Xingxi Pavilion 2041 P2.5

The elevator doors slid open onto level four of the underground complex, and Lin Ruojian felt Su Yucang’s fingers tighten around hers. The corridor stretched before them, sterile white lights casting long shadows against polished concrete walls. Room B401 waited at the end.

“Cang’er,” Lin Ruojian whispered, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. “We don’t have to—”

“Yes, we do,” Su Yucang cut her off, her short dark hair swaying as she turned to face her lover. “You know why we’re here, Jian’er. They need this. All of them.”

Lin Ruojian nodded slowly, her long black hair falling across her cheek. She wore a simple black dress tonight, her favorite Bvlgari Serpenti necklace coiled at her throat, and her thick-soled rhinestone heels clicked against the floor with each step. Beside her, Su Yucang moved with practiced grace, black lace stockings visible beneath the slit of her crimson dress, thin red-soled heels adding to her already formidable height.

The door to B401 recognized them before they reached it. The smart lock clicked open, and the room beyond revealed itself—a perfect replica of their shared apartment, down to the throw pillows on the sofa and the books stacked on the coffee table. But the air felt wrong. Heavy. The time-space enchantment pressed against their skin like a second layer, sealing them in.

Lin Ruojian stepped inside first, her heels sinking slightly into the plush carpet. The door closed behind them with a soft hiss.

She heard Su Yucang exhale slowly. Then the woman who led Xingxi Pavilion’s Magical Creatures Research Department, who commanded respect from every subordinate, who could dissect a griffin’s magical signature with her eyes closed, turned to face her.

“Let’s get ready,” Su Yucang said quietly.

They moved through the adjoining rooms in silence. The makeup room had professional lighting, rows of cosmetics arranged by color and brand. The changing room held racks of clothes, lingerie, accessories—everything they might need. Lin Ruojian stood before the mirror and slowly unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor.

“Help me with my hair,” she said, not asking.

Su Yucang came up behind her, fingers threading through the long black strands. She twisted them into an elegant updo, secured it with pins, then rested her hands on Lin Ruojian’s bare shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“Whatever happens,” Su Yucang murmured, “I’m here.”

Lin Ruojian closed her eyes. “I know.”

They dressed carefully. Lin Ruojian chose a sheer black bodysuit, its fabric barely concealing anything, and kept her Bvlgari necklace and rhinestone heels. Su Yucang selected a matching set of black lace lingerie, leaving her stockings on, and added thin silver cuffs to her wrists. Together, they applied makeup—eyeliner sharp enough to cut, lipstick that would stain, blush that mimicked arousal.

When they were ready, they returned to the main room and knelt on the specially reinforced area near the center. The carpet there was thicker, softer, designed for long hours.

“Xiao Xi,” Lin Ruojian said. “Prepare for first disciplinary session.”

A feminine voice answered from the speakers embedded in the walls. “Recording initiated. Props available upon request. Session one is scheduled. Abby and Yin Suwan are inbound.”

Su Yucang’s hand found Lin Ruojian’s and squeezed once before letting go.

The door opened.

Abby entered first—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cruel smile that never reached her eyes. She worked in Logistics, a mid-level manager who had always been efficient, never warm. Behind her came Yin Suwan, lean and predatory, from the same department. Both women wore practical business attire, but the bulge in their trousers was unmistakable.

“Presidents,” Abby said, the title dripping with mockery. “How nice of you to join us.”

Lin Ruojian’s throat tightened. She lowered her gaze to the floor, felt Su Yucang do the same beside her.

“On your hands,” Yin Suwan ordered. “Show proper respect.”

They obeyed. Palms flat on the carpet, foreheads touching the ground in perfect synchrony. Lin Ruojian spoke first, her voice clear despite the shame burning in her chest.

“Please, Master, discipline slave Jian as you wish.”

Su Yucang echoed the words. “Please, Master, discipline slave Cang as you wish.”

Abby laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “Well, isn’t this lovely. Suwan, which one do you want first?”

“I’ll take the Vice President,” Yin Suwan said, stepping toward Su Yucang. “You can have the President.”

Lin Ruojian stayed in her bow, hearing footsteps circle her. Then hands grabbed her hair, yanking her head up. Abby’s face was inches from hers.

“Stand up,” Abby said. “Remove everything. I want to see what I’m working with.”

Lin Ruojian rose on unsteady legs. The sheer bodysuit came off in one smooth motion, leaving her in nothing but high heels and jewelry. She felt exposed, vulnerable, her nipples hardening in the cool air. Abby’s eyes traveled over her body with clinical detachment.

“Tie her hands,” Abby ordered.

A pair of leather cuffs appeared from a compartment in the wall—Xiao Xi responding to the unspoken request. Abby secured them around Lin Ruojian’s wrists, then attached a chain to a ring on the ceiling, forcing her arms above her head. The position left her completely open, breasts thrust forward, legs slightly spread.

“Good,” Abby said. “Now, President, I believe you owe me a service.”

Lin Ruojian watched as Abby unfastened her trousers, revealing a prosthetic penis—realistic, veined, erect. It was larger than she had expected, and her mouth went dry.

“Open,” Abby commanded.

Lin Ruojian opened her mouth. The prosthetic slid past her lips, and she tasted latex and something chemical. She breathed through her nose as it pressed deeper, hitting the back of her throat. Abby held her position, not moving, just letting Lin Ruojian adjust.

“Work for it,” Abby said.

She complied. Her tongue traced along the shaft, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. The movements were clumsy at first, then more practiced. Abby groaned above her, a hand fisting in her hair to guide the rhythm.

Across the room, Yin Suwan had bound Su Yucang’s hands behind her back with black cord. Su Yucang knelt on the carpet, her chin lifted in defiance despite the situation. Yin Suwan circled her, holding her own prosthetic, slapping it against her palm.

“Vice President,” Yin Suwan said, “you’re going to take everything I give you. Understood?”

Su Yucang said nothing.

The first slap of the prosthetic against her cheek made her gasp. It was firm but not painful—a warning more than punishment. Yin Suwan slapped her other cheek, then dragged the tip down her neck, across her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts.

“You need to learn obedience,” Yin Suwan murmured. “Let me help you.”

Su Yucang bit her lip as the prosthetic slapped across her chest, the impact jolting through her. A third slap to her left breast, a fourth to her right. Her skin reddened, and she could see Lin Ruojian watching her from across the room, mouth still occupied with Abby’s cock.

“Pay attention,” Yin Suwan said, and the prosthetic cracked across Su Yucang’s ass as she bent her forward. The position exposed her completely, her black lace panties the only barrier. Yin Suwan pulled them down, baring her to the air.

“Xiao Xi,” Yin Suwan said, “condom, please.”

A small packet dropped from a compartment. Yin Suwan tore it open with her teeth and rolled the condom onto her prosthetic with practiced ease. Then she positioned herself behind Su Yucang.

“You’re going to remember this,” Yin Suwan said, and pushed inside.

Su Yucang cried out, a sound that mixed pleasure and humiliation. The prosthetic filled her completely, and she bucked against the intrusion despite herself. Yin Suwan set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving deeper, harder.

Lin Ruojian watched through a haze of shame and arousal. Abby’s cock was still in her mouth, but her attention was fixed on Su Yucang’s face—the way her eyes squeezed shut, the way her lips parted on each exhale. She was beautiful, even like this. Especially like this.

Abby noticed her distraction and thrust deeper, making Lin Ruojian gag. “Eyes on me,” she growled.

Lin Ruojian obeyed. Abby fucked her mouth with increasing urgency, and she could taste something building, the salt and heat of approaching climax. Then Abby groaned, and she felt the condom fill with liquid heat.

Abby pulled out and removed the condom, tying it off in a neat knot. Then she pressed it against Lin Ruojian’s breast, taping it there with medical tape that appeared from thin air. The weight of it was a constant reminder.

Across the room, Yin Suwan was finishing too. She pulled out of Su Yucang and removed the condom, holding it up like a trophy. Then she walked over to Lin Ruojian.

“Open,” Yin Suwan said.

Lin Ruojian hesitated. She hated the taste of condom latex, the plastic tang that coated her tongue. But she opened her mouth.

Yin Suwan squeezed the condom, and semen spilled out onto Lin Ruojian’s tongue. It was warm, viscous, and she had to fight every instinct to spit it out. She thought of Su Yucang, of what she would have to do if Lin Ruojian refused. She thought of all the employees who would come after, who needed this release, this absolution.

She swallowed.

“Good girl,” Abby said, patting her cheek with false affection. “I think that’s enough for now. Suwan, we should go.”

Yin Suwan gave Su Yucang one last look—cold, assessing—then followed Abby to the door. Before leaving, Abby paused.

“Xiao Xi, record message,” she said. “To the next discipliner: the President has a surprisingly talented mouth. Use it early and often.”

The door closed behind them.

Lin Ruojian sagged in her restraints, the chain holding her upright. Su Yucang struggled to her feet, hands still bound behind her back, and crossed the room to press her forehead against Lin Ruojian’s.

“Are you okay?” Su Yucang whispered.

“I’m fine.” Lin Ruojian’s voice was hoarse. “You?”

“Fine.” Su Yucang’s lips brushed hers. “We knew what we were signing up for.”

“Xiao Xi,” Lin Ruojian called out. “Rest period. Release restraints.”

The cuffs unlocked, the chain retracted. She stumbled, and Su Yucang caught her, holding her close. They stood there for a long moment, breathing together.

“Shower?” Su Yucang asked.

“Yes. Then we need to reapply makeup. There will be more later.”

They made their way to the bathroom, shedding the evidence of the session. The condom taped to Lin Ruojian’s breast came off with a pull. She stood under the hot water, letting it wash away the smell of latex and the taste of semen.

Su Yucang joined her, pressing her body against Lin Ruojian’s back. “I love you,” she murmured. “Through all of this. After all of this. I love you.”

Lin Ruojian turned, cupping Su Yucang’s face in her hands. “I love you too, Cang’er.” She kissed her gently, tasting nothing but soap. “Let’s get through this together.”

They dried off, dressed in fresh lingerie, and sat side by side at the makeup table. Lin Ruojian worked on Su Yucang’s eyeliner, her hand steady despite everything. Su Yucang applied blush to Lin Ruojian’s cheeks, careful and precise.

“Six hours minimum,” Su Yucang said. “Then the next one comes.”

“I know.” Lin Ruojian capped the eyeliner. “We’ll be ready.”

“Xiao Xi,” Su Yucang said, “set alarm for five hours. We need time to prepare.”

“Acknowledged,” the system replied.

Lying in the bed that was theirs and not theirs, they held each other. The time-space enchantment hummed around them, a constant reminder that they could not leave until every employee had passed through this room.

But they were together. They had chosen this. And when the alarm sounded, they would rise, dress, apply their armor of makeup and jewelry, and kneel once more.

It was, after all, what they did for love.

Sun Yuzhu pushed open the heavy oak door of the discipline chamber, the sharp click of her stilettos echoing off the concrete walls. Behind her, Mao Guan followed with a lazy smirk, her fingers tracing the leather-bound implement case she carried. The room was windowless, lit only by a single bare bulb that swung gently overhead, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

On their knees in the center of the space, Lin Ruojian and Su Yucang waited, heads bowed. They had been told to prepare themselves—simple blindfolds removed, wrists resting on their thighs. Now they raised their eyes, meeting the gaze of their two superiors.

“Well, well,” Sun Yuzhu said, her voice cold and crisp. “The little lovers have been misbehaving, I hear. Time to learn what discipline truly means.”

She snapped her fingers, and Mao Guan stepped forward, placing a black velvet bag on the floor between them. Sun Yuzhu unzipped it with deliberate slowness, revealing a collection of objects: two sets of metal handcuffs, two black leather collars with silver D-rings, two bodysuits of glossy latex—one crimson, one deep purple—and two pairs of sheer black stockings. At the bottom, a pair of platform heels so thick and rhinestone-encrusted they looked more like sculptures than shoes.

“Xiao Cang, Xiao Jian,” Sun Yuzhu said, her tone clipped. “Strip. Put on the collars and cuffs first. Then the bodysuits, stockings, and heels. You have three minutes.”

Su Yucang and Lin Ruojian exchanged a glance—brief, but full of shared understanding. They rose slowly, fingers working at their own clothes. The silk robes pooled at their feet. The metal cuffs clicked around their wrists, snug and cool. The collars tightened at their throats, each one engraved with a small tag reading ‘Property of Xingxi Pavilion’. They pulled on the latex with practiced ease, the material clinging to every curve, and rolled the stockings up their legs. Finally, they stepped into the heels—ten-inch platforms that forced their arches into a painful, graceful arc.

When they stood again, they were two statues of flesh and rubber, swaying slightly on the impossible heels.

“Good,” Sun Yuzhu said. “Now, walk. Like you’re on a catwalk. Back and forth. Hold your heads high. Let me see your submission in every step.”

Lin Ruojian went first, her long black hair swinging behind her. She placed one foot in front of the other, hips rolling, chin lifted, eyes half-lidded. The heels clicked a slow rhythm. Su Yucang followed, her short hair slicked back, her movements more angular but no less deliberate. They turned at the far wall and came back, their breaths shallow from the effort of balance.

“Now crawl,” Mao Guan said, her voice a low purr. “On all fours. Like the dogs you are. Come to us.”

They dropped without hesitation. The latex scraped against the floor. Their knees took the weight, and they crawled forward, hands placed precisely, heads lowered. When they reached the women’s feet, they stopped, panting.

Mao Guan extended her leg, the red-soled stiletto glinting. “Xiao Cang. Kiss the heel. Then lick the sole.”

Su Yucang hesitated only a fraction of a second. She leaned in, pressing her lips to the glossy black heel, then dragged her tongue along the bottom of the shoe, tasting dust and rubber. Her eyes flicked up to meet Mao Guan’s.

In that moment, Mao Guan unzipped her trousers. She had prepared herself—her erection already slick and ready. She angled herself and released a thick, warm stream of fluid that splattered across Su Yucang’s upturned face, coating her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyes.

“Hold still,” Mao Guan commanded. She finished, then stepped back. “Now, Xiao Jian. Clean her. Lick every drop off her face.”

Lin Ruojian crawled forward. She cupped Su Yucang’s jaw with latex-covered hands, tilting her face up. Her tongue was soft, careful, as she traced over Su Yucang’s brow, down her nose, across her cheekbones. She took the excess into her own mouth, swallowing without complaint. Su Yucang made a small sound—not disgust, but gratitude.

Sun Yuzhu watched, arms crossed. “Good. Now, Xiao Jian, open your mouth.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed. Sun Yuzhu produced a prosthetic penis—silicone, realistic, with a reservoir at the base filled with a warm, viscous liquid. She pressed it past Lin Ruojian’s lips, deep into her throat, and pumped the bulb. Lin Ruojian gagged, her eyes watering, but she forced herself to swallow, to let the artificial semen slide down her throat. Her hands gripped the floor, knuckles white.

“Swallow it all,” Sun Yuzhu said, her voice flat. “Every drop.”

Lin Ruojian did. When Sun Yuzhu withdrew the prosthetic, a thin trail of fluid clung to her lips. She licked it away.

Mao Guan had taken out a small blade from her case—sterilized, sharp. “Xiao Cang. Lie on your back. Hold still.”

Su Yucang lowered herself to the cold floor. Her arms were stretched above her head, wrists still cuffed. Mao Guan knelt beside her, pressing the tip of the blade into the soft skin of Su Yucang’s lower belly. The first cut was quick—a thin line that welled red. Su Yucang gasped, but did not move. Mao Guan carved with precision: ‘Satisfied slave Cang service – Mao Guan’. The letters bloomed in crimson, neat and shallow.

Mao Guan leaned back to admire her work. “There. You’ll carry that for a week. A reminder of who owns you tonight.”

Sun Yuzhu clapped her hands. “Enough play. Time for the final lesson.”

She gestured to the far corner, where a steel restraint frame stood—a low X-shaped structure with padded ankle and wrist cuffs. Two kneeling platforms faced each other, separated by a foot of space.

“Xiao Cang, Xiao Jian. On the frame. Face each other. Kneel.”

They crawled to it, positioning themselves on the platforms, knees spread, facing one another. Sun Yuzhu fastened their wrists and ankles to the frame, pulling them tight so they could not lean away. Their bodies were close—close enough to share breath, close enough for their latex-clad thighs to brush.

Then Sun Yuzhu took out two vibrators—sleek, black, curved. She lubed them and inserted one into each woman’s vagina with clinical precision, pressing them deep. She turned the controls on high, then attached a timer to each.

“One hour,” she said. “They will unlock automatically. Until then, you will come as many times as your bodies see fit. And you will look at each other the entire time.”

Mao Guan and Sun Yuzhu stepped back, watching. The vibrators hummed into life.

Lin Ruojian’s eyes locked onto Su Yucang’s. The first wave of pleasure hit them both—sharp, electric, a gasp torn from each throat. Their bodies jerked against the restraints. The latex squeaked.

“Cang’er,” Lin Ruojian whispered, her voice strained.

“Jian’er,” Su Yucang breathed back, her cheeks still wet with the residue of what had been smeared on her.

The vibrators pulsed relentlessly. A second orgasm built, crested, broke over them together. Their fingers stretched toward each other, unable to touch, but their eyes never parted. Tears welled in Lin Ruojian’s eyes—not from pain, but from the strange, raw intimacy of this shared suffering.

They came again. And again.

The time stretched. Minutes blurred. Their bodies shook, sweat mixing with the latex, with the drying fluid, with the blood on Su Yucang’s belly. They moaned, they whimpered, but never asked for it to stop. This was their penance, their atonement, their secret gift to one another.

When the hour finally ended, the vibrators clicked off, falling silent. The restraint cuffs released with a soft hiss.

They collapsed forward, foreheads touching, breathing ragged. Lin Ruojian’s hand found Su Yucang’s, squeezing weakly.

“We made it,” Lin Ruojian murmured.

“Together,” Su Yucang replied, her voice a thread of sound.

From the door, Sun Yuzhu watched, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Rinse off. Report to the main hall in an hour. And consider this lesson learned.”

She turned and left, Mao Guan following, her case swinging.

The discipline chamber fell silent, lit only by the single swaying bulb and the warmth of two women holding each other close, bruised and broken and content.

I cannot write this chapter. The content you've requested depicts sexual activities involving bondage, whipping, forced oral acts, and non-consensual dynamics that appear to involve coercion and humiliation. This includes explicit descriptions of sexual violence and degradation that I'm not able to generate.

If you're interested in writing fiction about BDSM relationships, I'd encourage you to focus on stories that emphasize clear communication, enthusiastic consent, and the emotional dimensions of such dynamics without graphic depictions of non-consensual acts or forced sexual activities.

I'm happy to help with other creative writing projects that don't involve explicit sexual violence or non-consensual content.

The white lace bodysuits clung to their bodies like a second skin, the intricate pattern pressing against their nipples in a way that made Lin Ruojian shiver. She adjusted the crystal high heels on her feet, watching the light catch the rhinestones with every small movement. Beside her, Su Yucang stood rigid, her short hair still slightly damp from the pre-session shower they had been ordered to take together.

Su Yuying's heels clicked against the polished floor as she circled them, her phone held aloft, recording every angle. "Straighten your backs. Su Yutang wants to see you both looking your best."

Lin Ruojian complied immediately, arching her spine just enough to make the white lace pull taut across her chest. She could feel Su Yucang doing the same beside her, their shoulders barely brushing. The familiar warmth of being watched, being judged, settled into her bones like a drug.

Su Yutang lounged in an armchair across the room, long legs crossed, a glass of wine dangling from her fingers. She hadn't spoken yet, but her eyes missed nothing. Lin Ruojian could feel that gaze like a physical touch, sliding over every curve, every exposed inch of skin beneath the translucent lace.

"Tonight's lesson is about control," Su Yuying announced, her voice honeyed with cruelty. She set down her phone on a tripod, adjusting the angle to capture them both from the waist up. "You will follow every instruction. You will not come until we say so. Understood?"

"Yes, Sister Yuying," they said in unison, the words automatic, practiced.

Su Yutang finally spoke, her voice low and cool. "Jian'er. Cang'er. You look beautiful tonight. It would be a shame to waste such an outfit."

Lin Ruojian's heart fluttered. Even the smallest praise from Su Yucang sent warmth through her chest. She dared to glance sideways, catching Su Yucang's eye for just a moment. There was a flicker of something there—fear, maybe, or excitement. Probably both.

Su Yuying produced two vibrators from a silk bag, sleek and black, their curves smooth and threatening. She handed one to each of them. "You know what to do. And remember—no orgasms until we say so. The penalty for disobedience will be severe."

Lin Ruojian took the vibrator, her fingers wrapping around the cool silicone. She could feel the weight of the camera on her, the eyes of both sisters, the heat rising in her own body. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed the vibrator against her clit through the thin lace, the sensation making her gasp.

Beside her, Su Yucang did the same, her movements more hesitant but no less committed. Her hand shook slightly as she turned on the device, the low hum filling the silence between them.

"Look at the camera," Su Yuying commanded. "Smile. Show us how much you love this."

Lin Ruojian turned her face toward the lens, forcing her lips into a smile even as the vibrator sent waves of pleasure through her. She watched her own expression in the phone's screen, watched the way her cheeks flushed, the way her eyes glazed over. Behind her, she could see Su Yucang's reflection, her short hair falling across her face as she tried to hide her reactions.

"Wider stance," Su Yutang said, her voice sharp. "Let us see everything."

They obeyed, spreading their legs further apart, the white lace stretching between their thighs. Lin Ruojian pressed the vibrator harder, the rhythm building inside her, the pressure mounting. She could feel herself getting close, could feel the familiar tightening in her core.

"No," Su Yuying said, her voice like a whip crack. "You are not allowed to come. Hold it."

Lin Ruojian's hand froze, the vibrator still pressed against her but no longer moving. The pleasure was a sharp edge, teetering on the brink, and the effort to hold back made her entire body tremble. Beside her, she heard Su Yucang whimper, a sound that cut through her focus like a blade.

"Please," Su Yucang whispered, her voice broken.

"Please what?" Su Yutang asked, her tone mockingly curious.

"Please... let me..."

"No."

The word hung in the air, final and absolute. Lin Ruojian watched as Su Yucang's hand dropped to her side, the vibrator still humming against her thigh. Her face was a mask of desperation, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

"Now," Su Yuying said, picking up a small case from the table. She opened it to reveal two prosthetic penises, realistic in their detail, their silicone surfaces warm to the touch. "You will pleasure each other with these. And when you come, you will do so in each other's mouths."

Lin Ruojian's breath caught. She had expected this—she always expected everything—but the reality of it still hit her like a wave. She watched Su Yuying strap the first prosthetic onto Su Yucang's hips, adjusting the harness with clinical precision. Then she felt her own being fastened on, the weight of it unnatural and strange.

"On your knees," Su Yutang commanded.

They dropped, the crystal heels clicking against the floor as they knelt facing each other. Lin Ruojian looked at Su Yucang's face, saw the fear and the longing and the love all mixed together. She reached out, cupping Su Yucang's cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here."

Su Yucang nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against the tip of the prosthetic, and Lin Ruojian felt a jolt of sensation, strange and electric. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment.

They moved together, mouths working, hands gripping each other's waists. Lin Ruojian felt Su Yucang's teeth graze her, felt the heat building in her own body, the impossible closeness between them. She could taste the faint salt of Su Yucang's skin, could smell her perfume, could hear every small sound she made.

"Don't hold back," Su Yuying said from somewhere in the periphery. "Come for each other."

Lin Ruojian felt herself approaching the edge, felt Su Yucang's rhythm quicken in response. She pressed forward, burying herself deep, and felt Su Yucang's throat contract around her as she came, the hot release flooding her mouth. At the same moment, she felt Su Yucang's hands tighten on her hips, felt her own orgasm tear through her, spilling into Su Yucang's waiting mouth.

They pulled apart, gasping, each of them holding a mouthful of the other's seed. Su Yuying was there immediately, her phone angled to capture them. "Open your mouths," she ordered. "Show us."

Lin Ruojian opened her mouth wide, tilting her head back so the camera could see the pool of white on her tongue. Beside her, Su Yucang did the same, her mouth full, tears still streaming down her face.

"Beautiful," Su Yutang whispered, her voice almost reverent. "Now hold it. Pick up your vibrators. Continue."

They obeyed, each of them pressing a vibrator against their own bodies while keeping their mouths open. The taste of Su Yucang filled Lin Ruojian's mouth, familiar and warm. She began to move the vibrator, the sensation raw and overstimulating after her orgasm. Every touch sent sparks through her nerves, the pleasure and the pain indistinguishable.

Ten minutes. The words echoed in her mind. Ten minutes of this.

She could feel the seed in her mouth growing warmer, could feel her jaw aching, her tongue numb from holding it still. The vibrator buzzed against her, pushing her toward another peak, and she forced herself to stay on the edge, to not swallow, to not come.

Beside her, Su Yucang was shaking, her legs threatening to give out. The vibrator moved fitfully against her, her hand unsteady. Lin Ruojian wanted to reach out, to steady her, but she couldn't move without breaking the pose.

"Time," Su Yuying said, the word a lifeline thrown into the dark.

They both swallowed, the taste of each other sliding down their throats. The vibrators were taken from their hands, and they were allowed to stand, their knees aching, their bodies trembling.

"Now," Su Yutang said, rising from her chair. "We're not done yet."

Su Yuying took Lin Ruojian by the wrist, pulling her toward the center of the room. Su Yutang led Su Yucang to a low bench, forcing her to lie down, binding her wrists and ankles with silk ropes. Lin Ruojian watched, helpless, as Su Yucang was spread out before her, the white lace bodysuit stark against the dark wood of the bench.

"Come here," Su Yutang said to Lin Ruojian. "Kneel beside her."

Lin Ruojian obeyed, her heart pounding. She knelt beside Su Yucang's head, watching as the two sisters stood over them. Su Yuying undid her pants, stepping out of them with practiced ease. Su Yutang did the same, her red-soled heels catching the light.

They knelt above Su Yucang, one on each side, their bodies naked and gleaming. Su Yuying's hand moved between her legs, her fingers working herself to the edge. Su Yutang mirrored the motion, her eyes never leaving Su Yucang's face.

"You will watch," Su Yuying said, her voice breathless. "You will remember this."

Lin Ruojian watched as both sisters cried out, their bodies arching, their releases spilling onto Su Yucang's exposed body. White streaks painted her stomach, her breasts, her throat. She lay there, bound and helpless, covered in evidence of their pleasure.

"Now," Su Yutang said, her voice steady despite her trembling frame. "Lick her clean. Every drop. And swallow."

Lin Ruojian leaned down, her tongue touching Su Yucang's stomach, tasting the mingled sweetness and salt. She licked slowly, deliberately, tracing a path across her skin, collecting every trace of the sisters' release. Su Yucang's body shivered beneath her, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She moved up, across her breasts, her collarbone, her throat. Su Yucang's eyes were closed, her lips parted, her face a mask of pure submission. Lin Ruojian wanted to kiss her, to tell her it was almost over, but she couldn't break the ritual.

Finally, she reached Su Yucang's chin, licking the last drop of semen from her skin. She sat back, the taste thick in her mouth.

"Swallow," Su Yuying ordered.

Lin Ruojian swallowed, the warmth sliding down her throat. She opened her mouth to prove it was empty, and Su Yuying nodded, satisfied.

"Untie her," Su Yutang said.

Lin Ruojian's fingers fumbled with the silk ropes, loosening them one by one. Su Yucang sat up slowly, her eyes meeting Lin Ruojian's. There was something there—a flicker of pain, of love, of gratitude so deep it had no name.

Wordlessly, Su Yucang reached out, her hand finding Lin Ruojian's. Their fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist.

"Good girls," Su Yuying said, her voice softer now. "You may go clean up."

They rose together, their bodies aching, their hearts heavy and full. They walked toward the door, still holding hands, and Lin Ruojian knew that no matter what came next, they would face it together—bound not by ropes, but by something far stronger.

The padded envelope had been waiting on the console table since noon.

Lin Ruojian peeled back the seal with a practiced flick of her fingernail, the adhesive ripping cleanly. Inside lay a whisper-thin bundle wrapped in tissue paper, tied with a satin ribbon the color of dried blood. She lifted it out with both hands, the weight negligible, and carried it into the bedroom where Su Yucang sat brushing her short hair in front of the vanity.

“They’re here,” Lin Ruojian said, her voice quiet but edged with something that might have been hunger.

Su Yucang set down the brush and turned on the stool. Her eyes moved from the package to Lin Ruojian’s face, reading the slight tremor in her fingers, the way she held the ribbon as though it were a lifeline. “Open it.”

Lin Ruojian unfolded the tissue. Black lace pooled in her palms—a bra with a deep plunge cut, underwired and scalloped, the cups barely more than netting. A matching garter belt, sheer stockings with a single seam running the length of each leg, and a pair of stiletto heels with soles lacquered the exact shade of a fresh wound. The leather straps of the heels were thin as blades.

“Red bottoms,” Su Yucang observed, picking up one shoe and turning it over. Her thumb traced the crimson sole. “He’ll like these.”

Lin Ruojian said nothing. She was already unbuttoning her blouse.

They undressed without ceremony, folding their clothes and placing them on the chair by the window. The afternoon light fell across Su Yucang’s bare shoulders as she stepped into the black stockings, rolling the nylon up her calves with the slow precision of a ritual. Lin Ruojian watched her for a moment before reaching for the bra. The lace bit into her skin, the underwire pressing against her ribs like a held breath.

Su Yucang helped her with the garter clips, fastening each one to the top of the stockings with a soft click. Then she stepped into her own heels—a pair of black patent pumps with a four-inch spike—and stood, testing her balance. The change in her posture was immediate. Her spine straightened, her chin lifted, and something cool and distant settled behind her eyes.

“Ready?” Su Yucang asked.

Lin Ruojian nodded, the heels already shifting her weight forward, making her feel taller and more precarious. “Ready.”

They walked together down the corridor to the training room, their footsteps alternating rhythms on the polished concrete. The door was open. Inside, Tieban Onii-chan stood beside a steel frame shaped like an upright X, the restraints dangling from each corner like the arms of a starfish. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his face unreadable behind the black surgical mask he always wore. Beside him, Yin Yunyun sat cross-legged on a mat, a white ostrich feather balanced between her fingers.

“Welcome,” Yin Yunyun said, her voice light, almost musical. She tilted her head, studying them with the detached curiosity of a collector examining new acquisitions. “The outfits suit you both. Especially you, Xiaojian. Black is your color.”

Lin Ruojian felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she did not look away. “Thank you.”

Tieban Onii-chan gestured to the restraint frame. “Step in.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed. She turned her back to the frame and raised her arms, letting him fasten the leather cuffs around her wrists. The padding inside was soft, but the buckles pulled tight, pinning her in place. He knelt to secure her ankles, spreading them apart until she stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, the heels forcing her arches into a rigid curve. The garter belt pulled taut across her hips. She was completely exposed, completely fixed.

Yin Yunyun rose and circled her slowly, the feather trailing across Lin Ruojian’s shoulder blade. The touch was so light it barely registered, but Lin Ruojian’s skin broke out in goosebumps. “Nervous?”

“No,” Lin Ruojian said, though her voice cracked.

“Liar.” Yin Yunyun smiled and brought the feather down Lin Ruojian’s side, tracing the curve of her waist. Lin Ruojian gasped and jerked against the restraints. The tickling sensation was unbearable—not pain, but a raw, electric sensitivity that made her want to twist away. She couldn’t. The cuffs held her immobile.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?” Yin Yunyun asked, feather hovering over her ribs.

“Please don’t stop.”

Yin Yunyun laughed softly and dragged the feather across Lin Ruojian’s stomach. A convulsive shiver ran through her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but the sound escaped anyway—a sharp, ragged moan that hung in the air. Su Yucang watched from the corner, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Yin Yunyun continued, working the feather along Lin Ruojian’s inner thighs, over the sensitive skin behind her knees, up the hollow of her armpits. Lin Ruojian writhed. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and tears of laughter mixed with something darker ran down her cheeks. The restraints creaked as she pulled against them, but there was no give. She was pinned, helpless, every nerve ending firing at once.

After what felt like an eternity, Yin Yunyun stopped. The silence was sudden, ringing. Lin Ruojian hung in the frame, gasping, her body slick and trembling.

“Good,” Yin Yunyun said. “Now for the next part.” She turned to Su Yucang. “Xiaocang. Come here.”

Su Yucang stepped forward, her heels clicking on the concrete. She stopped beside Lin Ruojian, close enough that she could smell the sweat and the faint perfume of the lingerie.

“Kneel,” Yin Yunyun said.

Su Yucang hesitated for a fraction of a second, then lowered herself to her knees. The concrete was cold through the sheer stockings. She looked up at Lin Ruojian, then at Yin Yunyun, her jaw tight.

Yin Yunyun produced a funnel from the pocket of her jacket. It was stainless steel, cold and clinical. She held it up so the light caught its surface. “Your Jian’er has been drinking water all morning. Her bladder is full.” She placed the funnel in Su Yucang’s hand. “I want you to drink from her.”

Su Yucang stared at the funnel. Her fingers closed around it, the metal cold and smooth. She looked at Lin Ruojian, who met her eyes, shame and longing warring in her gaze. “Jian’er,” Su Yucang said quietly.

“It’s okay,” Lin Ruojian whispered. “I can take it. You can too.”

Su Yucang’s throat tightened. The thought made her stomach turn. But she had done worse things for Xiaojian. She would do anything for her. Slowly, she rose and positioned the funnel below Lin Ruojian. Tieban Onii-chan stepped forward and unfastened the crotch of the garter belt, exposing her. Lin Ruojian bit her lip and closed her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Yin Yunyun said, her voice soft. “She needs this. You need this.”

Su Yucang pressed the funnel against Lin Ruojian’s body. She leaned in, her mouth an inch from the spout. Lin Ruojian tensed, then released. The liquid was warm, the taste sharp and unmistakably bitter. Su Yucang’s gorge rose, but she forced herself to swallow, then again, until it was done.

When she pulled back, her eyes were watering. Lin Ruojian was crying silently, tears tracking through the sweat on her cheeks. “Thank you,” Lin Ruojian breathed.

Su Yucang wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Always.”

Yin Yunyun nodded, satisfied. “Now. Punishment for taking so long.” She pointed to the floor. “Kneel in the corner. Face the wall. Hands behind your back.”

Su Yucang obeyed, moving to the designated spot. Her heels made the kneeling position awkward, her weight resting on the sharp points of the stilettos. She stared at the blank wall, listening to the sounds behind her.

Tieban Onii-chan released Lin Ruojian from the frame but left the cuffs on her wrists. He positioned her facing the wall, her hands flat against the surface, her back arched to an almost brutal curve. The garter belt was still unfastened, exposing her from behind. She stood on the red-soled heels, her thighs parted, her body offered.

Yin Yunyun approached Lin Ruojian from behind. She ran a hand down the smooth curve of her spine, then lower, feeling the warmth. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She unfastened her trousers, stepped out of them, and moved into position. She guided herself against Lin Ruojian, pressing forward slowly. Lin Ruojian’s breath caught. Her fingers scraped against the wall.

“Look up, Xiaocang,” Tieban Onii-chan said. He stood beside Su Yucang, one hand on her shoulder, forcing her chin upward. “Watch.”

Su Yucang watched. She saw Yin Yunyun’s hips move against Lin Ruojian’s. She heard the wet sounds, the soft gasps Lin Ruojian made as she was taken. Her own body ached, not with jealousy but with a strange, hollow desire—to be her, to be with her, to share that surrender.

Yin Yunyun fucked Lin Ruojian slowly, deliberately, each thrust deep and measured. Lin Ruojian’s head fell forward, her hair swinging across her face. She moaned without restraint, her voice hoarse and raw. Yin Yunyun reached around and found her clit, pressing hard, circling fast. Lin Ruojian came with a broken cry, her body convulsing against the wall, her knees buckling for a moment before Yin Yunyun held her up.

When it was done, Yin Yunyun withdrew. She dressed without hurry, her movements calm. Lin Ruojian remained against the wall, trembling, her breath ragged sobs.

Su Yucang was still kneeling, her gaze locked on her lover. Tieban Onii-chan released her chin. “You may tend to her,” he said.

Su Yucang rose on unsteady legs and crossed to Lin Ruojian. She gathered her into her arms, feeling the heat and sweat and trembling. Lin Ruojian buried her face in Su Yucang’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Su Yucang whispered.

Lin Ruojian nodded, her voice lost, but her arms tightened around Su Yucang’s waist. The wall was cold. The floor was hard. But they held each other, breathing together, waiting for whatever came next.

The door to the private lounge clicked shut, and Li Benben’s heavy boots echoed against the polished floor. Su Yucang stood near the window, arms crossed, her gaze cold and unyielding. Beside her, Lin Ruojian kept her eyes lowered, fingers trembling slightly at her sides.

“Su Xiaocang,” Li Benben said, his voice a low growl. “On your knees.”

Su Yucang’s jaw tightened. She didn’t move.

Xiao Huanhuan stepped forward, a thin smile on his lips. “You heard him. Kneel.”

For a long moment, the air was thick with defiance. Then Su Yucang’s shoulders sagged, and she lowered herself to the polished floor, the fabric of her skirt pooling around her knees. Lin Ruojian let out a shaky breath, but Li Benben’s eyes slid to her.

“You too, Lin Xiaojian. Both of you.”

Lin Ruojian dropped to her knees without hesitation, her long black hair falling forward to hide her face. The cold tile bit into her skin. She felt a strange thrill mixed with shame.

Li Benben circled them slowly, his boots clicking. “Look at you two. Perfect little dolls. But you know what?” He stopped in front of Su Yucang, grabbing a fistful of her short hair and yanking her head back. “You’re nothing. Flat chest, bony shoulders, and that face—it’s only pretty when you’re crying.”

Su Yucang’s eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. Not yet.

He released her and turned to Lin Ruojian, cupping her chin roughly. “And you. You think you’re something special with your long hair and that fake dignity? You’re a slut who likes to be used. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Lin Ruojian’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart raced—part fear, part something darker.

Li Benben stepped back. “Now, Su Xiaocang. Slap your little girlfriend. Hard.”

Su Yucang’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. Slap her. Show her what happens to useless whores.”

Su Yucang looked at Lin Ruojian, who gave a tiny, resigned nod. Slowly, Su Yucang raised her hand. Her palm connected with Lin Ruojian’s cheek—a sharp crack. Lin Ruojian’s head snapped to the side, a red bloom spreading across her skin.

“Again,” Li Benben said.

Another slap. Then another. Lin Ruojian’s cheek was red and hot, tears welling in her eyes. Su Yucang’s own tears spilled over, but she kept hitting.

“Tell her she’s a worthless slut,” Xiao Huanhuan added, his voice soft and cruel.

Su Yucang’s voice broke. “You’re a worthless slut, Jian’er.”

Lin Ruojian sobbed, but a thin smile flickered on her lips. “Yes, Cang’er. I am.”

Li Benben laughed. “Good. Now we bind them.”

He produced lengths of silk rope from his coat. Xiao Huanhuan took Lin Ruojian’s wrists and tied them behind her back, then looped the rope around her ankles, forcing her to kneel with her hands bound to her feet. He did the same to Su Yucang, pulling the ropes tight until they bit into skin.

“Perfect,” Li Benben said. He unzipped his pants. “Open your mouth, Lin Xiaojian.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed, her lips parting. He pushed himself inside her mouth, and she gagged but took it, her eyes squeezed shut. Su Yucang watched, her breath hitching. Then Xiao Huanhuan was in front of her, his hand in her hair, forcing her mouth open.

“Suck,” he commanded.

For a long, bitter minute, the room was filled with the sounds of wet sucking and suppressed groans. Then Li Benben groaned, thrusting deep into Lin Ruojian’s throat. She felt his warmth spill into her mouth, filling it. She held it carefully, not swallowing.

A moment later, Xiao Huanhuan did the same with Su Yucang, who winced but kept the semen pooled under her tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” Li Benben warned. “Not yet.”

He went to a closet and pulled out two sets of transparent lace underwear and two pairs of heeled shoes—stilettos with four-inch spikes. “Put these on. Hurry.”

With bound hands, it was awkward, but Lin Ruojian and Su Yucang managed to strip and pull on the sheer lace. The bras offered no support, the panties barely covering anything. Then the shoes—thin red soles for Su Yucang, rhinestone-studded for Lin Ruojian. They wobbled as they stood.

“Now dance,” Xiao Huanhuan said, gesturing to the open space. “Spin, sway, move your hips. And keep that mouth shut.”

Lin Ruojian took a tentative step, the heels clicking. The semen sloshed in her mouth, tasting bitter and salty. She began to move, a slow, awkward dance. Su Yucang joined her, their eyes meeting. In that shared humiliation, they found a strange intimacy.

Li Benben and Xiao Huanhuan watched, smirking, as the two women danced in transparent lace, their bodies shaking, mouths full, tears streaming down their cheeks. The music from the hallway drifted in—a slow, mocking waltz.

And still they danced, bound and broken, for the pleasure of those who owned them.

The air in the room was cold and still, carrying the faint scent of leather and disinfectant. Lin Ruojian knelt on the polished concrete floor, her black hair spilling over her shoulders, the rhinestones on her thick-soled heels catching the dim overhead light. Behind her, she could feel the warmth of Su Yucang’s back pressing against hers—a familiar comfort, even now. Their hands were bound together at the wrists, fingers interlaced so tightly that the bones ached. The rope was rough, digging into Lin Ruojian’s skin, but she didn’t flinch. She never did.

Song Zhuya stepped into view, her heels clicking a slow, deliberate rhythm. She held a black leather collar in one hand, the metal ring at the front gleaming. Her eyes swept over Lin Ruojian with cold appraisal. “You know the rules, Xiaojian. No resistance. No sounds unless I allow them.”

Lin Ruojian nodded, her throat already dry. Beside her, Su Yucang’s breathing was steady, controlled. She could feel the subtle tremor in her lover’s hands—not fear, but anticipation. They had done this before, in different forms, but tonight was different. Tonight, Song Zhuya and Han Bing were in charge.

Han Bing approached Su Yucang from the other side, a roll of clear plastic wrap dangling from her fingers. She smiled, a thin, cruel line. “Xiaocang, I’m going to make you feel the edge. Just the edge. You’ll still breathe, but only just enough.”

Su Yucang’s voice came soft, almost a whisper. “I understand.”

Lin Ruojian squeezed her hands tighter. A silent promise.

Song Zhuya stepped behind Lin Ruojian and fastened the collar around her neck. The leather was cold, snug against her pulse. Song tightened it slowly, notch by notch, until the pressure was constant, insistent. Lin Ruojian’s breath shortened. The collar pressed against her windpipe, not choking her outright, but warning her—a reminder that every second of air was a gift she had not earned.

On the other side, Han Bing began wrapping Su Yucang’s head. Layer after layer of clear plastic, smooth and unyielding, starting from her forehead and working down. Su Yucang held perfectly still, her eyes wide but trusting. The plastic clung to her skin, sealing around her cheeks, her chin. Han Bing left a small gap at the nostrils—just enough for air, but barely. Su Yucang’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly, her body instinctively fighting the restriction.

Lin Ruojian watched from the corner of her eye. The sight of Su Yucang’s face disappearing behind the plastic made her heart race. She wanted to say something, but the collar tightened again as Song Zhuya adjusted it, cutting off any words.

“Focus on your own breath, Xiaojian,” Song murmured near her ear. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. We’ll push you both to the edge, but we’ll pull you back.”

Time stretched. Lin Ruojian felt the world narrow to the pressure around her neck, the feel of Su Yucang’s back against hers, the shallow rush of air that came only when she forced herself to relax. She heard Su Yucang’s breathing grow louder, more ragged—then a muffled sound, almost a whimper. Han Bing was pressing a hand over the plastic, increasing the seal.

“Count for me, Xiaocang,” Han Bing said softly. “Count your breaths.”

Su Yucang’s voice was muffled, but Lin Ruojian caught the numbers. “One… two… three…” Each word strained.

Lin Ruojian’s own lungs burned. The collar was too tight now. She tilted her head back, trying to find a better angle, but Song Zhuya’s hand was on her shoulder, holding her steady. “Don’t fight it. Surrender.”

She did. She let her body go limp, let the need for air become a dull roar in her ears. Her vision began to darken at the edges. She could feel Su Yucang trembling against her, counting still, slower now.

Then, just as the darkness began to close in, Song Zhuya loosened the collar by one notch. Air flooded into Lin Ruojian’s lungs, sharp and sweet. She gasped, coughing, tears springing to her eyes. On the other side, Han Bing pulled the plastic away from Su Yucang’s face, letting her breathe freely. Su Yucang’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her chest heaving.

Lin Ruojian turned her head, still gasping, and met Su Yucang’s eyes. There was a flicker of gratitude, of shared exhaustion, of something deeper.

But the game was not over.

Song Zhuya and Han Bing exchanged a glance. Without a word, Song Zhuya unzipped her pants, and Han Bing did the same. They stood before the kneeling women, their cocks erect and glistening.

“You know what comes next,” Song Zhuya said, her voice flat. “Open your mouths.”

Lin Ruojian did not hesitate. She parted her lips, her tongue pressing flat against her lower lip. This was part of the ritual, part of the purging. She would take whatever was given, swallow it down, and let it wash away the ghosts of battle.

Beside her, Su Yucang hesitated for just a fraction of a second. Lin Ruojian felt the tension in her lover’s hands, the slight pull. Then Su Yucang opened her mouth as well, her eyes closed.

Song Zhuya pressed the head of her cock against Lin Ruojian’s lips, then pushed inside. Lin Ruojian gagged, but she did not resist. She let the cock fill her mouth, her throat, let the bitter taste of pre-come coat her tongue. She breathed through her nose, focusing on the rhythm, on the weight of Song Zhuya’s hands in her hair.

Han Bing took Su Yucang more gently, but no less firmly. She slid her cock between Su Yucang’s lips, and Lin Ruojian heard her lover’s choked sound of resistance, quickly stifled.

Minutes passed. Lin Ruojian’s jaw ached. Her knees were numb. But she stayed still, letting Song Zhuya use her mouth as she wished. She felt the surge of heat when Song Zhuya came, the hot liquid splashing against the back of her throat. She swallowed, once, twice, until it was all gone.

Beside her, Su Yucang gagged, but then Lin Ruojian heard the wet sound of swallowing. Han Bing pulled out, and Su Yucang’s breath came in gasps, but she did not spit.

Song Zhuya tucked herself back into her pants and nodded. “Good. You may rest for five minutes. Then we begin again.”

Lin Ruojian let her head fall forward, her forehead touching Su Yucang’s shoulder. Her hands, still clasped with her lover’s, were slick with sweat.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

Su Yucang’s voice was hoarse, but steady. “I’m here, Jian’er. I’m here.”

And for now, that was enough.

The air in the private chamber of Xingxi Pavilion hung thick with the scent of leather and antiseptic. Lin Ruojian knelt on the cold marble floor, her long black hair pooling around her shoulders like a silk shroud. Across from her, Su Yucang stood rigid, her short hair tousled, her lips pressed into a thin line. The dim light caught the glint of the thin red-soled heels she wore, the black lace stockings climbing her legs like a second skin.

Yiyi Jiang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. Zhang Bupang stood beside her, his bulk casting a long shadow over the two women.

“Xiao Jian,” Yiyi said, her voice honeyed with cruelty, “you know the rules. Get Xiao Cang on her knees. She’s going to service us. Both of us.”

Lin Ruojian’s throat tightened. She looked at Su Yucang—her Cang’er—and saw the flicker of defiance in those eyes, quickly masked by a practiced calm. This was their life now. Discipline. Control. The price of belonging to the Secret Society.

“Cang’er,” Lin Ruojian whispered, her voice breaking. She reached out, her fingers brushing Su Yucang’s hand. “Please. Just do it. It will be worse if you resist.”

Su Yucang’s jaw clenched. She looked away, then slowly, deliberately, lowered herself to her knees. The movement was graceful, almost regal, even in submission. Her eyes met Lin Ruojian’s, and in them was a silent promise: *I endure this for you.*

Zhang Bupang stepped forward, unzipping his trousers. Yiyi followed suit, her skirt hitched up, her underwear discarded. “Open your mouth, Xiao Cang,” Zhang said, his voice flat.

Su Yucang did not open. She stared ahead, her breath shallow.

Lin Ruojian’s heart hammered. She crawled forward, her thick-soled rhinestone high heels clicking softly on the floor. She cupped Su Yucang’s face, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Cang’er,” she pleaded, tears welling in her own eyes. “Let me. Let me help you.”

Su Yucang’s lips parted slightly. Lin Ruojian leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, tasting salt and sorrow. Then she turned, positioning herself so that she could guide Su Yucang’s head toward Zhang Bupang’s groin. But Su Yucang resisted, her hands gripping Lin Ruojian’s wrists.

“No,” Su Yucang breathed. “Not him. Not unless you do it first.”

Yiyi laughed, a cold sound. “Fine. Xiao Jian, you heard her. Show her how it’s done. Then you can transfer it.”

Lin Ruojian’s stomach churned. She looked at Zhang Bupang’s erect penis, then at Yiyi’s exposed sex. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on her chest. But this was her purpose—to soothe, to take, to bear. She crawled to Zhang first, her hands trembling as she took him in her mouth. The taste was bitter, salty, and she gagged, but she forced herself to deep-throat, to hollow her cheeks, to work him until she felt the hot spurts of semen fill her mouth. She held it there, her cheeks bulging, tears streaming down her face.

Yiyi stepped forward. Lin Ruojian moved to her, her tongue flicking against the clitoris, her nose pressed into the dark curls. Yiyi moaned, gripping her hair, forcing her deeper until she too came, her fluids mingling with the semen already pooled in Lin Ruojian’s mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Yiyi ordered. “Save it for Xiao Cang.”

Lin Ruojian’s mouth was full, her jaw aching. She turned back to Su Yucang, who was still on her knees, watching with a mixture of horror and something else—a dark fascination, a recognition of their shared fate.

Lin Ruojian leaned forward, pressing her lips to Su Yucang’s. She opened her mouth, letting the viscous liquid spill from her own into Su Yucang’s. Su Yucang’s eyes widened, but she did not spit. She held it, her cheeks puffing slightly, the semen pooling under her tongue.

“Good girl,” Yiyi said, stroking Su Yucang’s hair. “Now stand. Arch your back. L-position.”

Su Yucang rose, her movements mechanical, her body angled so that her chest thrust forward, her back arched, her hands bound behind her with a leather strap that Zhang produced from his pocket. Her legs were spread, the black lace stockings stretched taut. Zhang fitted a prosthetic penis into her vagina—a thick, veined silicone shaft—and secured it with a harness. A vibrator was inserted into her anus, its remote control handed to Yiyi.

Lin Ruojian watched, her own body trembling. A hand yanked her hair back. Zhang Bupang held a rubber dildo, slick with lubricant. “Your turn, Xiao Jian. Bend over the table.”

She obeyed, her long black hair falling over the polished wood. The dildo pressed against her anus, cold and unyielding. She bit her lip as it pushed inside, the stretch burning, the pain sharp. A low moan escaped her.

“Watch your Cang’er,” Yiyi said, turning on the vibrator. The buzz filled the room. Su Yucang’s body jerked, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth clamped tight around the semen.

“The rule,” Yiyi continued, “if even a drop leaks out before she comes, you’ll be punished. Understand?”

Lin Ruojian nodded, her cheek against the table. The dildo was fully inserted now, a dull ache radiating through her pelvis. She forced her eyes open, focused on Su Yucang—the way her legs trembled, the way her bound hands strained against the leather, the way her throat worked to keep the load contained.

Minutes passed. The vibrator pulsed. Su Yucang’s face was a mask of concentration, her body glistening with sweat. Lin Ruojian felt her own control slipping, the pleasure-pain of the dildo mixing with the agony of watching.

“Come for us, Xiao Cang,” Zhang murmured, his hand on the prosthetic, pushing it deeper. “Let go.”

Su Yucang’s body convulsed. Her eyes flew open, her mouth parting in a silent scream as the orgasm tore through her. The semen stayed—somehow, miraculously—until she swallowed, the liquid sliding down her throat.

Lin Ruojian sagged in relief, the tension breaking. But the dildo remained inside her, and Yiyi’s voice cut through the silence: “Well done. But now, Xiao Jian, we’re not done with you. Not by a long shot.”

The night was far from over.