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"I thought I told you not to touch yourself while I was gone."
Shen Jiu is radiant in her fury, as she always has been. The elaborate hairstyle that Yue Qi had done up for her this morning is perfectly pristine, not a smudge on her delicately painted flower huadian, only a tinge of red around the corners of her deep brown eyes to indicate that her perfect composure has been marred.
It would be useless to protest, to tell the truth: that she hadn't, she didn't, she always, always obeys Shen Jiu's orders completely. Instead, Yue Qi keeps her eyes down, the wet fabric of her flimsy summer trousers in her peripheral vision. It is only growing wetter, clinging to her thighs. She cannot help how restless she's felt all day, knowing that Shen Jiu could return at any time and use her Qi-jie for her pleasure; just the thought of it now has more wetness dribbling out of her.
"What if someone had seen you like this?" Shen Jiu snaps. Through her thin dudou, Yue Qi can feel the cold metal of filigreed nail guards as Shen Jiu's fingertips flick at the hardened nubs of her nipples. She can't hold back the shudder that ripples through her.
(She won't talk back, won't say that of course no one would see her like this, not with the windows all covered and the implicit understanding that Yue Qi does not leave this house. But oh, the idea that someone could, that she could share with the world the euphoria of being kept by her Xiao Jiu, only makes the fire in her core burn hotter.)
"I am wearing what you've allowed me to wear," she says demurely instead, avoiding the question. As she expects, Shen Jiu's eyes darken at the reminder.
"If you cannot obey even one simple rule, how am I to know you have obeyed the others?" Cold metal leaves pinprick indentations in Yue Qi's skin as Shen Jiu's elegant hand takes her jaw in a firm, unyielding grasp. Yue Qi swallows hard, feeling her pulse beat under Shen Jiu's little finger.
Everything she has given up to stay in this little house in the countryside, everything she's run away from, is worth it for this feeling. Xiao Jiu, touching her, even if it's with disdain, the full force of Xiao Jiu's attention pinning her like a butterfly, Xiao Jiu caring enough to keep her here.
Shen Jiu's perfectly rouged lips curl up in a snarl as she wrenches Yue Qi's mouth open and spits, once. Yue Qi just barely resists letting her tongue loll out of her mouth in a silent plea for more; she contents herself with the luxury of swallowing all she has been given, slowly, savoring.
"Kneel and service me."
Yue Qi does not even have to think. Her knees drop to the floor with such force that it's almost painful. She lifts the skirts of Shen Jiu's robes, lets them pool over her head as she tugs thin cotton trousers down over bony hips and finally finally tastes the mouthwatering sweetness she has craved all day.
"Pitiful," Shen Jiu murmurs, metal-tipped nails carding through Yue Qi's loose hair, the soft scratching of gems against silk filling her ears. Her slippered foot presses down between Yue Qi's thighs, and Yue Qi is gone, gone, only a vessel for Xiao Jiu's pleasure, only her plaything, and so deeply in love.