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Narrow golden eyes glow with surprise. It’s been a while since Zhongli received such a large package for his birthday. It’s big enough to fit a person inside. Maybe it’s an ambush. Neuvillette has been quite eager to take him to court after all.
No, Neuvillette wouldn’t do this. He’s too busy taking care of things in Fontaine. In which case, Zhongli can’t think of anyone worth worrying about that might be inside.
Without another thought, he slices Vortex Vanquisher through the tape. As soon as the box’s flaps fall open, Zhongli’s suspicions are proven correct. There is a person inside after all.
He pulls the young man out to examine his face in the light. It’s not bad. Quite handsome actually. Wavy ginger hair falls over lightly freckled cheeks. He’s fast asleep, utterly defenceless. An assassin wouldn’t come like this. Though, he’s a human. He wouldn’t be a match for Zhongli in battle regardless.
Zhongli glances back to the box the man came from and only now notices an envelope. His letter opener frees the card from its sleeve.
“My supposedly dear Zhongli,
The Tsaritsa would like to apologise for the many years that she has been unable to celebrate your birthday with you. Please accept this slave as a gift. Were we to have sold him at auction, we could have afforded a second Zapolyarny Palace. Therefore, we believe him to be a suitable gift for someone of your importance.
Yours, with the utmost lack of sincerity, Pantalone.”
So, this young man is a gift from the Fatui. Zhongli doesn’t need to question what could make someone such a valuable slave. Those specialised for domestic and manual labour may sell for a reasonable amount, but none have a higher value ceiling than sex slaves. He must be a well-trained virgin. An oxymoron, but the slave-trainers at the Fatui are professionals.
No doubt when this young man wakes up, he’ll be ready to serve Zhongli’s needs without hesitation. Zhongli finds the ends of his lips curling. He has been rather bored lately. A new toy is just what he needs.
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It takes a couple of hours before the young man’s eyelids twitch enough to send ripples through the fresh set of silk wrapped over his eyes.
Zhongli clicks a button on the remote control tucked in his pocket. With it, the set of noise-cancelling headphones imported from Sumeru should be playing a classical guzheng melody. Of all the wake-up calls Zhongli considered, this is the most pleasant. Best to start the young man with gentle play.
Zhongli even left the dildo entirely deflated for him. It’s likely his new slave won’t be able to tell there’s a meter-long tube lining his intestines at all, lying in wait to push against his walls.
Even if the young man happens to notice it, he won’t be able to do a thing. The soft leather restraints around his wrists, ankles, and waist ensure it. Zhongli easily could have gone for painful restraints, ones that would chafe the skin and leave the young man pleading to be let out. He’s in a good mood today.
All in all, the only bit of discomfort the young man will be experiencing upon waking properly will be that which Zhongli injected into him. For how long he’s been asleep, his bladder would be needy soon regardless, but mere neediness isn’t enough. Zhongli wants him utterly consumed by desperation.
The young man’s lips part with a gentle sigh. His fingers twitch in midair. Zhongli’s eyes soften merely looking at the poor thing in this state, utterly helpless, completely at his mercy.
At last, the young man wakes with a jolt. The blindfold ripples to signal that the eyes behind it have flown open. It doesn’t take long for the slave to start talking.
“Dottore!?“
Zhongli purses his lips. Well, that ruined his mood instantly. He speaks into a microphone connected to the slave’s headphones. “No.”
Dottore must be the one who trained him. It would make sense, such a valuable slave would derive their value from a highly experienced trainer. But Dottore has failed his job if the thing will call out his name rather than his owner’s.
The young man swallows into a confused smile. “Zhongli? Why am I tied up?”
“You know my name, then.”
“I wouldn’t forget your voice.” The young man strains against the leather restraints. It’s pointless. Even the power of a vision wouldn’t be enough to break them. “Mind letting me out?”
The young man does his best to press his thighs together, but the black bench he’s bound to won’t let them meet. He writhes against it, cheeks flushing. The poor thing can’t help biting his lip to hold his desperation in.
“I’ll never let you go,” Zhongli says, deep voice as smooth as butter. “You’re mine.”
“I really need to go.” The young man’s thighs jiggle with the intensity of his resistance.
“I decide what you need. You’re not going anywhere.”
The young man leans forward just a little, just until the leather across his waist forces him to stay. There’s no way to move that’ll ease the force on his bladder. He can’t prevent the inevitable.
“Zhongli, I have to...” Ginger hair falls lower as the young man drops his head. “At least let me go to the toilet.”
“No.”
“I’m going to end up… I really can’t hold it in…” The young man gasps for some sense of stability. He can’t keep from resisting the restraints, pleading with them to let him close his legs at least. Anything to stop the pressure yearning for escape. “It’ll come out at this rate.”
Zhongli ghosts his fingers over the young man’s abdomen, directly over the bladder. Even the slightest contact, no pressure applied, sends the thing into a strained whine. “I’m your Master, you have no right to privacy while you relieve yourself.”
The young man holds still for just a second, eyes widening below the blindfold. It’s only a second that shock can last before he’s struggling even harder. “I… I don’t mind doing BDSM with you but—” he whines with overwhelming need “—we need to negotiate first.”
“Slaves don’t get to negotiate.” Zhongli smiles. What a strange slave. He’s not quite a brat but he isn’t obedient either. The Fatui have trained him to act like he deserves human rights. Something about this young man is unimaginably alluring that Zhongli can’t help wanting to treat him just a little nicer than his primal instincts yearn for.
“I’m not a slave—” the young man groans “— fuck, I need to piss. Let me out.”
Maybe this slave is a masochist. To make him obey, pain must be applied. With that thought, Zhongli slaps harsh against a freckled cheek.
The young man yelps. With it, the slightest yellow dribble leaks from his soft cock. “Please, please let me go. I can’t hold it.” He gasps, too desperate to even writhe for freedom. The slightest movement could set him off.
Zhongli flattens his hand over the slave’s abdomen. Even that much leaks another tear from the soft cock which is so pale against the black bench it rests on. “You can empty your bladder whenever you want. Don’t worry, your Master is watching.”
“No, I need to— I can’t… Not in front of…” His words become a babbled mess, incoherent in his distress. “Zhongli… Zhongli…”
“There’s nothing to be nervous of. This is natural. There’ll never be another day you relieve yourself without me seeing it.”
The young man practically screams in his need. “Zhongli, please! What’s gotten into you!?”
Zhongli quirks an eyebrow. “They trained you to act like you know me, then.”
Panic overtakes the young and handsome face. “You don’t recognise me?”
“Ah, so you’re the type of slave that’s designed to need retraining. How interesting.”
“Zh—” The young man’s pleading turns to a choked despair. “Don’t… do this.”
His protests grow weaker by the moment. Zhongli applies the slightest pressure on his palm. Another straw yellow tear runs down the black bench.
“I…” the young man gasps. “You have to remember something. All those dinners I bought you…”
“Oh, they gave you a story to say.” Zhongli unconsciously withdraws the pressure. “Go on then, how do we know each other?”
“I have to…” The young man’s desperation leaks another tear out his cock. It takes him a lip bite strong enough to draw blood before he regains his composure. “We’re dating.”
Zhongli laughs. “Oh?”
“I used to take you to Xinyue Kiosk so I could figure out how to get the geo gnosis. It was pointless, you handed it over to Signora behind my back,” the young man explains. “Then, even after everything, I couldn’t help coming back to buy you dinner again. You asked me out and—”
Zhongli draws a sharp breath. “You know my identity.”
The young man laughs until it forces another dribble from his cock. He tenses. Even if he’s already had no choice but to let Zhongli witness the colour of his urine, he still doesn’t want to let it out. He whines a moment before talking again. “You’re not good at hiding it.”
“It’s an interesting story.” Albeit heavily abbreviated. The young man explained it like Zhongli would already be familiar with the details. If he’s acting like they know each other, that isn’t so strange, Zhongli supposes. “But it isn’t a unique one.”
Zhongli presses onto the young man’s abdomen. He strains to keep the liquid inside. This time, he manages it. Not a bubble rises from his other head.
“Who knew Pantalone would give me a slave taught to believe my boyfriend’s story is his own.”
“…Pantalone?”
“Mm, Pantalone and I are dating. And that little story you just told matches up exactly with how he and I met.” Zhongli folds his fingertips, applying a pointed force over the bladder.
“No…” The young man gasps. “No, he’s not. He’s with Dottore.”
Zhongli slaps his cheek again. A red imprint of his hand forms a momentary brand. It wouldn’t be hard to replace it with a permanent one. “Pantalone would never cheat.”
“Dottore… and Pantalone… they’ve always hated us being together. It’s a set up.” The young man shivers. “They fucked with your memory.”
Another slap lands harsh.
It doesn’t quiet the slave. “Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax – you have to remember…” His ass jiggles against the inevitable. “At least one of my names.”
“What a shame, I don’t.” Zhongli slaps again. “I will not tolerate slander against my beloved. Slaves should know their place. You exist to piss yourself and suffer whatever else I choose.”
“Please…” Childe’s begs break weaker by the moment. “I…”
Zhongli readies himself to slap again, until his lips suddenly curl. Ah, that idea isn’t so bad.
The next slap ought to be much stronger than the last few, enough to force a boulder a hundred metres back. The restraints are strong. They won’t snap so easily. Even as Zhongli ripples an immense force through them, they’ll hold.
It doesn’t land on Childe’s cheek, but rather, straight across the abdomen. Directly over the bladder.
Childe groans through gritted teeth. It’s no use. He can’t squeeze his thighs together, only against the black bench between them. There’s no way to press down on his cock with wrists bound above him. He can’t even curl into himself. The agony can only linger on his toned abs.
His bladder is so full. Zhongli made sure of it. Until now, only dribbles and droplets have made their way out. But everyone’s resistance has its limit. Childe has reached his.
A straw yellow geyser erupts. Childe can’t slow it. He’s helpless, entirely at Zhongli’s mercy. It must be humiliating for him, being so exposed like this, zero bodily agency.
Even now, as Zhongli forces him to break, the only drops dripping down his cheek are urine. Zhongli would have expected him to start crying. He really is well trained. No matter how much he may feign protests, he’s well-acclimatised to torture.
“Good boy, doesn’t it feel so much better to stop resisting me?” Zhongli soothes. “This is what you exist for.”
Childe glares through the blindfold. How cute.
“You’re an object, and once I’m done training you, you’ll never forget that.”
Zhongli clicks off his microphone. Talking time is over.
A simple press on the remote control switches the classical guzheng music in Childe’s noise-cancelling headphones to something else entirely. How lucky that Pantalone recently handed Zhongli a copy of the brainwashing audio-track used by the Fatui to train disobedient slaves.
Zhongli gave it a cursory listen before, just enough to understand how it sounds. A static buzzes in the background, intermittently replaced with trigger sentences. “I am nothing”, “I love cock”, “I exist to please” — things like that. It’s repetitive and mind-numbing, perfect as both punishment and reinforcement.
Zhongli isn’t quite sure how long it should play for, but it doesn’t matter. The headphones will last a week without emptying their charge. It’s no bother to Zhongli for Childe to listen 24/7 without a break. His slave needs to learn his place. Like this, it’ll happen even when Zhongli doesn’t have time to discipline him personally.
Now then, there’s one last thing Zhongli prepared earlier which has gone unappreciated. It’s a minimalistic scene today. Childe won’t be getting such a light treatment in the future, but it’s a special occasion. The first day with a new slave should be savoured.
Zhongli’s leather dress shoe lands on a pedal. A single press downwards releases a gasp from Childe’s lips. Has he only just now noticed what’s in his ass? Another pump blows air up the metre-long rubber dildo. Once it inflates enough, Childe’s toned abs will blow out like there’s a baby inside.
Zhongli palms himself. A pregnant man-slave. That’s not a bad idea.
“Zhongli, stop,” Childe calls out. Even if Zhongli responded, he wouldn’t hear a word of it. “You don’t want to do this.”
Childe’s freedom may be restricted, but nothing impedes Zhongli from pulling his own bulge free. Two cocks stretch to his navel. With Childe’s inflatable dildo controlled by a foot pump, Zhongli is free to stroke both.
Childe insists, “you’re in there somewhere.”
Zhongli stamps the pedal hard. Childe whimpers.
“I…” Childe strains against his words as his insides are stretched open, “love you, Zhongli.”
Zhongli groans deep. Cum threatens to burst out his cocks as harsh as the piss geyser earlier. That confession almost sounded earnest. Under any other context, Zhongli couldn’t refute its candour. But he knows the context. It’s a story planted into Childe. It’s nothing but lies.
The urge to cum falls away, returning Zhongli to the edge. Still, an agitation buzzes in his chest. Glancing at Childe stirs it up again.
Oh. Zhongli is horny. It’s obvious what it must be.
Childe babbles another protest, leaving his mouth open for Zhongli to push fingers into. Like this, his slave can’t clamp his teeth shut. He’s completely at Zhongli’s mercy, helpless against his every orifice being stretched.
It’s wet inside, salivating. Zhongli groans. It’s like it wants his cocks. He presses one of the heads against Childe’s lower lip. The slave’s expression is clear. He knows exactly what this is. Well, how could he not? The Fatui trained him for this.
The dildo keeps growing inside Childe. A vague outline of it presses like embossing over his toned stomach. Zhongli moans. His slave’s tongue glides over his tip, teasing the hole directly. It would be so easy to finish. It takes a firm grip on ginger hair to steady Zhongli on the edge.
He pushes deeper in, hitting the back of Childe’s throat. Surprisingly, the slave doesn’t gag. His tongue is so skilled over the shaft. It’s like he’s already brought Zhongli to climax a hundred times over.
Childe stretches his tongue out his mouth to tap the other waiting cock. He motions it to his lip. Zhongli wasn’t planning to double penetrate his slave so soon, but if he’s this eager, who is he to refuse? Especially when his mind is losing itself in libido.
Childe’s mouth widens enough to fit a fist and a half inside as both of Zhongli’s cocks slam the back of his throat, guided down by a talented tongue. Zhongli tugs on ginger tufts. It must hurt. And yet Childe isn’t whining in pain at all. What a masochistic slave.
Zhongli mindlessly pumps the dildo. If he goes too far, Childe’s body will rip from the inside out. He can’t remember how far the limit is. All he knows is the pleasure of fucking his slave’s throat.
Childe swallows. His throat clenches tight. It’s over for Zhongli. Everything goes blurry. His toes clench, foot vibrating another half-dozen weak pumps into Childe’s ass. Childe brokenly moans. Hot white cum seeps down his chin, flowing up from the flood inside him.
He doesn’t even attempt speaking as Zhongli pulls his deflating cocks away. There’s no more writhing against the restraints. All that he’s tried to resist has come true.
Zhongli’s stomach rumbles. Ah, he was so distracted he didn’t notice lunchtime come and go. It’s fine to leave Childe alone with his audio-track, he won’t be able to move an inch regardless.
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Trees blossom as winter turns to spring. Sharp golden eyes soften at the delicate pink flowers fluttering over the path. It’s a good place to take a dog for a walk. If only Zhongli’s dog wasn’t so eager to escape.
A gentle breeze fluttering his rat-tail brings a gentle smile to his lips. “It’s been a while, Venti.”
“Ehe,” the aforementioned Venti jumps down from a branch. “So it has.”
“Have you found him?”
“Nope. Pantalone has gone where the winds don’t blow.”
“He might be in danger.”
“Or he just doesn’t want to see his ex.”
“The breakup note could have been from anyone.”
“Didn’t you say it was his handwriting?”
“Handwriting can be imitated.”
Venti balances on one leg with a tired sigh. “Let him go, Zhongli. He doesn’t want you and you already like someone else.”
“He’s just a slave.”
“For now.” Venti jumps onto the other foot. “But he doesn’t have to be. If you marry him, he’s entitled to human rights.”
Zhongli’s lips curl. “I know.”
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Childe lays perfectly still even as Zhongli opens the blinds. Light filters over him, split like prison bars. There’s no need for the Sun to cast such things. Childe is behind actual bars already.
“Pretending to sleep again?” Zhongli smiles. “You should know this doesn’t work by now.”
Childe’s diaphragm stays deflated an extra beat, but he doesn’t make a sound. He’s getting better at this. If only he was so good at playing dead to begin with, Zhongli may have fallen for it once or twice. What a shame. There’ll never come a day Zhongli doesn’t know.
“You must be hungry. Come, I’ll feed you.”
Childe shivers.
“It wasn’t a request. What do good boys do when their Master gives an order?”
A simple tap on the cat-of-nine-tails is enough to jerk Childe upright. His eyes as deep as the ocean, completely devoid of light, stare dead at Zhongli. “Remember me.”
“That’ll never happen,” Zhongli chuckles.
Childe frowns back.
Every day he insists on the same thing. Only a high-value slave could maintain his trained personality through all Zhongli has put him through. If he thinks holding on will sway his Master, it’s quite the opposite. It’s only confirmation. A normal person could never keep their story straight.
Zhongli unlocks the cage-door. Childe drags himself out. Better than Zhongli doing it.
“Good boy. Isn’t it easier to do what I say? Now, it’s time for your daily meal.”
Once they make it to the chair, Childe’s back is forced against Zhongli’s chest. The growing bump in his belly is left exposed for a gloved hand to rub slow circles over.
Ah, to know what he must be thinking. Zhongli can’t help wondering how deep his training penetrates his mind. Does he genuinely believe he knows Zhongli? He speaks as though he does, but it could so easily be surface level alone. Maybe internally he’s as blank as a robot.
Childe’s willpower is immense. With all the brainwashing audios Zhongli has made him listen to, he should be broken. No matter the torture, his spirit doesn’t falter. If only he knew that determination only spurs Zhongli on more.
“Your stomach is so full for me,” Zhongli presses a kiss against his ear. “Is your bladder full again?”
Childe grits his teeth.
“Of course it is.” Zhongli grins. “I spiked your water with all those diuretics. Hm, I wonder why you haven’t relieved yourself yet. Can you tell me?”
Zhongli’s other hand clenches Childe’s jaw. Replying isn’t optional. “You won’t let me.”
“Yes, and good boys always do what their Master says, don’t they?”
They both know that is only half the story. It only takes a glance down to understand. The hole for Childe to relieve himself is plugged tight. Zhongli flicks the end of the sounding rod.
Childe quivers. “It hurts.”
“Mm, good. You were so naughty last night, weren’t you? Trying to escape again.” Zhongli rubs with deeper pressure over Childe’s belly. “A slave escaping is a crime alone, but to take my child with you — now that is unacceptable.”
“Just remember me already.”
Zhongli laughs low in his ear. It’s adorable honestly. Such determination, such hope. Zhongli’s bulge hardens against Childe’s soft ass. “There are more urgent matters than your little story, my child is hungry.”
Childe presses his lips tight. A quick slap to his thigh changes that.
“Such a brat,” Zhongli chides. “It always goes the same. Why do you have to keep resisting?”
“The congee isn’t normal,” Childe says as well as he can with Zhongli holding his tongue.
“Really, now? It’s the same I always give you. There’s nothing abnormal about drugging a slave’s food.”
Childe writhes but the hand on his stomach is too strong. Geo constructs grab his ankles and wrists. The Geo Archon can’t be overpowered by a mere mortal, even one with a hydro vision.
Congee slides down Childe’s throat whether he wants it to or not. He must be hungry and yet he still fights back. So resilient.
“Doesn’t it taste good? I mixed in your favourite.”
Ginger eyelashes press tight together. He must be savouring the bitter, salty fluid dominating over the congee.
“Hm, the supplement is acting fast. Look, you’re lactating already.”
A mere twist of a hard, pink nub forces a jet of milk to spurt out. Zhongli licks his fingers. It’s sweet, quite the opposite of Childe. It would be so easy to pin him down and nibble on his teat to satiate Zhongli’s thirst. But it’ll have to wait. Zhongli has to attend to Childe’s hunger.
After the first forced swallow, Childe lets the rest of the congee enter him much easier. He’ll only be punished otherwise, and his stomach was so empty. It’s easier to take it.
“Is my slave still hungry?” Zhongli blows a hot breath into his ear. “From the other end.”
Childe shivers. The Geo constructs hold him steady. There’s no way to stop it. Fingers find his aching hole, slick from the drugs, and force their way inside. It’s not a struggle. His hole hasn’t been left to fully close once since arrival.
Childe’s voice cracks, “I love you.”
“I’ll fill you up even if you don’t lie.”
“You love me too. You just need to remember.”
Zhongli sighs. Childe is at it again. Hammering his prostate should put an end to his coherent speech.
A pair of rock-hard cocks press into the crack of Childe’s ass, gliding over the slick hole. The heads catch on the rim. Zhongli means to tease Childe more. But. That hole. It’s hypnotic.
A set of commands hummed amidst a static buzz repeat in his memory: “Destroy Childe”, “Make Childe suffer”, “Childe must break”.
He mindlessly slams inside. Childe screams through gritted teeth. Zhongli ought to go gentle to start with, but he can’t. He can only pound. Fast. Even the Yashiro Commissioner couldn’t move this quick.
“Slower!” Childe whimpers, “Slow down.”
“I can’t,” Zhongli groans.
Childe clenches his fists. It’s all he can do. The restraints are too strong. “This isn’t you.” Childe gasps for air. “You like it slow.”
“I’ve never used you that way.”
The pair of rock-hard cocks combined with a growing foetus inside Childe must be cumulating into an agonising pressure against his bladder. Zhongli can’t help tapping the sounding rod again.
Childe muffles a scream.
“It must feel good if you can’t keep your voice down.”
Childe’s breath hitches. So helpless. So vulnerable. So hard to break. Zhongli slams through the sigmoid bend.
His chest burns hot. He’s close already. Childe might well be an incubus. Touching him is ecstasy in its own right. Lightning strikes in all of Zhongli’s heads with every thrust. Damn. Zhongli was never this much of a quick shot before.
“Does my good boy want to squirt?” Zhongli forces out through an unsteady gasp. “Shall I let you piss yourself now?”
Childe pushes words out between involuntary moans, “I love you, Zhongli.”
Zhongli’s fingers can hardly make it to pull the sounding rod from Childe’s cock before everything goes white. A straw yellow geyser erupts. Two in Childe’s ass burst out too, releasing thick, white liquid deep inside. Zhongli groans against Childe’s ear, his hot breaths tapping his eardrum.
“You—” Zhongli gasps “—need to stop saying that.”
“N-never.” Childe’s eyes roll back.
“It doesn’t matter if you pretend to love me. I’ll never let you go.”
“I’ll make you remember me,” Childe repeats. He’s said it so much, even while his mind leaves for a happier place, it comes out.
No matter how many times he repeats himself, it doesn’t change a thing. Knowing that, he still won’t give up. Zhongli almost doesn’t want him to. Breaking the unbreakable would be fun for only a moment. Repeatedly trying is where the excitement lies. And every so often, Zhongli will half-believe his words.
It’s only a momentary falter before the memories of those drilled sentences surrounded by static return. Hope and despair twist in Zhongli’s heart until he can’t tell one from the other. Childe is determined, but so is Zhongli.
Maybe their bitter contest will last until the end of time. But it can’t when Childe is mortal. Maybe he’s relieved knowing even if Zhongli will never release him, death will.
Poor thing. That day will never come.
It isn’t well-known — actually it puts all of Liyue in mortal danger considering it defies the Heavenly Principles — but there is a way to make a human immortal. Zhongli swore to never do it. But, well, there’s no other way of ensuring Childe will be his forever.
Maybe Childe thinks he knows what the drugs are by now: a diuretic, one that allows for male pregnancy, one that makes his ass produce slick, and one that makes him lactate.
Zhongli’s lips curl. It’ll be at least a decade before Childe realises the one he missed.