On the other side of that same night, Yan Jing's cock was already inside Qiuyu.
It had not taken long after the invisible visitor left. The twin who had been sucking him — Dongyu, though Yan Jing never bothered to tell them apart unless he felt like it — had felt something behind her that she could not explain, a warm wet stroke along her pussy and up to her asshole that had made her whole body jump, and the jolt of it had pushed her excitement over some internal edge. She had sucked him harder afterward, desperate and confused, and when he came close she had lifted off and guided him into her sister instead, because that was how they had learned to share him, and Qiuyu had sunk down onto his cock with a moan that was half relief and half surrender.
Dongyu sat on his face with her ass filling his hands.
Qiuyu rode him with her pussy spread around his shaft, her hips moving up and down on their own. Both sisters looked like horny women under the oil shine, their breasts pressed together as they leaned into each other, nipple dragging across nipple, an erotic knot of twin bodies being used on one bed while their moans braided into a single wet sound.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
Qiuyu's ass slapped against Yan Jing's thighs each time she dropped. Her breasts bounced. Oil ran in thin lines down between them and gathered in the hollow of her throat. Dongyu ground her cunt against his mouth, and every time his tongue found her clit she made a small broken sound that her sister answered with a moan of her own.
What Yan Chi did not know, walking angry and newly visible toward home through the dark gardens, was that both women had been forced to swallow lust worms on top of the slave worms they had carried since childhood. The slave worms bound obedience to a master's ring and will; a spoken command became a compulsion that lived in the nerves and could not be refused. The lust worms lit the body on fire from the inside, flooding heat through cunt and breasts and mind until resistance became a losing war against one's own dripping need. Together they were perfect tools for making sex slaves. The twins had resisted at first. Their loyalty to Yan Chi had made them curse Yan Jing when he first tried to put his hands on their breasts. Disgust had lived in their eyes for days. They had cried. They had begged to be returned. They had bitten and scratched until the worms and the training wore the edges off their will.
Then the worms had worked. They submitted their bodies. During sex they could not fully control their own minds; lust rose like a tide and drowned the parts of them that still whispered a different master's name. The demonic sect called it normal. Feed lust worms to sex slaves. Enjoy the result. Yan Jing had been happy the moment he snatched Yan Chi's maids, and happier still when those same women stopped fighting and started moving for him, their hips rolling, their mouths opening, twin pussies learning the shape of his cock until they could take him without needing to be forced.
Qiuyu's pussy was warm and tight around him.
He could not see her face, because he was busy sucking Dongyu's cunt, holding her ass in both hands, and dreaming with every lick about Cao Ning's tight ass and her lusty silver-haired body. One day I'll bang her too, he thought, and sucked harder, as if Dongyu's cunt could become that childhood goddess by force of appetite alone. Dongyu's thighs clamped around his head. Her juices ran down his chin. He squeezed her ass and felt the soft flesh give under his fingers, and under him Qiuyu rode faster, her moans climbing, her inner walls fluttering around his shaft.
After a few minutes he came inside Qiuyu and filled her with thick semen.
She cried out as she felt it pulse into her, hot and heavy, flooding her until it leaked around the base of his cock and ran down onto his balls. Both sisters dropped to clean him at once without being told. Their tongues licked his cock and his balls, twin mouths working side by side, pink tongues sliding over the same wet shaft until he hardened again under their shared spit. Oil and cum and spit mixed on their lips. When Dongyu licked a long stripe from his balls up to the tip, Qiuyu took the head into her mouth and sucked the last of his seed out of him, and he groaned and tangled a hand in each of their hair.
The moment he hardened fully, Dongyu took her chance and put him inside her own pussy without thinking, her hips already rolling, fighting her sister for the right to be fucked next.
Yan Jing watched them compete for his dick with lazy satisfaction. He had taken medicine to keep going, and he was not worried about going soft; the pills the black market sold for men like him could keep a cock hard until dawn if the man could afford them, and Grand Elder Yan Li's son could always afford them.
In the beginning the twins had looked at him with disgust. They had turned their faces away when he touched their breasts, and Dongyu had bitten his wrist hard enough to draw blood the first night he tried to put himself between her legs. He still had the scar. He liked looking at it while they sucked him. Now they fought over who got to sink onto him first, moaning, oil-slick breasts bouncing, the slave worms humming obedience under the heat of the lust worms, and every time they competed like this he remembered Yan Chi's useless face in the council hall and smiled.
Positions shifted whenever Yan Jing grew bored.
He put Qiuyu on her hands and knees and fucked her from behind while Dongyu knelt at her sister's head and kissed her open mouth.
Twin tongues slid together above the sheets. His hips slapped against Qiuyu's oiled ass in a steady wet rhythm, and every thrust shoved her forward into Dongyu's kiss, so that the three of them moved as one filthy machine. Qiuyu's breasts swung under her in heavy arcs, the nipples scraping the silk each time he drove her forward. Cum from his earlier load still leaked down her thighs and mixed with fresh slick, turning the insides of her legs into a shining mess. When he reached under her and pinched her nipples, she sobbed into her sister's mouth and her pussy clenched hard around him.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
He fucked her harder. The bed creaked. Oil flecked onto the sheets. Dongyu broke the kiss long enough to look down at her sister's face — flushed, open-mouthed, eyes glassy with lust-worm heat — and then she kissed her again, deeper, swallowing Qiuyu's moans while Yan Jing's cock hammered into her from behind. He watched their tongues tangle over Qiuyu's shoulder and laughed under his breath. This was better than any night he'd had before he stole them. This was Yan Chi's lifelong loyalty bent double on his bed and dripping for him.
He pulled out of Qiuyu with a wet sound and pushed into Dongyu instead without warning.
She cried out into her sister's mouth. Her pussy was tighter, still unused for tonight, and she clenched around him so hard that he had to grit his teeth and hold still for a second before he could move. Then he fucked her the same way, hands locked on her hips, oil-slick ass rippling under every slap, while Qiuyu crawled around and put her mouth on her sister's hanging breasts, sucking a pink nipple between her lips as Yan Jing drove into Dongyu from behind.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
Later he had them both on their knees in front of him, side by side.
He made them take turns licking his cock and his balls. Dongyu sucked the head while Qiuyu licked the shaft, her tongue dragging slow from the base up to where her sister's lips sealed. Then they switched. Then he pushed both of their faces together around him so that their tongues met on either side of his cock, twin mouths fighting for the same inch of flesh, spit running down their chins onto identical breasts. He held their hair in both fists and fucked shallowly between their joined mouths, watching identical eyes water, identical cheeks hollow.
He came across both of their faces and watched the seed drip down identical cheeks onto identical chests, white ropes catching on pink nipples and sliding into the valley between. Qiuyu blinked. Dongyu licked a drop from the corner of her sister's mouth without being told. Yan Jing watched that and smiled wider.
He wiped himself clean on Dongyu's thigh, laughed, and told them to keep going until he was hard again, which did not take long. The lust worms made sure of that. They cleaned him with their tongues until he was stiff and shining, and then he put Qiuyu on her back and fucked her missionary while Dongyu sat on her sister's face, smothering her moans with her cunt, twin bodies stacked and shaking until he came inside Qiuyu a second time and left her gaping and dripping onto the sheets.
By the time the lamps burned down to stubs, both women were flushed and shaking and leaking his cum from their well-used pussies, and Yan Jing lay between them with an arm around each and fell asleep smiling, the medicine still humming in his blood, already looking forward to morning.
*** This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Yan Chi lay in his own bed and stared at the dark ceiling until his eyes burned.
Sleep would not come. Every time he closed his eyes he saw oil-slick twin breasts and pink nipples and a pussy twitching under an invisible tongue that had been his for one stupid second. He saw Yan Jing's hands on asses that should have been waiting in his own room. He heard moans that were not happening in his mansion and somehow still found him anyway, phantom wet sounds threading through the night wind. His cock stayed hard against the sheets. He refused to stroke it. Touching himself to that memory felt like letting Yan Jing win twice.
He tried to think about anything else. He tried to think about the entrance ceremony and the jungle hunt and the cultivation stages he needed to break through, about Cao Ning's silver hair and her laugh and the warmth of her body against his on the training field, about his mother's worried eyes at breakfast. Every road his mind took led back to that bedroom anyway. He saw Yan Jing's smug, oiled face between a twin's thighs, and heard the wet sounds of his tongue, and felt again the impossible moment when his own tongue had touched what Yan Jing's was touching, and his cock rose under the sheets so hard that it hurt, and he lay there hating it and hating himself and hating, above all, the man who had made all of it necessary.
The system rewards this. It wants me to be like this. Fine. Then I'll be like this, and I'll be strong, and one day being like this will be the thing that buries him.
Anger sat on his chest like a second body. He turned onto his side and then onto his back again, and the sheets stuck to the sweat on his skin, and every time he shut his eyes the room behind that half-open window rebuilt itself behind his lids in perfect filthy detail. He thought about the Invisible Pill's fifty-point price and the thirty-five he had left and the gap between what he was and what he needed to be before he could walk into that house in daylight and take anything back. He thought about Cao Ning's slap in the street and his mother's hug in the corridor and his father's cold knife-eyes, and he thought about the entrance ceremony that was still months away, and none of it was close enough to help the twins tonight. He had left them there.
He had left them without rescue because a pill's timer and an elder's realm had made him a coward in a different costume. The Invisible Pill was gone. The twins were still Yan Jing's toys. And Yan Chi — Body Refining fifth stage, host of the Pervert System, a man who had died with porn open on a screen — could do nothing but wait for morning with a furious heart and thirty-five points that suddenly felt like nothing.
He got up once, crossed to the window, and stood looking out at the dark shapes of the mountains beyond the outer wall. The Divine Cultivation Method stirred in his meridians when he reached for it, cool and patient, and he spent a long time drawing the night qi in through his pores and refining it down into the small furnace of his foundation. It did not calm him. It only gave the anger somewhere to go. When he finally climbed back into bed, the grey of false dawn was already touching the lattice, and his jaw ached from being clenched for hours.
Just wait, he told the dark. I'm coming back for them. And for you, Yan Jing. Especially for you.
The system window hovered faintly at the edge of his sight, patient as ever. Outside, somewhere in Elder Li's mansion, twin voices rose and fell until even the distance between the two households could not kill the sound completely.
Yan Chi did not sleep. He planned. And when the first true light of dawn touched the mountains, he was already out of bed with his jaw set, ready to turn the anger into qi.
He stripped to his trousers, stepped out onto the veranda, and began the Divine Cultivation Method in earnest, not the restless half-hearted version he had practised through the afternoon but the full ruthless cycle that made his meridians burn. The morning qi poured into him in cool pale threads from the mountain air and the dew on the garden stones and the first thin light over the eastern roofs. He dragged it down through every channel the method had opened — channels that the old Yan Chi had left rusted and half-blocked for years — and forced it into the furnace of his foundation until his skin shone with a faint sheen of sweat and his breath came in controlled bursts that fogged in the cool air. Each cycle was a promise. Each cycle was a debt he intended to collect. He kept going until the sun cleared the eastern roofs and the servants began to stir in the courtyards below, until his legs trembled and his meridians ached with the good pain of growth, and when he finally opened his eyes and checked his status, the panel still read Body Refining fifth stage and thirty-five points, but the furnace in his belly felt denser than it had the day before, as though the night's fury had given the method something solid to work with.
He thought about the twin who had jolted under his invisible tongue. He thought about the way she had forced herself back onto Yan Jing's cock afterward, burying confusion in obedience. He thought about going back tonight with another Invisible Pill, and then looked at the thirty-five points glowing in the corner of his vision and knew he could not afford another fifty. Not yet. He would have to earn them. He would have to get stronger. He would have to turn every filthy act the system rewarded into a weapon sharp enough to cut Yan Jing out of those women's lives.
The jungle beyond the city walls was waiting. The entrance ceremony was waiting. And somewhere between those two things, he promised himself, there would be a day when he walked back into Yan Jing's room without any pill at all, and took back what had been stolen from him in front of everyone who had watched it happen.