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i.
There have been stories.
Jianbin has heard things. A sentence or two, here and there. A hushed conversation with juicy details that his ears should not have been privy to.
The thing is, they are supposed to fill him with fear, dread even. It does, to a certain extent. Butterflies erupt in his stomach when he hears the whispers — so this is what the Emperor does every night to his concubines. Are they of fear? Longing? Excitement? Anxiety? He has no answer.
To be fair, his stay in the palace thus far has been pleasant, for the lack of a better word to describe it. No, could it really be termed as a stay? The true term for it would probably be permanent incarceration, perhaps. Even so, how can Jianbin even describe it as such? All day he is plied with food that he could have never dreamt of tasting. Dainty little osmanthus cakes, steamed dumplings with an assortment of stuffings. A full prawn even, how unthinkable! He had no idea what it was when it had been he had first tasted it, and the eunuch who he had asked had looked at him with what seemed like pity and scorn, explaining that it was a crustacean. Seafood. Had he tasted fish before? Jianbin had, but it had been nothing like this. His village lies to the foot of the mountains, close to the borders where the Kingdom ends. Anything that comes from the sea is a prized delicacy.
Truth be told, there is nothing torturous about his entire experience thus far. If anything, it can be said that he had been plucked from the depths of hell and thrown into the lap of luxury. Back in his village, in his family, they would count themselves lucky if they had enough for meat once a week. Jianbin remembers having to go hungry before, forcing himself to sleep to forget the hunger gnawing at his belly. In the palace, he has to endure none of this ever again. He is served tea, brewed from flowers of chrysanthemums that taste like nothing he has ever had before. Every mealtime is a delight — from the crisp freshness of the vegetables, bright and green, to the soft tenderness of the meat, well-marinated in an array of different sauces right down to the soup. Nourishing soup for the body, according to the servants, containing a vast array of ingredients he had never known existed in his entire life.
Although Jianbin is largely confined to the room and its surrounding courtyard that he has been allocated, if this is where he is to stay for the rest of his life? Jianbin wonders if he would have any complaints, for it is a vast improvement from his life in the village. He had never seen anything like this before, from the beauty of the wooden doors and its intricate carvings to the furnishings of the place. There was the bed, with its soft sheets, cool beneath his skin but not too cold, just perfect as spring segues into summer. There is a garden in the courtyard, complete with a pond and a bridge should one desire to cross it, along with a pavilion to sit at. What more could Jianbin ask for, if this was to be his prison from now on? If this is devoid of the hardship he had experienced up till now, could this even be called a prison?
It had been an honour for Jianbin to be chosen, amongst all the others from his village, despite how this had never been his intention to begin with. Imagine being selected from hundreds of others, all too eager to become part of the Royal Harem! The last time a concubine had been selected from his village had been during the reign of the previous Emperor. To think that Jianbin, of all the youths in the village, had been the chosen one. There had been officials, sent to his village, but no one had known just who they were. Of course, their magistrate had lined up a bevy of beautiful youths for presentation to the entourage, but as the days passed, no one had been selected. Rumour had it that none of the youths had been pleasing to the eye of the head eunuch, who the Emperor trusted for his impeccable taste. So every youth of eligible age from every household had been summoned, and Jianbin had been one of them.
The Emperor does not discriminate between the genders when it comes to selection for his Royal Harem. Certain Emperors have their preferences, of course. For example, the current Emperor was said to prefer men. Word was that he preferred male youths with creamy skin, almond shaped eyes and a plush lower lip. Long limbs, a tiny waist and a pert bottom were a must as well. Jianbin had been fairly certain that he would have never fulfilled the criteria, and to his surprise? Shock? Horror? The moment the head eunuch's eyes had swept over him, he had a sinking feeling in his gut, knowing that his fate had been sealed. He was to be the Emperor's newest concubine, selected from hundreds of hopefuls from his village.
No matter how things turn out, becoming a royal concubine is still the greatest honour that he could have ever hoped to have been bestowed upon. At least, that is what Jianbin tells himself. He repeats it to himself over and over again, every morning when he awakens in his bed, alone. His siblings no longer surround him, there is no one to greet in the morning any more. The fields that need tending to are miles and miles away, and that should be the least of his worries. What he should be preoccupied with is the waiting game — the days have turned into weeks and time is slipping from his grasp. Will the Emperor ever call for him? Or will he be doomed to rot here in isolation for the rest of his life, bringing nothing but shame upon his village and his family? He has no answer, and it eats away at him, little by little.
Jianbin waits. He spends his days in the palace, waiting. He has heard whispers, from the servants mostly. This is what he is waiting for, and this is what he is here for. His sole purpose here in the palace is to be ravished, to be taken by the Emperor. For the Emperor to make him his own, to claim his body completely. His only goal from now on should be nothing but to please the Emperor, to curry favour with him and if he does well enough, the Emperor might deign to reward his family and by extension, reward his village as well.
For the sake of his village, he must do whatever it takes. They had been ravaged by drought and famine two years ago, and recovery had barely begun. The other villages in the region dotting the border of their Kingdom had suffered similarly, but at the end of the day, they were too far from the capital. No imperial aid had ever made its way to them, or even if word had reached the palace about their plight and relief had ever been sent, nothing had ever reached them. This is the only chance they have for everything to change, and it rests entirely on Jianbin's shoulders.
ii.
Bathing is a luxury that Jianbin is introduced to upon his arrival in the palace. He is whisked away on a sedan chair to a set of chambers that is unlike the ones that he resides in. Upon arrival, he catches a glimpse of a woman, surrounded by servant girls who hurry her towards her own sedan chair. Her robes are more exquisite than his own — the embroidery is done in gold, and her headdress contains more jewels than Jianbin can count. For a brief moment, they share a look, and her lips curl upwards before she turns away. Is it a look of contempt? Of pity? Of scorn? Jianbin does not have an answer. Perhaps he had been kept in isolation for too long that he had forgotten all about the fact that in the Royal Harem, all that exists is competition. Even if he gets to be with the Emperor, who's to say that the Emperor will come back to him again when there are thousands of others for him to seek pleasure from?
'Pay her no heed, Concubine Bin,' Little Ming says, helping Jianbin out of his robes.
The questions race through Jianbin's head, and it takes every bit of self-control he has to keep his mouth shut and not ask any questions. He is more than aware that in the palace, connections are everything. That had already been the case back in his village, what more a place like this? If he keeps his head down and does not cause trouble, does not gossip, does not call any unwanted attention to himself, perhaps that will leave a favourable impression on others. That is what his parents have taught him anyway — the last thing he wants to do is to impose on someone.
Little Ming is one of the few eunuchs Jianbin is now used to seeing regularly. He brings food, clothes, writing materials even to Jianbin, helping to look after his daily needs. Initially, Jianbin had protested, insisting that he could handle everything on his own. Little Ming had been affronted, and eventually Jianbin had given in, letting him fuss over him. Little Ming had tended to his hair, which had been wild and unruly when he had first arrived in the palace, washing and combing until it had become silky smooth, soft to the touch. The robes that Jianbin had been given had been unlike anything that he had ever seen before, and he had been ashamed to admit that indeed, he needed help for a simple task that he should have been able to complete on his own. Instead, Little Ming had been nothing short of pleased to be able to help to dress Jianbin, heaping praise on his milky skin, on how smooth and creamy his skin was, on how beautiful he would look with makeup on, and just how the new clothes bestowed upon him fit so splendidly. Jianbin had felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as Little Ming marvelled at the silhouette Jianbin cut in his robes, of how they hid just enough to hint at the pleasures his body would hold within, and that the Emperor would definitely be pleased.
Jianbin nods, stepping out of his clothes, letting Little Ming gather them and put them aside. From what he had seen, Jianbin supposes that the woman must be another concubine, but as to her identity... No, does it even matter? The Emperor has thousands of concubines in his Royal Harem, but at the end of the day, only one of them can be his Royal Consort. As of now, there is no one appointed to the position of Royal Consort, but Jianbin does not even dare to hope that he can ever ascend to such a position. How could he even anyway, when the Emperor knows naught of his existence?
Little Ming looks pleased at Jianbin's lack of reaction, and he continues, saying, 'Concubine Yi has not been summoned to the Emperor's chambers for months now. To be honest, I was surprised to see her here. You know, we save the use of the baths for those who would be more likely to see the Emperor soon. You are new, so that means that you should be summoned any time soon...'
Any time soon. Jianbin swallows hard, listening to Little Ming gossip about affairs in the different parts of the palace. The air in the room is damp from the steam rising from the pool. The pool is filled with hot water, and today there are rose petals lining the surface as Jianbin descends the steps, lowering his body into the water.
'Enjoy your bath, Concubine Bin,' Little Ming says cheerily. 'The roses are fresh, and they give off such a lovely scent.'
'Thank you, Little Ming,' Jianbin says. He does not meet his gaze, keeping his head bowed. Instead, he looks at the rose petals in the water, and for a moment, they look like blood.
iii.
For the past few weeks, Jianbin has been waiting for this moment. He had not dared to imagine how it would be — sure he had heard rumours of how the Emperor had treated his concubines in bed. How he would ravish them, and how they were discarded one by one. To think that all this time had passed, and he had not even known how the Emperor even looked like. But did it matter? None of it did. All that would matter would be if Jianbin is pleasing enough to the Emperor for him to want to make his own.
What Jianbin does not expect, however, is the preparation it takes before he meets the Emperor.
Little Ming bursts into his chambers excitedly, almost forgetting to ask for permission to enter. He tells Jianbin that he has been chosen, the ritual has begun.
Jianbin wants to ask what ritual but he keeps his mouth shut, as always. Best not to ask too much questions, best not to seem as if he is making any form of protest, especially when he is this close to fulfilling his purpose here. What he wants does not matter. No, what he wants is for his village to recover, for his family to lead a better life, now that he is in this position. Since this is what he wants, he thus has to be good for the Emperor in order to fulfil his goal. He takes a deep breath, making sure that he presents Little Ming with a smile, telling him just how grateful he is for the opportunity.
The last thing Jianbin expects is for a few more eunuchs to enter his chambers, armed with a variety of things. Soon enough, Jianbin is spirited away in his sedan chair, transported to somewhere far away within the palace. The grounds of the palace are huge, which is something Jianbin had always been acutely aware of. His own chambers are nothing but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things, but knowing it and experiencing it are two completely different things.
'Are you nervous?' Little Ming asks, helping Jianbin out of the sedan chair. It is dark outside now, and to think that the sun had yet to set when they had started out on their journey.
'A little,' Jianbin admits, grateful for the support Little Ming lends him. He follows Little Ming into the chambers ahead of them, all too aware that his words were a massive understatement. His heart hammers hard and fast against his chest, and his stomach lurches. This is the moment he has been waiting for, his chance with the Emperor. He has to make an impression, he has to give the Emperor so much pleasure that he would call on him again. What can he do, a mere virgin who has no experience in the bedroom? All he has is the meagre amount of practice that he has barely mustered up courage for in his own chambers, pretending that his knuckles were another part of the male anatomy as he had licked and sucked at them the way the Madam in the brothel had taught him to. Before he had left his village, they had sent him away to spend his last night at the village's best establishment, where all the Madams had gathered to teach him as much as they could on how to please a man. The fate of their village would depend on just how much he has absorbed, and heavy is the weight of the responsibility on Jianbin's shoulders.
'Are you worried about making a good impression?' Little Ming asks.
Jianbin blinks, taken aback by Little Ming's directness. Then again, he supposes that such a remark from him is not too out of the ordinary, given the nature of their regular conversations. Little Ming is effusive in his praise when it comes to Jianbin's figure, especially when it comes to the clothes that he has been given, why would this be any exception? 'I suppose,' he answers.
'I knew it,' Little Ming says, grinning. 'Little Hua and the rest of us have this all covered. Just let us do the preparations.'
Jianbin nods, not trusting himself to speak.
As it turns out, preparation is beyond anything Jianbin could have expected. Jianbin is divested of his clothes quickly enough, and he is made to lie down on what seems to be a giant platter, covered in a smooth silk sheet. His wrists are tied together, above his head, secured and held down. His skin is oiled, cleaned and there are hands roaming all over his body, across places no one has ever touched. They part his thighs, and he chokes back a cry when there are hands placed on his buttocks, spreading them apart. His cheeks burn as he is opened up like this, but the sensation of being put on display cannot compare to how it feels when Little Ming pushes something into him. Jianbin bites down on the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to cry out. Something is filling him up rapidly, he does not even dare to look and slowly but surely, the sensation of being bloated builds.
'Concubine Bin, we are cleaning you out,' Little Ming says, voice soothing. As if what he is doing is nothing more than washing Jianbin's hair. 'Relax. Do not fight it, it will only make things worse.'
The cycle repeats itself, over and over. Liquid is pumped into Jianbin, which he has to keep in, and then let go when he is told to. He knows that this is what happens when two men have intercourse — he is not a woman, therefore this is where the penetration happens. It is, also, where waste comes out from the body, and thus would be unclean to a certain degree. When reasoned out like this, it makes perfect sense that he should be cleaned completely, both outside and inside before he is presented to the Emperor. That however, does little to diminish the shame he feels at having gone through this entire process.
'Pardon me,' Little Ming says afterwards.
Pardon him? For what? Jianbin looks down, bewildered. What could Little Ming possibly have to ask to be pardoned for now?
All his questions are answered when Little Ming pushes a slick finger into Jianbin. To begin with, Jianbin had already felt the stirrings of arousal when he had been divested of his clothes, being put on display for all the eunuchs. His cock had stirred, much to his embarrassment, when they had started to touch him all over, and even as he had been filled up and cleaned out, the arousal had persisted. And now, with Little Ming pushing his fingers into him, slicking him up? Jianbin can do nothing but whimper softly, feeling stretched like never before. He is all too aware of how lewd a sight he must be, with his cock erect and leaking against his stomach. He has never had anything like this before, when he had touched himself, his focus had only been on his cock and nowhere else. Even then, it had been less to pleasure himself, and more of a means to get rid of the persistent erection that would not go away from time to time. No one had ever touched him like this, so intimately, and the tears well up involuntarily. Is this how it will be like later on, with the Emperor? Is this only the beginning? Will there be much more? How would the Emperor seek pleasure from his body? Jianbin does not want to think of it, and he finds himself protesting against the loss of contact when Little Ming pulls his fingers away.
'We cannot have this,' another eunuch says. 'We cannot present Concubine Bin in this mess.'
Little Ming sighs. 'Alright then,' he says, slicking his fingers up again with more ointment. He pushes two fingers into Jianbin this time, and Jianbin clenches down reflexively. 'Concubine Bin, you are so tight! Relax, we have to get you all ready. You made such a mess, you know? But look at you anyway. The Emperor will be so pleased!'
The other eunuchs make noises of displeasure at Little Ming's exclamation, but Little Ming pays them no heed. He continues, curling his fingers inside Jianbin, twisting them at the angle that causes Jianbin to cry out involuntarily, hips jerking forward.
'There we go,' Little Ming says cheerily. Almost as if he is encouraging Jianbin as always in his chambers, practising his calligraphy instead of steadily thrusting his fingers into him. 'Almost there!'
Jianbin can barely hold back his shout when he comes all over himself. How is it possible? He has never experienced anything like this before, and he lies back, unable to move as the other eunuchs swoop in to clean him up, and Little Ming pushes more ointment into him again.
iv.
Jianbin is vaguely aware of his surroundings. Now that he is blindfolded, he has to concentrate on hearing, making out just what is going on through the conversations that go on around him. He can hear the hushed whispering as he is carried out on the platter, hands still tied above his head. They ache, but the pain is still bearable. If anything, it is a slow burn instead, rather than a sharp stab.
From what he can make out, Jianbin supposes that he has been carried out into an open court. There are people staring at him, he can feel their stares on his naked body even without having to look. His skin all oiled, smooth and hairless, with choice pieces of fruit on his torso. Presented for the Emperor's pleasure. Little Ming had told him that the consummation of the Emperor's union with a concubine was always to be done under the watchful eyes of the court. Perhaps the blindfold had been a way to spare Jianbin of the shame he would have felt from seeing those in court gaze upon his body, openly leering. In a way, it is his last defence — despite how embarrassed and ashamed he is of having people look upon him like this, his cock stirs in arousal, knowing that people are looking, and he hates it. He wants to fight it, wants to tamper it down, but at the same time, he wonders, would the Emperor prefer it? Would the Emperor prefer if he was presented, all wet and needy, desperate to be taken and ravished?
By the time Jianbin is set down on a table, he is shivering with anticipation. The night air is cool, but not cold enough to raise gooseflesh, but at this rate, Jianbin has a feeling that the fruit on his skin would slip down soon enough.
'How exquisite.'
The voice is low and booming, projecting power. Jianbin feels the tips of chopsticks on his skin, picking up a slice of fruit from his chest. Is this the Emperor then? What should he do? Should he even answer?
That, however, is swiftly decided for him when the tips of the chopsticks return, this time, to pinch one of his nipples and tug at it. Jianbin cries out, doing his best not to jerk forward so that the fruit remains on his skin, earning a low chuckle in return. As it turns out, the person wielding the chopsticks is none too interested in the fruit adorning his body. The chopsticks pull at his pink nipples, tugging at them until they are sore, and all Jianbin can do is to whimper and moan as it continues. His cock is now hard against his stomach, and he is more than aware of how much he is leaking all over, possibly on to the fruit placed on his belly as well. Oh, the sheer embarrassment.
'What a mess.' This time, the piece of fruit placed above his belly is plucked off his skin and pushed into Jianbin's mouth.
Jianbin's eyes widen underneath his blindfold, taking the fruit in. The taste is strange, and shame washes through him when he realises that he must have gotten some of his own essence on to the fruit too.
What Jianbin does not expect, however, is to be kissed on the lips, having the piece of fruit forcibly taken from his mouth.
By the time Jianbin realises what has just happened, his blindfold is now removed. His eyelids flutter open slowly and he looks up, coming face to face with none other than the Emperor.
'Your Majesty,' Jianbin gasps. He should get on his knees to kneel, and his panic is clear as day.
'At ease,' the Emperor says, chuckling. Is the Emperor amused? Jianbin cannot tell. 'Such a delightful little thing, so desperate and needy already.' He reaches to touch Jianbin's cock, fingers lightly trailing against the underside, stopping at the tip, coating his fingers in his wetness.
Jianbin chokes back a sob, doing his best to control himself. It would be unbecoming for him to rut against the Emperor's hand like this, in front of the entire court, would it not?
The Emperor's fingers trail lower again, past Jianbin's balls, down the crack of his buttocks to press against his hole. 'To think that you have gotten this wet on your own.' He pushes a finger in, and all Jianbin can do is to clench down, sucking him in, desperate for more. 'As expected of a needy little thing,' the Emperor laughs. He removes his finger, pressing it to Jianbin's lips, and Jianbin opens his mouth obediently to suck at it.
The Emperor hums, pleased with Jianbin's reaction. 'In that case, let us put you out of your misery then,' he murmurs. He adjusts his robes, freeing his cock, then he reaches for Jianbin's buttocks. Jianbin lifts his legs wordlessly, spreading his thighs, presenting himself to the Emperor, and the Emperor roars in approval, pressing the tip of his cock to Jianbin's hole. He pushes in slowly, fucking into Jianbin. The rim catches around the head of his cock, and tears roll down Jianbin's cheeks as the Emperor continues, pushing into him. Sure, he had experienced how Little Ming had pushed into him with his two fingers, spreading him open, but it could not and would not have prepared him for this. Two fingers is nothing compared to the Emperor's cock, wide in its girth. Jianbin struggles not to resist, but the more he tries to relax, the more he ends up clenching around the Emperor's cock instead.
'So tight,' the Emperor growls, pushing into Jianbin with more force. Jianbin cries out, startled, and the Emperor continues, not letting up. By the time the Emperor sheathes himself fully inside Jianbin, Jianbin feels as if he is stuffed impossibly full. Is his belly bulging from the Emperor's cock inside him? He does not want to know. 'So beautifully tight.'
Jianbin grunts, taking it as a cue to clench down even more on the Emperor's cock. It hurts, being split apart like this. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, wants to focus on other things, but he knows his place, knows that he has to continue to play the role of a good concubine, willing and pliant and eager to be fucked by the Emperor. He looks at the Emperor, eyes pleading, and the Emperor laughs.
This is how it feels like to be fucked by someone, Jianbin thinks. He lies back, all spread out as the Emperor withdraws and slams into him again. He is filled up repeatedly, not by fingers, but by the Emperor's cock, again and again and again until the Emperor achieves his release. The Emperor's fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, and they press down hard. There will be bruises the next day, Jianbin supposes. Bruises to remind him that the Emperor has, indeed, consummated their union.
With each thrust, Jianbin's cock bounces against his stomach, leaking more. The Emperor pays no heed to Jianbin's cock, but he does change the angle of his thrusts, almost as if he is searching for something—
Jianbin screams, feeling pleasure course through him, white hot in a blinding flash. There it is again, the same feeling from before. He had felt it when Little Ming had fingered him, but it had been nothing like this. There is applause all round, and Jianbin's cheeks burn as yet another wave of shame washes over him. What has he done? Has he shown himself to be too lewd, too desperate for pleasure? Would the Emperor be displeased?
The Emperor continues to thrust into Jianbin, insistent on eliciting the same reaction from Jianbin again and again. It does not take much for Jianbin now, and soon enough, he is screaming again, coming all over himself. He gets it all over his face, his chest, his stomach, and the roaring in his ears is loud enough to drown out the applause that the audience gives when he does so.
No more, Jianbin thinks. He cannot take any more. He is at his limit now, any more would break him. The Emperor does not let up, continuing with his thrusts, merciless. Jianbin has never had anything like this before, has never been pushed beyond an orgasm before. What could happen next? As much as he tries to control his movements, his body jerks forward, he tries to fight the restraints on his wrists. He needs to break free, needs this to stop. It is far too much for him, his body cannot take this. The Emperor is going to break him, he is almost certain of that. There is no way in which he can handle any more. He will not be able to come a second time. But to protest would mean death, would it not? He has to take this, has to tolerate this, has to play his part even if it means he would come to ruin at the hands of the Emperor. But he is losing control now, there's something inside him that is threatening to burst. There is no holding back, there is only giving in—
The Emperor shouts, fucking into Jianbin more forcefully as Jianbin loses all control. He does not come all over himself. Instead, what leaks out of his cock in spurts is liquid, probably piss.
Jianbin is crying now, chest heaving as he sobs. He tries to control himself, clenching down on the Emperor as he tries to stop the flow of piss from his cock to no avail. It leaks out of him as the Emperor continues to fuck him to thunderous applause. Has he done well? Jianbin has no idea. The Emperor has not achieved his release, and here he is, wetting himself like a pathetic child. What a joke.
'Truly exquisite,' the Emperor grunts. His grip on Jianbin's thighs are ridiculously tight now as he continues, pace brutal. At the back of Jianbin's mind, he wonders, is the Emperor going to be able to find release like this? Is he enough? Should he be doing more?
As it turns out, whatever Jianbin is doing is more than enough. The Emperor comes inside Jianbin with a shout, filling him up with his seed.
'Clean us up,' the Emperor orders afterwards, pressing his cock to Jianbin's lips.
Jianbin does as he's told, suckling at the tip of the Emperor's cock, opening his mouth wider to take the rest of him into his mouth so that the Emperor can use him as he sees fit.
v.
As Jianbin is carried off, he hears someone whisper to him.
'You did well,' the voice says.
Is it the Emperor? Jianbin has no idea. He struggles to answer, and the words do not come.
'Rest.' Someone's hand cups Jianbin's cheek lightly, and the palm is warm.
vi.
Jianbin had not been hallucinating. The Emperor had indeed told him that he had done well, for Little Ming soon becomes the bearer of good news, telling him that his family will be duly rewarded and blessings will be bestowed upon his village. Jianbin is still in a daze, to be honest. In the span of one night, he had gone from being a virgin to having had sex in front of an audience, coming so hard that he had pissed himself. Sure, he had practised, trying to recall what the Madams from the brothels had taught him on how to please a man, but none of it had prepared him for how it had all happened.
The most embarrassing thing of it all, however, is probably how Jianbin finds himself getting hard thinking of all of it. He has pleasured himself before, mostly through stroking his cock, or rubbing up against something, but after what had happened with the Emperor? All Jianbin can think of is the Emperor's cock buried inside him, thrusting in and out, splitting him open. He finds himself sucking at his own fingers, lying on his stomach with his buttocks in the air, trying to push his fingers into his hole in a pale imitation of being fucked.
It does little to alleviate the frustration that he feels, and Jianbin feels terribly guilty each time he achieves release through rubbing his cock. It is frightening, perhaps, when he realises that just one taste of pleasure has changed him. Now he wants more, craves more, and there is nothing he can do to control his body's urges.
vii.
The Emperor is younger than Jianbin had imagined him to be, but much older than him nonetheless. Jianbin can see the crow's feet at the edges of his eyes and the wrinkles that line his forehead, given his proximity. Jianbin is seated on the Emperor's lap, wearing nothing more than a dudou. The halter top, made up of cloth that covers the chest and strings that wind round the neck and back, is underwear usually worn by women, but Little Ming had insisted that Jianbin put it on before seeing the Emperor. So here he is, with his cock hard and leaking against the fabric of the dudou as the Emperor fondles his chest while listening to his ministers speak.
Jianbin's nipples are hard against the fabric of the dudou from the Emperor's incessant teasing. The Emperor takes great delight in pinching his nipples over the fabric, tugging at them while Jianbin fights back the urge to cry out, not wanting to interrupt the meeting. When Little Ming had told him that the Emperor had sent for him, this had not been what he had expecting. Sure, the last time had been in front of everyone, but that had been the consummation of their union. But this? This is something else altogether. The Emperor is bored during a meeting, and Jianbin is here to be his entertainment.
The Emperor pulls at the fabric of Jianbin's dudou so that it reveals his nipples completely. Jianbin squirms in his lap, all too aware that the ministers are all staring at him. His nipples are red and sore now from all the abuse, and the Emperor pays no mind, continuing to toy with them. Is it possible to come from stimulation of his nipples alone? It feels too good, far too good, but Jianbin really does not want to find out. The last thing he wants to do is to come and get it all over the Emperor's robes. It would not do to sully the Emperor's clothes with his essence, and he chokes back yet another cry as the Emperor pulls at one of his nipples, almost as if he is intent on extending them.
The Emperor frowns, clearly displeased. He tugs at Jianbin's nipple again, wanting to elicit a response, but Jianbin bites on the inside of his cheek instead, determined not to make a sound. There something that flashes in the Emperor's eyes, and he sinks his fingernail into Jianbin's nipple, causing Jianbin to tear up, wincing in pain.
'Be that way, then,' the Emperor says, voice cold. 'Since you are not going to make a sound, you might as well remain quiet on your knees. Down boy.'
Down boy. An order, just like what one would give to a dog. Where did he go wrong now? What is next, will the Emperor order for him to be put to death? Why did he insist on keeping his mouth shut, thinking that it would not do to disrupt the Emperor's meeting? Jianbin scrambles to get on his knees, in between the Emperor's thighs.
'Suck.' The Emperor adjusts his robes, pulling out his cock. His cock is already hard, foreskin pulled back, wetness beading at the tip. Jianbin's mouth waters at the sight, and he does not even know why. He opens his mouth, arching his head up, and takes the Emperor's cock into his mouth, struggling to breathe as the Emperor pushes all the way in.
The meeting wears on. Jianbin remains kneeling, hands fisted on his knees, not daring to lay a finger on the Emperor without permission. His jaw aches and he is struggling to breathe, but the Emperor does not care.
From time to time, the Emperor thrusts forward into Jianbin's mouth, as if using his mouth as nothing more than a hole to derive pleasure from. Fresh tears well up in Jianbin's eyes, there are pins and needles on one leg, and the other has gone to sleep, probably. What would he not give to have this all end? Alas, the meeting continues to drag. So Jianbin tries to focus on what the ministers are saying instead to take his mind off things.
War is looming, apparently. It approaches from behind the mountain range, and something seizes up inside Jianbin. The mountain range. His village lies at the foot of one of those mountains. If war is coming to the Kingdom, then his village will be at the front line. There are barely any defences there, no forts, nothing. Emperors of past and present have always believed that the mountains were the best natural defence, but now?
A minister suggests diplomacy, which is met with laughter all round. Someone suggests attacking first, which is quickly overruled. What lies beyond the mountains must not be underestimated. The Emperor mulls over it, finally announcing that he would propose that an ambassador be sent over, to offer a princess' hand in marriage should the situation prove favourable. Two kingdoms joined in matrimony, better to have an ally rather than to have an enemy at your doorstep.
An enemy at the doorstep. Jianbin's mind is racing, his thoughts come too fast for him to focus. He forgets about the pain in his legs, the ache in his jaw. All he can think of his home, his family. If war comes, they will be the first to die. He will be unable to protect everyone, unless... Unless he pleases the Emperor. Unless he gives the Emperor so much pleasure that he is willing to grant Jianbin something that he wants.
Jianbin continues sucking at the Emperor's cock with renewed fervour now. He must do this. He must persevere. The lives of his family is at stake. Now that he is here, this is the only way in which he can change things, which is to suck the Emperor's cock like his life depends on it. The Emperor hums softly, pushing Jianbin's head all the way down to fuck his throat as he declares the meeting over, and the ministers file out of the court slowly.
The Emperor does not say a word to Jianbin. He takes his time, leisurely fucking Jianbin's mouth, pushing his head down, tugging at his hair to pull his head back before pushing him down again. Jianbin's mouth is nothing but a warm hole for him to use as he pleases. Jianbin has learnt his lesson now, he chokes around the Emperor's cock, making as much noise as he can. As if he's enthusiastically sucking the Emperor's cock, desperate to have him shoot his load down his throat.
If the Emperor is pleased by Jianbin's change in behaviour, he does not show it. He comes without warning, forcing Jianbin's head down, holding him in place. Tears spring to Jianbin's eyes again as he tries not to choke, tries to swallow down every drop. When the Emperor finally pulls away, he grabs a fistfull of Jianbin's hair, using it to clean his cock up.
By now, Jianbin knows that his cock has been steadily leaking on to the floor, leaving a small puddle in between his legs. Even though he has not been touched at all ever since he had gotten on his knees, arousal still courses through him, much to his embarrassment. He does not understand, why has it turned out this way? He has received no stimulation, and yet his body reacts like this. Is it from how everyone had been watching him, knowing that there had been all those eyes on his body, naked for all to see from behind? The dudou serves to cover the chest only, but even then after the Emperor had tugged it aside, it hda served to obscure almost nothing for Jianbin. Did he get so turned on from having people watch him, seeing just how lewd he was for being so aroused just by sucking the Emperor's cock?
The Emperor's eyes sweep across his body, and his eyes narrow when he sees Jianbin's cock. 'Do you want to play with yourself?' the Emperor asks, voice cold.
Jianbin can only nod, cheeks burning in shame. 'Yes, Your Majesty,' he chokes out, voice hoarse.
'Of course you do. Such a needy thing needs to be touched all the time. But you need to learn control,' the Emperor says. He presses his foot to Jianbin's cock, and Jianbin cries out, feeling the Emperor step down on him. He had been aching, too eager for touch, but if this continues he has no idea if he would even be able to control himself. 'If you come, we will make sure you will never get to find release ever for the rest of your life.'
Jianbin blanches.
'Get up. Go back to your chambers, and get yourself cleaned up. Remember what we said. No touching.'
Jianbin scrambles to his feet. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'
viii.
Once upon a time, Jianbin supposes, he had dreams. He had dreams of becoming a scholar. That was the only way you could join the government, through becoming a scholar official. That was the only way he would have been able to enact change, to help to improve the lives of the people. He had gone to school, as with most of the other boys in their village. The village school had welcomed everyone, and his family had hoped that by becoming literate, Jianbin could earn more, could do better, could move on ahead in life.
In the village, Jianbin had been praised for his calligraphy. His teacher had praised his essays, appreciating the sharpness of his analysis. He had recommended that Jianbin take the Imperial Exam the following year, to give him more time to prepare, to ensure that his family has enough to send him to the capital.
What if Jianbin had not listened to his advice? What if Jianbin had taken the Imperial Exam in that year instead, and had passed with flying colours? He would not be in this position now, lying alone in his bed, wondering when the Emperor would call upon him again. He would be ensuring that change happened for the villages at the border through legislation, and not through becoming the most unforgettable toy the Emperor has ever had to fuck.
The night is still, and all that fills the air is the sound of crickets chirping outside. Jianbin tries to sleep, but it does not come easy.
ix.
Perhaps it is the side effects of not being summoned to the Emperor's side in far too long. It is nothing more than a dream, Jianbin supposes. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he wills himself not to wake up, because why would he want to wake up from a dream like this?
In his dream, the Emperor kisses his earlobe, his neck, slowly divesting him of the simple robe that he wears to sleep. Soon enough, he is naked, arousal clear for the Emperor to see. His nipples, already pebbled, begging to be touched. To be more precise, they beg for the Emperor's torture, because Jianbin knows that the Emperor cannot resist tugging at them. Pulling, pinching. Rolling them in between his index finger and thumb, squeezing, before pulling again until his pink nipples turn red and sore from all the abuse. The Emperor gives it to him, of course. Like this, all Jianbin can do is to lean back against the Emperor's chest, letting the Emperor play with his nipples. Letting him fondle his chest, groping him while he grinds against his back. Jianbin can feel the hardness of the Emperor's cock against him, and while he would much rather the Emperor's cock to be inside him, he supposes that this is not too bad.
After all, this is a dream, is it not? The Emperor would take his time, ignoring how Jianbin's cock is already hard and leaking, making a small mess against the bedsheets. He continues, scratching against Jianbin's nipples with his fingernails. Then he presses down hard, digging in with his nails, causing Jianbin to cry out, before pinching them again. Throughout Jianbin's cock continues to drool all over the bedsheets uncontrollably.
Jianbin does not want to wake up. If he wakes up, he will wake up to an empty bed, and this will be nothing more than an embarrassing wet dream. As the saying goes, if he keeps thinking about it during daytime, he will end up dreaming about it during the night. Has he really been thinking about being taken by the Emperor this much, to the point that he dreams of the Emperor taking him in private, on his own bed? He does not want to know the answer. He would much rather the dream carry on, with the Emperor's hand slowly moving down the length of his body. Down to his stomach, even lower to caress his thighs. He fondles Jianbin's thigh, kneading the soft flesh, and Jianbin lets out a whine of frustration. As much as it feels pleasurable, he cannot help but want more. His cock is painfully neglected, and after the Emperor's previous threat, he had not dared to touch himself. Even if this is nothing more than a dream, the last thing he wants is to defy the Emperor.
Almost as if reading his mind, the Emperor reaches for Jianbin's cock after what seems like an eternity. Jianbin cries out in relief, struggling not to thrust against the Emperor's hand as the Emperor coats his fingers in Jianbin's wetness. What could the Emperor be doing? Jianbin has no idea, but whatever it is is pleasurable enough for Jianbin to end up coming all over the Emperor's hand.
The Emperor growls, low and menacing in Jianbin's ear. For a moment Jianbin wonders if he had done something wrong, even if this is just a dream. Should he have controlled himself? But how could he have, when the Emperor had been stroking his cock like that? He had not touched himself since... Jianbin does not even remember the last time he had touched himself. But no, the Emperor pushes Jianbin, shifting him so that he is able to part his legs. His fingers, all slick with Jianbin's spend, are pressed against Jianbin's hole. Two fingers, pushing into the pucker, not caring if Jianbin's body is ready or not.
Jianbin cries out, struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion. To think that he would have the chance to experience this again, and all this made possible by his own spend, coating his inner walls. The Emperor's fingers are thick and long, nothing like his own, and two fingers are really a stretch. But Jianbin does not want the Emperor's fingers — he wants the Emperor's cock, pushing inside him, hitting that sweet spot again. He wants the Emperor to fuck him delirious, until he is out of his mind with pleasure. He wants it agains so badly, having tasted such mind blowing pleasure once, and if the only way he can get it is in his dreams, then so be it. This is his sole purpose now, to give the Emperor pleasure, so why not make it his own too, to attain pleasure from the Emperor?
The Emperor removes his fingers soon enough, and they are replaced by his cock, thrusting into him in one swift motion, causing Jianbin to scream.
This time, there is no keeping his eyes shut. He tugs at the bedsheets, gasping, trying to catch his breath, and oh, oh, oh. This is no dream. Jianbin is awake, his skin shiny with a sheen of perspiration, and he is indeed in the Emperor's arms. The Emperor's cock is buried inside him, and it is indeed the Emperor's fingers that are on his nipples, pinching hard.
'Finally awake?' the Emperor asks, voice lower than usual.
'Your Majesty,' Jianbin chokes out as the Emperor jerks his hips forward, pushing deeper into him.
'On your hands and knees,' the Emperor commands.
Jianbin complies immediately. It had not been a dream. It had all been real. The Emperor had come to him at night, had sought his pleasure from him, but instead, Jianbin had been the one who had achieved his pleasure first. He had come all over the Emperor's hand, and yet here he was, cock stirring again as the Emperor thrusts into him. The Emperor grips his hips, setting a brutal pace as he pushes into him and pulls out again. All is quiet, save for the sound of skin slapping against skin as the Emperor continues. Jianbin can barely keep his balance like this, on his hands and knees, and he sinks down onto his elbows instead. As if to prevent him from doing so, the Emperor delivers a slap to his buttocks, causing Jianbin to cry out.
'Turn around.'
Yet another order. Jianbin follows, making sure that he is on his back now. He draws his legs up, hooking his arms beneath his knees so that he is on full display for the Emperor. He looks up, meeting the Emperor's gaze, and the Emperor grins, full and wide as he thrusts into him again.
The Emperor's teeth are sharp, Jianbin thinks. It is unlike anyone he has seen before. It might be where he gets his predatory senses from, and that is what makes him a great leader, suitable for leading the Kingdom, Jianbin thinks.
This time, the Emperor reaches for Jianbin's cock. He jerks Jianbin off in quick strokes as he fucks him, not stopping even when Jianbin comes all over himself. It is the second time in which Jianbin has reached orgasm in the span of, what, a few minutes? And there it is again, the flash of white hot pleasure. Again and again, with each thrust. The Emperor continues to touch Jianbin, stroking his cock, as if determined to milk him of every single drop. Jianbin is tugging wildly at the bedsheets now, tears roll down his cheeks and he hiccups, trying to breathe, trying to fight this. No more, no more. He has to control himself, he cannot lash out, cannot hit the Emperor, he cannot—
Perhaps this had always been the Emperor's intention. Jianbin cries harder now, his cock leaking all over himself in spurts. Yet again, he has failed to control himself. Yet again, after orgasm, he has wet himself, making a mess. Throughout, the Emperor continues to fuck him, unrelenting. There is a wide grin on his face as he climaxes inside Jianbin, and Jianbin's cock continues to leak all over, getting on to his face and chest.
x.
Jianbin dreams.
In his dreams, there is someone stroking his hair, stroking his cheek. Someone that whispers to him again and again and again, voice low and booming, you did well. The touches are nothing more than soft caresses, light and gentle. Soothing, almost bordering on affection.
It is frightening, in a way. Jianbin wakes up, panicking after these dreams. There is a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realises that the worst thing to wake up to is an empty bed, where he is all alone when all he wants is to wake up in the Emperor's embrace. To wake up to the Emperor's arms around him as he fucks him, becoming more aroused when he realises that he had fucked him awake. He finds himself craving the Emperor's affection, the Emperor's soft kisses on his neck and throat, and he aches so much because deep inside, he knows his place.
Jianbin is but one of the many concubines the Emperor has. For now, he is still capable of holding the Emperor's interest. For now, he may still have the Emperor's affection. But soon enough this will all end, and if he continues like this, what will become of him when the Emperor finally decides to discard him?
xi.
The Emperor does not come to Jianbin's bed again. The next time he sees the Emperor, it is when he is summoned, and Little Ming tells Jianbin excitedly that there is a feast with foreign dignitaries from beyond the mountain range, and of all people, Jianbin has been chosen by the Emperor to be his companion.
Beyond the mountain range.
Jianbin is dizzy, but he does not know where it stems from. Fear? Anxiety? Excitement? He does not have an answer. He lets Little Ming undress him without any of his initial apprehension or shame, and Little Ming praises him for being so cooperative as he cleans him. The words are meaningless to Jianbin. He does not hear any of it, for he is far too distracted. How long has it been since that fateful day, when he had overheard what the ministers had said during the meeting? Had the Kingdom beyond the mountain range attacked? Was his family safe? He had no way of knowing, and despite spending an extended period of time with Little Ming, Jianbin still could not tell if he could be trusted enough to share his true worries with.
When Jianbin arrives at the hall, he ends up sitting on the Emperor's lap, clad in nothing but the same dudou he had worn before. He had taken up embroidery in his time in the palace, and unbeknownst to Little Ming, this dudou was now to be his battle armour. With the mountains embroidered on the cloth, it represented his home. Home at the foot of the mountains, home that only he can protect. The Emperor looks at Jianbin, pleased when he discovers that Jianbin's nipples are hard beneath the fabric of the dudou, and his cock is already erect, forming a wet patch against the fabric as well.
Tonight, there is wine and drinking. The Emperor lifts his glass to Jianbin's lips, feeds Jianbin his wine, and forcefully kisses Jianbin afterwards. Jianbin parts his lips, catching on quickly that this is how the game is to be played — the Emperor wants to taste the alcohol from his lips. And so it goes on and on, while the Emperor holds court. He drinks from Jianbin's lips, all while toying with his nipples, initially through the material of the dudou, before finally pushing it all inwards to expose his nipples. It makes for quite a sight, Jianbin supposes. The fabric of the dudou all bunched up in the centre of his chest, covering nothing, while the Emperor pinches his nipples again and again, tugging at them, eliciting a litany of moans from Jianbin's lips.
Jianbin notices. He can tell that the ambassador from the Kingdom beyond the mountain range has been staring at him, leering openly, eyes filled with lust. His want is plain for all in the court to see, and Jianbin swallows hard, flinching underneath his gaze. He belongs to the Emperor, and only the Emperor. What good could come of this? The last thing he wants is to be accused of seducing a foreign dignitary, a prince from an enemy country, possibly. He shifts in the Emperor's lap, feeling the Emperor's arousal beneath his thighs.
'A toast!'
Jianbin wills himself not to look. It is the ambassador, no, a prince, the ambassador is a prince. Right? Even though he had not really consumed the alcohol, he has lost count of the number of times the Emperor has made him take all those sips of alcohol, only to chase the taste of it from his mouth. His body is burning up, and he feels giddy.
'We propose something better,' the Emperor says. He stands up, holding Jianbin in his arms, causing Jianbin to squeak.
The Emperor carries Jianbin, setting him down on a table that the servants scramble to bring. He beckons for Jianbin to spread his thighs, to hook his arms beneath his knees and hold himself open. That is when the Emperor pushes something cold and thin into Jianbin's hole.
Jianbin freezes. No way. No way. He should struggle, he should try to escape, but there is no way he can do so. All he can do is to lie there and take it, as the Emperor pours wine into him and fills him up with it. The alcohol shoots into his system, and Jianbin feels himself losing his grip. No more. He cannot take any more. It is far too much.
'A toast,' the Emperor says. He grins, leaning in, fingers digging into the flesh of Jianbin's buttocks. Then he presses his tongue to Jianbin's hole, pushing in. 'Let go,' he commands.
Jianbin does. Even in such a state, he is all too aware of what is happening, and his body burns in shame. The Emperor has just used both his holes as a wine glass, in front of the rest of the court, in front of foreign dignitaries.
Then the Emperor pulls away, pushing Jianbin's buttocks further up in the air. No, Jianbin wants to protest. He is far from done! There is still wine left inside him!
'Your turn,' the Emperor says.
Jianbin chokes back a cry as the ambassador takes the Emperor's place, greedily lapping at Jianbin's hole. He pushes his tongue in, almost as if he is taking the opportunity to fuck Jianbin with his tongue, beard and moustache scratching against Jianbin's smooth skin as he does so.
'Let go,' the Emperor commands again.
Jianbin does. He pushes out as much of the wine as he can, and the tears well up when he does so. He does not want this. He does not want anyone else but the Emperor's touch, but his body, his treacherous body, does not listen to him. His cock continues to leak over his stomach, all over his dudou, and all Jianbin wants is to die of embarrassment right here and now.
By the time the ambassador pulls away, Jianbin is sobbing. He looks up at the Emperor, not daring to say a word. He has been soiled, now that another man has had a taste of him. Would the Emperor still want him? Would he still have any value?
'That was divine,' the ambassador says, smacking his lips. 'Your Kingdom truly is the epitome of hospitality.'
The Emperor smiles, baring his teeth. Sharp, and gleaming. 'You will afford us the same hospitality when we visit, will you not?'
'Of course,' the ambassador answers, giddy. His cheeks are flushed and he laughs, stumbling back to his seat.
'Then let us celebrate this joyous occasion. Let the feast begin!' the Emperor calls out.
The feast. Celebration. Jianbin's eyes are fluttering close when his legs are spread and he feels something press against his hole, pushing in. He struggles to open his eyes, and he moans, low and drawn out when he realises that it is none other than the Emperor, thrusting into him.
'Ours,' the Emperor says, wrapping a hand around Jianbin's cock, and Jianbin whimpers.
'I'm all yours, Your Majesty,' Jianbin slurs. Jolt after jolt of pleasure shoots through him as the Emperor fucks him, all while stroking his cock. This must be how it feels like, Jianbin thinks, to be fucked so hard that you are delirious with arousal and pleasure and need. He clenches down hard on the Emperor, and the Emperor growls in the delight.
When Jianbin comes, he comes so hard that he blacks out. All throughout the Emperor continues to fuck him, not letting up until he achieves his own orgasm. When Jianbin finally comes to, the Emperor is pushing his cock into Jianbin's mouth, demanding that he clean him up.
'You did well,' the Emperor murmurs, ruffling Jianbin's hair.
Jianbin makes a sound of acknowledgement around the Emperor's cock, sucking, coaxing every last drop out. Did he do well? What did he do well? His head is spinning and it hurts, but oh, the Emperor's cock is hardening again inside his mouth, and he wonders.