from within. Jinshi stretches, shifts. “Good morning-”

He cuts himself off. Something feels wrong.

He moves again. His hands don’t budge.

Jinshi blinks his eyes open, awake, tugging his arms in confusion. Something supple and leather digs into his wrists, restrained above his head. He jerks his face up in shock.

It is then that he realizes exactly what’s going on.

His wrists are tied together with a leather belt, stolen from his closet, free end bound tightly to the bedpost above him.

His gaze shifts downwards. What he finds is his sweet, beloved Maomao, nude and smirking at him like a little hellion, far too pleased with herself.

She did not…

Jinshi jerks his hands again, growling, a flare of indignation sparking in his chest. “Maomao. What do you think you’re doing?”

If he wasn’t so unamused by the stunt his disobedient brat had just pulled, he would be quite impressed with how well she’d wrangled the belt into restraints, all while he’d remained asleep.

Maomao just flutters her eyelashes at him innocently, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Oh, nothing you haven’t done to me.”

Jinshi gasps a little when he feels the light, teasing flutter of fingertips against his calf, slipping under his night clothes. The fingers move, slowly, tracing up his limb, taking their time.

Heat pools in his gut, mixes with desire and delicious anger alike, lighting up that sadistic streak that yearns to put his bratty submissive in her place. Once he gets his hands on her…

“Maomao,” he hisses her name in warning, eyelid twitching as her travelling fingers reach his thigh, approach the length that throbs between his thighs. “If you don’t untie me right now, I swear I’ll whip your backside with this belt until you’re bawling.”

He feels how Maomao freezes, for a moment, a soft shudder travelling up her spine. But, he doesn’t get to bask in her reaction for long.

She huffs petulantly. And then, her hand shifts up, and wraps around his cock tightly.

“You’d have to get out of the restraints, first,” she grumbles, a harsh stroke of her hand up his cock enough to make stars flash in the periphery of his vision, a rough moan crawling up his throat.

Jinshi groans as she repeats the motion, arms straining against his binds. “You- you little-”

“You keep denying me orgasms,” Maomao interrupts with a pout, hand lingering by the swollen head of his cock, thumb circling the tip with inhuman precision. “So, I thought it would only be fair for you to know what that feels like.”

“You’re going- you’re going to regret-” Jinshi pants, hips jerking from the sinful glide of Maomao’s hand over his shaft. He loses his train of thought entirely when Maomao’s free hand slips under his night clothes, curls around his testicles teasingly.

“Regret what?” Maomao says, voice mocking. “You didn’t finish your thought, darling.”

Fuck- he will, he will show her-

Jinshi gasps as pulses of heat shoot through his pelvis, down his cock, approaching his climax, closer, closer-

Maomao releases his cock and testicles simultaneously, and he crashes down the awfully wrong end of his climax, choking on a desperate groan.

She grins at the mix of despair and indignation on his face, licks his precum off her hand. “Don’t worry, Jinshi. I had Suiren make sure to push back your morning appointments, so we have all morning to make sure you really learn what denial feels like.”

Jinshi’s vision pulses red, hands curling into fists above his head.

That little brat planned all this – snuck around while he was sleeping, all to torment him for hours.

That’s it. She’s not getting away with this.

Jinshi grits his teeth, and with a glare promising nothing but pain, begins to work his fingers into the knot of his binds.

---

Maomao observes the throb of Jinshi’s angry red cock in her hand, thick and needy as she pumps it dutifully. Sometimes she wonders what Jinshi gets out of those encounters when he spends hours edging her, spanking her, overstimulating her, all without even pulling out his own cock – but she thinks she’s starting to understand.

There is something very fulfilling about having the power to do anything she wants, and yet putting all her energy into making Jinshi fall apart at her hands.

Or not fall apart, in this case.

Maomao pulls away, seeing Jinshi approaching his climax once more, hand leaving his tormented cock.

Jinshi growls, muscles straining, fingers twisting into his belt, sheen of sweat on his lovely skin. His face is flushed, lips parted, eyes staring down at her furiously.

If she looks anything like this when he edges her, she can see why he struggles to stop. But she does have to admit that the idea of what he might do to her once she finally sets him free does play a big role in igniting the heat that resides deep in her gut.

Although, she might wait a little longer, let him go only after she decides to let him finish – maybe it will temper the terrifying look on his face just a little.

But only after she’d had her fun with him.

“How does it feel?” Maomao purrs, returning to trace a leisurely finger up his cock once she’s certain he won’t come from the simple motion. “Are you regretting how you’ve been treating me, now? Do you understand-”

Something snaps. Maomao jerks her gaze up with a shallow gasp, watches as the belt is ripped away from the headboard, Jinshi’s hands free.

Oh shit.

She falls back onto the bed, begins to scramble away immediately, fear sparking in her chest.

She doesn’t get far.

Jinshi lunges at Maomao, sudden hand a vice around her ankle, jerking her back so sharply that she loses her breath, arms collapsing beneath her.

“No,” Jinshi snarls, dragging her towards himself, a solid restraint in the form of his arm snapping around her waist. “You’re not getting away from me.”

Maomao struggles in his arms, squirming in desperation. “Wait, I’m sorry-”

Her breath leaves her in a punched-out gasp, knocked out of her lungs as Jinshi flips her suddenly, messily, wrangling her over his lap into a gut-churningly familiar position.

He manhandles her in a manner she hadn’t experienced before, holding her down as she yells out a protest. Jinshi is no longer a collected, sleuthing predator, hiding in the bushes, waiting to pounce on its prey – he is a storm, a feral beast, his movements rough and jerky, growled curses under his breath. He’s not the calm, collected prince, entirely in control, not as he grips her waist tightly enough to bruise, not as she hears the unforgiving whistle of his belt whipping through the air.

A crack reverberates throughout the room, and a lick of fire ignites across the unprotected curve of her backside.

Maomao’s mouth pops open with a cry, eyes growing wide. “Ow! Jinshi-”

“I don’t want to hear a single complaint from you right now,” Jinshi interrupts her with a hiss, forcing her further over his lap until her backside is exposed at an even more vulnerable angle. “In fact, the only thing I want to hear is fucking gratitude that I’m taking time out of my busy schedule to punish you.”

Maomao whimpers, a hand curling into the sheets, the other scratching at Jinshi’s thigh desperately. Gratitude?

The next time the belt meets her skin, her cry is sharper, the throb across her bottom harsher. With last night’s spanking still fresh on her bottom, the belt is already threatening to bring tears to her eyes.

Jinshi is undeterred by her broken cry, arm tight around her waist. “You’ll thank me for every-”

He doesn’t wait – he whips her again, the cruel, supple leather of his belt curving around her upper thighs with a snap.

“-single-”

Another strike, this time higher, over the sensitive juncture between her thighs and bottom, a rough hand forcing open her legs as awful heat flares across her punished skin, makes her flail in Jinshi’s grasp.

“-strike.”

The belt comes down again, but this time it lands across one side of her bruising backside, molds itself against her skin, and-

The tip flicks right between her thighs, catching against her unsuspecting cunt.

Maomao screeches, blissful white pain tinging the periphery of her vision, her whole torso seizing for one long, electric moment. Jinshi forces her legs to remain open as the flash of concentrated hurt throbs over her folds.

“Jinshi-” Maomao lets out a broken sob, trembling with the aftershocks of the deliciously cruel impact against her poor cunt.

Jinshi shoves one of her legs under his, pinning her over his lap, thighs spread. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Embarrassment gnaws at her core, makes her squirm against the pain radiating over her skin. Thanking him for every strike, for spanking her over his lap like a disobedient child – it’s all so overwhelmingly humiliating, robbing her of her ability to pretend she doesn’t desire the punishments quite as much as she does.

She buries her face in the sheets, response muffled, barely heard, “… th- thank you.”

“I can’t hear you.” This time, as Jinshi strikes her, the belt lands fully between her thighs.

Maomao bursts into tears – pain and humiliation blinding hot over her abused cunt, every sensation melting her into a pool of submissive goo. She feels Jinshi’s arm unlatch from her waist, a hand press to her cunt, rub at the pain gently.

“That really- really hurts,” Maomao bawls into the sheets as he soothes her cunt with his hand, just teasing at the edge of pleasure.

“That doesn’t sound like gratitude to me.”

His hand disappears, only to return with a mean, wet smack against her swollen folds, impact reverberating hard enough to make her teeth chatter, spreading fire through her gut.

Teary gasps escape as whimpers from her lips, face flushing red with humiliation as she gives in, as she forces herself to speak embarrassing words loudly. “Thank you…”

She hears Jinshi hum softly, shifting. Then, the belt comes down again, eliciting a yelp, although a blessing as the impact strikes her swollen bottom instead of her sensitive cunt.

“Thank you, master,” Jinshi corrects her sternly. His sudden appreciation for the title doesn’t go unnoticed.

Maomao whines, fingers curled tightly into the sheets. “Thank you, master.”

“Good.”

Mercifully, he resists his annoying urge to humiliate her further, returning to the task at hand with no more but the instruction to thank him for every strike. As Maomao yelps out her gratitude at every subsequent strike of the belt – some loud and clear, some shrill and teary when the belt catches on her cunt, almost as if on accident – she descends deeper into that warm, fuzzy depth she loves, body melting in submission, mind following quickly after.

And as she continues to thank him dutifully, as words pour out of her throat on a loop, she begins to believe it: that she should be grateful, that even this humiliation is more than she deserves.

After all, who is she to demand punishments and pleasure from a prince, to expect him to bow down to her needs, to accept her one-sided decision to cancel his very important morning plans?

Oh, gods.

She tied him up, cancelled his morning plans, she took that upon herself – who is she to do such a thing? Who is she to think she has such power?

A particularly sharp strike connects with her thighs, makes her release a loud sob into the sheets as her body jerks forward with a painful tremor. “Oh gods- thank you – thank you, master, I’m sorry- I’m sorry-”

“Now you’re sorry, apothecary?” Jinshi volleys back rapidly, arm tightening around her waist. “I can’t believe what a bad girl you were, tying me up like that.”

The belt flies down in a vicious arc, tip flicking against her over-sensitive cunt, eliciting a tearful wail. “T- t- thank you, master- I-”

“You cancelled my plans for the day,” Jinshi says above her sobs, releases another strike, “tied me down to have your way with me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The next sob she releases is genuine, painful in her chest. She cancelled his plans, ruined his day. Of course he’s upset, mad, furious with her. She desperately wants to hear some reassurance, the words ‘I love you’ in that gentle tone, but… does she really deserve that?

What can she have to say for herself, but to beg for forgiveness, to let him punish her until he’s no longer upset?

“I’m sorry,” she sobs again, spreads her legs wider of her own volition, raises her hips higher – an offering to him, an amends.

She deserves this, deserves his wrath, deserves to be treated as he pleases. She’s not his equal – she always knew that, but she’d somehow convinced herself she could act like she is. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She feels Jinshi pause, consider her sobbing form for a short moment.

Then he lets out a sharp breath, returns to himself with a hard squeeze of her hip. “You better be.”

She notices as he places the belt down on the bed, runs a hand over her punished bottom, cunt.

No, no, no, that’s not enough, he’s still upset-

Maomao cries harder, white-knuckled fists shaking against the sheets, face pressed firmly into the bed. She doesn’t recall the last time she’d cried like this, so genuinely. Maybe she hadn’t since she was a baby.

So, Maomao says the only thing she can think of to make herself feel better.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry… punish me more.”

---

Jinshi’s hand pauses uncertainly on the curve of Maomao’s punished backside, her soft pleas for more punishment reverberating in his head, igniting that part of him that wants to give her everything she could ever ask for. His cock strains against her torso, unfulfilled, but that will be a later problem. For now, his focus is on Maomao.

He considers what to do next, hand caressing her bottom gently. He’s not sure he’s willing to take the belt to her again – the state of her sore, welted bottom and cunt are about as far as he’s willing to go in terms of physical punishment, especially considering he’d already spanked her last night.

And yet, she begs him so prettily, so needily, clearly not ready to be done.

Perhaps a different punishment, then.

Jinshi clicks his tongue, pinching her bottom lightly in reprimand. “You don’t get to tell me when to punish you, apothecary. Looks like I’m not done reminding you of your place.”

Maomao whimpers in response, arches her back shakily, presents her backside and cunt to him obediently. He reaches between her thighs, presses his fingers to the soaked, swollen folds of his beloved flower.

His fingers move up, rub at her clit as she sobs at the stimulation of the hurt bundle of nerves.

“Take it,” Jinshi hisses when Maomao’s body squirms at his unrelenting fingers, moans growing in between her cries of pain, wetness dripping down his hand.

She sobs softly into the sheets as he continues to work her tired body, bringing her closer and closer to an orgasm, familiar tremors spreading down her thighs. He knows she’s at the edge of climax when her cunt shudders with a spasm he’d long burned into his memory, when a loud whine escapes past her teary gasps.

He pulls his hand away immediately, forbids her from crossing the edge.

“Master!” Maomao cries out, hips jumping desperately, feet kicking into the bed. “Thank you…”

He places his hand onto her glowing bottom, caresses it tenderly as he waits for her to calm down, for the loud cries to peter out into tearful whimpers. The sound of her exclamation of ‘master’, so loud and perfect, her cute little ‘thank you’ for denying her an orgasm, grips him right by the gut, lights a heated fire in his chest.

His lovely little masochist – begging for punishment.

Anything for the love of his life.

As soon as she catches her breath, Maomao tenses over his lap, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Are you still mad?” Her voice is soft, a cracked whimper.

A familiar, teasing spark joins the heat filling his body, makes him smirk with mirth. “Oh yes, I’m furious. The gall of you, to cancel my duties to torment me. Evil little brat.”

Quickly, his hand returns between her thighs, resumes his torment of her sensitive clit, ready to bring her to another edge, then another, as many as she can take. Maomao cries out again, body spasming, scrambling, but he allows her no room to move, holds her down over his lap, fingers incessant against her nub.

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “I’m very disappointed in you.”

And then, Maomao’s whole body goes taut. The motion throws him off, makes his hand slow, freeze between her thighs.

She resumes crying into the sheets, shoulders shaking, and this time, something just feels off.

“Maomao-” he starts, uncertain, reaching for her shoulder, pressing a gentle hand to its peak.

Maomao releases a particularly desperate sob.

“Zuigetsu...”

The sound of his royal name falling from her lips sinks deep into his chest, spreads like cold water through his lungs.

Fuck. Fuck. She used their word.

Maomao is still crying, tense, flinching away from his hand on her shoulder, as if expecting him to berate her.

“Oh Maomao,” he says, voice cracking, arm wrapping around her, cradling her into his lap. “What happened? What did I do wrong? Was it too painful?”

She barely allows him to tug her closer, to take a look at the heartbreaking expression on her tear-streaked face as she turns away, pressing her hands to her face and sobbing in his lap. She shakes her head.

“I- I said your name because I needed to tell you that I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to upset you, to be a- a disappointment,” she bawls, voice so raw and scratched that it makes his heart ache. Her small, shaky hand reaches for her collar, holds onto it as if for comfort. “I’m sor- sorry. Please don’t- don’t hate me.”

“Maomao,” he says her name again, disbelief and desperation both flooding his body, hurt tugging at his chest. Disappointed? Hate? What he’d said during their play had never affected her like this before – why now?

Doesn’t he tell her enough, that she’s the most precious thing in the world?

“Maomao, Maomao,” Jinshi rambles her name, hand pressing to her face, cradling it like she’s all that matters. “My love, why do you think I would ever hate you? Where is this coming from?”

Maomao purses her lips, shuts her eyes tightly, as if desperately trying to hide her emotions from him, from the world. She remains tense in his grasp, trembling.

“I- I cancelled your appointments; made you take time out of your day to satisfy my own desires. Why wouldn’t you be upset?” Maomao whimpers wetly, sniffles interspersing the sobs she can’t seem to fully stop. “I’ve always been useful to you, but if that changed, if I’ve become a hindrance-”

Maomao cuts herself off with a painful hiccup, fingers tightening around her collar.

“Darling,” Jinshi says, tears welling in his eyes, leaning in closer with the desperate need to understand her: his one, his everything, his future. “I could never find anything about you a hindrance. Why are you so worried about this?”

“I’m worried- no, terrified…” Maomao continues, raw vulnerability tearing at her throat, eyes blinking open with a deep, awful pain shining from their depths, rooted from years of insecurity, denial. “I’m terrified that if you ever decide I’m not worth the trouble, you’ll leave me. And if you leave me, you’ll take all of my trust, all of my… heart, and leave me with nothing.”

This is a level of vulnerability he has never seen spill from his Maomao, a level of deep pain and uncertainty that speaks to the deep scars of her past, deeper than any of the ones on her skin.

His thumb traces her cheekbone, wipes at heartbreaking tears as he tilts her face until she finally meets his gaze.

If he has to remind her every day that he loves her, that she is his world, then so be it – he will remind her for as long as it takes for his Maomao to believe it.

“I love you. Unconditionally. You’re worth so much more than you think.” Jinshi murmurs, arm cradling her body gently in his lap. “There is nothing you can do to change that, nothing that will ever change that, nothing that will make me want to leave you.”

A sharp shudder shakes Maomao’s frame, makes a few tears drip of the tip of her chin. The tension seeps from her body, slumping towards him, and Jinshi wipes the droplets off her jaw, leans in to press a kiss to her trembling cheek.

“Come here,” he murmurs, coaxing her melting frame into his chest, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

For a soft, tender moment, he just holds her, breathes in her scent as her tears slow, as her sniffles fade away into shaky breaths.

“You’re too forgiving,” her voice is a sudden, uncertain whisper, muffled into his skin. “If you had interfered with my work, I would be a lot more annoyed.”

Jinshi chuckles softly, a hand rubbing gently into Maomao’s spine.

“If I was genuinely upset, or if I had something important to take care of, I would have simply used our word to let you know.” Jinshi says evenly. “I enjoyed this morning. Besides, spending time with you is never a waste, or a hindrance.”

He pulls back, just a little, just to make sure she sees it when he tosses her a cheeky little grin. “I’ll always be yours to use for your pleasure anytime you’d like, my love.”

Her cheeks turn a little red, at that, and Jinshi is just happy to see that she’s no longer sobbing her eyes out.

“Bold promise,” Maomao grumbles under her breath.

She says it lightly, in a tone that could almost be mistaken for a passing thought, a joke. But he sees the way her eyes flit away, the uncertain manner in which the corner of her mouth draws downward. He sees it all with perfect clarity.

He reaches for the neck of his night clothes, dips under and pulls out the silver chain the hangs permanently against his chest.

“With this,” he says gently, leaning closer to tap the pinhole key against the edge of Maomao’s collar, bringing her attention back to him, “I’ve promised myself to you in private. And when I make you my wife – because I will find a way to make you my wife – I shall do so before the empire, publicly. I will never abandon you. No matter what happens, we will always be together.”

Maomao inhales a shaky breath, eyes drawn to the key he holds in his hand. “Was that a marriage proposal?”

“No,” Jinshi murmurs, curling his hand tenderly around her jaw, letting his fingers drop down to trace her collar reverently. “When I propose to you, I will have ensured all our obstacles are gone. And it will be a proposal you shall never forget, one worthy of you.”

“Worthy of me?” says softly. She reaches for him, for his hand holding his key, wraps her fingers around it gently. “I think you tend to overvalue my worth. I’m a servant, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Jinshi scowls. “Seriously?”

Maomao winces at the sudden edge to his tone, and his temper quickly softens.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, hand lingering to gently play with her collar. “I just hate hearing you talk about yourself that way.”

Maomao shrugs, eyes lowered. “I’m just being honest. I know I bring value in terms of my medicinal abilities, perhaps even my serving capabilities, although those are somewhat questionable. But what kind of worth would that be to someone like you, really? Someone with access to the best and brightest physicians, medics, apothecaries, this empire has to offer? As kind as your words are, I don’t want you to feel the need to keep lying to me just to spare my feelings.”

“You are impossible sometimes, you know that?” Jinshi leans in to press his lips to her forehead, lingering. “You are so much more precious than just your skills, and it kills me that you don’t see that.”

Maomao shrugs again, but he’s pleased to see that this time she doesn’t try to contradict him, simply burying her face into his neck with a little grumble.

Progress, perhaps. If their arrangement started as a way to give Maomao a safe space to feel, perhaps next it’ll become a safe space for her to grow.

Maybe one day he’ll get her to admit out loud that she’s enough, that she’s worthy of him, worthy of everything. He can use their games to accomplish this: maybe he’ll tell her she won’t be getting an orgasm until she admits her worth – or spank her any time she talks poorly about herself.

Right, about that.

“Alright,” Jinshi murmurs, disentangling her gently from his arms, even as a pang spears through his chest at Maomao’s sad little noise of protest. “Lie down on your stomach for me for a minute. I need to take a look at your bruises.”

“I’m fine,” Maomao sighs, squirming in his hold. But, she does as he says, laying down across his lap into a familiar position, although for an entirely different purpose.

“I know you used our word because you were feeling overwhelmed emotionally, worrying about if I was genuinely upset,” Jinshi says, rubbing a gentle hand into her spine, urging her to relax across his legs, “but I still need to double check that you’re okay physically.”

He glides his hand down carefully, cupping her bottom, inspecting it more closely for signs of injuries that need to be addressed. As his hand trails gently across her skin, welts warm against his palm, he feels as Maomao relaxes more and more under his touch, muscles softening, thighs parting naturally. Jinshi’s fingers trail to her thigh, curl around her soft skin as he coaxes her legs a bit further open, checking between her thighs to ensure he didn’t spank her cunt too roughly.

Besides the bruises and swollen red of her glistening cunt, he’s still satisfied that Maomao isn’t hurt badly enough to need any extra treatment.

“Is there something specific that I did that made you want to use our word? Anything I can do better moving forward?” Jinshi murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand over the inside of her thigh.

“I mean, not- not really…” Maomao answers softly, legs spreading a little further from his attention. “Maybe don’t say you’re disappointed in me during our games. That… hurt.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean it, I hope you know that, but I promise I will never say it again.” He leans down, presses a kiss to her sore bottom. “Thank you, for giving me the privilege of taking care of you.”   

It feels important to thank her, in this moment, to show her how much gratitude he feels that she’s here, with him, trusting him with her well-being.

She doesn’t respond – but he sees as her fingers reach out, searching, grasping onto his free hand with a soft squeeze. Jinshi smiles, interlocking their fingers fondly.

After a short, quiet moment, Maomao starts to squirm lightly over his lap. It takes him a moment to figure out what’s going on, but then she shifts her hips a little lower, his hand on her thigh sliding upwards inadvertently, and he feels exactly what the issue is.

Jinshi chuckles softly, palm flattening against the soaked folds of his needy girl. “What’s this? Does my Maomao need something?”

Maomao huffs, hiding her face in the sheets shyly even as she grinds her cunt into his hand shamelessly. “You still haven’t come.”

“I’m alright, darling,” he murmurs, hand still against her heated folds, unmoving, “is there something you want?”

Frankly, Maomao’s emotional breakdown was more than enough for the state of his cock to fall into an unimportant, forgotten part of his mind. And even though he’s starting to feel the heated stir rising in his gut once again, he wants to ensure he takes care of her needs first.

Maomao shifts, then, looking over her shoulder. Eyes big and open, lips swollen, cheeks flushed – she looks nothing less than ethereal.

“I want your cock, master,” she says simply, blinking up at him from under tear-dampened lashes.

He removes his hand from her cunt, eliciting a little whine. Gently, Jinshi turns her to her back, lays her onto the bed sheets, wanting to look at her directly.

He’s still holding her hand, fingers interlocked.

“No more ‘master’, no more asking for permission to come, not right now, alright?” He says, leaning over her, slotting himself between her open thighs. "Just you and me."

Maomao nods, eyes locked onto his. “Okay, Jinshi.”

His free hand trails across her cheekbone, tingling warmly when she nuzzles into the touch, exhaling softly. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off. I think we deserve a day just to ourselves.”

Maomao nods again, eyelashes fluttering in satisfaction, purring quietly into his palm.

“Would you like me to make love to you right now?” He asks, still cradling her cheek. “We could just cuddle instead, if you prefer.”

He sees the light flush that rises to her cheeks, gaze not meeting his when she clears her throat, eyes averted. “Yes, make… love to me.”

He thinks he hears her grumble something along the lines of sap under her breath, but he’s already grinning, reaching for his sleeping clothes, letting go of her hand only for long enough to rid himself of all fabric.

His hand returns to hers quickly, raising it above her head, pressing it down into the sheets. With his free hand, he reaches for his cock, aligns himself with her wet opening as Maomao’s eyes trail down hungrily, watching his preparation. She raises her hips for a better angle, leg curling over his lower back, opening herself up to him.

He gazes deeply into Maomao’s eyes, shining with desire, want, emotion. He wishes he could read every single one of those feelings like a book, imprint it into the dips and corners of his heart. He leans down, slowly, gaze locked onto hers until he has no choice but to let his eyes flutter shut gently, lips pressing to hers.

This kiss is sweet, slow, tender, He explores the soft swells of her lips as if for the first time, savouring every moment, the way her mouth parts beneath his in invitation, tongue prodding against his in curiosity.

He wants to make this sweet, gentle, loving. As much as he loves fucking her roughly, right now he just wants to show her how well he can take care of her. With her sore cunt, he wants to be especially careful.

He deepens the kiss, and guides the tip of his cock slowly into his lovely flower.

Jinshi gets to enjoy the soft, wet gasp Maomao releases into his mouth, clenching around him in a hard spasm, cunt swollen from the spanking and tighter than ever. He rocks his hips gently, slowly, stretching her carefully, bit by bit, enjoying the feeling as she spreads open for him, body pliant and tremoring.

“Jinshi-” Maomao moans his name softly, lips disconnecting with a wet string of saliva as her head falls back, mouth open in bliss.

Jinshi buries his face into her neck with his own moan, pushing in just a little deeper. “I love you so much, Maomao.”

His fingers tighten around hers, still holding onto her hand, warm and inviting within his. Her free hand curls around his neck, fingers curling into his hair, clutching onto him desperately.

“I-” she whimpers, cunt spasming as he presses himself closer, almost to the hilt now. “I- I know, I know.”

His lips open, press wet kisses down the slope of her slender neck. He tastes the distant tang of herbs, of some medicine. It’s so Maomao, and so perfect, that he nearly tears up at the thought that this is actually real, that he gets to hold her hand, kiss her without reservation, make love to her like the most precious girl that she is.

Jinshi presses in further, until his hips meet hers, until he’s as deep as he can go within her, her body accommodating his so perfectly, like he was made to be there. Maomao lets out a soft whine, fingers tightening in his hair, around his hand.

“I cherish you more than anything,” Jinshi murmurs against her neck, lips trembling with emotion. “You are so, so precious to me. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Jinshi,” Maomao says shakily, voice tinged with something, something soft, wet, real. He pulls back, just a little, just far enough to look at her, to catch her wide, open gaze, glistening with an emotion he’s perhaps too afraid to try to name, to see the shine of her collar, his key hanging over her chest.

Gently, he begins to move his hips, pressing in and out, rocking into her body with every ounce of his love filling every motion. His free hand curls gently under her thigh, caresses her skin reverently as he trails his fingers towards where their bodies meet in the most intimate of ways.

Jinshi lets his fingers linger over her clit, rubbing it gently in consideration of how sensitive it is right now. “I will always take care of you.”

Maomao releases another sharp, broken moan, cunt going tight around his cock, driving him closer and closer to his edge with every thrust. “Jinshi, I- I-”

His eyes feel hot, damp, as he watches the love of his life tremor in pleasure beneath him, trying to express herself, trying for him, saying everything that she can’t through the way she clutches his hand so, so tightly.

“I- I will always prioritize you,” Jinshi continues, voice shaking from the effort of keeping himself away from the edge, to draw the pleasure out for his Maomao to the last possible moment. Her cunt spasms around him in such a delicious way, that he’s finding it hard to keep his thoughts straight, anymore.

But, he knows there is one more thing he wants, needs to say, needs to know she understands.

Jinshi raises their interlocked hands, brings them to his lips. He kisses the back of her shaking hand, lingering.

“And I promise,” he says against her skin, rubbing at her clit a little harder, knowing she is close, so, so close, “I promise I will never, ever abandon you.”

And that, that seems to be just enough. Maomao comes with a sharp, wet cry, legs shuddering around him, cunt spasming roughly. Her fingers tighten in his hair, force his face down, down into her neck, hiding her expression from him. He finishes inside of her with a loud groan, cock pulsing roughly. But only as he comes down from his high, pulls out gently, he notices that her cheeks, pressed to his shoulder, are wet with fresh tears.

He freezes, about to pull back to check on her, when-

“I love you, Jinshi.”

The words are light, trembling, muffled into his shoulder as Maomao cries softly, overwhelmed.

She just- she just said-

“Oh Maomao, Maomao,” Jinshi rambles her name, hugging her tightly to his body. “I love you too, I love you so much, my darling.”

She returns his embrace, holding onto him tightly as her body shakes, finding comfort and safety in his arms.

And, frankly, what else could he ever ask for?

In this very moment, he thinks he might be the happiest man on earth.

---

Jinshi stands before the large, ornate door, nervousness eating at his gut. He’s certain of what he has to do – more certain than ever, knowing for sure that Maomao reciprocates his feelings.

But he has no way of knowing how this will go.

Finally, or perhaps too soon, the door before him opens, revealing a large, private lounge area fit for a king. Within it, sits a single figure, sipping on tea.

“Zuigetsu, you wanted to talk?”

Jinshi forces a polite smile onto his features, and makes his way into the room.

Notes:

This is probably as much of dom maomao (aka maomao who takes the bratty a little too far and gets immediately brat tamed by jinshi lol) i could see myself doing for this fic fyi 😅

Also damn I'm realizing they cry a lot. Sorry (not sorry) but I can't help it I want my babies to be as emotional as they could ever want to be 😫

I have a decent outline now for the rest of the fic, believe it or not, and I foresee about six more chapters (subject to change based on vibes and your suggestions ;))

As always, please let me know if you have any thoughts/suggestions <3

Chapter 12: Conversations and Hope

Notes:

Well, I decided to write this chapter instead of literally everything else I have to do so please enjoy, as always 😅

The format of this chapter is a bit different than usual, but I hope it works! There is a little jumping between different scenes, but I don't see myself utilizing this format again.

Possible beyond-anime spoiler: there is some discussion of the emperor and ah-duo's relationship at the end of this chapter. although I'm an anime watcher, I'm aware of much of the LN spoilers, and at this point it's hard to keep track of what was in the anime or not. All this to say that while there aren't any explicit LN/manga spoilers in this fic (and honestly I'm pretty sure I didn't get the whole emperor/ah duo situation fully right anyway lol), some of what I describe may hint at post-anime revelations of specifically how the emperor/Ah Duo feel about each other. you've been warned.

Ch. 12 smut CW: Discipline, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia, Humiliation, biting, size kink, penis in vagina sex, very rough sex (seriously he fucks her from every angle), light choking, nipple play, figging, overstimulation, squirting, some discussion of disciplinary wife/husband dynamics (for the sake of kink)

“Emperor.” Jinshi inclined his head politely. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Oh please,” the emperor chuckled, gesturing towards the thick cushion across from him, a teacup set for Jinshi on a low table. “As if I can’t make time for my little brother. Sit.”

Jinshi sat, sinking into the cushion, clearing his throat. Thinking, he grabbed his tea, sipped on it lightly. He wasn’t sure of the best way to begin this conversation.

He was saved from doing so by a sudden quirk of the emperor’s lips.

“So,” the emperor said evenly, leaning back into his sea, setting down his cup. “Does this have anything to do with that little apothecary you follow around like a lost puppy?”

Hot tea slipped into his trachea, elicited a sputtered cough as Jinshi choked on his drink. The tips of his ears flushed, a telling red painting his skin.

He was still attempting to recover his breath when the emperor continued, amusement in his voice. “Gyokuyou has been sharing with me some very interesting speculations…”

He trailed off, waiting for Jinshi to fill in the blank.

Well, then. No putting this off now.

---

Screech, screech, screech-

The legs of Maomao’s large, canopied bed scrape across the floor, likely leaving scratches. It’s ironic, really, that Jinshi provides her with such an opulent room, only to break every surface.

Screech- screech!

Her furniture squeals almost as loudly as she is crying out into the sheets, the ones she’s currently gripping onto for dear life.

“Ow- gods- ow-” Maomao sobs out, exclamations muffled into nothing but pathetic mewls as Jinshi forces her face into the bed, fingers tight in her hair, holding her down. His free hand bruises the shape of his fingertips into her waist, keeping her chest pressed down, the arch of her spine so sharp that her back aches as he fucks her from behind.

It’s a position Jinshi particularly likes, she finds – her backside high in the air, knees and chest digging into the mattress as he pounds into her from behind – giving him the opportunity to reach the deepest parts of her possible.

He’s got it down to a science, really, experimenting with enough angles to know that this is the one allowing her to take so much of him that she wouldn’t be surprised to awaken with bruises on her cervix the next morning. The scientific part of her excites at witnessing the results of a well-conducted study; but the overstimulated, bawling part of her can do nothing but take the cruel pierce of Jinshi’s heavy cock into her small frame.

Screech! Screech!

Relentlessly, he fucks her, bed shaking roughly under her trembling body, sharp bursts of delicious pain shooting from every thrust, an undercurrent of familiar heat growing hotter with every second. Maomao squirms and shudders, tears soaking into the sheets as incomprehensible babble spills from her lips.

“Take it,” Jinshi hisses from behind her, hand tightening on her waist. He’s a little rougher than usual, today, as if staking his claim, reminding her who she belongs to.

The thought sends flames of heat through her body, straight to her cunt, drives her closer to her precipice.

Through the pain, the need grows, balloons, makes her beg loudly into the sheets. “Can- can I come, please?”

“That’s not how you address me, is it?” Jinshi clicks his tongue in admonishment.

More tears well in her eyes as Jinshi raises her head off the sheets, fingers tight in her hair. “Please, may I come, master?”

Her voice is shot and trembling, clear and embarrassing with her face no longer forced into the bedding. Maomao bites her lip tightly, trying and failing to quiet the loud cries that escape with every one of Jinshi’s thrusts, unstopping.

“Hm,” Jinshi hums, a thumb rubbing gently into her side as he tightens his hold on her waist. “No.”

“Master,” she sobs in complaint, cunt spasming sharply around the unyielding girth of Jinshi’s length, trying desperately to force back the orgasm quickly clawing its way to the surface. “Please, please-”

“I said no.”

Maomao shakes her head desperately, strands of hair sticking to the sweat beading on her neck. “That’s not- not- not fair.”

Her pouting lip trembles, eyes squeezing shut tightly. It is so unfair. They both know she can only hold back her orgasm for so long, and he’ll happily use her transgression as a reason to punish her further.

But all he does in response is press her face back down into the bed, stifling her loud gasp as he quickens his pace, an array of stars bursting painfully behind her eyelids. Her fingers tighten into the sheets, go white with the pressure, shaking.

Her torso gives a long, hard spasm, then another. Maomao grits her teeth, begs her body to obey as she takes Jinshi’s assault – but it’s to no avail.

With a rough jerk, she comes harshly, violently, walls tightening around Jinshi’s cock hard enough to remind her of the stinging ache residing within her exhausted cunt, overworked and stretched to the limit.

“No, no, no-” Maomao sobs, pleasure washing through her, reminding her of her disobedience. “I’m sorry, master…”

She feels Jinshi’s body lean over hers, teeth sink into her shoulder, even as he continues to fuck her, begins to push her further and further away from pleasure and into the familiar territory of overstimulation.

“Good little fucktoys don’t come without permission, do they?” He purrs into the teeth marks on her shoulder, almost satisfied. Heat pools in her gut at the filth dripping from his voice, the promise of punishment.

And when he shoves her knees further apart, digs his cock so deeply and roughly into her swollen cunt that it feels as if he manages to reach all the way into her chest, Maomao shrieks.

“Ah! Ah! Aaah-” her cry trails off, leaving her with a scratched throat and fresh tears soaking into the bed sheets. “My cunt is so sore, master.”

For a moment, she thinks Jinshi actually takes mercy on her poor state. She feels the torturous thickness of his length retreat, pull out of her cunt and leave the sensitive walls throbbing painfully with every heartbeat.

But then he flips her, lays her gently on her back, and as soon as she’s able to blink away the blur of tears, she can tell immediately by his devious expression that this mercy will not last for long.

“You’re not done yet,” he chides, leaning over her, ghosting a kiss over the hurting bite mark on her shoulder. “Not only did you orgasm when I told you not to, but it appears you’ve forgotten who this sweet little cunt belongs to, also.”

Jinshi’s hand reaches between her thighs, grips her swollen folds, elicits a sharp whine.

He pulls back, just a little, just to look at her face, eyes glinting. “Say it properly.”

Maomao flushes, eyes darting away. All these months of exploring each other’s bodies, interests, desires, and yet Jinshi is still so good at finding ways to embarrass her. It’s as if he makes it a personal goal to find the most humiliating possibilities in every situation.

Her voice comes out as a little whimper, shaky. “Your cunt is sore, master.”

Jinshi’s fingers stroke up and down her folds, gently, deliberately, making her jolt every time he drags a nail against her sensitive clit. His free arm snakes around her waist, lifts her up to seat her onto his lap. Fingers spreading her folds, he hovers her above the thick head of his cock, threatening her with what’s to come.

Maomao sniffles, arm wrapping around his neck for stability, hand rising to play with the key that hangs on his chest absentmindedly. She glances down, gulps at the sight of Jinshi’s still-hard cock, unfinished even after fucking her through the mattress. From her observations, it appears that Jinshi’s state of mind plays a big role in how long he lasts until orgasm – and this kind of lengthy torture speaks to a lot on his mind.

“You’re very… intense today, Jinshi,” she notes quietly, biting her lip. From the look of things, her poor cunt will be suffering for quite some time.

Jinshi lowers her a little further, cock on the verge of breaching inside her. “I have some news.”

---

“You are correct. This has to do with the apothecary.” Jinshi collected his voice, cutting straight to the point. “I have a request.”

The emperor raised his brow, interest clear in his gaze. “Is that so?”

Jinshi took a deep breath, curling his shaking fingers into fists. Everything he’d done in his life, everything he’d worked for – it all came down to this moment. He had to play every card in his arsenal.

“I have served you well for years, overseeing your women in the rear palace, maintaining order and stability,” Jinshi began, voice smooth, practiced. “When I returned to my duties as a royal prince, I did so with diligence and humility, too. I fought on the battlefield, dealt with your most difficult of ministers, fielded complaints and concerns, and spent endless days doing paperwork to ensure your reign is the greatest this nation has ever seen.”

“Alright, alright, Zui, no need to lay it on so thick,” the emperor chuckled in amusement. “Yes, you have served me well. What is this request you speak of?”

Jinshi took a deep breath, steeling himself. It’s now or never.

“Take me out of the succession line, once and for all. It’s the only thing I have ever asked for.” Jinshi’s words came out strong, persuasive. He needed the emperor to agree to this. He needed it. “I will continue to serve you, in any way you see fit – I will deal with ministers, obscene amounts of paperwork, fight in all your wars, help manage the rear palace – anything you ask of me, without complaint. I will do it all, and all I ask is to be officially removed from the line of succession, for you to write a royal decree, to announce it publicly so no one will dare ever question it. I will remain forever in your debt, loyal to you.”

Gaze heated, passionate, Jinshi met the emperor’s eyes. “You have a son now, a healthy royal heir. You don’t need me anymore. Please, as a brother, as family, I ask of you this one thing. Please.”

Pausing, Jinshi tried to catch his breath, watching the emperor’s face, gauging his reaction. His face remained unnervingly blank, no expression save for the slight furrow of his brows. Jinshi waited for his response, heart pounding madly.

The man cleared his throat. And with a single word, Jinshi’s hopes and dreams sunk to the floor.

“No.”

---

With every bounce, Jinshi spears Maomao deeper onto his cock, the pull of gravity only making each descent rougher, more painful.

But if she’d thought her only consequence for coming without permission would be rough, punishing sex, she’d be very, very wrong.

“Fuck, master-” she cries out as her backside spasms suddenly around the object inside it, full to the hilt with a fresh piece of ginger.

She buries a hand in Jinshi’s hair, holding on for dear life as he forces her to ride his cock at the pace he desires, controlling every movement with his harsh hold on her hips. Every motion burns at the sensitive walls clenched around the ginger inside her, reminding her of her disobedience as the hot juices sink deep under her skin. The fullness of his cock pierces her just a thin sliver of skin away from the root, gives her no respite from the sting in her bottom.

Jinshi’s hand releases her hip, grasps onto the base of the ginger and twists it cruelly. “What is it, my darling pet? Not enjoying your punishment?”

Maomao bites onto her trembling lip, gripping Jinshi’s shoulder as the shifting ginger burns lines of fire into her walls.

“You said- you have news?” Maomao manages to whine, trying to distract herself from the heat, to take her punishment like a good girl.

But instead of responding, he leans down, and his teeth suddenly choose to work a particularly deep mark into the upper slope of her left breast. Maomao tosses her head back with a whine, overwhelmed sparks shooting under her skin as Jinshi decides this is the right time to use her as a chew toy.

Her cunt throbs weakly, exhausted, as Jinshi forces her down harder onto his cock, releases her skin from between his teeth. The grind of her clit into his pubic bone is like lightning, igniting her from within, fresh need pushing past the overstimulated nerves of her cunt.

That moment is when he chooses to bite again – and this time, he leans her back, dips down, and does so right over a hardened nipple.

Maomao wails, hands flailing, slapping at Jinshi’s shoulders as he tugs on her poor nipple, reminiscent of the awful grip of a clamp. He lets her cry and struggle for another long, painful moment, only releasing her when a particularly pitiful sob falls from her lips.

“I’m clooose-” she whines brokenly, shame bubbling in her gut as the combination of pain and simple pressure against her clit is somehow enough to bring her to the edge again, blindingly hot as it approaches. She looks down, and a delicious heat floods her chest as she spots her swollen nipple, glistening with Jinshi’s saliva and decorated with the impression of his teeth. “I want- please, please let me come, master-”

“Alright, darling, since you beg so prettily.” She feels Jinshi slip a finger under her collar, tug on it to draw her attention back to him. When she meets his gaze, he leans in, presses a tender kiss to her lips. “Let’s get a few more orgasms out of you, and then I’ll tell you the news.”

---

“No?”

“No. I can’t have a single newborn as my only heir. It’s too much risk.”

Jinshi’s heart hammered wildly, disappointment and sudden anger both clawing at his chest. He should have known – he knew this would be the emperor’s reaction. He had never been willing to give Jinshi this one thing he so desired, so why would he now? Just because Jinshi offered to essentially be his slave for the rest of his life?

But now he had something, someone else to fight for. Now it mattered so much more than ever before.

“I have never asked anything of you, anything other than this,” Jinshi blurted out, voice shaking, cooling cup of tea all but forgotten. “I will never ask for anything again, but I beg you-”

“Zuigetsu,” the emperor interrupted, voice stern. “Enough.”

“But I-”

“I said enough-”

“I won’t accept that!”

A moment of silence stretched, Jinshi’s exclamation reverberating throughout the room, an offence great enough to get him thrown into a dungeon cell, or executed, perhaps. He hadn’t even realized he stood up – but there he was, standing, fists clenched, glaring at the ruler of the nation.

He didn’t dare to breathe, staring down the emperor, awaiting his response.

When it came, finally, it was in the tone of icy cold anger, confusion.

“All of the responsibility of a prince, an heir, with none of the payoff,” the emperor said. “Why do you even want this so badly? Are you that afraid of a little bit of power?”

Jinshi sucked in a sharp breath. “It has nothing to do with power.”

“Then why? Why do you fight me so desperately?”

The words came to him immediately, so true and raw that they could not be held back. “Because this all comes back to the apothecary – to Maomao. Because in her, I found something worth any struggle. Because I will never abandon her, because I will make her my wife – but I will never lock her away as a concubine, or an empress, I will not put her in the danger such a position holds, I will not restrict her freedom. Because I will give up anything for her, and I will face every obstacle in my way, I will fight every day of my life if that’s what it takes to make her happy.”

Jinshi paused, for a moment, for long enough to take in the strange, unreadable look on the emperor’s face, to prepare his final argument.

“I love her more than anything,” he murmured, raw honesty dripping from his tone. “It is your right as the emperor, to deny me my request. But if you do so, never again will you have an ally in me. If that sounds like treason – so be it. But if you allow me this, if you fulfill this one request, I will be your most loyal servant, your hardest worker. I will spend the rest of my life paying you back for allowing me the happiness of committing my life to my soulmate.”

Slowly, reverently, Jinshi knelt, knees sinking into the floor, head bowed. “Please, Your Majesty. Please.”

And kneeling there, silent, staring at the floor, Jinshi awaited his fate.

---

Maomao’s chest slides against her desk, bite mark-ridden breasts scraping over the smooth surface as Jinshi fucks her from behind once more. With his hand wrapped around her throat, her head swims blissfully, her body laying limp and exhausted over the edge of her desk. A countless number of orgasms later, the ginger’s burn has worn off, now nothing but a pleasant stretch filling her backside, making her tired cunt tighter for the slide of Jinshi’s cock.

Even he, with his immense stamina, has orgasmed by now. Not like that had stopped him from shoving himself back into her cunt the moment he’d hardened once more, squeezing past the seed dripping out of her entrance.

“I- I- can I-” Maomao babbles wildly, but Jinshi seems to understand, understand her better than anyone ever had.

“Come for me, my darling,” he murmurs, the protective squeeze of his fingers around her throat tightening, just a little, just enough to push her into a pathetic, stuttering orgasm, squeezing out pulses of arousal that land on Jinshi’s skin, dribble down his leg.

He releases her neck, wipes a thumb against the drool sliding down her cheek, unnoticed. “That’s a good girl. I love making you ejaculate for me.”

Maomao can’t even blush at that in embarrassment, too far gone to process much else than the pleasant tingles all over her skin, the lovely fuzziness of her mind. She simply mewls softly, cunt squeezing around his cock weakly. He continues to thrust into her, leisurely, and she’s so far beyond the point of overstimulation that she simply feels like a puddle of goo.

“Are you close?” Maomao whines breathily, voice scratched.

Jinshi chuckles behind her, caresses her bottom softly with his palm. “Oh darling, ready to be done? Did I wear out my Maomao?”

She sighs, cheek pressing down to her desk, messy with tears and drool and a variety of sticky fluids. She’ll have to remember to deep clean it later.

“I want you to come inside me again,” she purrs, eyelids fluttering shut in satisfaction, the rhythm of Jinshi’s cock relaxing enough to ease all tension in her body. “I want you to fill me up, to feel you drip out of me.”

“Really?” Jinshi replies, squeezing a cheek of her backside gently as he gives a slightly harder thrust, eliciting a gasp. “You think you’ve earned more of my seed?”

Maomao pouts lightly, barely managing to twist her neck, blinking open tired eyes to look at Jinshi over her shoulder. Standing behind her like a chiseled statue, lanterns haloing him in light, he looks nothing short of ethereal.

“Please?” She asks, batting her lashes lightly.

Jinshi just raises a brow, a challenge.

She rises to it with the three words she knows always make him give in to her every desire. “I love you.”

His brows pull together with emotion, eyes glimmering. His hand trails up, gentle, settles dancing fingers against her lower back, makes her squirm. Even exhausted, her body manages to react to the ticklish feeling, to elicit sharp laughs from her lips as he begins to tickle her in earnest, leaning over her to capture her lips with his.

“Jinshi!” She giggles against his mouth. Jinshi begins to thrust harder, squeezing her hips into the desk, eliciting delighted moans in-between her giggles as he peppers her lips with kisses.

“I love you too,” he gasps through his groans, chasing his orgasm, the pulse of his cock inside her indicating just how close he’s getting. “I’m going to fill you with my seed, leave you dripping. It’s all yours, darling, I’m all yours.”

His thrusts turn more erratic, needy, fingers mercifully leaving her back, wrapping around her hip to hold her in place. “I love you so much.”

Maomao whines softly, reaches back to wrap her fingers around his, hold onto him tightly. “Come for me, darling, come in me-”

“Fuck-” Jinshi gasps, body seizing for a short, wild moment, the heat of his arousal shooting into her womb, filling her with warmth and a sweet sense of security.

She may have to take an extra dose of her abortifacients tomorrow, just in case.

One day, she may not have to worry about that at all.

It’s a sudden thought, but not entirely unwelcome. For a short, happy moment, she dreams of the day she’ll get her hands on a placenta of her own. Only when Jinshi pulls out, trembling, and she feels the heat of his seed drip down her thighs, she brings herself back to reality. He tugs free the ginger that had been occupying her backside, eliciting a soft whine.

“You were so good for me, my love.” Jinshi’s arms wrap around her gently, pull her up against his chest, cradling her tired body. She would likely collapse to the floor if she tried to stand right now, anyway. “Such a perfect girl.”

Her arms reach up shakily, wrap around his neck for stability. She buries her face in his chest, body tingling pleasantly.

“So,” she manages to murmur, the smell of Jinshi’s skin and sweat soothing her mind. “What was that news you wanted to share?”

Jinshi hums softly, chest vibrating against her cheek. “I had a conversation with the emperor.”

Oh. Oh?

Maomao swallows. This can’t be good.

---

Yang stared at the figure kneeling by his feet, bowing down to his emperor, the most reverent of images. As if the child hadn’t been talking back to him moments ago, yelling at the emperor himself. If it were anyone else, he’d already have them dragged away by his guards.

But this was Zuigetsu, Zui, his first-born son.

The child didn’t even know the truth of his birthright, although not by any fault of his own. How could Yang ever expect him to understand the burden he’d never been forced to bear?

Silly – he should have called Zuigetsu’s flowery proclamations of love. He hadn’t expected this, when Zuigetsu had sought him out tonight. He’d truly thought the boy would request making the apothecary a concubine, perhaps even a consort of his. Not this – to remove himself from every privilege he’d been given while taking on all the burdens, just to whisk her away from every responsibility her connection to a royal heir would hold.

A silly child with silly dreams, a little too attached to a toy.

But there was something he’d said: ‘I will fight every day of my life if that’s what it takes to make her happy’, something that made him pause.

Such passion, such devotion. He remembered thinking those exact words, once, remembered someone he wanted to make happy, no matter what.

But had he ever spoken those words, brought them into existence?

No. Instead, he’d made her his consort, locked her up in a palace far too small for her wings of her desires, contained her for his own use.

It was akin to watching history play out once more, but a history where he’d made a more noble choice, did everything to free his love at the cost of himself.

Would he make the same choice, given the chance to change the past?

Yang let out a heavy breath, fingers thrumming against his armrest. “Rise.”

He watched as Zuigetsu tensed, for a moment, before raising his face, cautiously. Whatever he saw on Yang’s face was enough to convince him to heed the order, to rise to his feet.

Yang pursed his lips, watching the boy carefully. “You love this girl that much? Enough to give up the rest of your future for her?”

Zuigetsu nodded immediately. There were many feelings etched into his face, but hesitation was not one of them. “Yes.”

Another heavy exhale, another pause. Yang continued to study his son, the soft, growing glimmer of hope in his gaze, the worried twitch of his fingers.

He loved Ah Duo. Zuigetsu loved his apothecary.

But he was starting to understand that there were two kinds of love – the kind that was thought, felt, and the kind that was acted upon.

He felt his love, but he hadn’t been brave enough, committed enough to act on it, to sacrifice his own desires.

But Zuigetsu? He was starting to see that this brave, passionate child of his would lift the entire world onto his shoulders if that would make his love happy.

Who was he, really, to stand in the way of such love? Perhaps he didn’t do right by the one he loved, but the least he can do is help his own flesh and blood do better than him.

What else could a parent ever want?

Yang let out a long, tired breath. “Fine. I will grant your request.”

The surprise on Zuigestsu’s features was bright, momentary, before it quickly transformed into nothing short of pure joy. “Thank you, thank you-”

Yang lifted his hand, interrupting his over-eager son with a sharp reality check. “I will grant your request. But I have a few conditions, pertaining to that apothecary of yours.”

He watched as Zuigetsu’s throat moved, swallowing harshly. “What kind of conditions?”

Yang raised a finger. “First, before you two can be officially engaged, you will have to convince Lakan to go along with this. He would never forgive such a slight as not being asked for his blessing in the marriage of his only daughter. I will not be starting a civil was over this girl, as wonderfully helpful as she had been in my own relationship with my consorts.”

Zuigetsu nodded, albeit a sour look crossed his face. “Yes, I assumed as much. We will get his blessing.”

Yang raised a second finger. “Secondly, that poor girl cannot continue living in your quarters as a servant any longer. I was able to turn a blind eye to the… encounters the two of you have been poorly hiding, as long as she was a mere servant. But if she is to marry you, she must act like the future wife of royalty, whether removed from the succession line or not. There is some propriety needed here. Starting tomorrow, she can’t keep coming to your residence until you get her father’s blessing. And she can longer be a servant – a position fit for a lady must be found for her. Is that understood?”

Perhaps it was a little amusing, to see the light blush that had risen to his son’s face, even if the rumors of what exactly the two kids had been getting up to make Yang shudder rather unpleasantly.

“I understand,” Zuigetsu grumbled finally, petulant.

Yang sighed a long breath, shoulders drooping with a sudden exhaustion. These kids and their dramatics – he was getting far too old for this.

“Alright, then,” Yang said, picking up his cold cup of tea, sipping on it lightly. “You may proceed. I will sign a decree to remove you from the line of succession. I will announce it officially at the next dinner party for the court to hear.”

Zuigetsu smiled, then, bright and hopeful. His eyes shone, as if on the verge of tears. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Truly. I will forever be in your debt.”

Yang shook his head. “No debts. This was a choice I fully made on my own. But I do hope to see that loyalty you’d been speaking of. I shall definitely keep utilizing your services in ensuring everything in the palace runs smoothly.”

“Of course.” Zuigetsu inclined his head politely. “If I could be dismissed, I would love to get an early night so I can get started on my work bright and early tomorrow.”

Yang chuckled. “Early night, huh? Alright, then. Have a wonderful night.”

Zuigetsu cleared his throat, ears a little red. “Thank you.”

And with that, his son was gone – not so much for an early night, he was sure.

Perhaps there was a thing or two he could learn from his son.

Yang sighed, setting his cup down for good. Perhaps he should plan to go visit Ah Duo sometime tomorrow.

---

The warmth of Jinshi’s chest presses to her back, soothing, a hand slung lightly over her waist. He peppers a few gentle kisses to her shoulder, ensuring to pay particular attention to the bite marks he’d left earlier.

He’d told her about his conversation with the emperor, the one that happened just hours earlier.

And for the first time, Maomao is truly hopeful.

The emperor himself had removed Jinshi from the line of succession, not only giving him something he’d always wanted, but also ensuring Maomao’s relationship with him will not put them in danger, will not make the empress nor any other consorts their enemy.

Who can stand in their way now, with the nation’s leader all but giving them his blessing?

Sure, she’ll have to move out tomorrow, spend some time away from Jinshi for propriety’s sake, but what’s a few weeks or even months to a lifetime together?

And yes, they will have to talk to the monocled freak, but she doesn’t want to think too much about it. She’ll grit her teeth through the conversation, just long enough to get the ‘blessing’ she doesn’t give a shit about and marry Jinshi.

“When do you think we can talk to the freak strategist and get it over with?” Maomao grumbles softly, squirming backwards to snuggle closer to Jinshi.

“There is an event, happening in a little over a week,” Jinshi murmurs against her shoulder, still pressing little kisses to her skin. “A dinner party during which the emperor will announce my removal from the line of succession. Commandant Kan should be there, we can find him right after the announcement. I think he may be appeased by the knowledge that marrying me won’t be putting you in any political danger.”

“Okay,” Maomao says, shuddering. “Enough about him. What will I do in the meantime?”

Jinshi’s arm tightens around her waist, holding her closely. “I was thinking you could go back to serving Empress Gyokuyou, as a lady-in-waiting. I’m sure she would love to have you back for the time being.”

Maomao pouts. “So, I won’t be a servant anymore? What excuse would you have to punish me for disobedience, then?”

Jinshi chuckles lightly, puts a hand on her shoulder, turns her to face him. She groans at the twist of her sore muscles, but follows along, pressing her front closer to him.

“Well, we will have to tone it down a bit, be more careful until we get the commandant’s blessing,” Jinshi says, raising his hand to her face, tracing a gentle thumb across her cheekbone. “But guess what? After we’re married, it will be even better.”

A frown forms between Maomao’s brows, confused. How would it be better? She’d grown quite attached to these punishments, and everything that went along with them.

Perhaps they can pretend, once they’re married, but it won’t be quite the same.

Jinshi leans in, presses a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips.

“Once we’re married,” Jinshi says against her mouth, tender, “you will be my wife.”

Maomao rolls her eyes even as she returns the kiss. “Obviously.”

Jinshi grips her chin, suddenly, eliciting a little gasp as her eyes widen in surprise.

“Mouthy girl,” he chides, voice noticeably lower, still kissing her. “When you are my wife, it will be my responsibility alone to ensure you behave. And do you know what that means?”

Maomao’s heartbeat speeds up in her chest, flush rising to her skin as he continues to grip her face, holding her in place. “What does it mean?”

“It means,” Jinshi purrs, “I will have to punish my wife for any and all disobedience. It would be your duty to obey your husband, after all, and to take it like a good little wife when I put you over my knee to reprimand you for rolling your eyes at me like a brat.”

Jinshi releases her chin, then, pulls back with a coy little smile. “How does that sound to you, darling?”

Maomao bites her lip, cheeks red, heated. Somehow, a similar heat is already pooling in her sore cunt.

Fuck. She shouldn’t be surprised that the idea did something to her, considering how much she delighted in the thought of being punished as his servant. But gods, the possibility of being Jinshi’s wife just went from great to the most amazing thing she could imagine.

“I see,” Maomao says, voice more squeaky than she would have liked it. “Well, I guess that would be your right, then. To punish your disobedient wife.”

“Hm,” Jinshi hums in assent, pecking her lips lightly. “That’s right. No longer being my servant doesn’t sound so bad after all, yes?”

Not at all, she thinks. And as she kisses him back, she does so with a smile so big it hurts her cheeks.

Notes:

They're getting closer to those wedding bells your honour 🥰 I do hope I did Jinshi's conversation with the emperor justice, and the emperor's POV - if not pls forgive me for the sake of this being primarily a smut fic 😩

Not going to lie, '6 more chapters' turned into more like 9, I'm not sure this fic will ever end 😆 (i love it, please never stop suggesting your fun, freaky ideas <3)

A few things to come, just to whet y'all's appetites ;)
-Omg another conversation with lakan! Our sweet, innocent jinmao would NEVER get freaky in public again, oh definitely not...
- We're going to have a roleplay chapter, I'm really looking forward to that one ;)

I'll hold onto everything else for now, don't want to spoil too much hehe 🤭

Love y'alls thoughts/suggestions as always <333

Chapter 13: Distance and Blessing

Notes:

I truly apologize for another 9k monstrosity of a chapter (after cutting some scenes, mind you), a lot of smut and a lot of progression happens here. PLEASE take breaks and enjoy, as always ;)

Ch. 13 smut CW: Discipline, Painplay, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia, Humiliation, spanking, chastity device (of sorts ;)), orgasm denial, anal plug, mild exhibitionism (hidden sexual activities in public with the risk of being caught), fingering.

When Jinshi wakes, stretching sore, overworked muscles, he does so to a dark room, alone under the sheets. He rolls over to his stomach with a groan, every limb aching. He must have gone harder on Maomao last night than he’d thought.

Not like he could have helped it – he was just too happy about his conversation with the emperor not to take it out on her.

He hears a soft rustle, originating from somewhere near the bed. Jinshi blinks his eyes open blearily, lifting his head off the pillow.

“Maomao?” He whines, searching for her lithe figure in the darkness of her room. “Come back to bed, darling. It’s not even dawn.”

“The emperor wanted me out of your quarters today.”

His eyes follow Maomao’s cool, even voice, finding her in the corner of the room, carefully removing clothing from her closet and loading them into a large knapsack.

Jinshi pouts, eyes tracing the lines of her bare body warmly. “I’m sure the emperor wouldn’t mind if you remain until at least the sun is up.”

Maomao pauses in her motions, arms laden with one of her simple green skirts. She turns her face to give him a hard look over her shoulder.

“I’d prefer not to risk my head separating from my neck.”

Maomao turns away, getting on her tip toes to reach for a particularly high shelf in her closet. With a substantial amount of delight, Jinshi notices how her legs wobble from the strain, how she winces lightly.

Perhaps he hadn’t gone hard enough on her after all, if she’s still capable of standing at all.

Well, there is always time to correct that.

“Alright, you can head out,” Jinshi purrs, voice sultry. “But I need to give you something first, before you go. Come here.”

Maomao pauses again. This time, when she turns around, she does so fully, brows set into a familiar, distrusting scowl.

“It’s a gift,” Jinshi clarifies.

Her scowl gets deeper.

“When you gift me something,” Maomao says, bratty little edge to her tone, “it usually implies either something I like or something entirely humiliating. It’s a gamble I do not enjoy taking.”

“Come here.” Jinshi repeats, dropping his voice low to that tone of command he knows makes her nervous. “Or you’ll be gambling with the possibility of walking out of here in tears with a thoroughly paddled backside to accompany those shaky legs of yours.”

Maomao bites her lip at the threat, a shudder shaking her shoulders. A low blush rises to her cheeks. “Fine.”

She stomps towards the bed petulantly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, arms crossed. Amused, he stands up, begins to search for his gift among the folds of his clothing.

Considering Maomao is about to move out of his residence, he made sure he’d brought this very important object along with him the night before.

Jinshi turns to look at Maomao, a pouch in his hand. He chuckles as she looks at the mystery bag hesitantly, pouting.

He grins. “Go lay down on your back, hands above your head.”

Another shiver travels through her shoulders. But, she simply huffs, obeying his order.

He wonders how long this obedience will last – especially once she finds out exactly what kind of gift she is about to receive.

Jinshi prowls back towards the bed leisurely, slowly, predatory, watching as Maomao lays down, stretches her arms above her head. He watches her chest rise and fall with a stuttering breath, nipples hard against the cool morning air. He watches and waits, lets the tension build, enjoys how she twitches sharply when his knees dip into the mattress, kneeling by her legs.

She watches him warily, eyes locked on the pouch in his hands. And with a sly smirk, Jinshi pulls his gift out of the bag.

Maomao stares at his hands, unblinking.

“Jinshi. Jinshi.” She says, voice strained, almost squeaking, earlier obedience disappearing into thin air. “What the fuck.”

He wants to imagine that she’s confused, terrified of what he could possibly be holding – but he’s sure she’s more familiar with any toy he could ever procure than he is.

Nonetheless, the cold, tremoring shock on her face is quite a delight to take in.

Jinshi grins. “Spread your legs.”

Maomao’s legs don’t budge. “You’re not putting that on me.”

“But how else can I ensure you don’t orgasm without my permission while we’re apart?”

“I will kick you.”

“Maomao~” Jinshi coos in a melodic voice, tapping his gift against her leg. “You can spread these legs for me, or I can spread them myself and spank my disobedient little cunt until you cry. And then put this on you. Your choice.”

She stares at him, still unblinking, an entire battlefield of emotions and decisions behind those lovely eyes. Her hands are still above her head, her thighs twitch – once, twice.

He thinks, for a moment, that she’s about to concede.

And then, she kicks him.

“Ow!” Jinshi exclaims, caught by surprise as her sharp heel connects with his side, hard.

“I said you’re not putting that on me!” She raises her foot again, ready to make impact, but this time he’s prepared.

He grabs her ankle, jerks her body closer.

“You’re going to regret that,” Jinshi hisses, slapping a hand against her thigh, forcing it open.

Her hips jump, her free foot flails, loud protests on her tongue.

He makes true on his promise – he pins her legs apart easily, raining down a series of slaps against the delicate swell of her cunt, still sore and swollen from its thorough fucking the night before. She struggles throughout, legs kicking, howling in pain and indignation.

And yet, her hands remain above her head, white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

It takes some time to get her to obey – she puts up more of a fight than he expects, unwilling to yield. It’s only when she stops kicking, when her legs remain open to him as he’d commanded and she accepts the punishing swing of his palm against her folds, that he’s sure she’d learned her lesson.

He stops, palm stinging, pulls back to enjoy the sight before him. With Maomao’s sweet flower all red and plump, tears streaming down her cheeks and harsh sobs rocking her chest, she looks divine.

He trails gentle fingers against her thigh. “Spread your legs wider.”

Maomao obeys, crying, letting her knees fall open to her sides.

Jinshi smiles. “Wider.”

He doesn’t need her legs spread and wider, not for the purpose of giving her his gift, anyway.

But it’s too much of a delight to watch her cheeks flush red and wet eyes squeeze shut with a sharp sob, her knees slide away from her body to the point of strain, swollen cunt splitting open and dribbling arousal – all for him.

“All that drama,” Jinshi tuts in disapproval, picking his gift up from where it had dropped to the sheets, “just to end up obeying your husband-to-be anyway. Was it worth the spanked cunt, darling?”

Maomao simply purses her tremoring lips, not meeting his eyes. Perhaps he should punish her for the lack of response – but he decides to be merciful this time.

Gently, he places his gift under her hip, and begins to adjust it into place.

Maomao twitches lightly as he works, quieting sniffles punctuating the silence. Pieces of metal and smooth fabric settle against her skin, wrapping over her hips and between her thighs. Carefully, Jinshi tightens the straps, ensuring everything is perfectly in place, exactly as it needs to be. And to end it all off, he takes the key that hangs off his necklace, the same one that keeps Maomao’s collar around her neck, and locks it all into place.

With a smug smile, Jinshi pulls back to admire his handiwork.

It’s an unusual contraption, but one that had delighted him thoroughly on one of his many follow-up trips to the Verdigris brothel. It looks almost like a pair of undergarments, with a soft, comfortable strap curling around the circumference of her hips – but that’s where the comparison ends. Two straps attach to the one around her hips, curling over the cheeks of her bottom and between her thighs, framing her cunt and the tight little hole of her backside beautifully, leaving them open.

And, most critically, those two straps merge into one thin, sturdy plate of metal to snugly cover the bud of her clit, a final strap traveling over her pubic bone to attach the plate to the belt around her hips.

Overall, it’s a lovely device with the sole purpose of preventing her from providing any stimulation to her neglected little clit.

Jinshi grips her thigh gently, gives it a squeeze. “Is it comfortable? Does it fit alright?”

Maomao’s bottom lip pouts, shakes, indignant little furrow to her brow. She still doesn’t meet his eyes.

He leans down to press a kiss to her thigh. “Let me know if anything is too tight or needs to be adjusted, darling.”

Maomao sniffles. “Okay.”

Jinshi pulls back once more, wanting to take in the beautiful sight below him fully.

The metal panel that hides her clit glints up at him in the low light of the distantly rising sun, her aching cunt peeking up from between her thighs, shining with her arousal, begging to be filled. His fingertips reach out, trace the strap that crosses under a cheek of her backside reverently, curl beneath it. So many possibilities with this wonderful contraption – one day, he can imagine himself fucking her tight little backside raw, clit locked away from pleasure. He loves to edge her to tears, and this would bring the experience to a whole new level of denial.

Jinshi pulls back on the strap, lets it snap down against her backside. Maomao jumps with a surprised little yelp, foot kicking.

“You look so good like this, my collar on your neck and pleasure controlled entirely by me,” Jinshi murmurs, thumb rubbing circles into her thigh.

“Jinshi.” He hears Maomao’s soft, quivering voice call out his name. “Can you- can you hold me for a bit, please?”

“Of course, darling,” Jinshi murmurs, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I promise the emperor won’t mind if you stay with me for just a little longer this morning. I love you.”

Maomao just sniffles again, settling into his chest, holding onto him tightly. “I’ll- I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Jinshi says, pressing a kiss to her hair. “But we’ll still see each other, and it won’t be long before we can be together in private again. Just two weeks until we can get Commandant Kan’s blessing, my love.”

Maomao nods lightly, snuggling closer into him.

Just two weeks, Jinshi tries to convince himself, arms tightening around the wonderful girl within his embrace. Not even; twelve days, no, eleven days and thirteen hours and-

Jinshi buries his face in Maomao’s hair, takes a deep breath. Soon.

But for the rest of the morning, he ensures to give her so many cuddles, kisses, and reassurances that they could last her until then.

---

Everything feels sore.

Sitting in the empress’ parlor, it is particularly evident – her cunt stings even from the soft cushion of her seat, aching with every shift of her thighs. Her body had grown used to the little plate of metal covering her clit, but even just the knowledge that it’s there keeps a persistent flush of indignation over her chest.

She feels utterly humiliated, and it doesn’t help that the empress of the nation is currently watching her with a sly little look, seated across from her.

“Welcome back, dear Maomao,” Empress Gyokuyou says smoothly, smile as sharp as a knife. “I am so very glad to have you back in my service. How have you been?”

“I have been well, empress, thank you,” Maomao replies, head bowed. “I am grateful for the opportunity to be your lady-in-waiting.”

“Yes, yes,” the empress replies lightly, waving her hand. “Now, tell me. How long can I expect to keep you around until the Moon Prince whisks you away from me for good?”

Maomao swallows, the flush on her chest rising to her cheeks, making her a little nauseous. How much should she share? If she’s not fully aware of the situation, Maomao is rather sure it won’t be long until the emperor comes to visit his empress to share the juicy details.

However, Jinshi’s removal from the succession line will not be official until the emperor decrees it, and Maomao is not about to be presumptuous. She doesn’t want the empress thinking she is trying to make an enemy out of her by binding herself to Jinshi, not until Maomao can show beyond all doubt that she will not be a threat to Empress Gyokuyou.

Maomao bows her head, hiding her flush behind her arms. “I am in your service for the foreseeable future, empress.”

She thinks she deflects smoothly enough, but the empress’ disbelieving and entirely un-empress-like snort tells her otherwise.

“Oh, please,” Empress Gyokuyou scoffs gently, eyebrow raised. “Although it had been quite entertaining, watching you running around on shaky legs and pretending that necklace you never take off is no big deal, I can’t imagine you two plan to keep this secret for much longer.”

A few little gasps escape from around the various servants lining the room, surprised and curious.

Maomao purses her lips. That ‘shaky legs’ comment was entirely unnecessary.

“I may have… tired out my legs a few times,” Maomao replies, attempting to salvage this spiralling situation just a little. “I had much work to do as the Moon Prince’s servant.”

“Oh, I’m sure he worked you very hard, Maomao,” the empress answers quickly, the teasing note in her tone going unmissed by anyone in the room. “Though I do wonder, since you’re no longer his servant, what excuse you’ll be using now?

Maomao swallows through a dry throat, blinking hard. Aside from the unflinchingly dirty implication of the empress’ words, there appears to be a genuine interest there, a curiosity to learn more about Maomao’s relationship with Jinshi.

Is the empress trying to find out more, to see if Maomao poses a threat to her position?

Maomao bows deeper, hiding behind her arms.

“I deeply apologize if anything about my behaviour has raised cause for concern,” Maomao says evenly, “I vow to be a loyal servant to Your Majesty as long as I am under your employ, and beyond.”

“Oh Maomao!” The empress laughs, light and airy, easing the tension in Maomao’s shoulders just a bit. “I’m just having a bit of fun; there’s no cause for concern. No need to profess your loyalty – we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. What an impossibility – the empress, friends with some apothecary.

But who is she to contradict her? “Yes, Empress Gyokuyou.”

Maomao straightens out of her bow, wincing at the pressure the change in position puts on her poor, beaten cunt.

Perhaps she should ask to be dismissed; she would really like to get a moment to herself in her quarters, private for a lady-in-waiting, to assess the extent of Jinshi’s punishment from this morning.

Although, perhaps there is one more thing she’d like to ask of the empress, now that they’re friends.

“Could I ask for a favour, empress?”

“Of course.”

Maomao looks down, feeling suddenly hot. “Do you know if anyone has an old copper mirror I may be able to borrow?”

---

Maomao’s fingers dig through soft dirt, under the curling, tangled roots of a mandrake plant. It’s a plant she particularly cherishes – in small amounts, it makes for a great analgesic. With slightly larger than small amounts, it’s incredibly poisonous, its hallucinogenic properties making its ingestion quite a wonderful experience. She’d already collected all the herbs she would need to make the empress’ evening tea, and now she is picking some out for herself.

Unfortunately, even with poison at her fingertips, she is feeling anything but wonderful.

She grips the root particularly harshly, for a moment, frustration thrumming at her fingertips. Even though she relaxes her hand quickly, a now-familiar instinct to be more careful, the anger doesn’t ebb away.

For nearly two weeks, she’d been unable to make herself come.

Not for a lack of trying – she’d spent many hours of any free time she could find with her fingers inside her cunt, desperately reaching for that soft spot that makes her toes curl and arousal drip down her thighs. She’d gone as far as to make use of the small copper mirror she’d been given, hoping the utter humiliation of watching herself push her fingers inside herself would be enough to get her over that desired edge.

But it was not enough, it’s never been enough.

She can’t come from penetration alone; the closest she had gotten was riding Jinshi’s cock, but even that had included at least some transient pressure against her clit.

With her clit locked away from any stimulation, that is no longer a possibility.

She hadn’t realized quite how much of a sadist Jinshi could be, but gods she realizes it now. She doesn’t even have the sweet sting from her spanking anymore – the least he could have done was go hard enough ensure the ache would last the entire time they’re apart.

It makes her feel like a complete freak, being so desperate for a climax. But Jinshi had spoiled her with so many orgasms that she no longer remembers how to go nearly two weeks with no proper pleasure.

And it’s not like she’d been able to go to him, either – the most she’d been able to get were a few short, polite conversations in public, overheard by too many ears to discuss anything more private. At least the dinner party is tonight, the one where they’ll get the old bastard’s blessing for their union.

Not like that makes her any less angry in the moment.

So, when the sound of approaching feet disturbs her little bubble of frustration, she’s almost grateful for the company.

That is, until she finds the epicenter of all her anger to be the one responsible for the intrusion.

“Lady Maomao.”

Maomao shudders, the title grating at her very frayed nerves. She’s a lady-in-waiting, now, so she supposes the title is warranted. Nonetheless, it puts her a little too close to the old bastard who keeps trying to drag her into his life and closer to that title.

“Moon Prince,” Maomao replies, voice cold. She doesn’t bother pulling her hands out of the soil, or even meeting his eyes, which is perhaps disrespectful and ill-advised.

But, well, the asshole deserves it.

A soft rustle of clothing follows, approaches. And before she can react, his figure kneels right next to her, on the dirty ground, like a commoner.

Maomao blinks, gaze drawn to Jinshi.

He smiles. “Doing some gardening?”

Maomaos scowls. Obviously. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Jinshi hums in assent, gaze trailing to the upturned row of mandrakes. “Seems like it’s going well. What is this plant?”

Shit. She should probably deflect.

Maomao clears her throat. “Why are you suddenly so curious? Don’t you have work to do, Your Highness?”

Maybe she’s laying it on a little too thick, but Gaoshun is standing nearby, other servants are milling around – a little propriety may be called for, in this situation.

“Is it so wrong to want to know more about your interests?” Jinshi asks, still kneeling by her side. “I’d like to know if there is anything I can do to support your passions.”

Oh. Maomao purses her lips, her heart jumping with a sudden gallop. She’s finding it hard to meet his eyes now, for some reason, a warm feeling tingling at her fingertips, bringing a flush to her cheeks.

Maomao shakes her head, dispelling the emotion. She’s still mad at him. She can’t be going soft right now.

She turns back to her mandrakes, picks one up to assess the quality of its roots.

She feels Jinshi lean in, just a little, still far enough for deniability. “So? Is there anything I can do?”

“A greenhouse would be nice.” Maomao mutters under her breath.

His chuckle is soft, sweet, warm near her ear. “Is that so?”

Maomao shrugs, flushing redder. She hadn’t been sure he’d heard her.

“Unfortunately, I do not have a greenhouse to gift you.” Jinshi pulls back, just a little. “But, I do have something else for you, for the time being.”

Maomao pauses, curious. She looks over at Jinshi, only to see him pull a box from the folds of his clothes, immediately setting her on edge.

What is it with him with his incessant secret little gifts?

She swears to the gods, if it’s another torture device…

He sets the box down gently, by her knees. Maomao returns her mandrake to the soil, reaches for the box.

“It’s for tonight,” Jinshi murmurs, trying to keep his voice low. “Wear it to the dinner party.”

Maomaos fingertips trace the edge of the box. A necklace? No, she already wears her collar. Some other jewellery?

Or something absolutely degrading-

Maomao clears her throat, not wanting to think on it any longer. She bites her lip, lowers her voice. “Yes, master.”

Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be mad at him-

Jinshi smiles, reaches for her fingers, perhaps to gently graze them, but Maomao pulls back, pouting.

“You don’t want to touch me, Your Highness,” she says, still a little miffed, reminded of the denial he’d forced her into. “I have poison on my fingers.”

Jinshi’s eyes go wide. “You what?”

Sudden delight lights up within her, eliciting a grin at Jinshi’s outburst.

Oh yes, that admission was certainly worth it.

---

Maomao stares down in horror.

With the dinner party approaching, she has done everything she needs to prepare: laid out her gown and accessories, taken a much-needed bath.

Standing naked and clean, save for her belt and collar, there is only one thing left to do, staring up at her from the opened box Jinshi had given her, taunting her from its depths.

It’s a fucking plug.

Of course it’s a plug. She should have known. What else would that pervert insist she wears to the dinner, the one she’ll have to spend squirming in her seat while discussing her fate with the monocled freak?

Perhaps Jinshi is still upset over that one blowjob she gave him in his office. How childish.

Maomao shudders, closes her eyes. It’s no use; she’d started at that damn plug for so long that the image is burned into her retinas: thick and imposing, larger than any she’d worn thus far. A little vial of oil next to it, as if that will make this process any less terrifying.

Well, maybe a little less terrifying. But still.

Maomao forces herself to open her eyes, to unclench the fingers that had curled into shaky fists.

Worst thing of all – she has to put it in all by herself.

It’s just so big.

She’s not sure she can handle it.

Maomao’s desperate gaze clings to the toy, thoughts chasing one another in her mind. She needs to do this soon; the party is happening in so little time, she can’t delay any longer.

She inhales a deep, shaky breath.

As she reaches for the plug, she imagines the look on Jinshi’s face, when he realizes she’d done it, plugged herself for him. Maybe he’ll reward her, take off that awful lock from her clit, give her more orgasms than she can handle.

Distantly, she finds herself lifting the heavy weight of the plug from the box, uncorking the vial of oil.

That’s a good girl, she imagines Jinshi purring in her ear, watching, be generous with the oil – the stretch will be painful enough to bring you to tears all on its own.

Maomao’s breath hitches, rubbing the oil carefully into the bulging end of the plug, systematically soaking the surface.

Get on the bed, imaginary Jinshi orders her with that deep, dark voice of his, eliciting a shiver, on all fours.

Maomao’s knees sink into her cot, squeak with every movement as she crawls over the sheets, nerves and a building fire eating at her gut. She positions herself on the sheets, on elbows and knees, plug clutched tightly in her hand. She stares down at her bedding, strands of hair falling in her face, breaths shallow.

What are you stalling for, darling? Jinshi’s voice purrs in the back of her mind. You know what I expect of you, now.

Maomao presses her face into the sheets with a little whimper, holding herself up on one elbow as she reaches back with the plug, angles it to press between the cheeks of her backside.

The blunt end of the plug puts pressure against the tight ring of muscle, elicits a sudden stretching burn when she pushes a little too hard.

Maomao whines, hips shuddering away from the feeling, popping the tip of the plug out of her body, hole twitching heatedly.

Fuck. That had barely gone in.

Oh Maomao, imaginary Jinshi clicks his tongue, how are you ever going to take my cock in your tight little bottom if you can’t even handle this plug?

Maomao whimpers again, eyes shutting tightly. She presses the plug against her opening once more, hand shaking.

I don’t know if I can handle it, master, Maomao replies to Jinshi in her mind, angling her hips up, pressing back against the growing burn of the plug, splitting her open slowly.

You will, he replies sternly, no room for argument.

Maomao pushes a little harder, a sharp sob falling from her lips as the heat grows, as her backside trembles around the intruding plug. Her cunt grows wet and hot, dripping to the unyielding metal shielding her clit, preparing her for an intrusion she won’t be getting.

It hurts, she whines at imaginary Jinshi, gasping softly into her sheets.

Take it, he commands.

Despite herself, Maomao’s hips jerk again, violently, dislodging whatever progress she’d made entirely.

She bites down on her sheets, trembling, tears gathering at her lashes.

She wishes Jinshi was here. He’d hold her down and make her take it, punish her if she complained.

He’d hold her close, after, assure of her how well she did.

Maomao takes a deep, tremoring breath, lets her arm relax by her side as her knees slide down against the sheets, laying her out flat.

Soon. She will be with him again soon.

Another deep, shaky breath, and Maomao turns over to her back, blinks up at her ceiling.

She will be him again soon. And when she is, she will be wearing this damned plug.

With a renewed sense of determination, Maomao blinks the mist away from her eyes, huffs under her breath as she sits up, angles herself to face her nightstand.

On that nightstand stands her most recent object of humiliation – the small mirror of copper, putting everything on display.

In a familiar motion, Maomao lifts her knees, spreads her legs in front of its reflective surface, reveals the wet glisten of her swollen cunt, begging for pleasure, framed by that awful metal contraption of torment.

But instead of shoving her fingers into her cunt in a desperate attempt at achieving an orgasm, she leans back, just enough to reveal the tight, sore hole between the cheeks of her backside, and resumes working towards her goal.

It’s humiliating, watching herself push the plug into the little ring of muscle, seeing the expression on her face as she whines at the renewed stretch, legs trembling. Except for her collar and nothing short of a chastity belt, she’s entirely naked, pressing a thick plug into her backside – like some sort of pet, toy, dressed and accessorized for her master’s pleasure.

She wishes it was one of those foreign glass mirrors - the kind that would expose every detail in perfect clarity.

The thought makes her cunt give a sharp little spasm, dripping around nothing, drops of arousal slipping down her perineum. She pulls the plug out, just a little, then fucks it back inside herself, deeper than before, crying out softly at the feeling. Her eyes jump between the depraved sight of her hole stretching painfully around the widening edge of the plug and her teary expression, mouth open and panting for shallow breaths.

Watch yourself take it, Jinshi’s purring voice returns within her mind, deep and melodious, all of it – take it all for me, pet.

Her cunt drips continuously, now, spilling down to the edge of the plug, lubricating each slide of the toy, easing it in further with every thrust.

“Jinshi-” she whines out loud as she pushes her sore, aching hole beyond the limit of anything she’d achieved before, soft sobs tremoring through her chest, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Master!”

And with that final, needy exclamation, the manages to stretch her poor little opening around the widest point of the plug, sucking the toy securely into her body, filling her up so fully that stars flash in her periphery, throat choking on gasps.

Fuck.

She’s aroused, so aroused, more than she’d been these past two weeks, so much that the depths of her cunt feel like a dripping ocean, her clit throbbing with every heartbeat as if on the verge of exploding. Roughly, she shoves two, three fingers as deep as she can into her cunt, crying out at the intrusion, searching immediately for her soft spot, digging her fingertips into the spongy tissue.

Maomao watches herself in the mirror with wide, teary eyes, watches as more arousal spills past her hand, smears around her cunt, watches her entrance squeeze around her thrusting fingers in desperation, the thick plug making everything so much tighter.

She’s close, so close, but gods, her clit stays hidden under that awful little device, unable to be touched, swollen and needy but forbidden by her master.

Her fingers curl, her backside clenches around the plug, the heel of her palm presses roughly against the metal plate in a desperate attempt for any pressure to her clit – but nothing. Nothing works.

By the time she gives up, soaked hand slipping shakily from her cunt, she’d edged herself to tears.

That fucker. That piece of shit. Fuck him.

Maomao slips off the bed, tremoring, sobbing softly, unwilling to see the sorry state of herself in the mirror for any longer.

Gods, she prays that no one has walked by her room to hear her torment.

And as a tear-stained, arousal-soaked, flushed mess, she cleans herself up and finishes getting prepared for the dinner party with her newest accessory plugging her to the brim.

---

“Good evening, Your Highness. Are you enjoying the festivities?”

Jinshi blinks, eyes ripped away from the most beautiful sight across the room, intruded upon by the sudden figure appearing before him. Jinshi forces on his practice smile of politeness, already disappointed that he had to tear his gaze away from the loveliest girl in the world for even a moment.

“Very much so,” he answers smoothly, analyzing the guest before him. She’s familiar – one of the noble girls that tend to gravitate towards him at events such as these, the one that looks a bit like Maomao. He wouldn’t be surprised is some particularly ambitious noble had noticed Jinshi’s preference for his apothecary and put forth a daughter that resembles her most.

But even though she looks like Maomao, but she’s not her. No one is like her.

The girl smiles at him gently – what was her name again? – folding her hands together primly. “That’s wonderful to hear. His Majesty puts on such fantastic celebrations; they’re always such a delight to attend.”

“For certain,” Jinshi replies smoothly, keeping up the small talk. For a quick moment, his eyes drift back to Maomao, beautiful in her collar and gown. He sees as she stands at the side of the room, plucking something to eat from one of the many floating plates of finger foods. He recalls that the girl before him is the one that had made her jealous, that one time.

As delightful as it is to see her get possessive over him, tonight doesn’t seem like the right night to push that button. Jinshi endeavours to escape his conversation and go to his Maomao as soon as possible.

Jinshi returns his focus to the noble girl. “In fact, I would say the wine being served tonight is one of the highlights of the evening. I recommend you go try some.”

The girl smiles, batting her lashes lightly. “Thank you for the recommendation. Perhaps Your Highness would like to go have some with me?”

Jinshi inclines his head politely. “Unfortunately, I must go attend to the other guests. But I am very grateful for the invitation, my lady. Please, go enjoy the festivities.”

At least the girl can understand the unspoken dismissal, her soft smile dropping just a fraction. He does hope he didn’t hurt her feelings – but he is also grateful that she simply bows politely, before retreating into the crowd.

Immediately, Jinshi returns his gaze to Maomao fully, and begins to make his way across the room.

He fields greetings and compliments from guests as he goes, face hurting from smiling, throat scratching from his excuses. It’s exhausting, as always – but knowing Maomao is so close makes it more tolerable.

Maybe once the emperor announces his removal from the succession line, soon, it will get easier. He doubts quite as many sycophants will be interested in him then.

Frankly, he’d be happiest if the only person in the world with any interest in him was Maomao.

His Maomao. The love of his life. He approaches, feet slowing, coming to a stop once the wonderful girl is the only person in his path. She still doesn’t see him, rather preoccupied with glaring at the steamed bun in her hand, shifting from foot to foot unsubtly.

He grins to himself. He does really hope she’s wearing his present.

“Good evening, Lady Maomao,” he purrs, if only to see her turn that glare onto him.

He’s not disappointed. In fact, her scowl only grows darker when she looks up at him.

“Did you like my gift?” He asks teasingly, stepping a little closer, perhaps a bit too close. No matter – let everybody know who she belongs to. Let her know who she belongs to.

If that collar hasn’t made it clear, at least.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private, Moon Prince,” Maomao hisses in response, cheeks flushing. “Or else I may say something I really shouldn’t in public.”

“That may be a good idea,” Jinshi chuckles lightly, grazing her lower back with his fingertips. He delights in the subtle shiver the motion evokes, pressing on her skin lightly to guide her along. “Let us find somewhere to sit.”

Maomao seems amenable to this, at least, following him to the edge of the room with nothing more than a bratty huff. Quite the attitude – perhaps something to punish her for.

Luckily, it doesn’t take them long to find a table in a quiet corner, small with nothing but a few seats surrounding its surface, a long tablecloth hanging to the floor. Jinshi pulls back a chair, guides Maomao to sit in it, facing the rest of the room.

She makes a little noise in the back of her throat, something broken, wincing as she settles into her seat, placing her steamed bun onto an empty plate. Jinshi smiles wider, pulling out a seat right next to hers, settling down a little too close.

“Feeling uncomfortable, Maomao?” He asks, meeting her furious eyes. “Is there something that made you wince so prettily when you sat down?”

She doesn’t waste another moment to berate him, twisting in her chair sharply enough to wince once again, which only appears to spur her anger.

“You fucking sadist.”

Jinshi raises a brow, amused. “Watch that tone, darling. This sadist can be a lot more sadistic if he thinks you’ve earned yourself some discipline.”

Maomao sucks in her lip, fury flaming in her eyes. “You made me torment myself with that awful plug, and now it’s been keeping me on edge all fucking evening. I will take whatever tone I want with you.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” he purrs, shifting just a little closer, until his knee presses to hers under the tablecloth. “Tell me more.”

She glares at him, suspicion clouding her gaze. “Well, for starters, you put a godsdamned lock on my clit.”

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Jinshi murmurs in response, reaching his hand over, tracing the dip of the tablecloth, where their legs disappear beneath it. “Must have left you all wet and unfulfilled for days, poor thing.”

He lays his hand gently on her knee, elicits a little jerk of her leg, surprised. Heat begins to warm his gut, a familiar desire rising to the surface.

Maomao clears her throat, gaze flitting away from his, edge of her tone shaking just a bit. “Yes, you did. It was awful.”

“Oh no,” Jinshi coos teasingly, hand slipping over the smooth fabric of her skirt, searching, “did you try to get yourself off anyway? Did my Maomao spend her evenings with her fingers stuffing her tight little cunt?”

“Jinshi,” Maomao hisses adorably, flushing red. “Lower your voice.”

“Worried someone will overhear?” Jinshi replies, smiling as his fingers find what he’s looking for – an innocuous slit in Maomao’s gown, the edge of the skirt wrapped around her body. “Worried everyone will find out what a needy little thing you are? Tell me, are you wet right now?”

Maomao purses her lips, looking down, silent. That seems to be answer enough.

Jinshi smirks, leaning in a little closer, hand dipping under the slit in her skirt. “How about I check?”

Maomao chokes on her inhale, a sharp tremor spearing through her body as she realizes what he’s doing. “Jinshi-”

“How long did it take you to get the plug in?” Jinshi interrupts, palm slipping to the inside of her bare thigh, burning hot against his skin. “Was it painful? Did you cry?”

He finds himself a little short of breath, now, heart beating madly in his chest, stirring heat in his groin. Picturing Maomao playing with herself, hearing her talk about it – it’s one of the hottest things he could ever imagine.

“Jinshi, I-” Maomao cuts herself off with a low gasp as Jinshi’s impatient fingers reach the apex of her thighs, one she bites back quickly. “Master.”

“Fuck.” It’s Jinshi’s turn to be caught off guard, fingertips meeting a pool of molten liquid. “You dirty girl – not wearing undergarments. If we weren’t in public, I think I’d give your cunt a thorough spanking just for the audacity.”

He swirls his fingers through the wetness, finding no traction against skin – she’s just that soaked. Maomao bites on her lip, holding back noise, trying to keep herself composed.

His fingers land on the warm plate of metal hiding her clit, press on it teasingly. “Tell me- tell me how you plugged your tight little backside for me.”

“I imagined you giving me orders,” Maomao gasps out as if on accident, fingers gripping the sides of her seat, tight. “You told me to get on all fours, to do it from behind. But it kept slipping out, it really hurt because it was just too big. I imagined what you would do if you were there – hold me down, make me take it, punish me if I don’t. Then I laid down on my back and watched myself insert the plug in a mirror as I cried, calling out your name.”

Maomao lets out a small whine as Jinshi pushes just the tip of a finger into her cunt, bites it back again. He can see her struggling to keep her face neutral, to not draw attention, eyes flitting about the room desperately.

Frankly, he’s not certain that he’s doing much better himself, at this point. Hearing Maomao describe what he would do to her is nothing short of intoxicating, floating straight to his head, his cock.

“And then what?” He asks, almost breathless.

When she meets his eyes, he thinks he forgets how to breathe entirely. “Then I fingered myself, hoping the combined pressure of the plug and my fingers would be enough to finally make me come.”

“And was it?”

“No.”

Jinshi growls lowly under his breath, finger digging deeper into her cunt, pressing into that sensitive spot inside of her. “I bet.”

And then, he pulls his hand away.

He hears as Maomao nearly sobs at the feeling, biting back the desperate noise into a strangled gurgle. “Fuck you.”

Jinshi simply smiles, settling his hand onto the inside of her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“Attention, dear guests!”

Both Jinshi and Maomao twitch in their seats, heads swinging towards the voice booming from the front of the room, so magnetic that silence falls over the large, guest-filled space immediately.

“Thank you all for joining me for this evening of celebration,” the emperor proclaims loudly, holding a cup of wine high in the air. “Today, we have something very special to celebrate.”

Jinshi’s heart thumps in his chest. This is it.

With a final, reassuring squeeze of her thigh, Jinshi removes his hand from Maomao, wipes off his fingers subtly. He leans away from her, just enough distance for propriety, once all attention is drawn to them.

“It may not sound like happy news, not at first, at least, but you should all be aware that everyone involved is quite satisfied with this arrangement,” the emperor continues, a light wine-raised flush on his cheeks. “Zuigetsu, my brother, where are you?”

Jinshi takes a deep breath. He rises to shaky feet, excitement and nerves filling his gut.

“Your Majesty,” he says loudly, clearly, bowing deeply.

“Ah there you are!” The emperor exclaims, voice booming with amusement. “Well, no more need to delay the news now, don’t you think?”

Jinshi bows deeper. “Yes, emperor.”

“Well then, let’s get to it.” The emperor clears his throat, stands taller. “From today onward, I have written Prince Zuigetsu out of the line of succession. And with this official royal decree, he shall never sit on the throne!”

Jinshi’s heart soars so high and fast that he almost feels lightheaded. In this moment, all he wants to do is to pull Maomao into his arms, to burst into tears with joy.

But he still has an image to uphold, albeit one he can finally live with.

Jinshi bows even deeper. “Thank you for your unending generosity, Your Majesty.”

Confused and uncertain murmurs abound throughout the room, likely unclear what to make of this strange situation.

But it’s of no matter to Jinshi. Finally, he’d gotten what he’d dreamed of his entire life. And now, it means he can be with the woman he loves.

He rises out of his bow, smiling so widely that it hurts.

The emperor raises his glass in his direction. “You are very welcome, brother. Now, everyone, back to the celebrations!”

It takes another moment of quiet muttering among the guests for the news sink in, before the atmosphere begins to return to joyous festivities of before.

Jinshi turns his grin towards Maomao.

When he finds a matching smile on her face, he thinks he could burst with joy.

He sits back down by her side, quickly, grabs her hand between shaking fingers. “We did it.”

“You did this, darling.” Maomao squeezes his hand. “I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes feel suddenly hot, lips tremoring. He opens his mouth to reply, to tell her how much he loves her, when-

“Your Highness. Or is that even your title anymore?”

Jinshi leans back in his seat, meets Commandant Kan’s hardened eyes, glaring at their interlocked hands. He lets Maomao go, gently, straightening in his seat. It’s now or never, to overcome their final obstacle. This needs to go well.

But before Jinshi can open his mouth, Commandant Kan turns his attention on Maomao, ignoring him entirely. The man’s face lights up, eyes practically sparkling.

“My sweet princess!” Commandant Kan exclaims. “Don’t you look so beautiful tonight. Would you like more gowns? I can give provide you with all the newest fashions, just come live with me, my dearest.”

Maomao’s eyebrow twitches, unable to fully mask the scowl forcing its way onto her features. “No thank you.”

The Grand Commandant pouts in a particularly childish manner, sitting down across from them with a sweep of his robes, resting his elbows on the table. “Daddy misses you, sweetheart.”

This time, the look that flashes on Maomao’s face is nothing short of disgust.

Hidden under the table, subtly, Jinshi rests his hand on her leg, squeezes it reassuringly. A small shiver races up Maomao’s spine, leg tensing under his grip. She manages to roll back the look on her face into something more neutral.

Something sparks in Jinshi’s mind, an idea.

They both know this is a conversation that needs to be led by the Commandant’s beloved daughter, if they are going to convince him to allow their marriage. So, if there is something Jinshi can do to put her at ease throughout, should he not?

Besides, he hadn’t forgotten that little stunt she’d pulled under his office desk.

“You-” Maomao chokes lightly as Jinshi’s hand slips under her skirt once more, a small widening of her eyes in horrified understanding. She clears her throat, closing her eyes for a short, stabilizing moment. “… you do want to make me happy, right?”

“Of course, my precious flower,” Commandant Kan says sweetly, leaning his chin on his hand. “More than anything.”

“Then I-” Maomao cuts herself off again, breathes deeply through the feeling of Jinshi’s finger returning to the wet pool of her cunt, finding her even needier than earlier. He wonders if this is enough to soak through the many layers of her lovely gown. Unlikely – but a delicious thought anyway.  

Maomao continues, voice a little shakier than before, unamused scowl on her brow. “Then I have an important request.”

“Anything, dear.”

Maomao closes her eyes once more, exhales lightly as Jinshi’s finger swirls through her wet heat, dips into the molten pool to his first knuckle. He reaches in, just a bit deeper, finding that swollen, sensitive spot inside her once again.

And when he presses on it, her eyes fly open. “I want your blessing for marriage!”

The Commandant pauses, at that, face tightening just a little. For the first time since the start of the conversation, his eyes travel to Jinshi, for just a moment, before returning to his daughter.

Maomao’s fingers grip the edge of the table, tight, lips pursing and gaze steady, holding it together.

“We can find you an amazing match, sweetheart,” Commandant Kan says slowly, carefully.

“I already found him,” Maomao replies quickly, rushed, a flush on her neck that could be explained by timidness, if Jinshi wasn’t knuckles deep in her cunt right at this moment.

It is then that Maomao turns to look at him, throwing him a glare for his torment of her needy cunt. “I have fallen in love with Jinshi, and I want nobody else.”

Jinshi’s finger pauses its exploration inside of her, stunned into stillness, words so different from the furious expression on her face. He knows how hard it is for his Maomao to be openly vulnerable, how long it took her to even admit her love to him.

But to proclaim it like this?

Jinshi can’t help it – he blinks away tears that gather in his eyes, uses his free hand to reach for one of hers, interlock their fingers and set them on the table for the Commandant to see.

“I love her more than anything,” Jinshi murmurs, turning his face to finally address Commandant Kan, resuming a gentle pressure of his fingertips into her sweet spot – wanting to show her just how much he means it. “I will take care of her for the rest of my life, I will provide her with anything she could ever desire. Now that I have been removed from the line of succession, she will be in no danger, she will have the freedoms an emperor’s consort would never get. I swear to you, Grand Commandant, even with all our differences, that this one thing we will always agree on – Maomao is the most precious person in this world, and I would sacrifice anything it takes to make her happy.”

Commandant Kan blinks at him, thoughts and emotions clouding his gaze, warring with the expressions on his face.

This is it, Jinshi thinks, returning his gaze towards Maomao, smiling at her adoringly as she glares up at him, as he pulls his fingers out to her tiny little gasp, removes them from her skirts. How could the Commandant deny such a truthful proclamation of devotion?

He must see that Jinshi is the perfect match for her. He must. Isn’t it clear that Jinshi would move the earth and the heavens for his Maomao?

His Maomao looks up at him with furious, open eyes, the neediness he recognizes so dearly hot and flaming in her gaze. As soon as this is over, as soon as he can sweep her back to his chambers, he will give her all the pleasure she’d been dreaming of for the past two weeks, and more. Anything for her.

Teasing glint in his eyes, Jinshi reaches for Maomao’s steamed bun, forgotten on a nearby plate, wraps subtly arousal-wet fingers over its dough.

He pops it into his mouth, ensures to lick his fingers as he goes, enjoying the taste of Maomao’s delicious cunt, enjoying the way her mouth pops open and cheeks flare red even more.

“Moon Prince.” The Grand Commandant’s voice rings low and steady, dragging Jinshi’s attention back to the man who’d seemingly come to a decision. “I appreciate your… devotion to my daughter.”

Jinshi begins to smile, inclining his head, when Commandant Kan raises a hand, stilling him.

“However, actions speak louder than words,” the man continues, voice stony, “even when those actions are behind closed doors. Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors of how you’ve been treating her when she was under your service – berating her, physical punishment. If that’s how you treated her then, what makes you think I’d believe you’d treat her any better as a wife?”

The Commandant rises to his feet, hard enough to make his chair scratch across the floor. “I do not know how you have brainwashed her into loving you, but I do not support this union.”

And with a swirl of his robes, the Grand Commandant is gone.

---

Maomao sits on cold ground, back to the wall of her repurposed-shed laboratory. Her fingers play with the leaf of a nearby plant, an innocuous lemon balm. It’s good for sleep, to ease anxiety. Perhaps she’ll offer some to Jinshi, once he finally manages to sneak away, to find her here where they’d agreed to meet and talk after the party, finally truly alone.

Maybe she’ll offer some to herself – gods know she’s not the perfect ball of calmness right now, either. But Jinshi is certainly struggling with the old bastard’s refusal more than she is. She knows things are bad because he’d given her his key, told her to unlock her belt when she’s alone and do whatever she needs to do, ending one of their many games right in that moment.

All her life she’d been a realist – she can bounce back from setbacks, move forward. She knows Jinshi and his unending optimism struggle with this quite a bit more.

Maomao sighs, releasing the lemon balm leaf. Instead, her hand returns to her neck, to play with her collar. She may have removed everything else, but this one sign of his devotion she will not be discarding. Ever. Her fingers travel lower, down her chest, trace Jinshi’s key as it hangs on her neck. She’ll return it to him once she sees him.

Maomao thinks back to the sad, broken expression on his face, when the old bastard left their table. She thinks she can read Jinshi quite well, at this point, and what the monocled freak said had clearly stuck with him. He's probably blaming himself, questioning himself on all his choices. What if he had been a little more gentle? Played less into the games and punishments she’d been craving?

What an idiot, she thinks to herself. He knows her better than anyone – and he knew exactly what she needed each and every time. She could never regret how he’d been treating her, both the loud, the painful, and the sweet, devoted.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way, no matter the outcome.

Maomao leans her head back against the wall with a deep breath. Besides, she’s nowhere close to giving up in their fight to be together. There are still cards they can play.

When Jinshi finally arrives, it is with a frantic energy she hadn’t quite prepared herself for.

“Maomao,” Jinshi exclaims her name, rushed, almost desperate, bursting through the door of her laboratory and getting straight to the point. “I will go to him, I will beg, explain the truth of our relationship- maybe you should come with me, confirm. He’ll believe you, if you’re convincing enough? Right?”

“Jinshi-” Maomao tries to interrupt, rising to her feet watching as he paces on the other end of the room, but he doesn’t seem to have heard her.

“Gods,” Jinshi continues roughly, swearing under his breath, running a harsh hand through his hair, “if I knew how our games could impact this, if I had considered that he might find out some fraction of it and see it as abuse, I would’ve been more careful, I would’ve done things differently, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Jinshi.” Maomao stands in front of him, hand fisting into his robes. He looks at her, then, heartbreak in his eyes, tremor on his lip.

“I won’t let him take you away from me,” she says simply, softly, gazing deep into his eyes.

Jinshi sniffles, lightly, and she can see the drops of moisture that begin to gather in his eyes. She raises a hand, presses it gently to his cheek.

“I don’t regret a single thing we’ve done, no matter how it looks to anyone else. You know that right?” Maomao says, tracing her thumb under his eye, wiping away at the moisture.

“I know,” Jinshi replies shakily, nuzzling his cheek closer into her hand.

“Okay, good.” Maomao rises to her toes, presses a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back, crossing her arms. “Now, we need to plan our next steps. He won’t listen to our words, no matter what we say. He thinks you’re a lying abuser and that I’ve been brainwashed by you. It won’t work.”

Jinshi’s face falls a little further, lips pursing together. “Then what will we do?”

Maomao sighs. Well, here it goes. She’s not certain how Jinshi is going to feel about this.

“He’d said that actions speak louder than words.” Maomao looks at Jinshi carefully, steadily. “And I have an idea of an action we could perform that would speak very, very loudly. Likely in the opposite manner of what he wants, but certainly giving him very little choice in what to do if he wants to ensure my happy future.”

Jinshi’s brow furrows, curiosity in his gaze. “What kind of action?”

Maomao looks away, finding it a little hard to meet his eyes, now. She reaches for her neck, removes his key, holds it out to him - a reminder, a promise. “I think we’re going to need to give the Verdigris House another visit.”

 

Notes:

Oooooh what do you think these two little freaks are going to get up to at the Verdigris House?? I have a really fun little arc planned, kudos to anyone who guesses it ;)

Also, I'm in an 18+ discord server for Jinmao enthusiasts where some of us like to talk about our fics and anything Jinmao related. I saw some interest so here is a link, y'all are welcome to join: https://discord.gg/FHXnMtqtx

Suggestions and comments welcome and appreciated, as always <3