Chapter 79: Zhong Ming (Part 1)
Ming Yao couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she had become completely subservient to Zhong Shiwu.
She ate her meals obediently, her head bowed, her teeth tearing into the perfectly cut steak on the plate.
Zhong Shiwu sat beside her, her legs crossed, her posture relaxed, the sharp point of her high heel a glint of light in Ming Yao’s peripheral vision.
As she swallowed the first bite, Zhong Shiwu leaned closer, her hand gently stroking Ming Yao’s hair. “Good girl,” she murmured, her voice a soft purr.
A warmth spread through Ming Yao’s lower abdomen, a pleasant tingling sensation that filled her chest, her heart pounding with a strange mixture of fear and excitement.
The praise, the attention, made her feel seen, her obedience a source of both shame and a strange, unwelcome pleasure.
A soft whimper escaped her lips, and Zhong Shiwu looked at her, her expression feigning concern. “Is it not good?”
“No…it’s delicious…” Ming Yao said quickly, her voice barely a whisper.
“Good,” Zhong Shiwu said, picking up a fork and offering her another bite.
This one tasted even better than the last.
Eating was no longer a solitary act. She was being fed, being cared for, her every action dictated, her every response controlled.
This feeling of being cherished, of being needed, was both new and intoxicating.
She was addicted, she realized.
But Zhong Shiwu didn’t offer her another bite, and she felt a pang of disappointment, her head bowing slightly, like a neglected puppy’s drooping ears.
Zhong Shiwu held a glass of milk to her lips, and Ming Yao instinctively licked the rim, her tongue tracing the smooth glass.
Seeing Zhong Shiwu’s smile, her eyes lit up, her spirits lifting.
She was like a trained animal, her every action a response to Zhong Shiwu’s cues, her rewards and punishments a carefully calibrated system of control.
Zhong Shiwu, her expression carefully neutral, sat down on the sofa, and Ming Yao, unable to resist, crawled towards her, then stopped, seeing Zhong Shiwu’s warning glance, her body tensing.
She sat down beside Zhong Shiwu, her legs curled up, her arms wrapped around them, her body small and vulnerable.
She listened to Zhong Shiwu’s phone conversation, her voice cool and detached, so different from the gentle tones she used with Ming Yao, her words a stark reminder of the distance between them, the power imbalance.
Those people, those strangers on the other end of the line, weren’t as important as Ming Yao, who secretly craved Zhong Shiwu’s undivided attention, her every thought, her every action, a performance for an audience of one.
Whether it was praise, a gentle touch, or even anger, Zhong Shiwu’s hand on her neck, her body pinned against the sofa, the bed, the pressure increasing, the feeling of suffocation a strange, unwelcome thrill, she wanted it all, her obedience a form of validation, her pain a twisted pleasure.
She sat quietly, leaning against the sofa, her eyelids growing heavy, her hand resting on the cool fabric of Zhong Shiwu’s pants.
When Zhong Shiwu stood up, she startled awake, her body stumbling slightly before Zhong Shiwu caught her.
She looked up at Zhong Shiwu, her gaze innocent, her head resting against Zhong Shiwu’s hand, seeking comfort, reassurance.
“Go to bed early, okay?” Zhong Shiwu said, her hand smoothing Ming Yao’s hair, then she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing on the stairs.
“Mom…” Ming Yao called out, then, remembering Zhong Shiwu’s dislike of the word, her voice faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor, her cheeks flushed with shame.
But Zhong Shiwu ignored her, her footsteps fading, the closing door a final rejection.
Ming Yao sat back down, staring at the empty space where the dinner plates had been, their surfaces gleaming in the light of the chandelier.
She stood up, her legs stiff, and slowly climbed the stairs, her hand hovering over Zhong Shiwu’s doorknob, her heart pounding with a mixture of longing and fear.
She wanted to knock, to ask permission, but she knew she wasn’t allowed to enter without being invited, her obedience a conditioned response, her body remembering the rules, the boundaries.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in her own room, her nights spent either in Zhong Shiwu’s bed or on the living room floor, her deliberate acts of defiance a way to test Zhong Shiwu’s limits, her patience, her love.
And she had always been rewarded, a warm blanket a silent apology, a sign of forgiveness.
She heard the doorknob turn and stepped back, watching as Zhong Shiwu emerged, her white coat replaced by a dark green slip dress, her bare shoulders and arms a stark contrast to the formal attire she usually wore, her vulnerability a disarming, almost intoxicating sight.
She rarely wore jewelry at night, her beauty unadorned, her power undiminished, her presence a magnetic force.
Ming Yao felt a surge of gratitude, a sense of privilege, for being allowed to see this side of Zhong Shiwu, this rare glimpse of her true self.
Her gaze lingered on Zhong Shiwu’s collarbone, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her heart beating steadily beneath the thin fabric, then lower, to her long, slender legs, her feet bare, the sight of them a jarring reminder of their earlier encounter, the sharp pain, the humiliation.
She shook her head, pushing the memory away, her mind now focused on the soft curves of Zhong Shiwu’s body beneath the silk, her imagination filling in the details, the forbidden images a source of both shame and a strange, unwelcome excitement.
“Can I…sleep in your room tonight?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her gaze fixed on Zhong Shiwu’s lips, hoping for a yes, for a promise of warmth, of comfort, of the touch she craved.
“Were you a good girl tonight?” Zhong Shiwu asked, her fingers tilting Ming Yao’s chin up, her gaze intense, demanding.
Ming Yao’s lips trembled, but she couldn’t speak.
“Tell me,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice soft, but her gaze unwavering. “I want to hear you say it.”
Ming Yao couldn’t assess her own behavior, her obedience now an automatic response, her rewards and punishments a blur of sensations, of pleasure and pain, her desire for Zhong Shiwu’s approval a constant ache.
But she had always enjoyed it, the attention, the control, the feeling of being both cherished and possessed.
Under Zhong Shiwu’s intense gaze, she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, only nodding slightly, her silent acquiescence a surrender, a plea.
“Then come in,” Zhong Shiwu said, her hand sliding from Ming Yao’s chin to her arm, her wrist, her touch a gentle pull, an invitation, a command.
Ming Yao followed her into the room, undressing quickly and climbing into bed, lying on the far side, her back against the wall.
She loved the darkness, the anonymity it offered, the freedom to be close to Zhong Shiwu, their bodies touching, their breaths mingling, the intimacy a secret shared only between them.
Zhong Shiwu held her close, her hand gently stroking Ming Yao’s back, her touch a comforting reassurance.
Ming Yao closed her eyes, the warmth of Zhong Shiwu’s body a welcome contrast to the coldness of the room, her breath against Ming Yao’s cheek sending shivers down her spine.
She instinctively reached up to scratch her face, and Zhong Shiwu’s hand stilled, a soft sigh escaping her lips, a sign of displeasure.
Ming Yao froze, her hand hovering over her face, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell.
Zhong Shiwu took her hand and pulled it away, placing it on her own chest, the movement making Ming Yao’s breath catch in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She didn’t understand Zhong Shiwu’s intentions.
“Be good. Don’t move,” Zhong Shiwu whispered, her voice soft, but her words a warning.
Ming Yao’s hand felt the steady beat of Zhong Shiwu’s heart, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breasts, and she couldn’t distinguish between reward and punishment anymore, the sensation both exhilarating and terrifying, her body trembling with a mixture of desire and fear.
She felt like a trapped animal, her hand a prisoner against Zhong Shiwu’s chest, her own heart a frantic bird, its wings beating against its cage.
Zhong Shiwu had never refused her touch, her intimacy, their bodies a shared canvas, their desires a tangled mess of pleasure and pain.
But Zhong Shiwu was always in control, her movements deliberate, her gaze unwavering, her own emotions hidden beneath a mask of cool indifference.
Ming Yao didn’t try to understand her, knowing it was futile.
She simply accepted Zhong Shiwu’s affection, her touch, her presence, building her own world around it, her love a fragile construct, her hope a flickering flame.
She wanted Zhong Shiwu to be hers, and hers alone, her every thought, her every action, a silent declaration of ownership.
Mom, Mommy, Mama… She repeated the words in her mind, a silent litany of forbidden desires, her secret language of love and longing.
If Zhong Shiwu wouldn’t give her what she wanted, she would find a way to take it, her own needs, her own desires, a force to be reckoned with.
“Can I have a different reward tonight?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her gaze searching Zhong Shiwu’s face in the darkness, unsure if her unspoken plea had been heard, her desire understood.
“What do you want?” Zhong Shiwu asked, her hand pressing against Ming Yao’s, her voice a soft purr. “Be a good girl and try it yourself.”
Zhong Shiwu’s mood was unusually playful tonight.
Ming Yao could sense it, her intuition honed by months of careful observation, her every action, every word, a response to Zhong Shiwu’s subtle cues, her moods.
She had been given permission, a license to explore, to experiment, her boldness both exhilarating and terrifying.
She moved closer, her breath warm against Zhong Shiwu’s skin, her lips trembling as she leaned in, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on Zhong Shiwu’s, the soft gasp that escaped Zhong Shiwu’s lips a sign of encouragement, an unspoken invitation.
Her own heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm against the steady beat of Zhong Shiwu’s, her own vulnerability a stark contrast to Zhong Shiwu’s calm, her control.
She gently kissed Zhong Shiwu’s lips, her touch hesitant, almost reverent, as if afraid of breaking the spell, of losing this precious moment of intimacy, this fleeting taste of freedom.
She wanted to please Zhong Shiwu, but she was also afraid of angering her, her past transgressions, her punishments, a constant reminder of the precariousness of their relationship, the power imbalance.
The kiss ended almost as soon as it began, and she saw the warmth in Zhong Shiwu’s eyes, the soft glow in the darkness, and she kissed her again, her tongue tracing Zhong Shiwu’s lower lip, a bolder, more insistent touch.
A hand on her back, the touch no longer a warning, but a caress, an encouragement, a silent permission.
Was Zhong Shiwu giving her what she wanted?
In the darkness, she felt Zhong Shiwu’s steady breathing, her own breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with a mixture of desire and fear.
She kissed Zhong Shiwu again, her own kiss deepening, her tongue exploring, her hand moving to Zhong Shiwu’s shoulder, her touch more confident, her own inhibitions fading.
She felt a surge of self-loathing, her own timidity a frustrating contrast to Zhong Shiwu’s boldness, her hesitant touch a mere shadow of the pleasure she craved.
But she didn’t dare push it, her fear of rejection, of punishment, a powerful force, holding her back, her body yearning for Zhong Shiwu’s touch, her control.
A hand on her neck, the pressure not painful, but firm, a silent command, and she tilted her head back, her mouth opening, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her body arching into Zhong Shiwu’s touch.
Her other hand moved to Zhong Shiwu’s shoulder, her fingers digging into the soft flesh, her heart pounding, her mind racing, her control slipping away.
A soft moan escaped her lips, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress the sound, the rising tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her.
Zhong Shiwu chuckled, Lin Qianqian’s predictable responses, her eagerness to please, a source of amusement, her vulnerability an invitation, her desire easily manipulated.
She was so easy to control, her every reaction, her every movement, a reflection of Zhong Shiwu’s own desires, her will.
“My heart…it’s beating so fast…” Ming Yao whispered, her words a question, a plea, her awareness of her own body, her own physical responses, a desperate attempt to anchor herself to the present, to the reality of this shared intimacy, the moment both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Mine too?” Zhong Shiwu asked, her gaze falling on Ming Yao’s hand, still resting on her chest, her voice a soft purr, her question a subtle tease.
Ming Yao shook her head. “Do you…did you like it? When I kissed you like that?”
Zhong Shiwu sighed, a sound that made Ming Yao’s heart pound with anticipation, her fear of rejection a familiar ache.
“I can…I can do better,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Next time…”
“Next time?” Zhong Shiwu repeated, her voice soft, almost mocking, throwing her words back at her, her eagerness, her vulnerability, now a weapon in Zhong Shiwu’s hands.
Ming Yao’s attempts at seduction seemed so clumsy, so childish, but she couldn’t think of anything else, her mind a blank canvas, her words a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts and unspoken desires.
“Every time,” she said, her voice firm, her gaze meeting Zhong Shiwu’s in the darkness, her words a promise, a plea, her need for Zhong Shiwu’s approval a constant, unwavering force.
She wanted Zhong Shiwu to know, to understand, her every touch, her every kiss, a silent declaration of her love, her devotion.
“I like kissing you…like that…or…”
Or something more.
She stopped herself, the words too bold, too dangerous.
Zhong Shiwu leaned closer, her voice a low murmur against Ming Yao’s ear. “Good girl. Let me guess what you’re thinking.”
Ming Yao waited, her breath held, her heart pounding with anticipation.
A hand on her neck, the pressure increasing, her head tilting back, her lips parting, and then Zhong Shiwu’s lips were on hers again, the kiss deeper this time, more demanding, her tongue tracing the outline of Ming Yao’s lips, a silent invitation, a command.
Ming Yao opened her mouth, her tongue meeting Zhong Shiwu’s, her eyes closing, her body surrendering to the pleasure, the warmth, the intoxicating feeling of being cherished, of being wanted.
The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling, the gentle suction a sharp, almost painful sensation, her mind a blur of white sparks, the darkness momentarily illuminated by the fireworks of her own desire.
The kiss seemed to last forever, a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, a shared intimacy that made her heart ache with a longing she couldn’t name, a feeling she had never experienced before, a connection she couldn’t deny.
Zhong Shiwu held her close, her arms a comforting weight, her voice a soft murmur against Ming Yao’s ear. “Was I right?”
The warmth of her embrace, usually a source of comfort, now only intensified her desire, her heart pounding, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with a need she couldn’t articulate, her pleasure a dangerous, addictive drug.
Zhong Shiwu’s fingers tangled in her hair, the gentle touch a soothing balm, a silent reassurance.
She always found solace in Zhong Shiwu’s touch, her presence, her every action a validation of her own existence, her own desires.
“Next time, you can kiss me like this,” Zhong Shiwu whispered, her hand moving to Ming Yao’s back, her touch a promise, a subtle instruction. “I can teach you.”
Ming Yao’s fingers dug into Zhong Shiwu’s skin, the sharp sting of her nails a reminder of her own excitement, her own growing need for control, for possession.
Zhong Shiwu’s offer, her willingness to teach, to guide, was a subtle form of manipulation, a way to maintain her power, her control.
And Ming Yao, her desire intensifying, a current running through her body, wanted to be controlled, to be possessed, to belong to Zhong Shiwu, completely and utterly.
Her nails dug deeper, her hand instinctively moving to Zhong Shiwu’s waist, her touch more insistent, her own desire a silent challenge.
She looked at Zhong Shiwu, whose eyes were filled with a knowing amusement.
Zhong Shiwu kissed her softly. “Good girl,” she murmured. “You learn so quickly.”
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