Floating World Bitten Peach Ch. 06

The lord sighed heavily as he licked his lips, eyes focused on the graceful and provocative movements of Ping as he strummed his lute and softly sang his song—now appearing to do so directly to the Duke of Shi. "So many soldiers and so much cotton cloth needed for war tunics," the lord said.

"The Deng mills would be honored to serve," Qiao responded in a low, throaty voice. Although conflicted by the thought of Ping being used by another man, Qiao knew such a commission could bring the Dengs back into the highest ranks of favored families of the Kingdom of Wu—and it might also make Ping less restless.

"Yes, such a difficult decision," the lord murmured in a heavy, measured tone.

The Duke of Shi fucked Ping hard and cruelly on the tatami platform, holding Ping crouching on all fours, with his perfectly rounded buttocks orbs lifted, steady with a clutching palm on the little singer's belly, while the lord hunched over his hips and pounded away like he was using a ram to invade the jinan's inner sanctums. And after he'd recovered from his first ejaculation and Ping whimpered softly underneath him, the lord pushed Ping over onto his shoulders, hauled his legs up, and fucked down into him again like he was driving a stake into the ground. The lord had a riding crop in his hand and was using it as he would on his war horse when in full pursuit of the enemy.

Ping's body was assaulted and bruised like he was the enemy the Duke of Shi was practicing to defeat, and although Ping cried for mercy, the warrior took no prisoners and gave no quarter. What he gave was a deep drilling inside Ping that was nothing like Qiao was capable of giving, nor did it show any of the concern for Ping's pleasure that the down-under dancer had been careful to provide.

In the darkest hour of the night, Qiao lay on his pallet, listening to the screams emanating from the main pavilion, cries that were a mixture of pain and pleasure, the edges of which the old mill owner could not discern. He regretted the brutality, but he could not pretend that he had not heard that this was the fetish of the Duke of Shi or that he wasn't pleased that Ping was pleasing the man who, potentially, would be the best customer the House of Deng had ever had. Trying not to listen to Ping's pleadings and moans—and to the slapping of the riding crop, Qiao calculated in his mind how many bolts of cotton material it would take to cover the bodies of the soldiers of the army of Wu and how much of this could be delivered by land to avoid the pirate ship of Ming Lei.

The next morning, as Qiao saw off a smiling Duke of Shi—smiling in such a way that the abacus in Qiao's brain was already clacking off potential profit, Qiao found Ping sobbing in his chamber. The master embraced the consort in his arms and rocked him back and forth, but Ping's sobs were inconsolable.

Qiao was having trouble controlling his own emotions as well—and even having trouble discerning all of the conflicting emotions at play. He was sad and distressed. But he was aroused too at the vulnerability and depths of emotion in his young lover.

Ping was in unintentionally fetching dishabille, having not been able to do more than drag himself to his chamber when the Duke of Shi went off to sleep for a few hours before he had to depart. He was clutching the silk skirts he had been wearing on the tatami platform to his bosom, attempting to hide the welts on his chest, buttocks, and thighs, but when Qiao came into the room and gently pulled the silk away to survey the damage, Ping writhed, almost naked, achingly beautiful of body, within the embrace of his master. Miraculously Qiao's cock was hardening, and Ping, knowing his place and also having been strangely aroused by the Duke of Shi's masterful, if rough, play, willingly and fully gave himself to his master, opening his legs, rolling Qiao over on his back and mounting the old man's pelvis, pulling Qiao's cock inside him, and riding him in the undulating movement of a ship on rolling sea. Sobbing away but giving his master full measure of what he had been taken into the household to provide. Qiao raised his lips to Ping's torso and kissed the welts and bruises he found there.

In grateful flow, loving Ping more deeply than ever, Qiao ejaculated what he suspected, from the pounding of his heart, was his last spouting of Deng seed from his loins, all the more moved and appreciative in this revelation.

Holding the trembling Ping in his arms, he whispered, "You are willing to stay with me forever? To be taken to cross over with me, if that is what I desire? And to serve whoever I send you with?"

"Yes, sire. I am yours forever," Ping murmured without hesitation. Ping was recovering from his experience now. And as he recovered, the memory of what the Lord of Shi had done to him adjusted. He would be loyal to Qiao, yes, but now and again he would welcome the variety and danger and ultimate testing that one such as the Duke of Shi could give him.

And Qiao believed his young lover—that Ping would maintain the honor of his position in the Deng household to the death, if necessary, even though his heart might be with another. And very shortly Qiao had to face that reality.

* * * *

One evening, not long after, the first son of Qiao, Longwei—Dragon Greatness—arrived for a visit. This was an unusual occurrence. Longwei was his mother's son, and Qiao was virtually ignoring his first wife. Longwei—and, for that matter, the senior wife Meilin, assumed that Qiao had taken up with female concubines in his Nantung retreat. For his part, Qiao did nothing to disabuse his family of that notion, and he kept concubines near him, although it was Ping who slept with him at night—at least until Longwei's unexpected arrival.

Longwei appeared when Qiao was sitting on the summer decking by a waterfall that fell from a steep incline of the looming Langshan and listening to Ping, sitting on a tatami platform, playing his lute and singing a sad song for Qiao.

Fortuitously, Qiao's concubines were gathered about him. Longwei gave his father a nasty stare when he appeared unexpectedly, purposely not announced by the chamberlain, who, when they appeared, was disappointed that Qiao and Ping were not engaging in a lewd act. Qiao just smiled blandly, though, reveling in the knowledge that Longwei could have received a far more shocking sight than concubines fanning their master and rubbing his aching legs with soothing oil.

Ping had fully recovered from his bruising and the welts that the Duke of Shi's riding crop had left on his body, and he was posed just as he had been for the Duke of Shi, swathed from waist down in blue silk skirting, but bare of torso and arms.

The afternoon light was filtering between the trees under the waterfall, with a beam falling full on Ping. Longwei, who was a man who fully appreciated young men, took his breath in sharply when his attention went from his father to that of the singer and lute player.

Neither that effect nor the handsome countenance of Longwei were lost to Ping either. The eldest son was all of the things that Qiao had been thirty years earlier, but that he largely had now lost. He was handsome of face, stood tall and proud, and had the build of a wrestler. Qiao had such length of yang chu that could take pride, even in its withered years. And Ping's first thought was whether the elder son had inherited the father's endowment and whether he was young and virile enough to thicken quickly and to maintain strength.

That night Ping was to find out that the answer to both questions was yes.

Discussion between father and son was polite, but strained, through the evening meal and the entertainment afterward, with Ping playing the lute and singing and three of the concubines dancing in willowy movements for Qiao and Longwei, who reclined on pillows in the main pavilion overlooking the waterfall.

Qiao was making an effort to show lustful interest in the concubines, determined not to reveal to his family in Gusu that his reasons for separating from them were worse than they imagined. Longwei, however, openly showed interest in Ping.

As they reclined there, Longwei made one last effort to reason with his father for his mother's sake. "You are missed in the capital, Father. The new king of Wu, Jiayi, is open to changing all of the entitlements. He says that the commissioners of his dead father were keeping too much for themselves. We could be negotiating better commissions for the House of Deng."

"We can do that right here, son," Qiao said. "And for that reason it's important that I stay here for a while—and that you work for our family on the Gusu side." He then explained to Longwei the slow but promising negotiations going on with the Duke of Shi for the army cotton material contract. "The quartermaster general for the Kingdom of Wu is here, in the prefecture of Yangzhou, not in the capital. It is here that we will win or lose the best business opportunity we have with the Kingdom of Wu."

"It may take more than favorable purchase terms to achieve a contract in the kingdom, Father," Longwei said. "Perhaps you have been out of the capital too long to—"

"I know what it takes," Qiao answered with a hard edge to his voice. "It is I who built our family's fortune. Do you not think that I found the way to the Duke of Shi's good graces? He is a connoisseur of young male flesh—if you can possibly imagine such an inclination. Do you not think Ping, the young man playing so beautifully for us over on the tatami, would appeal to such a man? The Duke of Shi has already visited here and departed quite pleased—and well bribed."

Longwei could not argue about that. Indeed, Qiao could tell the young man didn't want to argue—or even talk with Qiao further. Longwei's full attention had gone to Ping, who had now turned three quarters from the father and son and let the silk skirting drop half way down the line of his buttocks, so that the two men got the full benefit of the curve of Pings back going down to the orbs of his buttocks and the inviting crease in between. Longwei, knowing the Duke of Shi's sexual proclivities, turned his thoughts to imagining what the lord had done with and to Ping, and he found himself going hard and his breath coming out in shallow pants. Qiao looked at his son and discerned what the young man's thoughts were.

This was enough to put both father and son in full arousal, but only Longwei was able to show that it had. He, though, didn't wish to any more than his father did. Just as the father didn't want to reveal his inclination to the son, the son did not want to reveal his to the father.

"It is getting late, Father, and I have covered a great distance today."

Qiao took that to mean that the son wanted to retire, when, if he had been less concerned with showing interest in the concubines and more concerned with watching his son that evening, he would have understood that Longwei was trying to send Qiao to bed.

Longwei's ploy worked, though. "The chamberlain has shown you your room, Son," Qiao said. "I and the concubines will now go to mine and leave you to get your rest."

"I will go in a few moments, Father," Longwei said. "I have not heard this song before. I would like to hear it to its conclusion."

When the father and concubines were gone, Longwei rose and went to the tatami platform and sat next to Ping.

"That was a new song to me," he said. "It was beautiful, but it was so sad. Do you only play sad songs?"

"Yes, that is all I play," Ping said. His eyes were downcast as he could hardly maintain his steady breath in the presence of this beautiful man. He was sure that if he looked directly into Longwei's eyes, Longwei would know that Ping wanted him to make love to him. He had been told earlier by Qiao to act as if he was an unbitten peach and to say that he was a virgin to men if Longwei asked. Qiao's original intent was to do all he could to keep Longwei from scenting the true reason Qiao wanted to be away from his family. That he had had to reveal that he had let the Duke of Shi use the young musician had changed his original intent. Not having overheard this conversation, though, Ping could not know that he was no longer expected to act the virgin.

"I have tried to learn the lute, but I had trouble with the fingering," Longwei said in a low, husky voice that made Ping melt to him. "Perhaps I was doing it wrong."

"Perhaps," Ping said. "Do you want me to show you the correct positions?"

"Yes, please."

Longwei moved very close to Ping and put an arm around him so that his hands could be next to Ping's as he held the lute and showed Longwei the positions.

Ping realized his hands were trembling. But Longwei's were not. They were strong and steady on the Lute.

"You use a scent in your hair," Longwei whispered. "The fragrance is intoxicating. It gives a man ideas."

"Sire," Ping whispered.

Longwei's lips were at the hollow of Ping's neck and Ping inclined his head seemingly involuntarily, giving Longwei greater purchase there. Longwei took a hand away from the lute, but not the arm embracing Ping, and he untied the sash of his hanfu and pushed the folds of the robes from his body, revealing a long, proud, fully erect cock.

His face still downcast, enabling him to see the richness of Longwei's endowment, Ping murmured, "Sire, I am innocent, unknown by man."

"All the better," Longwei answered in a hoarse voice, enjoying what he now knew was a game, as he had been told that the Duke of Shi had already bitten this peach—hard. But to pretend that Ping was a virgin was more arousing to Longwei than being assured he was. Longwei appreciated experience and skill. "You do not wish to remain that way forever, do you?" As he was saying that, he took Ping's chin in his hand and lifted his head, staring directly into Ping's eyes. He saw there exactly what he had hoped to see. "No, I think not. May I be your first?"

Ping emitted a little whimper but did not answer.

"If no, say no," Longwei whispered. "Silence would be a yes." After a moment of silence between them, he murmured, "Thank you. Lie down and brush your skirts open."

"I'm afraid," Ping murmured, playing his role to the hilt.

"I will be brave for both of us. Just let me lead you through the gate."

Ping gave a little whimper again. Longwei gently took the lute from his hands and placed it well away from the taking field in the center of the tatami platform. Then he, again gently, pushed Ping down onto his back, ran his hands under the hem of the voluminous skirting and pushed the material up to where it bunched on Ping's chest. He took in his breath noisily when he saw that Ping was naked underneath the skirting—and that his body was perfectly formed.

His mouth lowered to Ping's yang chu and slowly swallowed it down to the root. Ping sighed and set his hips into a slow roll to match the rhythm of Longwei's sucking. Longwei's fingers went to the rim of Ping's opening, and Ping moaned and opened his legs in a wider stance.

When Ping had ejaculated down Longwei's throat, Longwei bent Ping over onto his chest and ran a hand down his back and over the orbs of the young man's buttocks. Longwei was a buttocks man and spent several moments cupping and stroking and separating them. Having pulled them apart, Longwei looked down at the rosebud of an opening between, which Ping was making quiver in such an inviting tease that Longwei's mouth moved to his channel opening. Ping rewarded Longwei's attention there with little moans and sighs, and he rolled his hips in waves, murmuring appreciation of the sensations when Longwei's tongue invaded him.

Longwei turned Ping on his back, and, with Ping lifting his legs over Longwei's shoulders, raised Ping's pelvis to him and returned his attention to the puckered hole as if he were drinking nectar from a cup. Ping dug his hands into the hair on the back of Longwei's head and muttered, "Now, now, now," whereupon Longwei raised up on his knees between Ping's thighs, possessed Ping's mouth with his, and slowly pressed into Ping's channel with his cock. Ping was panting hard and clawing at Longwei's back, using all of the tricks he'd been taught as a jinan to fool a man into thinking he'd been the first.

It was a long journey of Longwei's cock up inside Ping, But when he was fully encased, he disengaged from the kiss. Ping arched his head back toward the tatami mat, with Longwei holding his body steady with a palm of his hand in the small of Ping's back, and Longwei's tongue and teeth went to Ping's pert little engorged nipples.

"Now you are mine, little once," Longwei murmured. "A bite of the peach. Now I suck the nectar dry."

"Do it. Take it all," Ping whimpered.

Longwei began to pump, first in slow, long, steady strokes, and then faster, in off-beat rhythm and stroking that had Ping jerking and then moving his hips, taking control of the stroking, bringing it back in rhythm. He knew how to keep his channel tight on a cock. He also knew how to make his muscles undulate over the cock so that Longwei was getting the loving of his life. Longwei grunted and talked in the language of the gutter of what he was doing to his conquest. Ping moaned and groaned and murmured of being stretched and filled to the limit as he'd been taught to say to clients—but this time meaning it all.

When Longwei ejaculated, Ping cried out, and crossed his legs tightly around Longwei's waist, holding him inside, taking all of the seed Longwei had to give.

In the shadows, the chamberlain watched, smiling and contemplating how he could use this to get rid of the jinan.

Later that night, Qiao rose from his bed and quietly pattered out into the corridor. He could not go a night without attention from his young lover. But when he went to the room formally assigned to Ping, the singer wasn't there. Returning down the corridor, he heard the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking. He peered into the doorway to his son's room.

Ping was laying on Longwei's mat on his belly, and Longwei was stretched out on top of him. Only their hips were moving, but there was no doubt where Longwei's yang chu was churning. The two were kissing, so neither heard Qiao's low gasp or saw the expression of grief and shock on his face.

That night, with his concubines sleeping on mats around his bed, Qiao suffered a heart attack.

It did not kill him, but it was serious enough that Longwei did not leave the next day as he intended. Or at least that was the excuse he used.

Both Longwei and Ping moved around the mansion as if in a cloud of smitten love—all except when either was in the presence of Qiao, commanded by his doctors to remain in his bed.

The two young men fucked whenever and wherever they could.

"You must return to Gusu with me when I leave," Longwei whispered to Ping after a tryst. "I will set you up in your own house. I will give you whatever you want or need. All you have to do is open your legs to me." So taken with Ping was Longwei that he had completely put out of his mind what his father had said about the Duke of Shi having been first. Ping had been so much the innocent in Longwei's lovemaking that Longwei had come to think that his father had lied out of pique at being instructed on how to win a government contract.

"You give me by far the easiest duty," Ping said with a small laugh. He didn't say yes to Longwei's proposal, but he was so much in love with the younger version of Qiao that he knew he'd go with Longwei if that's what Longwei wanted, no matter what.

Qiao began to get better, and he got cranky. One night, while Ping was still in the main pavilion, playing a sad song on his lute for Longwei, both waiting for the household to settle so that they could fuck wildly, one of the concubines came to Ping.

"The master is calling for you, Ping," she said. "He wishes you to attend him."