Empress - Chapter 24 (Patreon)

The rattling of her chains grew congruently with the fury and desperation in Meiling’s tugging attempts to free herself from the damp stone wall behind her. Tucked deep within the dismal recesses of Fu Jie’s winding chambers of woe, the Xian Thief stared back into the darkness, seeing little more than bars and dirt behind a stinging veil of sweat. Her teeth pressed against one another in an animalistic snarl, the iron cuffs around her wrists gnawing broken red marks into her skin. The cuffs were fastened to the wall to keep her facing the barred doors to freedom, similar chains rattling at her ankles. She continued to thrust forward, calling out to her captors with anger and fury sheathing any fear for her own well-being.

“Let me out!” Meiling screamed, her voice hoarse with grunts and perpetual strain. “Let me out you fucking bastard!” The faces that muttered in the dark around her lingered pale and sunken, shambling skeletons that once belonged to people of culture and potential. Some stared back in horror at Meiling’s outbursts, sorrowful and reverent, while others carried out their duties so as to not face secondhand backlash from her clear infractions. They wore blood and muck caked into their rags, smear across their shriveled skin. Their necks bore reddened marks of a design Meiling struggled to recognize. She watched with sickened fumes as those that shared her prison roamed freely, yet chained at the ankles, as they carried out menial tasks, their skin shrunken and whitened from having been denied direct sunlight for a time that she shuddered to consider. Still, her rage was only just barely contained by the chains that kept her fixed to the cold, stone wall of the dungeon.

“Trying to die quicker?” Sima Yi asked sourly. He occupied the cell next to his sister’s. The shared floor was rough stone beneath their feet, littered with stray bits of straw and stained with dark splotches of questionable origin. The air was putrid with the decay of live bodies and fresh waste. Distant screams, moans, and even frantic laughter could be heard echoing through the chamber, lit only by small flames in broken glass lamps fastened to the wall. The other occupants, the working prisoners, paid no mind to the sounds that haunted the ears of Sima Yi and Meiling. The complacency to the noises on their faces was just as chilling as the sounds themselves. Sima stood bound similarly to the wall, yet leaned against it, breathing steadily as he collected his mind while his sister indulged in restless fury.

“Better than spending even another minute like this,” Meiling barked. “But you’re used to rolling over, aren’t you? Going to submit to this family of royals as easily as you did the last one? Push your knife deeper into my chest?”

“Why do you have to make this about us, now of all times?” Sima Yi argued. “Even someone as irrational and reckless as you can see how this would be different. I’d at least like to die without you harboring this image of me that was never true to begin with. Can you give me that?” 

“And how much of this should I blame on you?” Meiling asked angrily. “What haven’t you told me? You clearly know more about what’s going on than you’ve said, you’ve already proved yourself a liar on top of a deserter–”

“I never deserted,” Sima Yi fussed back. “Not you, not mother, not anyone! When will you get that through your head?” 

“Who’s been taking care of her house?” Meiling pushed back. “Who’s been seeing after all that she helped build within the village, all the people and families that she helped save? You left all of that, no amount of atonement will change that.”

“Meiling, for the hundredth time, I pleaded for that position within the palace to help support all of that,” Sima said. “To help get us out of the dirt, to help the family name reach the Emperor, to help us both find the prosperity that mother never did. I gave up all that I cared about to see to it that you had the life that mother wanted for you, for both of us. I’m sorry I wasn’t around. I truly am, but not being with you… it wasn’t easy, Meiling. All that you saw in me, I saw in myself, but at least I knew that it was necessary for your well-being. That was all I cared about. But if you choose to believe the worst of me, if that makes you feel better in what could be our last moments in this life, then keep screaming. Just know that I truly am sorry.”

Meiling huffed. Her mind stirred, wanting to keep fighting, sharing in the language that she and her brother had spoken in for the years that she had spent on her own. She swallowed back the urge to vomit, her jaw sore from the screaming and gnashing. She stared down at her muddied legs, dirty and sore from the long walk. Sima as well endured the remnants of wounds and weather on his skin and clothes alike, looking much more disheveled than his regal garb should have presented him. As Meiling stopped tugging for a moment, she realized how close she was to crashing all together. She stumbled a bit in place, sweat dripping down the tips of her hair. So much came to her in such a small sliver of time, yet the absurdity left her compelled to give a slight chuckle in lieu of more tears.

“Didn’t… I didn’t think you had it in you…” Meiling said, speaking softly through heavy breathing. “To lie like that to them.” Sima sighed through his nose, staring forward.

“Wasn’t supposed to go that far,” Sima Yi said, dirt and grim still caked on his hardened face.

“Oh, no, don’t backtrack, not when I’m actually praising you,” Meiling said. “This might be the last time we talk, don’t make me take it back.”

“It was dishonorable of me,” Sima Yi said firmly. “I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I shouldn’t have… schemed against the Empire just so… she would be happy.” A silence fell over the two, gently breathing in the lurking odor of livestock and rot. A distant raven cawed above their heads from the outside. Meiling swallowed. Her mind had been so occupied by anger over the injustice of being taken that she gave herself little time or focus to reflect over Cao Lee, the girl she then knew to be the crown princess of the empire, Hong Yuanji. 

“Seems I don’t really know anyone anymore,” Meiling said. The soreness of more tears rose up behind her eyes, aching through her temples with the beating of her heart. Meiling sniffled, her lip trembling as she recalled the sight of Commander Qiang, one of the only people she knew posthumously she could trust, meeting her horrified gaze as the life faded from his eyes. 

“I know it doesn’t help the situation, so maybe it doesn’t bear speaking, but… I didn’t know,” Sima Yi said. “About you and Yuanji. She spoke of meeting someone, but… I don’t know, I guess I had suspicions, but then I didn’t, and… I was a fool, Meiling.” 

“You’re right,” Meiling muttered with a nod. “You were. And that doesn’t help.” 

“Just needed you to know,” said Sima, defeat and acceptance giving his voice a dismal sound, one that reminded Meiling of him being a little boy and taking responsibility for her having been playing instead of bringing in the clothes before the rains came or for her breaking pots when practicing martial arts. The taste of tears lingered on the back of his tongue. His confession brought him little solace as Meiling continued to stare forward, her eyes having lost their lively glimmer in the dismal darkness of the dungeon.

“I just can’t believe it…” Meiling muttered. She bit down. Sima Yi heard a sharp sniffle, looking over to see Meiling’s face wrinkling, red and flushed with a seething anguish. “She lied to me.” Meiling shook her head before letting it fall, allowing what few tears remained to trickle down the length of her nose and drip out onto the floor beneath her. “I… I just can’t…”

“She’s reckless, Meiling,” Sima Yi said. “It should be heard should we not come out of this. Yuanji, she’s… careless, in a lot of ways. I’d like to say that she doesn’t know better, but… she can be quite thoughtless. It’s that youth, that spirit. That’s why I think she took so much to you.” Meiling grimaced, her lips curling into a snarl.

“Don’t,” Meiling said. “Don’t you dare start to defend her. You don’t know her like I… like I thought I did. You don’t know what we had.”

“Maybe not,” Sima Yi said solemnly. He chuckled and shrugged for a moment. “I thought I did. It was my job to know her. But… well, you can see where that got me. Turns out I’m not much better at being an advisor than I was a brother.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Meiling said. “This is it, at least for me.” She sighed a staggered breath, soaking in the stench that surrounded them both. Meiling looked up to see liefless faces shambling about, trying to push out the screams that echoed like haunted phantoms in the night. “I’d rather go out on my own than be turned into one of them. That’s how mother would have had it.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Sima Yi said, with a sigh.

“But at least they were tormented into serving a royal family, you stepped into that cage willingly,” Meiling barked. Sima Yi shook his head.

“Down to the last breath, eh Meiling?” Sima asked. “You can’t even forgive me then?” Meiling huffed in silence. “If it makes you feel better. That’s what became of us, after all. Should be fitting that the last words I’d hear from you are all about how much you hate me. This may be your last opportunity, Mei, don’t hold back.” Meiling’s head turned the other way.

“I… I don’t hate you,” Meiling muttered softly.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t hate you, okay?” Meiling snapped louder. She paused for a moment that seemed to stretch, enlightened with contemplation. “I was… just angry. I guess I never really worked through it. I still love you.”

“Do you still love Yuanji?” Sima asked. Meiling looked back.

“What?”

“Yuanji,” Sima said. “I guess you knew her as… what was it, Qui Lei?”

“Lee,” Meiling said. “Cao Lee.” Meiling reflected on the fake name that resided like a storm in her mind. Her thoughts shifted from sour to bitter then to ease as she thought back to the pleasantries that the two had shared together. She sniffled again, her teeth gnashing as the soreness behind her eyes rose once more. “And no, I… I can’t. She lied to me. How am I supposed to feel after that?”

“She loves you,” Sima said. His head turned toward a sharp bang coming from the upwards stairs encased in a spiralling chamber of dark, wet stone. “Whatever happens, if there’s anything you should know, even in what could be our final moments, it’s that.”

“You can’t say that,” Meiling said, anger seeping through her words. “Not after what she put me through.”

“What she put us both through,” Sima said, much more firmly than before. “Yes, she’s careless and largely inconsiderate. She was raised never really having to care about the people around her–”

“I said don’t.”

“But she does, Meiling,” Sima said. “Hong Yuanji is more than just some princess, some royal, she’s a good person. And I meant it when I said that you likely knew her, the real her, better than me because she was only really free to be herself when she was with you.”

“Sima, stop.”

“No, you’re going to listen to me,” Sima said, anger rising in his own voice.

“I’ve been listening to you!”

“No, you’ve been fighting with me, now I need you to shut your mouth and listen!” Sima said, yelling loudly enough to earn the attention of many of the slaves in and around the prison cells. Meiling fell quiet as she looked away, Sima’s tone lowering with a clenched grip on the discussion between them. “Now, I don’t know what it was you two did or got into, but I know how she sounded when she was talking about you. Whatever it was that you had, it meant something to her. No, I don’t condone her lying and I’m not trying to get you to look past it, but I know she wouldn’t have done what she did if she didn’t have a reason. And I think that reason was because she wanted to be with you. She wanted to be with you more than anything, Mei, more than she wanted to even be herself. I’m not telling you that you should love her again, but I went through a lot to keep her secret safe, a secret that only mattered to her because of you. Yeah, she messed up and yeah, we might die because of it, but she loves you. So much that I’m sure she’s in a lot of pain right now thinking about what’s happened, what all might happen.” Meiling sighed through her nose. She shook her head and sniffled a bit.

“Good,” she said, bitterly. Sima turned toward his sister. “Actions have consequences. Mother taught us that. I’m only here because I trusted her after you taught me that I can’t really trust anyone. Should have known better.” A heavy silence fell over the pair. Sima groaned a bit, shuffling his feet in the stained straw grinding into the stones.

“You’re hurt,” Sima said. “I’m hurt too. I also trusted her–”

“But you knew the situation, Yi, don’t think that we were both wronged equally here,” Meiling snapped. “Not like it matters much now, does it…”

“It does though,” Sima said. “It does matter.”

“Why?” Meiling asked. “How? You think we’re getting out of this hole? As ourselves?”

“I’m a pushover, you know this, Meiling,” Sima said, calmly. “I gave over to the royal family, did I not? But not you, never you, wasn’t that right?”

“Maybe that was before I got torn from my home and thrown into a dungeon in who-knows-where,” Meiling said.

“No, nothing’s changed,” Sima said. “Not with the Meiling I know. You’d never give in, no matter what they throw at you. That’s why you were always the one to bring honor to mother’s memory, to the family name. She too wouldn’t roll over when the blade pressed against her neck.”

“Which is why there’s only one way out of this place for me,” Meiling said, somberly.

“Again, not the Meiling I know,” Sima said, holding his head up. “If anyone could best these monsters, if anyone could get out of here, it’s the infamous Xian Thief I heard so much about.” Meiling looked over to meet her brother’s sly smirk. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll be the one to make mother proud. You can do anything Meiling. I know it. And so does Yuanji. Even if you only make it out of here to tell the whole world what terrible people we are, just do it. You can do it, I have complete faith in you. I’ve only ever wanted the best life possible for you. You deserve that, no matter who you choose to allow in.” Meiling paused, the words caught beneath a trembling lip, made only worse by the words that followed. “And there’s something else you should know: You’ve been the best sister a guy could ever ask for. And also, I’m really proud of you.” Meiling could only stare back as the words echoed in her mind. She succumbed to a bout of painful, healing silence, one that reminded her of nestling up frightened in her brother's arms during harsh thunder and rainstorms all those summer nights ago. She clenched the last of her tears out of her eyes, her eyelids pinched with the gnashing of her teeth behind tightened lips. Meiling looked away, tears and a small trickle of snot falling from her face. She said nothing, wishing only to hear those words should they become the last that kissed her mind. 

Another harsh bang echoed through the chamber, one that started the slaves and sent them scrambling in their duties. A heavy door closed as footsteps began clicking, growing louder as they neared. Meiling and Sima turned toward the stone staircase, their chains still rattling as they shifted in place. They listened closely as the footsteps, firm yet soft, drew closer still. Meiling swallowed, breathing in deeply to steady her nerves. Sima stood tall and closed his eyes, his head resting against the wall behind him. As the footsteps seemed to click against the ground floor, a voice stood much more clearly among the murmuring others.

“Such sweet sentiments,” Xianying said, turning the corner to face the siblings in their cells. She smirked, her dimly tanned hide armor clinging to her figure. The smug commander tossed her hair back as she approached the pair. “Don’t stop just because of me, I was really quite enjoying all that. You were saying that she'll get out and… what next, hm cutie?” She stopped outside of Sima Yi's cell looking inward, her eyes fixed on his stoic expression. Sima trembled slightly yet remained firmly silent. Xianying raised a brow. “No? Nothing? Oh well, you'll talk all I want you to soon enough.” Meiling eyed the woman closely. She was clean. Not entirely, but certainly more so than the souls that she handed to Fu Jie to keep imprisoned and miserable, likely until death. Meiling’s teeth gnashed harder. More anger surfaced through tired breaths, huffed through her nose like an enraged mare. Her chains rattled as she continued to pull. Xianying’s attention loomed over to her. The expression, smug and assured, never waned from her face. 

“Let him go,” Meiling said through clenched teeth.

“Meiling…” Sima Yi muttered.

“Do whatever you want with me,” Meiling said, “but he was just doing his job for the… for the crown princess or whatever. Just let him go and–”

“You really have nothing else to bark about, do you?” Xianying asked, a little giggle chiming in her voice. She came closer to the door of Meiling’s cell. Inserting a key into the lock, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, coming up right to the edge of where Meiling was allowed to pull herself from the wall. “It’s cute, really it is, that you think you have any bargaining power here. You’ve never been in this position before, have you? Not really. Not some play for attention or to indulge in some… lust; though they’ll be time for that later, I’m not sure you’ll enjoy yourself as much as you used to. Heh heh, no, the words you speak here are all but meaningless, I assure you, but damn if it’s not fun getting prisoners so close to begging.”

“I’ll not be yours,” Meiling said, smirking angrily. “I’ll never be yours, no matter what you or your kin do to me. You’re not going to have me. You’ll have a corpse before you have yourself another slave–”

“Either way, the pigs have to eat.” Xianying interjected.

“And my ancestors will smile down at me as I bleed out a free soul before I live a second as someone’s servant,” Meiling continued. She paused for a bit before sighing, a clenching disgust building in her throat. “But… if you let him go… I’ll do whatever you want.” Xianying stood back. She smiled, folded her muscular arms over her chest, and shook her head.

“I’ve heard it all, little thief,” Xianying said. “Trust me, it’s never not amusing, but there’s a few things you both should know. I love what I do and you are both more valuable to me as bodies than you are as free individuals. I really would hate to see any lasting harm come to either of you, especially your brother over there who’s about to put in some very good work, but you should know that you have nothing to offer that will sway either me or your crown prince. Not words, not riches, nothing at all.” Meiling shivered. She witnessed the stoicism in Xianying’s soulless eyes, speaking only with painful earnestness. More dread and fear presented itself, more vast and terrifying than what looked to be her assured death.

“What is he going to do to her?” Meiling asked, her tone soft and defeated.

“What’s that?”

“To… Yuanji,” Meiling said. “What will your brother do to her?”

“Why do you care?” Xianying asked. “I mean, I already know the answer. Practically the whole dungeon knows the answer, but I just really want to hear you say it.” Meiling considered biting back, but the weight of her powerlessness in the situation would prove the favor of the exchange would not lie with her. Meiling sighed again. Her head fell a bit, her hands clenched into fists. 

“I… because… I love her,” Meiling said, questioning the truth in her words.

“What’s that again?” Xianying asked teasingly. “I’m sorry, what with all the screaming and whatnot, I can’t quite–”

“Because I love her!” Meiling shouted. Sima looked over, studying Meiling’s forlorn expression. “There, I love her! I do, just… just tell me, will she be… okay?” 

“The crown prince and princess will be married, consolidating the power and domain of their empires,” Xianying said. “My family’s empire will have enough influence to either conquer or destroy enough of China to have it all, all people, bowing before the Fu Dynasty.”

“I don’t care,” Meiling said. “What about her? What about Yuanji? Will she, at least, be taken care of?” Xianying’s brows scrunched a bit. She snickered and shrugged, nearly laughing at Meiling’s clenching concerns.

“The crown princess will serve her purpose,” Xianying said. “And her insolence will be further dealt with. They’ll be wed and she’ll be in charge of making him heirs. Other than that, I don’t foresee her being regarded any better than anyone else down here. Just another body to play with and put to work.”

“That bastard!” Sima Yi shouted, jetting forward and clinking his chains loudly. His outburst alerted several of the slaves nearby, looking on with sickened and pale horror. “He can’t do that! Not to her!” Xianying rushed to the side of Meiling’s cell to stare down the man pulling at his chains. She grabbed onto the bars, her eyes lit with absolute fury.

“Stop!” Xianying said, more seriously than any sound the pair had heard come out of her mouth. As Sima fell quiet, she lowered her tone to a near whisper, just loud enough for them both to hear. “You cannot speak ill of him. Especially not here. Never, never again. He would not allow it.”

“At least I’m not my brother’s sappy little pet,” Meiling grumbled, earning Xianying’s attention once more. The commander snapped her neck around again, rushing up to Meiling and pushing her back against the stone wall. A sharp blast of pain shot through her lower back, where her hands were pinned by the chains, as well as the back of her skull. Xianying’s boots dug into the ground as she pressed Meiling against the wall, grabbing onto the side of her neck. 

“Do you have any idea what is done to those in your position right now?” Xianying said firmly, still whispering intensely. “I’ve seen prisoners gargling glowing iron until it falls out of the front of their throats. Tongues and eyeballs spilt out onto the floor. Bamboo splinters hammered up inside fingernails and gums, bleeding souls tied up and suspended like decorations to prove to the others what speaking out does. I’ve seen it all. My alternatives of pleasure have stuck, fortunately, but do not think that my brother is incapable of instilling endless nightmares onto those that push back.” Up close and in her silence, Meiling’s eyes fell upon the scar against Xianying’s neck, bearing a sharp resemblance to those that she saw on the slaves that toiled in the dungeon. Xianying saw where her gaze landed and shuddered through a sigh. “You’re right. I am. And if you want to stay alive, if you want him to stay alive, you will be too.” 

A moment of incentive emphasis passed before Xianying finally let go of Meiling. The captured thief breathed heavily, her face red and glazed with sweat. Xianying collected herself, brushing out her armor and fixing her hair, before putting on a smile once more.

“Now then, if I’ve made my point, I’d like to get onto the fun stuff!” Xianying said. She turned to leave Meiling’s cell, closing and locking it behind her. “Don’t worry, my brother will be along at some point to see to your ‘transformation’. It’s a whole big thing, lot of fun, and not as bad as it could be if you’re a good girl about it. In the meantime, I have big plans for my new plaything right over here.” Xianying grinned as she made her way inside Sima Yi’s small, cramped cell. She walked up to the young man, just within reach, pressuring him against the wall with her presence. Her smile widened as she breathed in his scent up close. Sima stood back, his anger soothing into a steady broil, as he stood upright and strong. “So handsome. You’re going to be my new favorite.”

“Do what you will, witch,” Sima said. “You will break neither of us into your command.” 

“Aww, yay, it’s always so much more fun when they put up a fight about it,” Xianying said. “Nothing bores me more than a slave that gives in too easily. You, though, you’re a fighter… and a good boy, aren’t you?” She came closer still, pressing her chest up against his. Her eyes locked on his stoney expression, silent and unwilling to bend. After a moment, Xianying giggled. “Good.” 

The impish commander let out a sharp whistle. In a moment, two large brutes, hefty men as thick as they were tall, rounded the corner. Cloaked in the same layer of waste and grime as all the others, the two stood at silent attention, their faces blank of all thought. Their feet were blistered and caked in dirt. Their rags were torn and disheveled, sweat leaving their skin slick with a shen that reflected the dim torchlight. Xianying grinned as she closed in on Sima Yi, reaching behind him to his cuffs attached to the wall.

“Be a good boy for me and go where I tell you,” Xianying said. “I’d hate for my friends here to have to break you before I get to.” Her hands worked swiftly in freeing Sima Yi’s chained cuffs from the wall behind him. With his arms firmly taut behind his back, and his ankles effectively shackled, Sima still briefly considered making a dashing break for the door, imagining how he would thrust Xianying back with one shoulder and do his best to barrel toward the nearest exit. The bleak rationality of the situation, however, remained omnipresent in his mind. Freed from the wall, Sima’s head grew heavy as he trudged forward into the rough care of the brutes, being led deeper into the dungeon and closer to the screams.

The inner stonelined catacombs glowed with the feasting glare of flickering torches. The heat that bounced from them onto Sima’s skin, as cruel and unforgiving as it was, seemed to be the most comforting aspect of the shuffling tread toward a grim and uncertain future. More wafts of sweat and human odors filled his nostrils with each strained breath, following the path of Xianying like a small dog while her brutes trailed behind him. His eyes remained almost fixed on the floor as he walked, though his ears were shown no mercy to the torments of torture and toil around him. The dungeon remained consistently dark, never even a glimmer given the relief of pure light or fresh air. Sima absorbed it all with each step. Steadily, with each tainted breath, he took in what he truthfully feared would become his home and eventual tomb.

Slaves toiled themselves with abrasive and menial tasks. Malnourished souls scrubbed the grime out of stones that no one else would ever see. Torn and scarred bodies shambled in chains, carrying heavy boxes and covered from head to toe in filth. Sima witnessed several being used and beaten by men dressed in unified armor. The clad and healthy men laughed and commented crude obscenities where all the others could hear. Some slaves remained in bondage attached to walls and suspended from the ceiling in chains. Their bodies were free for others to explore at will, their faces pale and haunted with dismal acceptance. Sima witnessed minds being shattered, bodies reduced to little more than vessels for torment, and souls lost to the contentment of their defeat. Sickness rose within his gut, both for them and for himself, knowing that Meiling would never submit herself to such a life. 

Xianying led him to a more secluded chamber, yet one just as dim and discouraging as the others within the recesses of the dungeon. A large slab sat raised in the middle of the room. The walls were dark stone covered in grime and rot. More torches baked the scents of sweat and blood into the stagnant air. On one side, a furnace glowed with beaming coals next to a series of pokers and brands. Grim tools lined the walls and corners of the room, chains dangling from the ceiling caked in rust. Xianying grinned as she tossed her hair back. Sima Yi was pushed into the room, the brutes still trailing until they closed the door behind him. Sima could see that they too wore the mark on their necks, their heads fully shaved and eyes having lost all resemblance of conscious humanity. The door shut with a hearty clunk. Even bound, yet alone with Xianying, Sima pictured yet another window through which he would make his daring escape, though the wither of his muscles acted against his effects nearly as much as the cuffs and shackles. Xianying turned to him, her eyes wide and expression surging with intrigue.

“You’re all mine now,” Xianying said, her tone intimate and much less performative than what Sima had heard from her thus far. “Be a good boy and this doesn’t have to be completely miserable for you or your sister.” Sima grimaced. The sickness stirred in his stomach. Every breath tasted of blood and dirt, leaving him questioning whether he was breathing them in or out. 

“Do what you will,” Sima said, still somewhat defiant. “But neither of you will break her.” 

“That’s more my brother’s concern,” Xianying said, coming closer, “but we’ve yet met a soul who hasn’t yielded to our methods before.” Xianying placed her hands on Sima’s chest. He looked down at her, her touch warm and almost electrifying. She stroked her softly, in a way that he had not expected. After a lingering moment of objective silence, Xianying reached down to her belt and produced a small dagger. “But it should go without saying: you try anything, anything to escape or to hurt either of us, she dies.” Sima swallowed. He breathed heavier still, gnashing his teeth.

“Why her?” Sima asked.

“Because you’re both the martyr type,” Xianying said. “I’ve seen it, so has the crown prince. You’d rather die than submit. Makes things quite inconvenient, though not entirely useless in terms of examples to keep the others in line. Still, what works so much better is chipping at those annoying little weaknesses. Family. Lovers. All that … nonsense. You’ll have to ask yourself, cutie. Is your freedom worth her life?” Sima paused for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Xianying her hand to his mouth, clamping it shut. She raised the blade to his throat, pressing the sharpened tip into his stubbled chin. “I’m not interested in that, however. No more talking. Just be a good boy for me and maybe we’ll both have some fun here…”

Sima was swift to fall silent. Xianying’s body pressed against him, cradling him in a warmth that almost seemed pleasantly fragrant compared to the other scents permeating the air around them both. His eyes fell upon her. Outside of how Xianying presented herself, she was as picturesque as she was strong and fierce. Her eyes shimmered with darkened yearning. Her hand fell slowly from Sima’s lips, tracing down his neck. He saw her mark and, for a moment, thought of her as more than the demon that spoke through her lips or that smiled like an unwavering mask. Her fingertips traced his skin while the blade fell in kind. The dagger came down to his robes, what little remained of the dirty tatters, and began to cut into the cloth. 

Xianying’s blade left Sima Yi standing somewhat bashful and completely exposed. She eyed the shape of his body from all angles, her mind whirring over how she would finally get to break the young man standing before her. She smirked upon leaning against the stone slab, sitting in the center of the room like an altar. The glow of the furnace bounced menacingly off of her skin, bathing the room and all in it in a hungering orange hue. The light outlined the muscular shape of Sima’s body like a painting, down to the dangling appendage that laid so enticingly vulnerable. 

“Very nice,” Xianying said. “Not the nicest I’ve seen yet, but the face really sells the whole package.” Sima opted not to speak, to simply wait for whatever it was his captor had planned for him. He stood like a statue in place, a swordsman at arms and prepared for anything. Xianying witnessed the resolve twinkling in the young man’s eye and chuckled in kind. Behind her, the door to the room began to stir with rough, metallic clinks. Xianying smirked and turned her head. “Seems the help has arrived. You might enjoy this, at least. A little personal glimpse into your future.” 

Sima watched as the door flung open. Through the darkened crevasse, a slave girl stumbled into the room, one brute’s heavy arm shoving her inside. She fell to the ground with a weakened and pitiful cry. Her hair had been cut short, nearly shaved entirely off of her scalp. Sima could see through it that her head bore several fresh scars, much like the rest of her body. She wore no clothes, only the same shackles worn by all the other slaves. As the girl looked up from the floor, her eyes fell upon Sima. She paused in steady disbelief, tears beginning to form through a sore and swollen complexion.

“S-Si…. ma … Yi….” Ai muttered. Sima’s eyes witnessed the horror of her fate, a terror painted for him in full by his own mind. More sickness stirred upon seeing the girl that he himself condemned to this place by furthering Yuanji’s scheme. 

“Ai…?” Sima asked, his brows furrowed over a watery pair. He raised his hands to his throat, fighting back the urge to scream or sob. The two shared a look of disgust, putrid disgust in themselves in what they had become. Sima could see the brand on the side of Ai’s neck. It was darker than many of the others he had seen, much more fresh. It was nearly black, with purplish bruising around the edges of the emblem shape. Naked and afraid, Sima and Ai cried in their shared defeat, the acceptance of which became much more potent in the eyes of one another.

“Awww, isn’t this sweet?” Xianying asked teasingly. “See, we found this one impostering the crown princess. A daring crime, one I haven’t seen a lot of, and whoever put her up to such a task should be punished just as much, I’d say.” Xianying walked up to Ai. She grabbed the girl by the longer strands of hair in the back of her head and lifted her to her feet. Ai let out a soft cry of pain, whimpering like a small dog, yet rose all the same. She stood weak and petite. Her body showed bones pressing against the skin in places that wretched Sima’s gut. Caked dirt ran streaks of tears down her cheeks. “My brother really did a number on this one. I think she looks a lot better now, don’t you?”

Sima reserved his words. He fought back the urge to scream, to wail, to break forth and throw Xianying’s face directly into the burning furnace behind him. He did so successfully, yet not without great difficulty. The royal advisor stood with stoic, smoldering anger, pushed down to retain even those last shreds of hope that a plausible out might still present itself. 

“Answer me,” Xianying said, sternly. Sima swallowed, pressing his teeth together.

“Yes,” Sima said.

“This one was a real ticklish little thing, aren’t you?” Xianying asked, turning her attention back to Ai. She kept a firm grip on what remained of the girl’s hair, pulling her side to side at will. “Saw you just the other day. Been having a lot of fun entertaining the boys in the cavalry, haven’t you?” As Ai remained silent, Xianying gave her hair a swift and violent tug for emphasis.

“Ah, y-yes!” Ai cried. Xianying laughed. She tossed Ai’s head to the side, letting go of the girl’s hair. She turned back to Sima Yi, grinning proudly. 

“She’s been fun,” Xianying said. “I can see why you kept her around. So compliant, we barely had to do anything. No, that was the Hong royal family, I bet, the same reason why I’m sure you’ll be just as much fun yourself.” Xianying walked back up to Sima, her eyes licking up and down his naked body. Sima fixed his gaze on her. Seething anger gave way to a quiet rationality. He swallowed, hating just how much she disparaged him and those that he loved. “Now then, on the table.” 

Xianying moved out of the way for Sima to approach the slab. Sima paused for a moment, glancing back over to Ai, looking as helpless as she was hungry and beaten. He knew Xianying would only continue weaponizing his emotions for those that she knew he cared about. His mind flashed over their faces again and again, hoping that his subservience, even at the cost of his lifespan spent in blackened turmoil, would bring them all even a little mercy. The naked man climbed up on top of the slab, an expression of defeated serenity presiding over his face. 

“On your back, face up, arms and legs stretched to the corners,” Xianying demanded. Sima sighed and, with considerable reluctance, obeyed. He laid out on his back and stretched his arms and legs out toward the ends of the slab. The man’s statue left his hands and feet hanging off of the edges. He stared up at the blackened stone ceiling, where he imagined many had spent their final moments of true humanity looking, and waited still. He held his head up, his member twitching and steadily following. Ai averted her eyes and stayed standing in the corner of the room, waiting for orders. Xianying observed her newest toy and project. She breathed in the scent of the young man, his sweat leaving the room flavorful with his rising nerves. His cock lengthened in place, catching her eye. 

“Very nice,” Xianying continued, her eyes drifting back to the part that left sparks tingling and aching comfortably. “You might be more fun than expected, little Yi.” 

“You may be more reasonable than I expected,” Sima muttered. Xianying circled around where the young man laid out for her. She unlocked the cuffs from his wrists, half expecting him to make a grab for her. When he simply remained still, as ordered, she laid one hand against the man’s forearm. She tenderly stroked around his skin. His flesh was soft beneath the gristle of dirt and thickened with more firm muscle than she pictured.

“Is that so?” Xianying asked. Her fingers stroked around the man’s arm, her nails dragging lightly. Sima shifted slightly in place. He kept his gaze fixed upward, teary eyes staring into the nothing of a bleak and unseeable future.

“Did you always want to be this?” Sima Yi asked. Xianying’s eyes darted toward his.

“What is this?” Xianying asked, chuckling slightly. “A distraction? Are you trying to stall me, fallen advisor? Save face in front of the servant girl over there?” She roughly pulled his wrist toward the top corner of the slab. With a short series of fluid motions, his wrist was back inside of a cuff, one firmly attached to the surface beneath him. “This is usually where prisoners beg for their lives, not realizing their lives are the only things I want.”

“I don’t think this is you,” Sima continued, a single tear falling down the side of his face. “It’s a mask. A ploy for security, isn’t it? I know it all too well and… it cost me everything.” A hand slammed down against Sima’s throat. In an instant, he was staring up into the fiery eyes of his captor. She leered over where he laid, her stare narrowing down at him. His arms and legs buckled in shock, yet he made no effort against her.

“You don’t know me,” Xianying said. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I had to become to survive what I’ve been through. My own mother had me serve him, my brother, to act as his first, so he could grow and reign as he pleases. You don’t know me. You don’t need to know me. Soon enough, you’ll know as much about me as you need to to carry out the duties I’ll ask of you until I am forced to dispose of you. For now though, no more talking. You belong to me and I am telling you not to speak another word. Understood?” Sima nodded with considerable struggle. Xianying pulled her hand from his throat, letting the man suck in a deep and wheezing breath. Standing upright and tossing her hair back, Xianying caught another glimpse of Sima Yi’s bare and exposed cock. It had risen more, ever so slightly. She smirked as she came to the other side of the slab, taking Sima’s other wrist and binding it into another cuff.

“Little Yi likes being told what to do, it seems,” Xianying said, her tone becoming slightly lighter and more pleasant. “My brother always said that pleasure is key to knowing one’s place as a slave. Those that enjoy the position last much longer than those that resist. The only advice he ever gives them is to learn to like it, isn’t that right, slave?” Xianying turned to face Ai, cloaked in the shadows dancing about in the darkened corner.

“Yes,” Ai said, her voice small and almost mousey. 

“See?” Xianying said, turning back to Sima Yi. “It seems, however, some part of you already does. Good. You’ll be much more receptive to your new life this way.”

Xianying continued walking around the slab, inspecting Sima’s body. She latched one ankle into another cuff at the bottom corner of the table before finishing with the other. With Sima Yi laid in an X formation, completely exposed and glowing with a sweaty sheen of orange, she smiled at the sight of her captured prey. At Xianying’s leisure, she traced around where he laid, her fingers licking casually at the warmth of his skin. Sima gave no response to her claims or her touch, save for the occasional twitch. Silent, yet still quite strong, the royal advisor swallowed and stared up at the stones above him.

“My brother and I share many of the same kinds of tastes,” Xianying said. “We bonded much through them growing up. While it wasn’t always pleasant to watch or endure myself, I’d say that is what made me who I am today, and why you lay where you do right now.” She stopped at Sima’s midsection, reaching over to gently graze Sima Yi’s manhood with her fingertips. The young man gave a slight gasp at her light, almost feathery stroke, his cock stiffening more while his cheeks retained a hearty hue. Her nails, stiff and long enough to extend well off the ends of her fingers, flicked off of the tip. She watched it twitch and rise more, her expression flushed with amusement.

“How adorable,” Xianying said. “Impressive, to be sure, but it’s still so cute how it reacts to a little touch. Be a good boy for me and maybe, just maybe, you too will enjoy being mine.” She gave the young man’s cock, blushing and still growing, another few flicks from the tips of her fingers. She lightly scribbled at the balls and around the base, watching how Sima Yi began to shift and squirm. His face, beaming with color, clenched upon fighting back natural reactions. Xianying’s other hand teased around the inner stretch of his thigh, toying with the delicate and intimate humidity of the skin.

“Awww, fighting back the urge to giggle,” Xianying said. “What’s the matter? Don’t want the big, bad torturer and the pathetic slave girl to know that you’re ticklish? Tsk, tsk, I do love a good ticklish boy, but only when he shows me just how ticklish he is…” Her hands spanned out from the region. Her fingers spidered across the skin outwards toward the boy’s sides, lightly scratching and scribbling in tight clusters. Her hands mapped out the shapely, muscular edges of his body, watching how it all moved in the light of the furnace. A trickle of sweat began beading in the back of her neck. Her eyes flickered as she watched Sima Yi’s body and cock shift anxiously to her touch. Sima’s expression remained tightly reserved, yet small, puffing giggles began to escape his lips as Xianying’s fingers remained in firm contact. 

“Mmmmmppphhhhhheheheheheheee….” Sima stifled laughter. Xianying’s eyes glowed with a playful and almost flowery shade of fiery orange. She grinned as she watched and breathed in the man’s fragrant heat beneath her. She snickered to herself, her fingers dashing and dancing around his sides, each firmly taut beneath a bed of soft, slick skin. Her nails swiped effortlessly, all ten steadily chipping away at the young man’s stoic constitution. Sima Yi fought off the laughter for as long as he could. Such expulsions of mirth came unnaturally to his lingering emotional distress, as if his failure left him undeserving of even adjacent pleasure, but his natural reactions, not limited to laughter alone, put his underlying ticklishness fully on display.

“My, my, you are a ticklish one, aren’t you?” Xianying teased. “Heh heh, oh we’re going to have a lot of fun together then, you and I…” Ai simply waited silently, her back against the grimey stone wall. Sima Yi’s tired composure left his laughter flowing more freely until the room was alive with deep, manly giggles. Xianying’s touch electrified the young man’s nerves. Her scribbling nails sent harmless and innocent flurries of tickles through his senses, compounding and growing by the second. Siam Yi continued to fight back against giving her the satisfaction of his laughter, yet failed more and more in his attempts at doing so. Xianying’s fingers dashed in tightly grouped skitters up and down Sima Yi’s slender sides, making the boy squirm where he laid.

“Geeeehhhhehhhehehhahahahahahahahahaaa….” Sima giggled. His arms and legs pulled at the cuffs holding him down. The chains rattled, their sharp, metallic clinks echoing through the room with his laughter. Sima’s cock stiffened more, swaying as he rocked his hips side to side. Xianying hovered over the fallen man. She grinned as she soaked in his expressions, still reserved but rapidly failing. Her fingers dug into Sima’s sides with impish delight, more so engaging in the revelry of the moment than actively forcing Sima’s nerves into overstimulation right away. The tickles continued moment after moment, the effects still chipping away at Sima’s composure.

“We have all the time in the world to get to know each other,” Xianying teased. “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to absolutely worship me and all that I do for you.” Her nails skittered up to the young man’s ribs. They dashed about his skin like a flurry of bugs, never once relieving him of direct contact. Her fingers lapped at his skin while she hovered and drank in Sima’s strained reactions. She breathed in his laughter, his scent, his heat, all of which flushed through her senses and drove her efforts. Faster and faster she administered the same ticklish torment she had grown so fond of using to break her subjects, watching Sima squirm beneath her touch.

“Neeeeaaahhhhhahahahahahahaha!! Okaahahahahahaayyy!! Staahahahahaap!!” Sima begged openly, allowing the exhaustion and wear to topple his composure. Xianying snickered above his face. Her fingers slipped further up his body, just as eager to taste his delicate flesh as she was to watch his slow descent into her broken puppet. She leaned in close. Her fingers dashed up the man’s ribs, slipping beneath his exposed, bound arms. She pressed her scribbling nails deep within the man’s pits, boring ruthlessly into the tender hollows of rising sensitivity. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, taking in one last glimpse of Sima’s cock twitching and rising still.  

“Such compatibility,” she teased in an airy breath. Fixing her position to stand just above the man’s head, Xianying nodded toward Ai cowering in the distance. “Get his feet. If I see even the slightest bit of mercy, I’ll leave your ankles shackled down here for all the slaves to enjoy.” Ai swallowed and hurried to the bottom of the table. Sima barely caught a glimpse of her forlorn expression before being thrust back into a ticklish storm that bared down on his senses from both ends. Sima’s body bucked in a sudden fit, feeling waves of consistent tickles dashing up from his feet and down from the delicate mounds of his stretched pits.

“No, na-aaaaaahhhahahahahahahaaaa!!! Ohhhhhahahahahahhahahapleehehehehasseeee!!!” Sima Yi cried out. The man threw his head back, tears beginning to bead from within aching eyes. His hands balled into fists while his feet wriggled in place, flailing side to side. Ai, heeding Xianying’s threat, scribbled his shallow nails up and down both of his soles at once. She did her best to keep up with the erratic motion, hoping to avoid any indication of sympathy in her efforts. Such sentiments were there, however, dreading what would become of her royal advisor in such a state. Seeing him in such a strange light lost most of its amusing charm knowing what all Xianying was capable of, yet pleasure was there, pleasure she could not allow herself to feel upon baring her scratching fingertips into the man’s highly sensitive soles.

“You’re all mine,” Xianying repeated. Her tone was intimate, less like speaking to a slave and more to a lover. Ai kept her attention focused on her task. As inexperienced as she was compared to Xianying, her tickling still proved quite thorough against Sima’s surprisingly sensitive feet. Sima flailed in place, his laughter flowing freely and without any indication of performance. He huffed and pulled, still hoping to fight back against the effects, yet all but surrendered to their control over his senses. 

“Staaaahhahahahahahahahahahahaaaaapppp! Naaaahheheeehhahahahahahahahahaaaaa pleehehehahhahahahahssse!!” Sima yelled, his tone making him sound like a little boy again. Xianying chuckled, perhaps slightly disappointed in his quick dissolve. Still, she giggled as she tore into Sima’s stretched pits with long nails and a devilish approach. All ten dashed quickly across the spots. She alternated between harsh, digging motions and light, feathery clawing, each delivering different, yet no less delicious, results in kind. From where she stood, she monitored the state of Sima’s erect shaft. It grew still. Under the pressure of the tickles raging through his senses, leaving it flailing side to side with his twitching motions, it grew and blushed in the light of the flames. 

“Oh no, you’re in no position to beg for mercy, my little Yi,” Xianying said. “I punish those who beg for mercy. How dare my slaves assume they deserve it or desire that I have less fun with them.” Sima’s body writhed against the slab. He squirmed and wailed with ticklish cries, humiliation setting in atop his already shameful disposition. He bared his teeth and clenched his eyes, still fighting back against the natural reactions that poured from his mouth. Ai’s fingertips scribbled freely up and down both of his soles, each swipe tainted with a lingering guilt that she pushed down with clenching sorrow, knowing what breaking Sima’s spirit would do to such a kind and gentle man. Xianying tickled with more eager ferocity. Her nails scoured all over Sima Yi’s delicate pits, attacking each plush nerve again and again.

“Faaaaaaaahhhhehehehhahahahahahahahhaaaa!! Peeehahhahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!!” Sima Yi cried. Sweat trickled down the man’s weary body. Within minutes, the consistency and fury of the tickles had broken him down to wailing fits and teary streams. Time passed at a grueling, disjointed pace, lost forever as a luxury that existed just outside of the bleak palace catacombs. The furnace burned through the coals, the room humid and thick with a bearing heat. Sima strained to breathe through his laughter. All the while, his cock betrayed him from the deepest reaches of his desires, plucked from secrets buried even from him. The fingers that toiled and tore across his ticklish senses left him screaming and sweating, his heart pounding and chest pushing against the humidity that filled his throat with every wheezing gasp. Sima laughed against what felt like stones pressed atop his chest, the torture not in the touch but in the time passed beneath it.

“Oh, you’re going to be a very good boy,” Xianying said, pulling back to stroke the side of Sima’s face. “I almost feel bad for you… but trust me, you’ll be much happier being mine down here than you’d ever be out there.” She snickered, bending down to lick a layer of sweat from his neck. She rose once more while Ai continued to scribble her fingers across both of Sima’s soles. His laughter faded slightly, yet persisted to challenge the man’s breathing and composure. Xianying pulled away from her new toy, heading to the wall and plucking a small brush from the collection of tools that hung across a bolted rack. She ran her fingers across the bristles of the brush, feeling the potency of their many hundreds of sharp tongues. She approached Ai, holding out the tool. 

“Keep him busy still,” Xianying said. “Make him pass out and I won’t tell my brother you’ve been stealing bread from the kitchen.” Ai paused and glanced over. She began to speak, to refute her obvious lie, yet knew her objections would only bring more suffering. The small slave-girl swallowed a dry mouth of saliva and quickly took the brush. She held back one of Sima’s big toes and unleashed the brush onto the man’s taut and highly ticklish sole. Sima’s body surged and buckled, lifting up off of the slab before collapsing into a broken fit of writhing, screaming agony. 

“NAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!” Sima Yi shouted louder than any noise he had ever made before. Ai toiled with tears in her eyes, working her arm up and down until it quickly became sore from the efforts. She pushed through the pain that stacked in folds, grinding her teeth and focusing solely on the command. Xianying stood back and watched, amused by the expressions on both of their faces. She approached the slab once again, snickering while Sima’s naked body thrashed about the hard, damp stone. The lift of his cock continued to its peak, the head of which blush deeply in the orange glow of the room and relinquished a small drip.

“Revel in it now, little Yi,” Xianying said. She reached down at the side of the slab, loosening the straps that kept her boots clung to her ankles. “This is merely playtime. Enjoy yourself, because this is what your life is now. Let me help you get more… acclimated.” Xianying tossed her hair back and pulled a boot from her foot. The bare sole stepped lightly against the ground below, dampened with sweat by the compounded humidity. She bared the other foot soon after. Xianying climbed up onto the slab, positioning her seat down against the bottom half in between Sima Yi’s ankles. There, she snatched the brush out of Ai’s hand. “Get his pits. Make him scream.”

“Y-yes,” Ai said, without question even in her mind. Torn into a simple husk for commands and tasks, she simply obeyed, fleeing to the other end of the table where she resumed clawing tickles pressed against Sima Yi’s exposed armpits. Xianying took a firm grasp of one of his feet, pulled it back, and unleashed a vicious scrubbing upon his sole. The tickles surged quickly and feverishly through his body. A raging fit burst through his senses. The man screamed as freely as he sweated, bucking wildly against the wet slab of stone holding him down. 

“FAAAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAMORRRR–AAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! Sima begged. Xianying snickered and laughed loudly enough for him to hear how much his anguish pleased her. She scrubbed all over the single ticklish foot, taking full command of every single delicate nerve that exploded beneath the explosive lick of the brush. Ai hurried in tickling the man’s slick and plush armpits. Her nails drove into the skin, scribbling and scraping as quickly as she could manage. Xianying watched it all, spending moments that became minutes that became more keeping Sima trapped in such a confused and disoriented state.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn to love it as much as I do, little Yi,” Xianying said. From where she sat, Xianying placed one foot at his cock, steadying its rapid swaying and the other up by his face. Her feet were warm and damp, kept soft by the protection of her dense, leather boots. Her soles, baking by the blooming heat of the room, pressed against the thrashing man’s cheek and cock. Even through his hysteria, he could feel the soft, warm influence, casting an intimate extension of his own heated desires. The tickling worked steadily to destroy his resolve while Xianying teased and taunted the man to further reduce him to accepting his new fate beneath her.

“OOOOHHHHMMMMEHHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAOOOO!!!” Sima laughed. His chains rattled. His tired arms and legs pulled at their rough and unforgiving bindings. He bucked still, but found his body far more planted against the slab by the pressure of Xianying’s leg. She stroked his cock by her plush, plump toes, her hands still working over his own ticklish sole with unrelenting scrubbing. She felt the wetness of his excitement begin to drape across down her instep. She smiled at how she witnessed the man’s steady breakdown and the humiliating embrace of his pleasure to her touch. She ran her sole and toes up and down the length of his cock, again and again, feeling the stiffness flourish to the feeling of her foot.

“That’s it, give in,” Xianying said. “You know you want to…” Toying with her prize, Xianying sank her teeth into her lip. She scrubbed the man’s delicate sole again and again, leaving him not even a moment free from the ticklish eruption each pass devastated across his senses. Her toes brushed against his cheek. Sima panted and breathed in the scent of her foot, an additional strain drinking down the warmth so fragrant and putrid all at once. He felt the dampness brush from her toes onto his cheek and lips, pressed so roughly right underneath his nose. Each breath came tainted with the moist odor, sucking down whole lungfuls of the feet of his captor while she tormented his own. 

“FAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAMMMMM!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAOOOHHHHHH!!!” Sima Yi bellowed. His chest and stomach ached from the struggle just to breathe through the tickles. Ai averted her eyes as she watched the man’s assured descent, aiding in his eventual breaking. Her nails dug more and more into the plush mounds of his pits, clawing and sending her nerves screaming with stimulation. Xianying’s efforts remained tireless as well. She giggled as she watched Sima’s resolve fade into nothing more than a ticklish man being tormented into accepting his own pleasure. She slipped her sweaty toes into the opening of his lips, leaving warm, salty strokes against his tongue.

“You are pathetic, you know that?” Xianying said. “Handsome, but damn pathetic…” She quickly switched the brush over to Sima’s other foot, scrubbing with just as much vicious conviction. She watched his body submit to her power before Sima would allow his mind to follow in kind. His cock, reacting so shamefully to the tickles and the sensation of her foot against his face, sprung with several cascading droplets. All out of his command, purely by the whim of his body amidst his shattered hysteria, his pleasure rose to undeniable extremes. His balls shifted beneath her heel, the supple softness of her toes stroked up and down the length of his meaty, burning cock. She kept her other foot placed against his gaping lips while she scrubbed and violated and kept his feet in constant, relentless ticklish suffering.

“MMMMOOOOHHHHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAA!!!” Sima’s body, unable to hold back his most primal and natural reactions, submitted to his captor’s will with one wailing cry. His seat bucked as a spray of semen came rocketing out of the blushing tip, landing atop Xianying’s bare foot. More spewed from the initial eruption, pumping out with each delicate thrust of her foot. She watched on as Sima’s body surrendered to his pleasure completely, feeling the warm nectar glossing around her toes. She giggled gleefully. Biting her lip and observing the captive man’s reactions, Xianying kept up the pitiless and ticklish scrubbing at Sima’s Yi’s fragile sole, knowing well what an orgasm would do for his senses. 

“There you go,” she said. “See? You love it, being mine. You know that you do…” The tickles that followed did so at a blinding range of heightened intensity. Suddenly, after the relinquishing of his pleasure, Sima bellowed with a rejuvenated wave of sensitivity. The tickles raging through his body tore across his senses with paramount potency, much more alive and destructive than before. The pass of the brush across his sole sent his nerves howling, screaming with each rushing scrape of the hundreds of bristles against his burning, slick sole. AI’s weary efforts at the other end of the slab remained just as constant and fallible to the lasting effects of Sima’s reluctant orgasm. Each little tickle that pulsed through his body fed off of the nerves raised by his release, compounding still with the passage of time.

“STAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! LEEEHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!” Sima yelled. Sweat stung through his eyes where tears fell freely. The man breathed in more of the fumes that wafted from Xianying’s bare sole at the base of his nose. She continued to stroke his cock with her toes, letting the slickness lubricate the sensation toward another clenching release. She laughed as she watched and listened to his endless, screaming laughter. She drank in the warmth of Sima’s body against her own, indulging in the pleasures of belittling and humiliating the young man in her control. She cackled freely, scrubbing up and down Sima Yi’s bare sole as Ai dug her fingertips deep into the man’s damp, ticklish pits, eager to see him release again and again.

“Dirty boy,” Xianying said aloud. “You know you want it! Cum for me again!” It would not take long before Sima’s still stiffened cock unleashed another bursting expulsion of semen onto her foot. His expression clenched, the pleasure alone too much stimulation for him to bear, let alone on top of the tickles that ravaged through his soaking flesh. Still, his back arched upon allowing himself yet another orgasm, falling back onto the slab to meet yet another wave of terrorizing sensitivity. 

“NAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAOOOOOO!!!!! PLEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” Sima cried and cried until his voice began to grow hoarse. Again and again, Xianying coordinated her feet to tease his nose with her scent while the other pumped his cock up and down until it too cried out every last drop. Her brush tore against the man’s delicate soles without end. The heat. The tickling. The orgasms coming over and over. The meaningless of time’s cruel passage. It all bore down against Sima’s chest, making breathing progressively more difficult until it had become nearly impossible. Orgasms came without count, yet upon the last, his member had little left to give, yet his body could barely manage that. 

Sima Yi’s laughter faded to silence. His eyes rolled, his arms and legs falling suddenly limp. His head laid back in a shallow pool of sweat-soaked hair. Xianying pulled back her tool. She sat up, inspecting the young man who had succumbed to forced slumber. Her eyes quickly examined Sima Yi’s chest and nostrils to make sure that he was still breathing. With a look, she forced Ai to step back from her post. Ai retreated, bearing a pyrrhic satisfaction that she was, at the very least, able to achieve what Xianying had commanded of her. Still, Xianying’s expression had lost the whimsy of amusement, making Ai’s stomach churn in the drab and sudden silence.

Xianying slipped down from the slab. With Sima’s nectar still on her foot, she turned to glance down at the unconscious man. His body laid covered in sweat, his face demonstrating a look of strain, even in his sleep. His arms and legs twitched slightly in their cuffs. She reached down and laid one hand atop his chest. His skin burned beneath her fingertips. She stared down at the orange glow enveloping the young advisor, breathing in scents of his passion. Ai stood back, as motionless as she could manage. Xianying looked up to her before her eyes fell back down to the young man. 

“Slave, clean…” Xianying said before pausing. She thought for a moment before correcting herself. “Never mind. Leave us.” Xianying spoke with a softness that was strange to Ai. Nonetheless, Ai bowed her head and hurried out of the room. 

Xianying remained in the quiet stillness of Sima Yi’s silent company. She sat by the slab, feeling his body and watching him recover. Minute by minute, she watched and waited, lines of speech running through her mind again and again, lost to all but her alone. After a lingering moment of caressing his body and deep, solemn contemplation, Xianying rose. She collected a cloth and a pail of water, returning to wash the sweat from his body as much as she could before he woke again.