Because there were other men.
One stood on each side of the table, a careful three paces from it, and both were naked except for strips of black cloth wrapped across their faces so that only their eyes showed. Yan Chi recognized the way they held themselves before he recognized anything else. Shadow guards. The memories had brushed past them a thousand times without ever really looking: figures at the corners of rooms, behind his father's chair, along the walls during banquets, so practiced at being forgotten that a boy could grow up in this house and never be sure how many of them there were. They were sworn to guard the clan leader from every danger in the dark.
Tonight their duty was to stand in the lamplight with their cocks out.
Both were hard. The one on the left was broad through the chest, with a thick, short cock that stood almost straight up against his belly. The one on the right was taller and leaner, his shaft longer and darker, bobbing slightly with each heartbeat, and a bead of clear fluid had stretched from its tip into a long glistening thread that finally snapped and fell to the floorboards. Neither man moved to touch himself. Their hands hung at their sides with their fingers curled, as if they were standing at attention in a training yard. Only their eyes betrayed them. They were fixed on Yan Mei with a dark, unblinking hunger, tracking the quiver of her crushed breasts, the drip between her legs, the red heat of her ass, and the way her lips moved around each moan.
Yan Chi's mouth went dry.
What the fuck.
Something rose in his chest, a flicker of the old body's horror, the shocked reflex of a son who had bowed to that woman every morning of his life. It lasted about as long as a candle in a gale. The heat that came after it surged straight down into his groin with a force that made him put a hand against the window frame to steady himself. His cock had gone rigid in his trousers in the space of a breath, straining so hard against the cloth that it hurt, and every moan that slipped out of his mother's blindfolded mouth seemed to pump more blood into it.
The pieces came together the way a puzzle snaps shut in the last second.
The sound barrier, the guards and the blindfold all meant the same thing: his father liked to be watched. More than that, his father needed it, and Yan Chi could read the need in every line of him: the way his chest swelled, the way his gaze flicked from Yan Mei to the masked men and back again, the way his cock jerked whenever one of them swallowed. Demonic cultivators were not the pious sword-saints of Yan Fan's old stories. Their greed ran deeper and so did their lust, and Yan Tian's lust had grown a hook in it. He had married the most beautiful woman in Jinling City, a woman other clan leaders still stared at across banquet halls, and it was not enough for him to have her. He needed other men to watch him have her. He needed them to stand there wanting, close enough to smell her and forbidden to touch, so that every thrust was a proclamation.
So the shadows stood at the table with their qi pressed down to almost nothing and their breathing reduced to a thread, and Yan Tian blindfolded his wife so she would never know she had an audience.
Only she did know. Yan Chi saw it a moment later, and it hit him harder than anything else in that room.
When the tall guard on her right shifted his weight, the floorboard under him let out the faintest whisper, and Yan Mei's head turned a fraction toward the sound. When the broad guard's breath came a little too fast, her shoulders tightened. Her face, what he could see of it beneath the silk, showed no surprise at all. She had noticed the extra breath and the extra warmth on either side of her, the shuffle of bare feet that weren't her husband's. Perhaps she had noticed it for many nights. She said nothing. Whether it was fear of the man behind her, or the long habit of obedience a demonic wife learned early, or something darker that had taken root under the blindfold, Yan Chi couldn't say. But the sound she made when Yan Tian's hand settled on the small of her back wasn't the sound of a woman fighting anything. It was a low, shivering moan that seemed to come up from somewhere deep inside her, and her hips rose toward his palm as if they had been waiting.
He should leave.
He knew that. He had his mission; the system would surely count this as enough. But his feet stayed where they were and his eyes stayed glued to the gap in the paper. He hadn't watched anything since he died. No screen, no headphones, no lonely apartment that smelled of energy drinks and regret. Yan Fan had spent twenty-six years watching women through glass, and now heaven had given him a front-row seat to something filthier than any video he had ever paused at three in the morning. The glass was paper now and the woman was real, breathing and dripping and moaning, bound and beautiful, and somehow she was still the same gentle voice that had whispered apologies into his hair a few hours ago. The contradiction twisted in him until his cock throbbed against the window frame.
He stayed.
Yan Tian slid his palm slowly up the length of her spine, from the dip above her ass to the back of her neck, gathering her loose hair in his fist as he went. He didn't pull. He simply held it, the way a rider holds the reins of a horse he has no intention of letting run yet.
"Look how wet you've made yourself, Mei'er," he said. His voice was low and warm, nothing like the clipped voice that gave orders in the hall, and Yan Chi realized he was speaking as much to the masked men as to her. "I've barely touched you tonight, and you're dripping onto my table like a bitch in heat."
"Tian," she breathed against the wood. "Please. It's been so long—"
"So long?" He laughed softly. "It's been the time it takes to drink a cup of tea."
He let go of her hair and brought his hand down on her ass.
Slap!
The crack of it was sharp enough that Yan Chi flinched behind the window. Her right cheek rippled under the blow, the red flesh shuddering outward from the point of impact in a wave that ran all the way down to the crease of her thigh, and a fresh handprint flared up brighter than the rest, white for one instant and then flushing dark. Yan Mei's whole body jerked against the steel. Her breasts ground against the tabletop, and the cry that tore out of her was half pain and half something so hungry it made the broad guard's cock jump against his belly.
Slap!
Her left cheek this time, harder. She sobbed out a breath, her bound fingers clenching and opening behind her back, and a thin stream of slick ran out of her and down the inside of her thigh as if the blow had wrung it from her.
Yan Tian watched it run. Then he lifted his eyes and looked straight at the tall guard on her right, and very slowly he crooked one finger.
The guard took a single step closer to the table.
Then Yan Tian looked to the left and repeated the gesture, and the broad one did the same. Now they stood near enough that if either had reached out his hand, his fingertips would have brushed her hip. Neither reached. Yan Chi saw the broad guard's throat move as he swallowed, saw the tall one's cock twitch and leak another long thread onto the rug, and saw his father's face as he took in the sight of them. That expression went straight into the pit of Yan Chi's stomach: pride, triumph, and a heat so naked that it made the cold clan leader look like a different man.
Yan Mei's breath caught. Her head turned slightly to the left, then to the right. She had felt the heat of them come closer. Her lips parted as though she might speak, and then they closed again, and the only thing that came out was a long, trembling exhale. Between her legs her pussy clenched visibly on nothing, the swollen lips pulsing once, and another bead of slick welled up at her entrance.
"Shh," said Yan Tian, and it was impossible to tell whether he was soothing her or warning the guards.
He took her ass in both hands.
His fingers sank deep into her heavy cheeks, digging into the punished flesh until it bulged up between his knuckles, and she whimpered at the sting. Then he spread her. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the two red globes wide apart, so wide that her asshole stretched into a taut little pink oval and the lips of her pussy peeled open with a wet, sticky sound, unfolding to show the glistening inner folds, the small swollen pearl of her clit at the top and the dark, slick mouth of her entrance below. He held her like that and turned his body slightly aside, giving the masked men an unobstructed view of everything he owned. This chapter is updated first at novelping . com.
The tall guard's breathing went ragged. He caught it quickly, but not quickly enough, and Yan Mei's head turned toward the sound.
Yan Chi was breathing just as hard. His hand had found its way to the front of his trousers and pressed down flat against his cock, not stroking, simply holding on to it as if he could keep it from tearing out of the cloth. His mother was spread open twelve paces away from him. He could see the tiny muscles of her entrance flutter. He could see the gloss on her inner lips and the way her clit had swollen out from under its hood, and his body didn't care at all whose son he was supposed to be.
Yan Tian took his cock in one hand and laid the heavy head against her.
He didn't push in. He dragged the swollen tip slowly up and down her soaked slit, from the entrance all the way up to her clit and back again, painting himself in her slick. When he reached her clit he pressed and circled the blunt crown against it until her hips jerked, straining up and back to chase the touch, and the steel at her ankles rattled as the bindings stopped her short.
Squelch.
Her folds were so wet they made noise around him, filthy little sucking sounds that carried clearly through the sealed room. Yan Mei moaned into the table. Her mouth had gone slack and the string of saliva beneath her cheek had widened into a little pool.
"Tian, please," she begged. "Please, I can't—"
"Can't what?" He circled her clit again and she squealed. "Say it properly. Say what you want."
Her cheeks burned crimson below the blindfold. For a moment her lips only trembled. Then, in a voice so small and so broken that Yan Chi felt it in his teeth, she said, "Your cock. Please put your cock inside me."
Yan Tian's eyes went to the guards as she said it. He was smiling.
He set the head of his cock against her entrance and pushed in just the tip.
The thick crown stretched her open slowly. Yan Chi watched the pink lips of her pussy spread around it and swallow it, clinging to the rim of the head as it disappeared inside her, and then Yan Tian stopped there and held. Her breath stuttered. Her inner muscles tried to pull him deeper and he wouldn't let them, keeping only that swollen tip lodged in her while her hips trembled and her bound fingers scrabbled at the steel.
Then he grabbed her hips and drove forward.
He buried himself in her in one long stroke, all the way to the root, and the cry that burst from her was loud enough that Yan Chi thought for one wild instant the barrier must fail. Her back bowed even harder. Her toes curled against the floor and her crushed breasts smeared outward across the lacquer as the force of the thrust shoved her body forward against the table. When his hips came flush against her punished ass, the red cheeks flattened and rippled outward around him.
Plap!
Yan Tian held himself there, deep inside her, and let out a long, satisfied groan. He ground his hips in a slow circle, stirring himself inside her, and her pussy lips stretched and shifted around the base of his shaft.
"There," he murmured. "There it is. You feel how deep I am? This is where I belong. Only I get to be here."
The guards stared. The broad one's hands had curled into fists.
Yan Tian began to move.
He started slowly, almost lazily, drawing back until only the head remained inside and then sliding in again to the root, and on every withdrawal Yan Chi could see everything. His father's shaft came out of her gleaming wet, coated in her slick from tip to base, and the pink inner rim of her pussy clung to it and pulled outward as it went, as if her body refused to let it leave. A sticky thread of fluid stretched between them on the outstroke and broke when he sank back in. Each slow thrust pushed a soft wet sound out of her, and each one pushed a moan out of her mouth to match it.
Squelch.
Plap.
Then he quickened, and the room filled with the meaty rhythm of his hips meeting her ass. He was fucking her hard now, long and deep, putting his whole body into every stroke. The heavy table shook. One of its legs began to creak in time with him. With every thrust Yan Mei was shoved forward against the lacquer, her flattened breasts dragging and bunching beneath her, her stiff nipples scraping along the wood. Her red cheeks bounced and shuddered each time his hips smacked against them, and the broad guard's gaze followed every ripple as if it were the only thing in the world.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Her moans had stopped being separate sounds. They ran together now into one long, rising, wordless cry that broke whenever he hit bottom and started again when he pulled back. Under the blindfold her face had come completely apart. Her mouth hung wide open, her tongue lolling on her lower lip, and drool ran freely down her chin onto the table. Her cheeks were flushed red to the ears. Her brows had drawn together in an expression that might have been agony if her hips weren't straining back against every thrust to take him deeper.
This is the lady of the Yan family, Yan Chi thought distantly. This is the woman who tells the maids to lower their voices in the corridors.
He remembered her at his sickbed when the old Yan Chi had been nine years old and burning with fever, her cool hand on his forehead through the night and her voice humming a song from her own mother's village. The memory belonged to the body and not to him, and it was perfectly innocent, and it sat in his chest right alongside the image of her drooling onto lacquer with her husband's cock hammering into her from behind. The two pictures should not have been able to share a single skull. They did. The friction between them was unbearable, and the heat in his groin only climbed higher because of it. The source of this chapter is novelping(.)com.
Yan Tian let go of one hip and grabbed a fistful of her hair again, and this time he pulled.
He drew her head up off the table and her back up with it, as far as the steel at her wrists would allow, and her breasts peeled away from the lacquer with a faint wet sound. Freed from the weight of her body, they dropped and swung beneath her, huge and pale and heavy, the nipples swollen dark red from the scraping. Yan Tian kept fucking her, and with every thrust they swayed forward and slapped back against her ribs, rolling and bouncing in deep, full arcs that seemed to go on long after each stroke had finished.
The tall guard made a sound. It was barely more than a breath forced out through his teeth, but in that room it might as well have been a shout. Yan Mei's blindfolded face turned straight toward him.
For the space of a heartbeat Yan Chi was certain she was going to say something. Her lips parted. Her throat worked.
Yan Tian slammed into her before she could, and her words vanished into a moan.
"Let them hear you," he growled into her ear, and then, catching himself, "Let the whole house hear you. Who do you belong to, Mei'er?"
"You," she gasped. "You, Tian, only you—"
"And who fucks this pussy?"
"You. Only you."
Slap!
He spanked her again in the middle of a thrust, without breaking rhythm, and she screamed. He did it again, and again, his palm cracking down on one cheek and then the other while his hips kept slamming into her, until her whole ass was one burning red field and her cries had climbed into a thin, keening pitch. The sound of his hand and the sound of his hips folded together into a single brutal rhythm.
Slap! Plap! Slap!
Her pussy had begun to squeeze around him, Yan Chi could see it, the swollen lips clenching tight on every outstroke as if they were trying to hold him in. Her thighs were shaking hard against the steel. The slick that ran out of her had turned white and frothy where his shaft churned it, foaming in a ring around the base of his cock and dripping onto the rug between her spread feet.
"You're going to come," Yan Tian told her, and his voice had gone thick. "Here. In front of— With your legs tied open like a whore. Come for me, Mei'er."
She came.
Yan Chi saw it start at her toes. They curled, and her calves locked, and then the tremor raced up through the long, straining muscles of her thighs and into her hips until her whole lower body was quaking against the bindings. Her back went rigid. Her head snapped back against Yan Tian's grip and her mouth opened in a silent scream that took long seconds to find its voice, and when it finally came it was a raw, shattered wail. Her pussy clamped down on his father's cock so hard that Yan Chi could see it pulse in waves, and a hot gush of fluid sprayed out around the shaft and splashed against Yan Tian's thighs and spattered across the floor.
The broad guard's cock jerked. A long rope of precum spilled down its shaft.
Yan Tian didn't stop. He fucked her straight through it with short, hard, grinding strokes, and her wail broke into hiccupping sobs as every thrust dragged another spasm out of her. Her legs trembled and gave way, and only the steel and the table kept her up. Saliva and tears had soaked through the bottom edge of the blindfold.
Yan Chi's whole body had gone rigid. His fingers were digging into the window frame hard enough that the wood creaked under them. His other hand was still pressed against his trousers, unmoving, but it no longer mattered. His mother's climax had reached straight into his balls and closed around them.
Yan Tian's rhythm changed. His thrusts grew ragged, deeper and slower and heavier, and the muscles across his back bunched and stood out in hard ridges. He let go of her hair, and Yan Mei's head dropped back onto the table with her cheek in her own spit. He grabbed both of her hips again, his fingers sinking deep into her flesh, and dragged her back onto him as hard as he could while he slammed forward to meet her.
"Take it," he grunted. "Take all of it."
He buried himself to the root and held there, and a low, rough groan rolled out of his chest.
Yan Chi watched his father come inside her. He saw the base of the thick shaft pulse against her stretched lips, once, twice, a third time, the heavy balls drawn tight up against her pussy, and with each pulse Yan Tian's hips jerked forward a fraction as if he were trying to push himself even deeper. Yan Mei moaned brokenly with every throb. Her inner thighs quivered. Her fingers had gone limp in their cuffs.
He stayed inside her for a long time, breathing hard, his chest heaving and sweat running down the furrow of his spine. Then, slowly, he drew back.
His cock slid out of her inch by gleaming inch, coated in a white, glistening mixture of her slick and his seed, and when the swollen head finally pulled free with a soft, wet pop, her pussy was left gaping. For a moment it stayed open, a dark, stretched little mouth with the pink inner walls visibly fluttering. Then his seed began to spill out of her.
It welled up at her entrance thick and white and slow, gathering on her lower lip and trembling there before it spilled over. It slid down across her swollen clit in a fat, shining rope and stretched toward the edge of the table, and another surge followed it as her muscles clenched in the aftershocks, pushing out a second thick dollop that ran down over the first. A long string of it finally broke free and fell to the rug.
Yan Tian looked at it with deep satisfaction. Then he put his thumbs on either side of her pussy and spread her open again, holding the dripping lips wide, and turned his face toward each masked guard in turn so that both of them could see how full of him she was.
Neither guard breathed.
Yan Mei lay limp across the table, her chest rising and falling in long shuddering gasps. Her mouth moved. Yan Chi could barely make out the shape of her lips, and the sound was so faint that even inside the barrier it was almost nothing, but he thought it might have been the words how many. Then her lips closed, and she turned her blindfolded face toward the broad guard on her left and stayed like that, quite still, as if she were looking straight at him through the silk.