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“The morning court is now closed.” 

Emperor Rongjia stood up, and soon enough, all of us magistrates rose from our seats as well. It had been a long and tedious hearing, too often interrupted by unfruitful comments and quibbling about unimportant details; the Emperor himself, for how zealous he could be, seemed exhausted. There was no point for me to linger or stay to chatter by the court doors, as I had since long decided that magistrates and court people generally weren’t to my liking—to the point that I was actually unfamiliar with half of the men present there—and so, I left immediately.

Long ago, during Helian Pei’s time, I had been made fun of when I had been replaced by Magistrate Lan, one of Helian Zhao’s friends—good riddance, they said: the young and eccentric Magistrate Zhu was too disruptive for their liking. I was the one to laugh when Magistrate Lan, along with two others, got dismissed and replaced by an actual parrot.

Now, I, Zhu Ai, was back in function, and almost none of my previous peers remained; Emperor Rongjia knew better than to keep those cunning buffoons. Still, it didn’t change the fact that, rather than spending my time with men whose only concerns were their image and fame, I was better off either alone in my office or with some lovely courtesans…

…or, there was also another option, precisely someone I was looking for after the prolonged morning court hearing. Somewhere, in the palace, there was one man whose company I deeply enjoyed—cherished, even, for how rare it was that I actually managed to see him. I wandered about, looking for him to no avail. I was starting to suspect that he would not be found unless he agreed to.

And so, instead, I made my way to the imperial gardens and sat by my favourite spot to play weiqi and practiced some moves, hoping that he would come and find me. The weather was quite pleasant, so I didn’t mind waiting for a while. About a whole shichen after I had sat down, I heard familiar footsteps and was amicably greeted:

“Magistrate Zhu. It’s good to see you.”

I raised my head and, as I saw him, felt the tension in my shoulders reduced, the mess of my thoughts untangled, and the weight on my heart lightened.

“Lord Zhou.” I said with a smile.

He sat down in front of me and looked at the weiqi board. He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“Do you want me to explain?” I offered.

“I remember seeing this formation back in records, but I haven’t studied it in detail.” He looked up at me. “I’m gladly listening, Magistrate,” he concluded, and I proceeded to explain.

Lord Zhou was an interesting man. I only noticed him about a year ago, almost a year after I got reinstated at the court. According to the registries—which, of course, I had to check—he had been working at the palace all along, yet I had never been aware of his presence before. The first time I properly saw Lord Zhou was when I had business to do with a certain general, whom I found within the palace in the middle of a discussion with him.

I still vividly remember the spark I felt once our eyes finally met—not because he necessarily ignited anything within me yet, but rather because of how this man, who may as well have been invisible before that, suddenly felt to me like he could look through the depths of my soul, suddenly felt like he knew exactly who I was, and yet I had no idea of who he was. From that moment on, after the few minutes it took for me to register this man’s presence, I only grew more and more fascinated—infatuated, even, with Lord Zhou—Zhou Zishu.

He was one of these lesser manor lords, who had apparently been brave enough during the war to be afforded a comfortable position in the palace, managing imperial guard watches. One time, I also spotted him training his men (he was shirtless, which, for two very obvious reasons, I will never forget). When I bothered asking around about him, I mostly earned shrugs; some people vaguely knew him from sight, others were more or less aware that he worked there. Save for his impressive physique and stature, Lord Zhou was for the most part plain and unremarkable—but so were many men in the palace. Most men in the palace, really.

So why had I been so unaware of his existance? Why did it take one year for me to even realise that he was there? It seemed to me like he was the last person I noticed in the palace; while it had taken roughly two weeks to register most faces around when I first came back. Whether I decided to pay them any mind was up to me, naturally—but Lord Zhou? Somehow, it was as if he’d deliberately stolen that decision from me.

One day, I invited him to play weiqi with me. Perhaps it had been a question of pride—I had disliked that such an unimportant man had managed to best my perception (and yes, I do not exactly hold military men in the highest esteem), and because of that, I wanted to see him play in my field, see what he was made of.

Unsurprisingly, given the outcome of this relationship, he impressed me again. He wasn’t up to my level, but he was clever and witty, both in the way he played and in the way he spoke. Not outstandingly so, but that was the thing: with Lord Zhou, I was convinced by now that there was always more than met the eye, and his perfectly balanced intelligence, manners, knowledge, could only hide much more. Not that he ever really let me see any of that, but I couldn’t help being certain of it.

Over time, my feelings for him kept growing, and the number of questions I had about him kept increasing. I talked about him to courtesans, thought about him during work. I let my eyes linger on his face whenever I could manage to see him, and I franctically searched for him when I started missing him—which happened at an alarmingly high rate. There was something about Lord Zhou that got my heart fluttering like nothing else had over the past five decades; something that always made me want to see more, to know more.

And so I started fantasising, imagining more: imagining secret meetings, imagining the feelings he would one day end up confessing to me. Imagining the way he would one day allow me to touch him, too—the multiple ways it could happen—or, alternatively, all the ways it never would, where I’d still find ways and occasions to experience a more intimate closeness with him…

“I see,” he said, following my explanations. “That’s fascinating. May I try something? Tell me what you think.” I nodded, and watched him carefully move the stones on the board, replicating the sequence I had just demonstrated. I watched the precise way his hands moved, the angles of his nailbeds, of his knuckles, moving up to his arm, his waist, his broad chest. As per usual, the image of his shirtless body flashed back in my mind, and I had to shoot my gaze up so as not to get lost in the memory. I watched how his tongue quickly darted out to lick his thin lips, and how the sun cast the long, feathery shadow of his thick eyelashes on his cheeks—an elegant, delicate touch on his virile, chiseled face. I felt a bit giddy.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“It was well executed, yes. Now, let’s see how it applies in a proper game, shall we?” I answered.

He smiled and nodded with a touch of enthusiasm—and my old heart skipped another beat.

We started playing. I noticed that his style had improved since I started teaching him a few things. Occasionally, we chatted for a while before returning our attention back to the game. At a certain point, he took a longer time to think, and I couldn’t help watching him again. I was a bit starved: I didn’t get to see him as often as I wished—a few times per month, at best. Whenever I got to have him in front of me, I felt a ravenous need to take in as much as I could.

I looked at his shoulders again, at the wide expanse of his chest—the visible plumpness of his muscles. I longed to one day be able to touch it and feel it under my palm, against my cheek. I hoped to one day have him undress in front of me, allow me to see them again, willingly—let me trace with my fingers the delicate skin of his…

*

*

*

“Please, Lord Zhou. Don’t be shy, I know what I’m doing.”

He hesitated, but after a beat, Lord Zhou nodded, and raised his hand towards his collar to unbutton it. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, but his eyes would occasionally meet mine and I would do my best to give him a reassuring, professional look.

His hands delicately worked the buttons, a beautiful contrast to his wide frame, his strong arms and neck. As they reached lower, they enhanced his elegant waist tightly wrapped in an embroided sash, which he didn’t need to untie—for now.

He parted his robes to reveal his smooth, broad chest. It was difficult to conceal my wandering gaze, as I struggled to keep it strictly professional—how to resist looking at his beautiful, well defined clavicles, at the curves of his well-developed muscles—

“As… as you can probably see, it’s a bit…”

“Swollen, yes, I see.”

I brought my hand to one of his thick nipples. The flesh of it was soft and puffy, the flesh around it a bit swollen as well. The areola was quite large, the colour a warm, healthy brown. As I touched the bud, I felt a barely perceptible tremor. I gently pressed my fingers on each side of it, then underneath— no apparent sign of a swollen gland.

“Is it sore?”

“A little bit, but… not always.”

“Quite sensitive, I take?”

A flush spread on his cheeks— his neutral expression mostly unchanged. “A little sensitive, yes.”

I pinched it, massaged it a little bit. “How does that feel, Lord Zhou?”

There was tension in his face, in his body. He was most probably actively repressing any reaction.

“It’s a bit intense, Magistrate.”

His skin was soft to the touch. I let my fingers linger on the silky expanse of his plush nipple, feeling the little bumps and now hardened nub—I wished I could grab a brush and draw it, precisely map both of his nipples and imprint them in my memory. He shifted in his seat.

“Do you mind if I taste it, Lord Zhou?”

“…Whatever you need to do, Magistrate.”

I bent down, nudged his nipple with my tongue, circled it as I held his breast with my hand. He gasped softly. As to not make it anything else than the health check that this was, I quickly stopped to sit back up—not missing the obviously flustered look on his face.

“I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary; your skin seems to be in a good condition. I fear this may be caused by a potential excess of yang energy.”

“Excess of yang energy, you say?”

“There is a possibility that your meridian structure is off-balance, but this phenomenon is commonly observed in young men displaying an excess of yang energy, which will then be compensated by the body with more yin energy, so as to keep it balanced.”

He seemed surprised.

“The yin energy is what would cause the swelling.” I pressed on his nipple once again to highlight my words. Not that this was really necessary, but how could I resist the temptation? His eyelashes fluttered.

“I will need an additional check to confirm my suspicions, if you’ll allow it, Lord Zhou.”

“…What would that be?”

“I think it would be useful to examine your core of yin energy.”

“My—” His eyes darkened, the flush spread wider to reach his ears. It was out of place for me to find it so lovely, but I am merely a common man, weak as they come to the charms of this man.

“…Alright.” He said, in an attempt to look composed.

I gestured towards the examination table on the other side of the paravent, at the back of the office. “If you don’t mind, I’ll invite you to go get comfortable on the table while I go wash my hands,” I said as I got up. “And you can, of course, close your robes…” I hastily added, hoping it would help him feel a bit less tense.

Without saying much, he motioned towards the table while buttoning his robes back up. After I was done thoroughly scrubbing my hands, I came back to join him and saw him sitting at the edge of the table. “I… I’m not sure of how I should…” He was looking down, scratching his temple. Such a rare display of lack of self-confidence from him was quite endearing, and I had to force myself to stay focused.

“I’m not sure that an in-depth examination would be required yet. It may be easier if you just bend over and lean on the table…” I offered. He turned around, mumbled something I didn’t quite catch before parting his robes so they were out of the way.

“May I?” I asked as I touched the hem of his pants.

“Mmh.” He nodded, resting one elbow on the table while he kept his robes bunched to the side. I untied his pants, pulled them down while fighting the urge to cop a good feel of the sumptuous round buttocks that were revealed to me. Truly an exceptional body he had.

I shifted a bit, used my thumbs to part his cheeks a little to get a brief look at his hole—and gasped inwardly.

I had wondered about Zhou Zishu. About whether he’d be the kind of man to let other men, his very own men, use his luscious body to relieve tension, the kind of man to let his own body be used in favour of other people’s pleasure—or if he was the type to desire from afar, to imagine without acting upon his fantasies.

His hole was a clean, very tiny slit, a few shades darker than his skintone, framed by soft black hair. It looked tight—virginal. I swallowed. Releasing one cheek, I touched it with a finger.

“Lord Zhou, pardon me for asking such an intrusive question but—have you ever inserted anything…?”

“N…No.”

“I see. I will go slowly, then.”

I pressed a lubed finger to his small hole, which I first massaged a little bit before tentatively pushing in. The ring of muscle was strong and resisting. “Please relax, Lord Zhou,” I suggested, petting the small of his back with my other hand.

I pushed further in, small circular motions until I properly breached it and came in contact with the wet, squishy flesh of his insides. Of course, I knew what I was looking for—the yin core, that one special place inside of him— but I as well needed to know the shape of him, the curves, the ridges…

I turned my finger to feel around, to feel the patterns, to really take in the warm feeling of his insides. I pushed incrementally, going deeper, until I knew I was about to touch it.

“Lord Zhou… I’m about to touch your yin core. It may feel a bit strange,” I said in an even tone. 

“Alright.” He muttered, seemingly a bit shaken already. And then I pushed, feeling a hard lump underneath my finger. He jerked, let out a surprised gasp. I pushed a second time, feeling it up, around, taking in its size and shape compared to my own fingertip. He was tensing, visibly struggling to muffle his voice and keep in what were probably embarrassing moans. Men like him had a hard time letting themselves surrender to pleasure, letting their bodies be shaken by sensations they had such little control over. But this man, Zhou Zishu… A part of me couldn’t help but feel like his body was drawing me in, craving this touch.

“Hmm…” I said. “It does seem sensitive enough that it could indeed be overly charged.” I pushed again, feeling him tense and clench around my finger—the feeling was truly delightful.

“W-What should I do, then?” He asked, his voice as even as possible, endearing. I reluctantly pulled my finger out, but couldn’t resist crooking it a little and tugging on the rim. He remained silent despite the tremors that coursed through his body.

“…I think that the best way would be to directly coat it with fluids charged in yang energy,” I calmly said as I was washing my finger.

He didn’t turn around but slightly bent his neck towards me, showing me a neatly sculpted back profile. I perceived a slight flutter in the silhouette of his eyelashes. “Fluids…charged in yang energy, you say.”

“Some natural ointments can work—but I do think that…predictably, human semen would be the most appropriate.”

He remained silent.

“I of course don’t have any at hand at the moment, so I may need a day or two to collect a sizeable load—”

“So—multiple men’s?” His voice was collected and from the angle I saw him in—despite his exposed ass and slightly reddened ears—he barely seemed affected by my words.

“Multiple men, yes. Assessing who has the most potent yang energy would be quite time-consuming, and I assume that we have our best shot if we just go for multiple people at once.”

After a moment, he stood back up and reajusted his pants and robes. He finally turned towards me, letting me see his face—controlled and mostly expressionless. “I take that I must come back soon?”

I nodded. “I’ll give you a notice once I have finished preparing everything.”

I gestured towards the exit of my office, and before stepping out, he slightly bowed his head. “Thank you, magistrate. I’m grateful…for your service.”

***

I called him back to my office a few days later. He was normal, collected—a courteous smile on his face as he saluted me. We chatted a little bit, I asked about his work in the palace, he asked about mine. I then guided him to the examination table, and noticed his breath hitching as he spotted the stirrups framing it.

“I…will ask you to remove your pants and lay on the table, please?”

“What about my robes?”

“We will just part them out of the way.”

As much as I wanted him fully naked, I knew it would be an unnecessary distraction. I checked that all the necessary tools and items were within reach as he settled on the table.

“Have you done what I suggested you do beforehand?” I asked as I washed my hands.

“…I have.” He hesitated a little bit. I came closer and wrapped my hand around one of his ankles.

“Good. Now—if you’ll allow me.”

He nodded. I put his left ankle on the stirrup, then the right, so his legs were properly levelled and I could better access his hole—which had come into display.

It was, as I had asked, stretched by a relatively large plug. I swallowed, the sight quite enticing. “Was it any painful, getting ready for this?” I asked, gently grabbing the base of the tool, ready to pull it out.

“Hm. It was alright,” he said.

His cheeks were slightly flushed—quite endearingly so.

I started pulling, but couldn’t help myself. I proceeded quite slowly, so I could observe the way his rim stretched increasingly wider around it, until it reached the widest part and started closing back on the narrower end of the object. His breathing had noticibly deepened. Once the plug was fully out, his wet hole was gaping slightly—a sight I struggled to tear my eyes away from. Soon, this hole would be kept open, would be filled with several different men’s seed… I too had to calm myself down and breathe deeply.

I slipped a finger in and he shuddered. I slightly pulled, tested the softness. “I think this should be enough.”

It was tempting to suggest for more, to tell him that he needed to be stretched a bit more, by my fingers, my hand, maybe some tools, just to be able to see how far I could push it, how far I could go until he’d break and cry out. I was haunted by questions, by a ravenous need to know what Lord Zhou looked like when he was feeling good, how easy it could be to make him come, how much he would enjoy getting fucked.

What if I had offered that, instead? That he bring one of his trusted men with him to take him right here so I could then examine the results, so I could then make sure the foreign fluids charged in yang energy stay in him long enough—

I moved so as to interrupt the stream of thought and fetched the speculum. When he saw me arrive with the object in hands, his eyes widened and he pressed his lips together.

“I will use this to keep you open, Lord Zhou, as I pour the fluids inside of you,” I said evenly, sounding professional as ever. The flush on his cheeks darkened a few shades.

He didn’t dislike the idea.

I poured lubricant on the speculum, then on my fingers, which I brought to his rim to coat with. I then hooked two fingers in, which I spread as I pushed the narrow end of the speculum inside of his hole. “This may feel a bit cold—” I hurriedly said, but he didn’t react.

I pushed deeper and deeper, watched as the metal object was being taken in by his body, watching the glistening flesh wrapped around it, maintained open by the cylindrical shape. Through the various holes, I could see his raw, stretched out insides, and felt a shiver run through my spine. He was seemingly trying to remain as still as possible, but nonetheless couldn’t refrain the occasional slight rolls of his hips. Once it was fully sheathed, I looked up to check his expression. His eyes and eyebrows were scrunched together, his cheeks were red. Lower down, against his belly, his cock lay hard and flushed.

Lord Zhou quite liked this, didn’t he.

I wondered, had he thought about being taken before? About other men touching him, breaching him? Were none of his men up to the task, perhaps? Up to the task of taking care of his outstanding physique, of Lord Zhou who, while he usually remained rather discreet, was actually taller, stronger, and broader than most of his men—the kind of man who had the time to take care of his body and enjoyed doing so—as a martial artist, definitely; as a bit of a narcissist as well, perhaps…?

Was the Lord Zhou I knew like this, though? Trying to make himself admired and desired by other men? Waiting for one to finally make a move and ravish him—if anyone even could manage that?

“I’m going to screw it open now, Lord Zhou.”

His eyes shot open—he tried to keep a neutral expression but there was a slight twitch of his eyebrow. He hesitated, before saying, “Of course.”

As I proceeded, I had to muster the strength to tear my eyes away from his widening entrance just to get a glimpse of his changing expression before I was drawn to his insides again. The opening speculum slowly revealed the darker depths of his passage and the closed membrane further down. I swallowed.

“Alright. I…I think I’m going to have to move you a little bit.”

His dizzy, questioning look expected more from me.

“In order for the fluids to properly rest on your core, we should take advantage of gravity… Thus, it will work better if we turn you around.”

It was a shame, for being able to see his face was an undeniable advantage of the current position. For medical reasons, however, it was wiser to pour the semen on his yin core rather than under it.

And it would give me the opportunity to see him move around while being kept open for me like this—which was, all things considered, a feat.

He pondered. “…I see.”

Before I could gesture to help him, he cautiously pulled his ankles from the stirrups and placed his feet on the table. “Shoud I stay here, or…”

“Yes, you can just—adopt the child’s position, if it is okay by you, of course.”

I could have had him bending over the table— but it was crucial to have his entrance at eye-level so I could properly observe and control what we were about to do.

I watched him shift in one fluid motion, as if the wide object keeping him open wasn’t even an hindrance—watched his long, thick, and muscular limbs move around in precise motion so he was on his knees and elbows in mere seconds. No superfluous movement, not seeming hurried nor clumsy or even embarrassed. Maybe there was, all things considered, an unexpected amount of elegance from a man like him in his current predicament.

I looked inside, and using a finger, grazed on a visible bump to ensure that this was indeed the target. He shuddered—he couldn’t have felt my finger get close, for he was stretched much wider than that; my precise touch was sudden and unexpected. Maybe, one day, some other trouble will require me to explore him more thoroughly, and elicit some more of such delightful reaction.

“I will go fetch the fluid, now.”

I went to get the jar and came back just as soon as I could. He hadn’t budged.

“It’s going to be a bit warm. I kept it heated for it not to harden or lose its yang essence.”

He gave a brief hum of assent.

“Furthermore, as every person’s is different, the heating helps mixing them properly.”

After a beat, as I started opening the jar, he asked: “…How many men?”

I couldn’t help but scrunch my face up a little as I caught a whiff of the substance—it smelled pretty bad, as expected from heated semen. “Thirteen, specifically.”

He looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. He probably wondered how I had managed to gather so much in just a few days. “The privilege of being aknowledged as a doctor, Lord Zhou.”

He showed a slight, doubtful smile, before lowering his head again.

It was quite tempting, to ask him if he yearned for such privilege as well. Whether or not he wished that he, too, could easily get his hand on men’s seed for whatever reason.

I shifted closer. “Alright, Lord Zhou. I’m going to pour it inside, now. It may be a bit hot.” He nodded slightly.

I used a halved metallic cylinder and angled the jar so the semen started flowing down. As soon as his inner walls were reached, I saw him jolt. Meanwhile, I watched as his insides were progressively flooded with the seed of so many men, some from his own, some from people from the palace he probably didn’t even know. It kept flowing in until it reached a closed stop—then it started accumulating, until he was so full I had to stop pouring.

He was trembling, his hands firmly clasping the edges of the table. His ears were red and, I figured, should I slip a hand underneath him, there was a chance I’d find him wet and drooling. I felt my own cock stir a little bit.

“I will close you, now,” I said slowly. I unscrewed the speculum and then carefully pulled it out of him, wary to not let anything spill out. I watched how his rim caught on the smooth metal, watched his walls close back on themselves while greedily keeping the seed in. I sighed as I fully extracted it, his hole now mostly closed—just gaping slightly enough that a trickle of sperm already started leaking.

“There it is. Do you feel the yang energy burning inside of you, Lord Zhou?” I daringly asked. Maybe that was pushing a little bit. Truly, all I wanted was to hear his impression. He grunted a bit, first.

“I… I suppose I do,” he said, faintly. His voice was low and he tried to keep it even, if not assured. How terribly endearing of him. Lord Zhou. Full of come. Would he have wished all these men to directly come in him, I wonder. The vigor of a yang pole directly pressed against his yin core. I shuddered at the thought—once again haunted by the image of a big man pressing down on Lord Zhou and breaching him with his large cock—one of his men, one of the palace guards, was a man like that, unbelievably tall, taller even than Lord Zhou himself, beastly, ideal to ravish him the way he needed to be ravished. Did he want that, crave that as well?

I sighed deeply, reajusted myself.

“Alright. There is only one thing left to do, now. Either on your own or, if you’d rather, with my assistance,” I started, as I discarded the speculum and the mostly empty jar.

“What is it?” he asked, before I could continue.

“We need to make you release yin energy now, so you can absorb the raw yang energy we poured inside of you.” He slightly raised his head, giving me a quizzical side glance.

“That means we have to make you orgasm…using your yin core only. We better preserve and store some more of your own yang energy for now.”

His eyes widened.

“How…how do I do that?” he asked, his voice hitching.

“The easiest way is to stimulate your yin core directly with your fingers. With the right amount of pressure and rhythm, you can release a great amount of yin energy without spilling at all—not spilling your seed.” I struggled to keep my voice even when mentioning his seed. Certainly, it would eventually need to be tested, tasted even. Just in case.

He swallowed loudly, then averted his eyes, probably deep in thoughts.

“…Should you ‘assist’ me, how…would that go?” he asked.

“I would use my fingers to press on your core until I bring you to orgasm,” I said in a reassuring, matter-of-fact tone. “Take it as a very perfunctory gesture,” I added.

He remained silent for a while—I used this time to order things around and perhaps help him relax a little bit. I finally heard him inhale before saying:

“I will let you do it. I am too inexperienced to manage that quickly.”

“Alright.”

I wanted to get him on his back, so I could get to see his expression, but feared it may not be ideal for the angle, nor for him to let go as much as possible.

“Please relax, Lord Zhou. Just let yourself go and focus on the sensations.”

I gently put one hand on his right cheek, which felt firm and full to the touch—had to refrain myself from squeezing too much. I brought my other hand to his wet, leaking hole, first circling his hole to ready him a bit. After a while, I breached him, fluid overflowing around my finger, and quickly aimed for his spot. It felt squishy, gooey, wet, hot, and full.

He squirmed as I started massaging his core. “You will have to get used to it a little, first,” I said, rubbing his skin with my other hand. I alternated between direct and indirect pressure, coaxing him into relaxing a bit more. Every time his body contracted around me, warm fluid gushed out of him, making it seem like his own body lubricated itself for me, the image both obscene and satisfying.

He was occasionally groaning, trembling a lot, and his knuckles whitened from his harsh grip on the table.

Suddenly, I pressed harshly, and he cried out before stifling himself. I relented, and pressed again, roughly pushing my finger on his spot, long enough for his voice to escape him in a guttural moan.

I felt like it was better not to speak—so as to make sure not to pull him out of whatever space he was falling into. I was tempted, however, when it dawned on me that I, Zhu Ai, currently was pleasuring Lord Zhou, using this time to make him feel good, to get as many delightful reactions as I could from him.

It was my time to let him experience the touch of a man, discover the power that his body held—how far could I, should I go? How far was I allowed to indulge in the deep-seated desire I had to hear him scream under my ministrations until he'd desperately beg for more, more girth, more power—

I watched as his wet, dripping hole swallowed my finger, watched how the surrounding hair had clumped with semen, as if he'd been fucked multiple times already and left for me to examine. Would he come to me, later? Now that he knew what it was like to be filled, to be stretched open, would he keep craving more and seek it from his men, only to then come to me to make sure he hadn't gone too far, hadn't permanently damaged his body in his desperate research for pleasure—

A high-pitched whimper reached my ears; I had sped up and increased the pressure as I let my thoughts wander. He was getting franctic, and so was I—I had gone beyond massaging him and was now fucking his hole with my finger—adding a second may be wise, and so I did.

He cried out again as I skillfully oriented my wrist and crooked my fingers to pleasure him, and how I wished, how I craved to see his face now—

“Lord Zhou— I think you should turn around—” I said, struggling to sound composed.

“What— no—” his voice hitched as I pressed harder.

“It will be easier for me—” that was a lie, “and we will get there faster. Don't worry, Lord Zhou, I’m a doctor. This is all purely perfunctory.”

He groaned in surrender. I removed my fingers from him, and he hastily turned to lie on his back, not looking at me—I gasped at the sight. His face was flushed a deep red, his eyes were wet with tears; his cock was red and hard, leaking profusely, and every one of his movements had more semen dribbling out of him. He looked used and craving for release.

He kept his legs up, but his feet were on the table—which was fine, if it meant that I could see his body arch as he finally came. I grabbed one of his legs, and directly shoved two fingers inside of him without lingering. His eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Shamelessly, I abused his hole, fucking him like I would a courtesan, crushing his yin core with every thrust and relishing in his cries, his tremors, his body jerking under my touch. He was close—

“You’re doing well, Lord Zhou, just a bit more—” And I kept pushing, since he was reacting so well, since it seemed that every time I got harsher, his cock only hardened more and his expression only got more satisfying; and then one, two, three more pushes, and his body contracted so tightly around my fingers that I couldn’t even move anymore, semen gushing out of him, his back arching from the table as his face contorted into a soundless shout—until barely audible cries and gasps escaped his mouth.

“There you go,” I said quietly.

I waited for his breathing to slow down and for his body to relax a bit before I removed my fingers—coated in sticky semen, which was also overflowing from his gaping hole. He was twitching a little while he was still trying to regain his composure.

I wiped my fingers with a cloth before I turned back to him. He was still laying on the table with his legs up, and only then slowly got in motion to sit up. His gaze was slightly unfocused, his cheeks still flushed, and his eyes and lips were wet—his forehead glistening with sweat as well. His hard cock was still standing between his legs. I could, perhaps, have gotten closer, grabbed his full thighs to pull him towards the edge of the table and insert myself in him in one go—but I doubted I even had the strength to do something like that.

On top of that, it was unlikely that he wanted me to do it, unless he was specifically into things like that.

It seemed like he was waiting for something—an indication, maybe—for he probably would rather not linger in such a predicament. I wouldn’t have minded enjoying a half-naked, aroused Lord Zhou idly sitting on my examination table while I worked, uncomfortably shifting while waiting for my ministrations as semen kept oozing out of him…but that was not part of the plans.

“I will now put the plug back inside of you, so you can keep the yang-charged seed in a while longer, Lord Zhou,” I said calmly, as I quickly rinsed the plug before coming back to him. His composure was admirably even.

“Please lean back a little,” I added. He obliged, and, with one hand on his thigh, I switfly inserted the plug back inside of him—one last gush of semen dripped on the table. He barely reacted, but I felt his muscles tense almost imperceptibly.

I took a step back. “Now, you can get dressed. My work is done.” He threw a glance at his cock, then at me, then shifted to the side so as to stand up and grab his pants. From his movements alone, it was impossible to tell that he’d just orgasmed, that he’d been fingered, stretched wide open—that he was currently full of seed and plugged with it.

“I mentioned, a few days ago, that this surplus of yin energy you’re suffering from is actually compensating for an overproduction of yang energy…” I said.

“…You did say that,” he answered while adjusting his clothes, casting a quick glance in my direction.

“Having a lot of yang energy within you isn’t bad, but it does result in an imbalance that your body will try working against. I can advise a few ways to manage that.”

He raised his head to properly look at me, once his obvious erection was properly hidden.

“You should pleasure yourself often, so as to evacuate this yang energy frequently. Stimulating your yin core would, as well, help reduce the production of yin energy. Contact with foreign fluids charged in yang energy would also work to re-establish balance within your body,” I said calmly, keeping a straight face.

His eyebrows kept climbing up while I was talking, until he looked properly stunned by my words. Was he finally seeing through the lies?

“…I see,” he finally said.

I nodded after clearing my throat. He continued: “I will see how I can manage that. Thank you, Magistrate Zhu, for your services.” He bowed respectfully, which I mirrored.

“I will now take my leave and go back to my activities. I owe you—so whatever you need, please let me know,” he concluded, before leaving my office.

Meanwhile, I was myself left with a problem that I needed to take care of.

“Unusual to see you think for so long, Magistrate Zhu,” Lord Zhou said, teasing.

I had more or less managed to play seriously despite indulging in my daydreaming simultaneously, but my current raging erection made it extremely difficult to concentrate. I studied the board without looking up, before finally making my move.

I shot a glance at him, and frowned as soon as I saw a smug smile stretch his lips.

“Interesting,” he said, looking at me from under his lashes—also sending a jolt through my cock.

He played his move before leaning back with a satisfied—but still polite— smirk on his face. He had won, for the first time. It didn’t even bother me that much, although not because I had been too distracted to play properly—after all, he’d been the source of my distraction—but because he’d not only won the game, but my heart and my mind as well.

“Congratulations, Lord Zhou. It was well played.”

“I was well-taught,” he said. I smiled. I hoped I could teach him much more in the future.

“Shall we play another one?” he offered.

However strong the need to relieve myself was, I couldn’t refuse the proposition. I wiped the board, handed him his stones, and answered: “It would be my pleasure, Lord Zhou.”

This time, I would try to properly enjoy my time with him, rather than in my own imagination.