Work Text:
Springtime has arrived at Qing Jing Peak. The bitterness of winter has finally passed. Sweet smelling winds blow through the bamboo, scented by the fragrant camellias and water lilies blossoming. The gardens at the little bamboo house atop Qing Jing are in full bloom, the pond’s surface thawed, lush new grass growing around the stone pathways.
It’s a quiet scene. A peaceful scene. Only one thing is missing, and that is companionship. Luo Binghe is on the veranda of the bamboo house, sweeping up some fallen leaves. He’s alone at the house, his master, Shen Qingqiu having gone away to a nighthunt a few dozen li away.
Naturally, Luo Binghe is depressed he was unable to accompany his master, but he’d been required to remain at the sect for some standardized examinations set for all disciples his age.
That said, Shen Qingqiu has already been gone for two weeks. He should arrive back to the sect any day.
Without Shen Qingqiu living side-by-side with him in the little bamboo house, Luo Binghe feels bereft, empty, and bored. Classes do not occupy his mind. Chores hardly occupy his body, with less meals to prepare and less laundry to be slaved over. Ning Yingying gave up bothering him after the first week, only huffing about Luo Binghe staring out of the window like a widow.
Is it his fault that the other disciples are so lackluster, when he is accustomed to the company of someone as brilliant and wonderful as Shen Qingqiu?
One day, he’ll become strong enough, famous enough, and he'll confess his feelings. If the heavens are kind to him, then…
Giddy, Luo Binghe shakes his head. He shouldn’t think of such things yet. He is only the nominal age of 16 now and has a long road left before he can dare being worthy of Shen Qingqiu's affections in that way.
In the meanwhile all he can do is ensure his Shizun comes back to a clean and tidy home.
A floorboard creaks behind him. Luo Binghe turns. He sees his handsome Shizun standing a few arms lengths away, but before he can feel too happy, he’s abruptly drawn into a deep hug.
“Ah, Binghe, my Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu hums. He squeezes Luo Binghe, hands roaming and clutching all over – Luo Binghe’s shoulders, back, arms, everywhere he can reach.
This is much more forward than Shen Qingqiu ever cares to be. His affections tend to be reserved to pats on the head, pinches to his cheeks, and chopsticks piling meat into his bowl. Nothing so ostentatious as this.
Shen Qingqiu sounds in a daze, restlessly repeating, “Mine… my Binghe…”
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe yelps. His face burns and he shyly tries to push away.
Stumbling shyly into Shen Qingqiu’s waist during training is one thing. So long as he has a solid excuse to hide behind, he cannot be found culpable for harbouring impure intentions towards his master. But like this, held so close – he fears that Shen Qingqiu might notice his dirty thoughts in the way his body reacts to being held like this.
Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms around Luo Binghe’s shoulders and holds him tighter, tight enough to be just shy of pain. His face is red, his brow dotted with sweat. His eyes are glassy in the way people get with fevers. “So cute. So lifelike.”
Lifelike?
Unable to force himself away, Luo Binghe surrenders and relaxes into Shen Qingqiu’s arms. His body feels consumed in the tight embrace, Shen Qingqiu’s long robes and silken hair tumbling down Luo Binghe’s back, hiding him away from the world.
Shen Qingiu’s large hand cups the back of his head, stroking his hair. “Mm. Very well made.” Then he gently tugs at a fistful of hair to make Luo Binghe look up. Shen Qingqiu’s expression makes Luo Binghe’s entire body feel tingly and warm. The intensity in that look… It’s almost enough to pretend as if Shen Qingqiu wants him in the way Luo Binghe wants him in turn. “What a pretty, perfect doll.”
Luo Binghe’s heartbeat thuds in his ears so loudly he can hardly hear the words. Doll?
Shen Qingqiu stoops down and hooks one hand beneath Luo Binghe’s rear, scooping him up with ease. He cradles Luo Binghe to his chest and walks both of them into the bamboo house. “First things first, let’s get you washed up. Who knows what grime is on you from the factory.”
If he’d been red before, Luo Binghe knows his face must be scarlet now. “Shizun, what do you mean?”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even blink. It’s as if Luo Binghe hadn’t spoken. He continues towards the bathing room with confident steps.
“Shizun, please, wait a moment,” Luo Binghe begs. The idea of Shen Qingqiu touching him, undressing him, washing him, has already made Luo Binghe’s private area become hot and stiff. If Shen Qingqiu undresses him now, there will be no hiding it.
The door to the bathing area slides open with a flick of Shen Qingqiu’s fingers. He glides in, unheeding of Luo Binghe’s pleas.
Luo Binghe gets set down and he immediately lunges for the door. Two hands grab him by the waist before he can flee, quicker than when he’d fled to the cold pool after being beaten by Bai Zhan disciples. He’s dragged back in and unable to escape no matter how he squirms or begs. “Please, Shizun, I can bathe myself! Please…!”
“This isn’t right,” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself.
Luo Binghe nods frantically. “It’s not, it’s not! Shizun–!”
“Dolls aren’t supposed to move.”
The whisper of paper on the skin of his neck is the only thing that heralds Luo Binghe’s body suddenly going limp. It’s a body control talisman, one of Shen Qingqiu’s specialties. He doesn’t collapse to the ground; Shen Qingqiu catches him before he can.
“There, much better,” Shen Qingqiu says, smiling softly at Luo Binghe in his arms. His eyes are still glassy, and his face is even sweatier than before. He looks ill.
Luo Binghe feels a terrified thrill shoot through him. Something is wrong with Shen Qingqiu, and now Luo Binghe is at his mercy.
Shen Qingqiu lays Luo Binghe out on a long wooden bench at the side of the water basin and begins to undress him, taking his time to appreciate the craftsmanship of each layer of cloth. When he takes off Luo Binghe’s boots, Shen Qingqiu pets the arches of his toes and caresses the fine bone of his ankles. “What an excellent doll I have. So pretty, and so exquisitely made.”
Luo Binghe is helpless to do anything. All he can do is stare up at the ceiling, unable to even turn his head to look down and watch as his master slowly undresses him.
It almost seems like a nightmare. A feverish dream, both wonderful and terrible, all at once.
“If it’s so realistic, then I wonder what this part looks like…?”
Please, stop, Luo Binghe begs in his mind. His eyes feel hot and his throat tight. He’s too ashamed of his filthy desires and has worked so hard to keep them hidden, forbidding himself from touching himself under Shen Qingqiu’s roof, only for his efforts to hide that part of himself be shattered by that person’s own hands.
The ties of his inner robe are undone and the thin cloth pulled open. Knuckles brush against the inner parts of his thighs, nudging his legs apart. The talisman pasted to his neck keeps his body lax and still, even as he tries to force his legs shut.
Shen Qingqiu exhales slowly. The warmth of his breath ghosts across Luo Binghe’s erect dick, sending a rush of goosebumps up and down his back. Even while the rest of his body is paralyzed, his cock twitches and throbs eagerly as it hangs between his legs.
Luo Binghe’s heart thuds painfully as long, elegant fingers loop around his erection, gently turning it this way and that. After living with Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe has witnessed the way his master critically examines paintings and poems submitted by disciples, scrutinizing them for flaws. He imagines that expression on Shen Qingqiu’s face, only now, the item put up for grading is Luo Binghe’s own body.
Two warring feelings burst in Luo Binghe’s heart: please stop looking at me, and, please be satisfied with my body.
If nothing else, let him be pleasing to Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.
Silence draws out between them. Shen Qingqiu playfully toys with his private part, each gentle brush of his long fingers making Luo Binghe’s cock drool thick strands of liquid. Shen Qingqiu presses it back and up, holding it against Luo Binghe’s abdomen.
“Truly excellent. Even while still in its infancy, it’s a specimen unlike any other,” Shen Qingqiu praises. He then leans down, close enough his every breath warms Luo Binghe’s stones and long hair like warm silk spills across Luo Binghe’s thighs. He coos at it, “Don’t be in such a rush. One day, you’ll fuck a hundred women, won’t you? This wonderful thing, any girl will happily take it in them. Shizun is almost jealous.”
Luo Binghe’s head spins. Shen Qingqiu has spent so long thinking about him between the legs of women…?
More importantly, jealous of what part?
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t touch him enough to make him come. He puts Luo Binghe into a bath of steaming water after, tying back his sleeves to scrub Luo Binghe clean. Afterwards, he only dresses Luo Binghe in a thin set of inner robes. He might as well be naked.
The rest of the day passes in an odd haze.
His brain feels soaked in honey, his thoughts sluggish and the inside of his body sticky and warm from his skull down to his feet. Being unable to move, only adjusted and posed as Shen Qingqiu pleases, spoken to and treated as a child would their favourite toy…
He even eats, his mouth automatically chewing and swallowing under the talisman’s control. Shen Qingqiu had sent out a missive to Ming Fan to bring a meal, as if Luo Binghe was not present right there, willing to go cook for him.
It’s a confusing sort of pleasure. He feels as if he’s floating.
He’s so dizzy that he barely notices when he’s brought to Shen Qingqiu’s bedroom at the end of the night.
Shen Qingqiu pulls back the covers and tucks Luo Binghe in first. Then he settles in behind, his body a long line of warmth at Luo Binghe’s back. He’s tall enough that he can rest his head atop Luo Binghe’s while Luo Binghe’s feet still only reach to the middle of Shen Qingqiu’s shins.
One arm loops around Luo Binghe’s stomach, the other curling up under their heads.
Luo Binghe is hard again. Rather, his cock has been half-hard the entire day, the heat never quite dimming, and has now kindled back into a blazing fire.
“You know, I never bought a body pillow,” Shen Qingqiu says, his lips moving against Luo Binghe’s hair. “Having a life-sized Binghe doll to cuddle, though – I’ve been missing out. And it smells so sweet...”
Shen Qingqiu inhales deeply, and exhales slowly.
The hand on Luo Binghe’s stomach dips down and toys with the edge of his pants. It hesitates a moment before sliding beneath. Luo Binghe’s breathing stutters. He’d been played with earlier in a curious manner, examined and judged, but this touch feels… different. Dirty.
Shen Qingqiu strokes the heated flesh of his erection, ticklishly light, nothing more than a feather’s touch.
“It’s just a doll, so it’s fine, right?” Shen Qingqiu mutters to himself.
The ticklist touches become a firm hand wrapping around the middle of his cock. Abruptly adjusting their positions, Shen Qingqiu sits up and leans over enough that Luo Binghe can see him, their eyes meeting. Shen Qingqiu slowly strokes up the length of him. A flash of Shen Qingqiu’s pink tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.
There’s movement beneath the sheets that Luo Binghe can only barely see in the periphery. It’s–
It’s…
Beneath the sheets, Shen Qingqiu seems to be touching himself. The illustrious Xiu Ya sword, the elegant and lofty immortal, his Shizun, Shen Qingqiu is masturbating while touching Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe’s skull feels hot. Something within his brain is boiling. He can’t see past the sheets, no matter how he tries to look down.
I’m a doll, Luo Binghe thinks dreamily. I’m Shizun’s plaything.
But, if he’s only a thing to be played with, why won't Shizun go ahead and penetrate him? He’s molested Luo Binghe, toyed with his privates for pleasure, held him and caressed him, so what would it matter if Shen Qingqiu used his body even more thoroughly? Wouldn’t his body feel better than a hand?
Use me, he wants to beg.
Shen Qingqiu dips his head and nuzzles his face into Luo Binghe’s hair, breathing heavily. “Smells good…”
Luo Binghe’s gut twists. He’s aching, stomach trembling and tingling. Sweat builds in the small of his back and between his legs. Slick drips from his cock and is caught up in Shen Qingqiu’s fingers with every pass, making the sound of him being jerked off noisy and wet.
It’s so dirty, and he’s so close –
Before he can orgasm, Shen Qingqiu suddenly lets go of him and comes by himself with a grunt, jerking himself off with urgency, spilling across Luo Binghe’s dick. The liquid is hot, and Luo Binghe swears he can smell it, salty and bitter. It drips all over him, his stomach, even his balls.
Please, please, Luo Binghe cries in his head. Please, Shizun, touch me!
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t heed his needs. Why should he? Luo Binghe is just a doll to him, and dolls don’t have needs. They exist only to make their owners happy.
After steadying his breathing, Shen Qingqiu goes and fetches a cloth to wipe up the mess.
Luo Binghe is rolled back onto his side for Shen Qingqiu to hold and cuddle to sleep.
Somehow, despite the dissatisfied aching in his groin, Luo Binghe sleeps.
In the dream realm, Meng Mo forms before him. He raises a brow. “What are you playing around for? Focus your demonic qi on the talisman and burn it away.”
Luo Binghe shrugs one shoulder, then casts the dream demon a chilly glance. “This is my personal business.”
Meng Mo scoffs. “I suppose I should be relieved that at least something has happened to break your dance of cowardice. Even if it is the result of a spell.”
Luo Binghe perks up. Turning on his heel and transforming his cold defiance into simpering admiration, Luo Binghe says, “What spell? Senior, this Binghe begs for your instruction.”
It’s obvious that Shen Qingqiu is under the effects of something. His constantly distant, glazed eyes. His sweaty and red face. The things he’s doing and the way he seems to not realize it actually is his Binghe that he’s doing those things to. If he must pay a bit of lip service to Meng Mo, he will gladly do so.
Meng Mo puffs up proudly. “Hmph. It’s the ‘Object of Desire’ spell. It does just that: it makes the user view the person they desire the most in the world as an object to possess. He seems to have stumbled across a matchmaking succubus who felt like playing a prank on him. They often use those types of spells.”
‘The person they desire the most’.
Luo Binghe can’t help the smug smile that creeps across his face.
Not Liu Qingge. Not anyone else. It’s Luo Binghe that Shen Qingqiu wants the most.
Then, seriously, he asks, “What is the cure?”
Meng Mo gives him a look. “What is usually the cure for succubi spells?”
In the morning, Shen Qingiqu spends a shichen dressing Luo Binghe up, undressing him, then dressing him up again. Each outfit is slightly different. Some are even Shen Qingqiu’s robes which are oversized on him.
“So handsome,” Shen Qingqiu says when he dresses Luo Binghe in the whites of his disciple’s uniform. “What a pure white lotus… Ah, I’ve always liked Binghe like this. The cutest. Definitely.”
Luo Binghe puffs up a bit.
In dark black robes from Shen Qingqiu’s closet, Shen Qingqiu admires him from every angle, compelling his body with the talisman, turning him this way and that. “This is what he’ll look like one day, but it’s quite charming to see little Binghe dressed up like a lord. Such a cute little bun. Who would dream he’ll end up so toasty?”
Luo Binghe blinks. Shizun certainly says some strange things.
Shen Qingqiu puts him in a few other fancy robes before getting a curious look in his eyes. He leaves for long enough that Luo Binghe almost wants to panic, before returning with an armful of white cloth tinged with green on the edges.
“I’ve seen fanart of this,” Shen Qingqiu mutters. “If the real Binghe knew, he’d kill me, but…”
Luo Binghe slowly turns crimson as he is dressed in the female version of the disciple’s robes. His hair is drawn up into two long twintails, tied with green ribbons. The belt is cinched tightly to accentuate his figure, the blouse-like top loose enough that it appears to give him a bosom. Most humiliating of all is that his cock hangs heavily between his legs, long enough to be seen past the hem of the short skirt.
He’s dripping. Without pants, he’s dripping pre-come across the ground as he’s manipulated to slowly turn and pose by the talisman on his neck.
It isn’t unlike a girl’s pussy dripping, he realizes with a hot jolt.
Shen Qingqiu stalks in slow circles around him. “Binghe would make such a pretty girl,” he muses. Shen Qingqiu stops at his backside, flipping the skirt up and rubbing his rear. A finger slips between the cheeks and strokes the little bud hidden there. It doesn’t press in, only rubbing lightly. “Should I keep it in this?”
‘It’. Not even ‘Binghe’. Not human. Just ‘it’.
Luo Binghe drips more, a little puddle forming at his feet.
Meng Mo was right. Shen Qingqiu truly and honestly sees him as an inanimate object.
Shen Qingqiu lets the skirt drop down and instead reaches around Luo Binghe’s body with both hands, groping at his chest. “What cute little tits. Let me take a look at them.”
Cool air hits Luo Binghe’s skin as Shen Qingqiu pulls the robes apart, tugging the neckline of them open until his chest is exposed. Anxious heat curls in his belly as he’s unable to look down. His dick twitches when warm fingers suddenly slide across his bare chest; on one side, Shen Qingqiu’s forefinger and thumb pinch playfully at one of his nipples, on the other, Shen Qingqiu flattens his fingers and rubs circles into his pec.
Shen Qingqiu idly plays with him like that, in turns rubbing and pinching, playfully touching him until Luo Binghe’s tits sting with pain, his nipples becoming swollen and hot. Shen Qingqiu even tightly squeezes both of his pecs and pulls both hands away. It's a milking motion, as one would do to a cow's udders. He's tugging fiercely at the nipples as if trying to draw milk.
The gap in their heights is obvious in this position. Shen Qingqiu’s a head taller, able to press his nose to the crown of Luo Binghe’s head and breathe against him, peppering kisses now and then.
Luo Binghe is almost glad to be paralyzed. He’d have already collapsed and begged Shen Qingqiu to fuck him until he comes. He’s so close, the puddle at his feet having grown in size, his thighs slick all the way down.
He wants to be abused more. He wants Shen Qingqiu to wring every bit of pleasure he wishes from Luo Binghe’s body.
He’s been determined for a year now to become strong enough to protect Shen Qingqiu. To prove his worth as a cultivator and someday be seen as an equal. Yet all this time, Shen Qingqiu had desired him so deeply, so thoroughly, while wanting to coddle and pamper him like a cherished doll. Something pretty to keep in his lap and be dressed up in cute clothes.
If this is what Shen Qingqiu wants, Luo Binghe will happily oblige. He can be a kept wife who stays home to tend the house, spoiled with pretty clothes, and then be fucked, teased, and touched however his master likes.
Shen Qingqiu only pulls away once the entirety of Luo Binghe’s pecs have turned red from his molesting. The flesh feels tender and swollen.
Shen Qingqiu idly fingers the open neck of the robes before deciding, “I’ll leave it open. I like having something pretty to look at.”
That same honeyed feeling pours down the inside of Luo Binghe's head, making his thoughts slow down and grow quiet. It's like the folds of his brain have been stuffed with sticky cotton. He feels like he's floating. The pain in his chest – in his tits – feels good. His aching dick that hasn't come feels good. Everything feels so good that he can't think.
‘Something pretty’, that's all he is right now. A pretty little toy that doesn't need to think.
He's picked up with his red, aching tits still exposed, and brought to the main room. He's settled onto Shen Qingqiu's lap and kept there as his master idly reads and waits for their breakfast to be brought.
It's then that Luo Binghe notices a pressure in his groin. He'd missed it until then from his arousal, but it becomes harder and harder to ignore.
He needs to urinate. He hasn't had the chance to, not for nearly a day. Luo Binghe looks up at Shen Qingqiu with the limited range he has, blinking rapidly.
Shen Qingqiu flips a page in his book.
When breakfast arrives, Luo Binghe is set on the ground for Shen Qingqiu to fetch it at the door. That movement jostles him, and his stomach tenses. That's the only pitiful thing he can do to try and keep himself from doing something humiliating.
Shen Qingqiu sets out the meal and puts Luo Binghe back in his lap. Sitting up puts even more pressure on him. At least if Luo Binghe were on the ground, he wouldn't have to do it on top of Shen Qingqiu!
Shizun, please, Luo Binghe cries inwardly. The cramping is almost impossible to suppress. Shizun, please notice. Shizun, Shizun…!
Shen Qingqiu pours another mouthful of congee into Luo Binghe’s mouth instead. Luo Binghe mechanically obeys the instructions as issued by the talisman and chews before swallowing it down. Then, unable to stop his body’s needs any longer, his bladder releases. Warmth spills down his thighs and onto Shen Qingqiu’s lap. The little skirt makes it even more obvious that he’s helplessly wetting himself.
It’s humiliating. Even toddlers know how to control themselves. He hasn’t wet himself since before he’d even been taken in by his mother.
“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu says simply as Luo Binghe urinates on him.
Shame makes Luo Binghe’s eyes grow hot. Tears spill down his cheeks.
Shen Qingqiu carefully dabs his cheeks dry with the edge of his sleeve, clicking his tongue. “Poor thing. I’ve been a very bad owner, haven’t I? My darling little doll, don’t worry, I’ll clean you right up. Let everything out.”
Luo Binghe cries harder when Shen Qingqiu places a hand to his bladder and presses down, forcing the rest out of him. Even worse, his dick has gotten hard, stimulated by Shen Qingqiu’s words. Being spoken down to, treated as nothing more than an item to be tidied up after, is shameful but… at the same time, he wants more of it.
He wants Shen Qingqiu to scold him. He wants Shen Qingqiu to tie him up and whip him for being such a messy girl. He wants Shen Qingqiu to force him to make a mess again.
His head feels stirred and mixed up, as if Shen Qingqiu's words were a physical force stuck into his brain.
Once he’s finished wetting himself, Shen Qingqiu does as promised, taking him to the bathing room. Within an incense stick’s time, hot water has been prepared and Shen Qingqiu goes about stripping them down.
Luo Binghe is hard and leaking by the time he’s naked.
Then, being sat in the water to soak, unable to move so much as the tip of a finger, he is forced to watch silently as Shen Qingqiu disrobes fully in front of him. His shirt’s ties undone, then shrugged off, revealing the same sensual vision Luo Binghe had seen once at the Chen Estate.
Flat planes of a masculine chest that slope down to a thin waist. Pale, milky skin, soft and appealing to the eyes, dotted by two delicate fruits that are deep red even without teasing. The curves of his collarbone are gentle and distinct. His skin looks shiny and slick with sweat. The spell effect causing the fever has only seemed to intensify overnight.
Everything about his body makes Luo Binghe’s teeth itch, his mouth salivating with the desire to suck, bite, chew, and lick all over.
Shen Qingqiu’s hands fall to the waistband of his pants and push them down. Luo Binghe can’t breathe. The steam from the water clogs his throat. His entire body feels melty, as if the water is actually boiling and he’s being cooked alive.
He sees the dark thatch of hair first. Then, the peach-coloured length of Shen Qingqiu, the reddened head of it peeking out from the hood of foreskin, long as Shen Qingqiu’s palm from root to tip and as broad as three fingers’ width.
It’s too much. Luo Binghe nearly comes, his dick jerking helplessly beneath the water, warm liquid spitting from it and mixing with the bathwater.
He shuts his eyes tightly, the one little thing he can do to maintain some form of respectful boundary, and keeps them shut as Shen Qingqiu steps into the bath and settles Luo Binghe’s back to his front.
“Mm, let’s get you clean,” Shen Qingqiu hums. He twines a cloth around his hand and wraps them both around Luo Binghe’s erection. “This is the dirty part right here.”
That is true in more ways than one.
The rough cloth that Shen Qingqiu uses makes Luo Binghe’s dick sting in pain as the coarse fabric is scrubbed up and down his length, thighs, and balls. It hurts. He cannot escape the pain even if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. That helplessness feels good.
Shen Qingqiu’s breathing is heavy in his ears and something stiff presses to Luo Binghe’s backside. “I’ll scrub you until you’re sparkling clean. My pretty toy...”
The words are sweeter than honey, mixing with the brittle, bright sparks of pain, until it coalesces into a dizzying wave of pleasure that seems to never crest. He's been teased until ready to burst for an entire day. Once that gate is finally broken, the dam floods forth.
His cock spills, and spills, and spills, until his stomach hurts and his skin feels rubbed raw.
Shen Qingqiu doesn't seem to notice his disciple’s face growing red and wet with tears. He scrubs and scrubs until Luo Binghe's cock is red and stinging, and his head has truly been scraped empty. Every useless thought is thrown out, with only Shizun left behind.
He's a toy. Toys’ feelings don't matter. Toys' dicks can be played with and punished as much as their owner wants.
Binghe is a good toy.
“Shizun needs to get clean too,” Shen Qingqiu coos.
He manipulates Luo Binghe's body with the talisman. He makes Luo Binghe lather his hands with soap and gently stroke him. He makes Luo Binghe pour the soap on his body and rub up against Shen Qingqiu all over, his bruised tits rubbing up against Shen Qingqiu's wide chest. Then he puts Shen Qingqiu's arm between his legs and rides it to ‘clean’ him, his taint and balls slick, grinding fast enough for the soap to froth and bubble up.
Luo Binghe, unwilling to break the talisman, perhaps too far gone to even think of breaking it anymore, is helpless to do anything but obey.
Then Luo Binghe kneels in the water as Shen Qingqiu stands. “This part is dirty too,” Shen Qingqiu says. He pours soap onto Luo Binghe's chest and then grinds his cock against it. The slippery liquid lets him rut without friction, the length of him sliding across Luo Binghe's tender breasts.
Mechanically, Luo Binghe is forced to bring his hands up and squeeze his own tits, fingers digging in and forcing the flesh together. His pecs aren't true breasts, not yet at least, so the valley they create for Shen Qingqiu is shallow. But, Shen Qingqiu groans in satisfaction, humping his swollen red tits.
Luo Binghe has never even imagined such a thing being possible. How often has Shen Qingqiu dreamt about this? How many ways has Shen Qingqiu thought about taking pleasure with his body?
As Shen Qingqiu's motions grow choppier, the tip of his cock smears wetly on the underside of Luo Binghe's chin. Luo Binghe's mouth bursts with saliva. He wants to suck it. He wants to lick it all over, have Shen Qingqiu rub that wetness all over his face, paint every inch with his pre-come.
His dick hurts. It's gotten hard again but it hurts, the skin raw.
Shen Qingqiu hasn't looked away from him. His eyes are blown dark with arousal, rimmed with red from his fever. His cheeks have smudges of bright red, his forehead slick with sweat. The illness has deepened further. “So pretty...”
After a few more rough thrusts, Shen Qingqiu pulls back just enough to come all over Luo Binghe's pressed together tits. He covers them, white pearls atop red skin. When he finally stops coming he rubs his cockhead through the mess, smearing it on each of Luo Binghe's piqued nipples.
The smell of semen is bitter and strong. Luo Binghe feels starved, but he isn't told to lick it up, so he cannot.
“This really is the perfect toy,” Shen Qingqiu praises.
Shen Qingqiu doesn't even bother dressing him after washing them, leaving Luo Binghe naked. The only scrap of cloth on his body are green ribbons when his hair is pulled up into twin tails once more. When Shen Qingqiu sits at his desk to read until nighttime, he keeps Luo Binghe in his lap and idly fondles him the entire while.
His tits, his cock, his ass – his entire body, casually molested while Shen Qingqiu contentedly reads.
Luo Binghe begins to think he wouldn’t mind if Shen Qingqiu never broke out of this wild fever.
At night, Shen Qingqiu huffs noisily in his ear as he masturbates them both again. Of course Luo Binghe is still naked, swaddled in Shen Qingqiu's bedding, his neck and sides tickled by Shen Qingqiu's long hair draping over him.
“So pretty, fuck, why did I never buy a toy like you before…?”
Luo Binghe is the only one allowed to be Shizun’s toy. He’ll break any other one Shen Qingqiu dares to get.
Shen Qingqiu stops midway before he orgasms. He seems to pause and think before shuffling back a bit. “It's a shame not to explore more, isn't it? I ought to take advantage while Binghe is away. Just to see,” Shen Qingqiu explains to himself. “Like, for example, down here…”
He compels Luo Binghe to raise his arms above his head and spread his legs.
Luo Binghe's heart races. What filthy thing will Shen Qingqiu do to him now? His master is so experienced and has done so many things, and now the spell is slowly unveiling each of his desires, just as it had done when Shen Qingqiu humped Luo Binghe's chest.
… Will Shen Qingqiu finally fuck him?
Shen Qingqiu crawls backwards down the bed. First he takes his time languidly sucking bruises atop bruises on Luo Binghe’s chest, nibbling at his nipples and licking the already tender flesh. It hurts, and feels good all at once.
He sucks like a child seeking milk from its mother. Luo Binghe’s dick jerks thinking of himself swollen with Shen Qingqiu’s baby, his breasts growing full with milk, feeding his child on one nipple and Shizun on the other. He’d have as many babies as Shizun wants, enough to fill the Peak.
Shen Qingqiu turns his head and buries his nose into the pit of Luo Binghe’s arm, breathing against and biting the skin. His breath huffs warmly there, and abruptly Luo Binghe envisions Shen Qingqiu rubbing his dick against the skin there like he had Binghe’s chest.
If his whole body could become a toy for sex, every bit of him pleasurable to Shen Qingqiu, covered in semen – Luo Binghe’s body grows hot, tingling from the top of his skull to the depths of his stomach.
“He even smells good here,” Shen Qingqiu mutters incredulously. Then he licks the skin, inhaling deeply through his nose.
Luo Binghe stares up at the gauzy canopy over the bed, humiliated, aroused, and helpless.
Shen Qingqiu licks down his flank, over his stomach, and rubs his nose into the warm crux of Luo Binghe’s legs. Each ticklish breath makes Luo Binghe’s dick ache, so close to Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. He wants to feel it on him. He wants Shen Qingqiu to suck on it, and lick it, and bite it –
Instead, Shen Qingqiu presses his nose firmly to the curve of his balls and huffs. He breathes eagerly in and out, rubbing his mouth and nose against Luo Binghe’s most private area, moaning low in his throat. Luo Binghe can’t look down. All he can feel is the bed faintly shake as Shen Qingqiu masturbates while panting against his dick balls.
Little curls of a hot tongue on Luo Binghe’s balls make him want to jerk out of his skin. He feels sweaty and hot all over, even in the creases of skin that Shen Qingqiu licks and sniffs at.
It should be dirty. But Shen Qingqiu seems even more pleased as he buries his face harder against Luo Binghe’s crotch, licking happily at the sweat, rubbing it onto his soft cheeks and softer lips. It's dirty.
“Smells so good,” Shen Qingqiu moans against him.
Luo Binghe feels full of hot steam. He can’t stop sweating and burning all over, his skin feeling too small and too tight to contain it all, his thoughts melting and his eyes watering, all of his body becoming wet. He feels like a bun stuffed into a steamer and left there until overcooked, until the softest touch would have him spilling out. All he needs is that one little touch for him to come.
Shen Qingqiu has no interest in helping him. He continues huffing and licking sweat, until he finally comes by himself. Luo Binghe doesn’t even have the pleasure of watching it. All he can see is the canopy above him as he holds his arms over his head and keeps his legs parted.
He’s a doll. A toy. Only a thing for Shen Qingqiu’s pleasure. Not being permitted to orgasm is only right, after all.
Luo Binghe aches everywhere, and his dick hurts, but at the same time he feels tingly and numb. He doesn’t even want to come. Dolls don’t need to come. His mind feels so stuffy and floaty he doesn’t care what happens, only that he wants Shen Qingqiu to use him.
Shen Qingqiu leaves him to get tea and a cloth, puttering around in the main room. Luo Binghe is left in bed in position. His dick hasn’t stopped weeping.
He’s just a doll.
Shen Qingqiu’s pretty doll.
The third day is a continuation of bliss. He’s posed, dressed, caressed, and pampered.
Luo Binghe has been put into an elaborate layering of robes. His hair is carefully held back with beautiful pins, each of them with gems inlaid and dangling chimes that tinkle brightly with every step Shen Qingqiu takes. His lips and eyes have been painted red, and a huadian has been carefully placed on his brow. Rings and bangles are placed on his hands and wrists, and his feet are tightly bound up.
“What a pretty little girl I have,” Shen Qingqiu praised after dolling him up. “Ahh, Binghe is really the best no matter what. He can be both the prettiest girl, and the most handsome boy. No one does it like the protagonist, really.”
Luo Binghe had never played with toys as a boy. His playground had been nature, rocks and sticks and mud. Shen Qingqiu constantly refers to having had plentiful toys to choose between, so many that it makes Luo Binghe’s head spin.
And yet, even with the experience of playing with all of those toys, Shen Qingqiu still likes him best.
“I used to keep my figures on a shelf above my desk, you know. I like looking at my toys when I work,” Shen Qingqiu says as he gently puts Luo Binghe down on his writing table. He pushes Luo Binghe’s back to the wall and parts his legs wide enough that Shen Qingqiu can position a little book between them. Shen Qingqiu kneels and smiles happily up at Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe feels dizzy. Part of him is glad to be paralyzed. If he weren’t, he doesn’t know what he might do. Everything feels so good.
Please, look at me more, Luo Binghe thinks. To be Shizun’s favourite toy, Shizun’s most desired object, his most wanted possession – oh, what pleasure.
He never wants it to end.
Like the previous night, Shen Qingqiu playfully gropes him, pulling apart his clothes to leave his half-hard dick on display right above the book that Shen Qingqiu has set out to read.
It’s humiliating. It’s exciting.
His dick gradually hardens more and more, paradoxically enticed by the way Shen Qingqiu utterly ignores him as he flips idly through his little yellow book. Typically, Shen Qingqiu would never dare advertise the things he reads, but… Well, Luo Binghe is just a decoration now. Why should Shen Qingqiu be shy in front of a thing?
Luo Binghe can’t help himself as his dick twitches and begins drooling. How could he? Could anyone, in a position like this?
That dribble of pre-come slowly inches down until it lands on a page of Shen Qingqiu’s book.
Shen Qingqiu glances up at the offending strand of thick pre-come. Then, he picks his fan up from beside him and smacks Luo Binghe’s cock. “Naughty doll,” Shen Qingqiu scolds.
Something deep within him cracks, something he can’t name. A blistering hot feeling surges within him, so overwhelming his vision wavers and his guts twist viciously, as if a hand had reached inside him and grabbed hold. His cock spurts a stripe of clear liquid across the page, dirtying it further.
Shen Qingqiu smacks him again, harder. His cock swings and slaps against his own thigh, leaving a wet mark there.
Shizun, oh…! Please! Please please, Luo Binghe thinks frantically.
He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. His body aches. He cannot tense in preparation for each strike, cannot touch himself, cannot beg – he’s helpless.
“Tsk, tsk,” Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue. “Dirty thing. Is it broken…?”
Thwap – another smack of Shen Qingqiu’s fan. That cracking thing inside of Luo Binghe erodes a bit further, all sense and reason within him slipping away.
He is a dirty thing.
He wants to be hit more. He wants to be touched gently. He wants to be called dirty and scolded for being so. He wants to be cuddled and held like a precious treasure.
His eyes feel hot. Wet drips down his cheeks as quickly and plentifully as the wetness drips from his cockhead. Each droplet on the paper is met with a punishing smack to the side of his dick, beating it red, making it slap against his thigh again and again until his pre-come has spurt all over the book’s pages and his own leg.
Each stinging red mark makes his insides crackle and boil, as if a roaring fire has been lit within him. His blood roils under his skin. Everything feels so hot.
Shen Qingqiu sighs, sounding aggrieved. Disappointed. “What’s wrong with this thing?” He clicks his tongue again and stands, turning and walking into the main room, then further into a room beyond where Luo Binghe can see him.
Luo Binghe’s vision swims through tears. His thoughts are difficult to gather. I’m sorry, Shizun, I’m sorry…! Shizun, please, please…!
A heart-stoppingly long moment passes by.
When Shen Qingqiu returns, he sits back down between Luo Binghe’s spread legs. In his hand is single chopstick made of smooth lacquered wood.
At first, Luo Binghe does not comprehend. Then, Shen Qingqiu grabs his dick in one hand and presses the smooth end of the chopstick against the dripping slit. With a bit of pressure, it begins to part the slit open and slide in, the way slicked with pre-come.
A terrified thrill shoots through Luo Binghe. That place isn’t supposed to have things put inside.
I’m sorry for being messy, Shizun, Luo Binghe thinks. He knows Shen Qingqiu can’t hear him. Honestly, he wishes that Shen Qingqiu would do it anyway even if he could hear. He wants his messy, disobedient cock to be punished.
The chopstick is pushed in, and it stings. His dick jerks harshly, and Shen Qingqiu pinches it severely. He holds it tightly in place and inserts the rest of the chopstick in. It slowly flares towards the end, spreading Luo Binghe’s urethra wider open.
When it reaches to just a finger’s width away from the end, Shen Qingqiu stops inserting it.
He taps it, and the vibrations echo through Luo Binghe’s cock. With a satisfied smile, Shen Qingqiu says, “Good, all stoppered up. Now I can read in peace.”
It isn’t enough for the chopstick to be stuffed in his cock. Shen Qingqiu idly plays with it as he reads. One hand flips pages, one hand fiddles with the bit of wood. Shen Qingqiu twists it, tugs it in and out, and taps his nails against it, fidgeting idly without even looking at it.
What a striking sight Luo Binghe must make. Dressed up in fineries and makeup like a pampered little wife, only to have his legs spread and cock stuffed for his master to play with.
That night he’s once again stripped naked, Shen Qingqiu caressing his tits and ass casually as they get into bed.
Right away, Shen Qingqiu rolls Luo Binghe onto his back and settles between them. “It’s just a doll,” he mutters to himself. “People buy sex dolls all the time. As long as I keep it clean, no one has to know.”
Sex doll.
A lightning bolt crashes into Luo Binghe’s skull, frying his brain and shooting down his spine.
“It’s just like using my fleshlight,” Shen Qingqiu reasons. His face is pallid with streaks of red on his cheeks and forehead. He’s clammy with sweat and burning hot. His fever has reached a burning pitch, and finally pushed him over the edge.
Beside his bed from a hidden compartment of the sidetable, Shen Qingqiu pulls out a small tub of something. He uncaps it and draws out a scoop of something clear and sticky, an unguent of some kind. The tub seems mostly used as he scrapes his fingers along the sides of it. Then, Shen Qingqiu rubs the unguent along his dick to slick it up.
Luo Binghe realizes with a start that this must be what Shen Qingqiu uses to masturbate. Not always, but sometimes, perhaps when he uses that ‘fleshlight’ he’d mentioned. And for it to be so empty – had Shen Qingqiu masturbated at night here, even with Luo Binghe under the same roof?
He abruptly feels disappointed in himself. Why hadn’t he noticed? When all this time he could have been sneaking out at night to listen in!
Shen Qingqiu wipes his sticky hand on Luo Binghe’s belly, treating him like a rag. Then he settles between Luo Binghe’s legs and presses them back and open, hands behind Luo Binghe’s knees. Between his legs is utterly exposed like this.
“There’s something about it, being able to fuck Luo Binghe like this,” Shen Qingqiu says, looking down at him. “It’s just a doll, but it’s his white lotus version. It feels wrong.”
It’s alright, Shizun, Luo Binghe thinks frantically. If he doesn’t get fucked now, he’ll really go crazy. He needs it. Shizun, I’m just a doll, so it’s alright.
Shen Qingqiu slowly presses his hips forward. The sticky head of him rubs over Luo Binghe’s taint. “It’s wrong. But… I just… don’t care anymore.”
Luo Binghe’s insides shiver. Yes, yes, yes–!
Shen Qingqiu presses Luo Binghe’s knees down into the bedspread and gathers his feet together, holding them with one broad hand. Luo Binghe’s lax body bends easily in half, his training in the sect giving him a flexible body. With Shen Qingqiu’s hand freed, he grabs his dick and pushes it against Luo Binghe’s dry rim.
He hadn’t bothered to prepare Luo Binghe to take him in. Why should he? Why should Shizun waste his time preparing a sex doll?
Shen Qingqiu’s tip breaches him.
Luo Binghe’s gut twitches, his eyes shaking.
It burns.
The dull pressure of it increases, and increases, until it breaches his rim. Luo Binghe’s eyes water and his vision shakes. He can feel it inside spreading him open. He can feel the way it twitches within him, his slack and paralyzed body offering no resistance. Shen Qingqiu bears down on him relentlessly until he is sheathed, and every cun of it hot and stiff.
Luo Binghe comes across his chest and belly, untouched.
It’s not the first time he’s put anything inside himself. He curiously touches himself there on nights he’s alone in the house, on nighthunts when the other disciples are sleeping, anytime he can get away with it. He’s wanted Shen Qingqiu to fuck him since he was brought into the bamboo house.
He comes so hard it splashes up over his face. Bent in half like this, it spills all over his face and cheeks.
Shen Qingqiu grunts, watching him. “Fuck.” He digs his cock in as far as it will go, rotating his hips at the base, grinding it in circles. “That felt good. How do I make it do that again?”
Shen Qingqiu pumps in and out. Every thrust still stings, but it becomes easier and easier to take with each one, Binghe’s hole gradually warming and becoming loose. Every few thrusts it knocks against something that makes a blinding white light burst in Luo Binghe’s eyes, his stomach clamping reflexively down. His erection hadn’t dimmed at all. It feels tight and hot inside his dick, the base of it tingling and itchy, and the only thing soothing is with Shen Qingqiu’s dick rubbing against the inside of him.
“Come on, do it again,” Shen Qingqiu says, leaning forward. He presses Luo Binghe’s feet deeper into the bed above his head, ramming himself in harder.
Luo Binghe wants to cry, he feels so good.
The sounds of flesh slapping against one another, of Shen Qingqiu’s ragged breathing, echo in the quietness of the room. Luo Binghe can look down enough to see Shen Qingqiu’s face, see how his expression pinches with arousal, his brows knotting, dark eyes burning as they look down at him.
What sort of face is Luo Binghe making? What did Shen Qingqiu want him to look like as he fucked him for the first time?
Shen Qingqiu fucks directly against something swollen inside of him. A spot that makes his brain spark white. His hole clamps down and his dick hardens.
“That’s the spot,” Shen Qingqiu smugly smiles. “What an interesting design feature for a doll. Let’s hit it again.”
He does. Luo Binghe’s skull feels rattled. He can’t think. His vision shakes and he feels hot all over.
Shen Qingqiu bears down with full force and fucks him. It’s increasingly forceful, almost violent, every thrust plunging against that one little spot, until it feels bruised. It feels so good.
The pleasure mounts increasingly, until he can’t take it.
Luo Binghe comes again. It pools in the dips of his abdomen and in the clavicle of his throat. It’s more liquidy than before, thin and hot leaking out of him. Shen Qingqiu fucks him through it, grunting as the reflexive twitching and clenching of Luo Binghe’s body strokes him. Sucks him. As if his body, even paralyzed, is begging for Shen Qingiqu’s come.
Fucking into the depths of him, deep and hard, Shen Qingqiu groans. “Fuck, fuck, mm… Binghe, feels so good, Binghe, ah!”
Shen Qingqiu finally comes, pouring semen deep inside him in hot, long, thick spurts. It’s so warm in his belly. It feels so good. Luo Binghe doesn’t come again with him, but his head is floaty and dizzy, and he feels like he’s orgasming, even when nothing comes out of his dick.
After a moment to regather his breathing, Shen Qingqiu slowly pulls away, blinking rapidly. “Binghe?”
He stares at Luo Binghe, sweaty, covered in his own semen, his hole fucked open and drooling, in Shen Qingqiu’s own bed. Clarity returns to his eyes. The way he looks at Luo Binghe is tinged with horror. “Oh. My god.”
Clumsy fingers turn Luo Binghe over and scrabble to remove the talisman. It isn’t a return of sensation – Luo Binghe had felt everything over the past three days, perhaps even clearer than normal. It’s almost strange to be able to control his body. It feels wrong, somehow. He rolls back over of his own volition, looking up at Shen Qingqiu’s pallid, fearful expression.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. His voice is raspy from disuse. “Shizun, was I a good doll?”
Shen Qingqiu raises a shaky hand to his forehead. “...... That’s what that succubus meant? My ‘object of desire’...?”
“Shizun, Shizun, if you would like, you can put the talisman back on,” Luo Binghe says. He honestly wants to be turned back into a doll and rendered into something only fit to make Shen Qingqiu’s cock feel good. But that isn’t his choice to make. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be the best doll of all for you. If you want, you can simply take it off when you want me to cook or clean for you, then put it on again after.”
Shen Qingqiu stares at him. His fingers twitch.
Luo Binghe cannot help but be a bit clingy. He hasn’t had the chance to hug Shen Qingqiu or massage his waist for days now. He sits up and hugs Shen Qingqiu shyly around the waist and rests his head on Shen Qingqiu’s chest. “Shizun, since I’m still your doll, can I sleep here?”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t push him away. He allows Luo Binghe to guide him down, their mess still present. Luo Binghe will tidy it up in the morning if he isn’t turned into a toy again. Choked, Shen Qingqiu whispers into his hair, “Binghe, I’m… sorry.”
Luo Binghe shivers and clings to Shen Qingqiu. “Shizun, if you want to make it up to me, please use the talisman again. Is that acceptable?”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t respond for a long moment, before he slowly says, “Let's discuss in the morning.”