In a luxurious room, where even a single piece of furniture looked expensive enough to support a family, sat Fang Yuan.
He was on the wide bed, and before him unfolded what was supposed to be his first experience with pleasure or rather a felatio.
His mind, however, wasn't filled with romantic thoughts only the overwhelming sensation of his lower half.
Every motion of her tongue coursed through his veins, each stroke making his body shiver with an unfamiliar thrill.
After four, perhaps six more deliberate strokes, she shifted her attention upward, brushing against the tip. She gave it the faintest kiss before parting her lips, taking just the tip into her mouth.
Warmth and wetness enveloped him. The foreskin slid back naturally as her tongue twirled around the sensitive head, followed by a gentle suction that made Fang Yuan's body tremble uncontrollably.
Slowly, carefully, she began to take more of him inside, her cheeks hollowing inward as she created pressure while her tongue rubbed along the shaft.
For Fang Yuan, who had never once tasted such an experience in his life, it was unbearable.
His restraint broke apart, and he released himself fully into the mouth of the beautiful woman. Yet she did not pull away, did not flinch she continued her motions with calm persistence, as though accustomed to such acts.
When at last he had finished, Fang Yuan's dazed eyes studied her. She gazed back at him, and without a word, opened her mouth. Lifting her hand beneath, the liquid spilled freely, overflowing until she needed both hands to contain it.
With a quiet grace, she stood, walking toward a nearby vase, and poured it in as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Fang Yuan, stunned, could only sit frozen on the bed. His mind struggled to catch up with what had just transpired, still trying to make sense of her actions. She, meanwhile, adjusted her garments with unhurried poise, slipping into the simplicity of a basic set of underclothes.
Then
Knock, knock.
"Your Highness," came a voice from beyond the door.
Fang Yuan's head snapped in the direction of the sound, his heart tightening in his chest. Before he could react further, the woman moved swiftly. She approached him, took his hand firmly, and pointed beneath the bed.
There was no time to think. Fang Yuan obeyed, slipping down and crawling underneath the heavy frame, the dim shadows swallowing him whole.
She walked toward the door, her movements composed, and spoke in a soft yet commanding tone.
"Is it only you, Mathilda?"
From the other side came a gentle reply. "Yes, Your Highness."
Beneath the bed, Fang Yuan shifted slightly, peering through a narrow gap. He could see the crimson-haired lady pause with a faint sigh before giving her answer.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, and in stepped a maid dressed in the neat attire of service. She pushed a small cart laden with food into the room, the faint clatter of its wheels echoing against the polished floor.
Once inside, she closed the door quietly behind her, then offered a bow.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
The maid was quite pretty in her own right, but Fang Yuan could tell at once she did not compare to the crimson-haired beauty before him whose aura was different, higher, and commanding.
The lady's voice carried again, calm but edged with authority.
"Is there enough space in there?"
"Yes, Your Highness," the maid replied without hesitation.
The crimson-haired woman's gaze turned back to the bed. "Come out."
Fang Yuan obeyed immediately. Slowly, he crept out from beneath the frame, his bare skin exposed. Standing there, vulnerable, he felt the maid's eyes rest on him her expression unreadable, a trace of surprise quickly masked by professional composure.
"Dress up," the crimson-haired lady instructed, pointing toward the cart. "Then go inside."
Fang Yuan wanted to ask, to demand an explanation, but the weight of her tone pressed down on him. Instead, he turned, scanning the room desperately.
His own clothes were nowhere to be found. Panic gnawed at him, yet he had no choice. He grabbed whatever garments looked suitable clearly not his, but still men's clothing and began to dress hurriedly.
As he pulled the trousers on, his eyes caught the mirror standing nearby.
And then he froze.
The reflection staring back at him was not his own. A stranger's face gazed at him from the glass features foreign yet vivid, eyes unfamiliar yet locked with his.
Fang Yuan's breath stilled, shock coursing through him, but strangely, a calmness settled in just as quickly, dulling the fear.
Without a word, he turned away from the mirror, finished dressing, and walked toward the cart. Pulling the white cloth back slightly, he slipped inside, the fabric falling over him and plunging him into darkness.
"Mathilda," the crimson-haired lady said.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The maid opened the door again. The cart shifted as she pushed it forward, wheels squeaking softly on the stone floor. The door shut behind them with a muted thud, sealing the room away.
Hidden beneath the cloth, Fang Yuan could see nothing. He felt only the jolts and sways of the cart as it moved, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, turning left and right through unseen corridors.
Time dragged, each second stretching thin until it felt like an hour had passed within that suffocating silence.
The cart finally rattled to a stop. From outside, Mathilda's calm voice broke the silence.
"You can come out now."
Fang Yuan lifted the cloth and stepped out, blinking as his eyes adjusted. He found himself in a dimly lit storage room.
The air was cool and smelled faintly of wood and dust. Barrels lined the walls in neat rows, their shapes looming like silent sentinels.
He gave the space a quick scan, his gaze then settling on Mathilda. She stood composed as ever, her eyes carrying no warmth, only the same distant indifference.
Her voice, steady and smooth, slipped into the air.
"Do not think this will become a regular occurrence. You should be honored the queen herself offered her body to you.
And do not dare speak of it. No one will believe you, and should you attempt to sing about it, your head will be five meters away from your shoulders."
The words did not sound like a threat. Her tone was calm, almost lyrical, like a poem being recited without feeling.
Fang Yuan swallowed hard, his throat dry. The weight of her words pressed heavily on him.
Mathilda gestured with a tilt of her chin toward a narrow opening near the floor, half concealed in shadow.
"You can leave from there. It will take you outside, near the stables."
There was no room for questions. Fang Yuan knew silence was the only acceptable answer. He gave the maid one last glance, then crouched down.
Without hesitation, he lowered himself and began to crawl through the narrow hole, the rough surface brushing against his hands as darkness swallowed him again.