I let the silence settle again, thick and wet.
Three bodies sprawled across my bed, thighs shining, chests heaving, the chain between their collars glinting every time one of them twitched.
The air smelled like sex and surrender, heavy enough to taste.
Huo Qing was still leaking me onto the sheets, lazy grin on her face, Mark glowing steady at Level 7.
Meixiang curled on her side, silver hair stuck to her cheek, soft hiccuping breaths, Level 6 pulsing gently between her legs like a second heartbeat.
Meiyue lay on her back, arms limp at her sides, staring at the canopy with ice-blue eyes that refused to cry. Her Mark still sat at Level 1, stubborn little ember.
I stood, stretched, felt the pleasant ache in my thighs.
Past-me really did build this body for overtime.
I walked to the foot of the bed, crouched, and ran one slow finger up the inside of Meiyue's calf.
She jerked like I'd burned her, but didn't pull away.
"Still holding out, princess?" I asked, voice soft.
Her jaw clenched. No answer.
I traced higher, over the trembling muscle of her thigh, stopping just short of where she was swollen and dripping.
Her breath hitched. The Mark flickered, hungry.
I looked at the other two.
"Huo Qing. Meixiang. Up."
They moved instantly (bodies already trained).
Huo Qing crawled to Meiyue's left side, Meixiang to her right. Both still chained, both flushed and shining.
I gave them one simple instruction.
"Hold her open."
Four hands obeyed. Meiyue tried to twist away. The chain snapped taut.
Huo Qing pinned her left wrist above her head, Meixiang the right. Both leaned in, pressing soft breasts against Meiyue's arms, lips brushing her ears.
I knelt between Meiyue's spread thighs.
She was beautiful like this (pale skin flushed pink, silver hair fanned across the pillow, pussy glistening, clit swollen and begging).
I leaned down and blew a slow breath across her. She shuddered hard enough the bed creaked.
Then I tasted her.
One long, slow lick from entrance to clit.
Her hips bucked. A strangled sound escaped her throat.
I did it again. And again.
Slow. Deliberate. Never quite enough pressure.
The Mark on her chest glowed brighter, but refused to climb.
I slid two fingers inside her, curled, found the spot that made her spine arch.
She bit her lip until it bled. Huo Qing whispered something filthy in her ear (too low for me to catch).
Meixiang kissed the corner of Meiyue's mouth, soft and pleading.
I added my tongue to my fingers, set a rhythm that had her thighs shaking in minutes.
She came the first time with a sharp, furious cry, hips grinding against my face, juices flooding my tongue.
The Mark flared (but stayed at Level 1). I didn't stop. Second orgasm hit harder.
Third turned her into a sobbing, writhing mess, head thrashing side to side.
Still Level 1.
I pulled back, lips shining, and looked up at her.
"Say it," I said quietly. She shook her head, tears finally spilling.
I entered her in one smooth thrust.
She screamed (raw, broken, beautiful).
I took her slow, deep, letting her feel every inch.
Every stroke dragged another moan out of her. Every drag back made her chase me with her hips.
The Mark pulsed, hungry, waiting.
I leaned down until our foreheads touched.
"Say my name, princess. Like you mean it."
Her lips trembled. I shifted angle, hit the spot that made her eyes roll.
She broke.
"Valerian–"
The word came out cracked, reverent, ruined.
The Mark exploded across her skin in a wave of gold.
Level 1 → Level 8 in a single heartbeat.
She came so hard her whole body locked, pussy clamping down like a vice, a flood of wet heat soaking us both.
I kept moving through it, drawing it out until she was sobbing my name like a prayer.
When I finally spilled inside her, the Mark settled at Level 9, glowing steady and bright.
She went completely limp beneath me, trembling, tears streaming, lips still shaping my name on silent repeat.
Huo Qing laughed, low and filthy.
Meixiang kissed Meiyue's temple, whispering soft praise.
I pulled out slow, watched my release drip from her swollen, fluttering entrance.
Three bodies. Three golden collars. Three women who had just discovered their own personal breaking points.
I leaned back against the headboard, chest rising slow, and listened to the sound of an empire losing its future empress one moan at a time.
Night three of four.
To be continued…