Shen Liu’s gaze shifted slightly, and a few seconds later, he stood up. He took off his clothes very quickly. He placed his shoes and socks neatly beside the sofa, unfastened his belt, and pulled down the zipper. His movements were smooth and efficient, without the slightest hesitation, as if he did not mind exposing his body to others. In fact, his physique was indeed impressive with tight, evenly proportioned muscles and a beautiful Adonis belt that disappeared beneath his jeans, stirring the imagination. When he reached for the waistband button, he heard Qin Mu’s voice. “Leave the pants.” The corners of Shen Liu’s lips lifted almost imperceptibly. He fastened the button back into its hole, then walked toward Qin Mu while casting a faint sideways glance at Chu Yu. Chu Yu understood and said, “The performance is about to begin. Let’s go sit near the stage.” Xu Ye was still immersed in gossiping, having already imagined a full tragic romance between ‘the pharaoh and his favoured concubine’. He was waiting to see what would happen next and muttered reluctantly, “There aren’t any high-level performers today. Nothing worth watching.” “If you’re not interested, we can always go play in one of the rooms upstairs for a while,” Chu Yu offered instead. Sensing danger, Xu Ye shuddered and instantly yanked Zhuo Yue up as if his seat were on fire. “I’ll go, I’ll go, let’s go. I just remembered something I need to talk to you about.” He took the lead, the others exchanging knowing smiles as they followed him out. The circular sofa area was left with only two people. Facing Qin Mu, Shen Liu slowly sank to his knees. He first lowered one knee, then both, his posture as solemn as if he were worshipping a deity. His body descended, his gaze shifting from level to upturned, and the infatuation in his eyes grew heavier and heavier. It was as if all disguise, all concealment, and all clothing had been shed together, leaving nothing but bare desire, direct, unrestrained, and burning hot. He was clearly in the submissive one, yet he radiated possessiveness, like a fierce animal crouched in tall grass, baring the most primal wildness toward its prey. “Master,” he said. His deep voice made the title even more seductive, like a teasing feather brushing across the heart, sending ripples through it. Qin Mu sat motionless, his gaze resting on the hollow between Shen Liu’s collarbones—a silver ring hanging from a red cord, glinting under the light. His expression was calm, his tone equally calm, as he asked with routine detachment, “Anything you can’t accept?” “With you, nothing,” Shen Liu answered without hesitation. Qin Mu looked at him for two seconds, then raised his hand and pressed the red call button beside the seating area. A server hurried over and asked, “Pharaoh, what do you need?” “Bring me rope number 4 from the second shelf of the cabinet in my room, and arrange the performance stage for me tonight.” Qin Mu handed him the black keycard. “Certainly, sir.” The server checked the program schedule and asked, “The first performance is ready to go on stage. Is it acceptable to place you second?” “That’s fine.” “We’ll prepare it immediately,” the server said, stepping away with professional composure. This meant it would be a public play. Tonight likely would likely not going to go easily. But Shen Liu did not care. Before coming, he had already braced himself mentally. Whatever Qin Mu chose to do to him did not matter. Humans, as social creatures, always imposed certain standards and boundaries in their interactions, yet Qin Mu was the one person for whom he had no standards at all. Shen Liu did not kneel to anyone, did not call anyone ‘Master’, and would never accept being trained or played with in public. But as long as it was Qin Mu, every boundary could shift. Even if the thing in Qin Mu’s hand were not a whip but a knife, Shen Liu would let him drive it straight into his heart without flinching or dodging. To submit was simply to offer up both body and heart, no longer belonging to oneself. “Slave.” Qin Mu took a sip of his drink and tilted the glass in his hand. “I need a table.” It seemed the waiting period before going onstage would not be dull. Shen Liu lowered his gaze. “Yes, Master.” He moved to the man’s side, leaned forward, and braced himself on his arms, keeping his back as flat as possible. Objectifying the submissive as a tool was part of the play, a way to more easily evoke the satisfaction of being ‘needed’ and the sense of being ‘possessed’. Qin Mu casually set his glass on the dip of Shen Liu’s spine between his shoulder blades and said concisely, “If it falls, ten lashes.” “Yes, Master,” Shen Liu replied. It was a crystal wine glass with a large bowl but a narrow base. Even a slight unevenness could throw off its balance. A human body was not a real table; it had natural curves and reflexive reactions. Shen Liu slowed his breathing, tensed his muscles, and tried to maintain as much stability as he could. But Qin Mu had no intention of letting him off that easily. He removed the leash from the collar Lu Cheng had worn earlier and hooked it directly onto the red cord at the back of Shen Liu’s neck. The leash pulled tight along his spine, slid down along his cleft, wrapped once around the root of his right thigh, and was tied off in a knot. The tightened red cord dragged the ring against his throat, forcing Shen Liu to tilt his head back. The reversed curve of his neck made the ‘tabletop’ unstable, and the leash’s movement nudged the glass stem, setting the bowl trembling. Shen Liu stiffened his back, doing everything he could to steady it. “If it breaks, the game ends,” Qin Mu’s cold voice drifted from above. Shen Liu’s gaze trembled. He understood very clearly that Qin Mu was referring to the red cord around his neck that held the ring. The cord was thin, and even the slightest force would snap it. And once it broke, the ring would fall away from his body. People were always good at using certain objects to express emotion, tucking their true feelings inside in subtle, implicit ways. In this moment, the ring and the red cord were no longer just themselves; they had been given meanings unspoken yet mutually understood. Qin Mu knew exactly why Shen Liu had come, and he had given an equally clear reply—this is my territory, and you must obey my rules, or nothing else will be discussed. His body was bound, his throat was restricted, and no movement was allowed. Obedience alone was the only truth. Shen Liu closed his eyes briefly and answered, “Yes, Master.” Time moved forward at an unhurried pace. Twenty minutes passed, and he still maintained the same motionless posture. His back, shoulders, and neck had gone stiff, and his breathing grew increasingly laboured. As the first performance was about to end, a server came over to notify Qin Mu to get ready. When the restraints were finally released, it felt as if his heart had settled safely back into his chest along with the ring. Shen Liu drew a deep breath and returned to a kneeling posture. “Does it hurt?” Qin Mu asked. “As long as it pleases you, everything is a reward to me.” A standard answer. Qin Mu’s lips curved faintly, neither acknowledging nor dismissing it. He raised his hand and tilted the wine glass slightly above Shen Liu’s head, saying, “Finish it.” The angle was awkward; kneeling, he could only reach the rim of the glass by stretching his neck and lifting his face. Shen Liu drank the remaining wine from this position, then licked his lips and said, “Thank you, Master.” Qin Mu set the glass aside, tugged lightly on the leash, and said, “Stand up. Follow me.”
A pair of Master and slave who looked as striking as they did naturally drew attention. The stage lights cast a cool silver sheen over Qin Mu, adding to the quiet, sharp aura in his every movement. He unhooked the leash and commanded, “See that circular area? Go kneel over there.”
“Yes, Master.” Shen Liu obeyed without question.
After checking the rope bindings, Qin Mu pressed a button on a remote. The circular area began to rise slowly, lifting Shen Liu to an appropriate height. It turned out to be an adjustable display platform. Four cameras pointed at the two of them from different angles, projecting every detail onto the electronic screens.
The Pharaoh was a major figure in the scene, and opportunities to see his performances were rare. This time, he had brought an unfamiliar new sub onto the stage, drawing even more curiosity. The seats beside the stage were packed. In the front row, Fang Mingyan let out a provocative whistle, eager for chaos.
Qin Mu’s performance contained no unnecessary theatrics. He worked while explaining key points, like a guest professor, maintaining his usual precise and ascetic style.
Tonight, he used a full-body rope bondage known as ‘bundled binding’. He first crossed Shen Liu’s wrists behind his head and tied them together, then secured the wrists to the upper arms to complete the lock. “This ‘hands-behind’ tie forces the slave to keep the chest open, with the elbows raised and unable to straighten,” he said, looping the rope around Shen Liu’s neck, crossing it over his chest, and winding it around his bare torso in a beautiful ‘tortoise armour bondage’ pattern. He deliberately tied two flat knots pressing over the nipples and said, “Knots placed on sensitive spots allow the slave to feel more stimulation, similar to friction or caressing.” Finally, he instructed Shen Liu to sit back on his heels, knees spread as wide as they would go, then used a rope passing beneath the crotch to bind his thighs and ankles.
Qin Mu’s handling of the rope was exceptionally clean, with almost no superfluous movements, and the final result was beautiful. In his hands, the rope seemed to transform into something alive; every knot, every crossing, every line of tension moved according to his will. Shen Liu’s striking body became his canvas, and the red rope bondage became curved strokes painting a scene both cruelly violent and stunningly erotic.
“Do your legs hurt?” Qin Mu adjusted the ropes’ tension again, his expression focused and meticulous.
“They don’t hurt, Master,” Shen Liu replied. Maintaining such an unnatural posture for so long had left a thin layer of sweat on his back. The slightly long ends of his hair fell forward and covered his eyes, and his gaze looked even deeper beneath the shifting play of light and shadow.
Performing in front of an audience tests not only skill, but also a Dom’s control over their sub. The more spectators there were, the easier it was for a sub to be distracted and drift away from the proper emotional state. Qin Mu’s steady stage presence was well known. What surprised people was that this newcomer sub, Sphinx, also behaved with remarkable composure, completely unaffected by outside influences. Throughout the entire tying process, he remained quiet and obedient, with excellent endurance.
From a technical standpoint, this was a textbook-level bondage demonstration, impressive in every way. Yet it lacked emotional interaction. Sphinx’s gaze had followed the Pharaoh the entire time, but the Pharaoh never once gave him a response.
Qin Mu finished the full binding and lowered the display platform until it was level with the stage. He examined his work at close distance and said slowly, “This type of full-body tie creates a strong sense of restraint and pain. Aside from the head, the slave can barely move at all, so it’s not suitable for long-term use. The interlacing rope strands affect one another; even a slight movement will pull on various parts of the body, tightening the throat and creating friction on the nipples and crotch. It can allow slaves who enjoy bondage to feel pleasure, like this…” As he spoke, he hooked a finger around the rope looped at Shen Liu’s neck and pulled lightly.
The sudden tug caused all the ropes on his body to tighten at once. The knots at a few key points scr4p3d hard across sensitive areas, making Shen Liu shudder uncontrollably. A mix of numbness and itchiness blended with pain. He shifted, unable to endure it, attempting to adjust his posture.
“Did I give you permission to move?” Qin Mu asked without expression.
“Master, I was wrong.” Shen Liu knew how to bend and yield.
Qin Mu pinched his jaw and lifted it, forcing his head back in a punitive arc. This movement bent Shen Liu’s arms, which were tied behind his head to their extreme limit. The stretched muscles pulled so tight that even the bones hurt. He started to gasp sharply, broken sounds spilling from his throat.
“Does it feel good to be controlled?” Qin Mu looked at him through his lenses.
Shen Liu’s arms and legs were already going numb. He forced himself to answer with difficulty, “As long as the one controlling me is you, I’m willing to offer everything with both hands.”
“Your hands are already tied,” Qin Mu said, letting go of his jaw, unhurried. “Controlling someone really is addictive, especially when you watch them obey helplessly in your hands. It’s amusing, isn’t it?” As the last word fell, the hand that controlled everything slid to Shen Liu’s chest. Qin Mu picked out a rope and gently hooked it, as if flirting.
Shen Liu’s whole body went rigid. He could clearly feel exactly where that rope led. Flustered, he said, “Master, I was wrong…”
Last-minute apologies usually didn’t work. Even though Shen Liu wore jeans, Qin Mu still had ways to make him keenly feel the pressure and friction on his genitals deeply. The rope tugged again and again, like a web woven of numbness and pain wrapping around his entire body. The pleasure that appeared at some unknown moment tormented him until he was overwhelmed and falling apart. At first, it felt like tiny electric currents, pricking and wandering everywhere. Then it turned into little mice scurrying through him, occasionally leaping up to bite hard at a sensitive spot, making his body tremble uncontrollably from the stimulation. His nipples were already hard, scr4p3d raw by the rope, and something was beginning to stir between his legs. Shen Liu tensed, breathing unevenly and shallowly. A mist of tears gathered in his eyes as he begged, “Master, please…”
The man who was usually lofty, forceful, and ruthless now showed rare vulnerability and submission—an extreme, contradictory kind of sensuality.
“Your eyes look much prettier now.” Qin Mu used a finger to lift the hair from his forehead, his gaze half-lowered as he looked down at him. “Take a guess. Have you pleased me? Do I desire you? Or, rather, does training you give me pleasure?”
Heaven always came full circle; no one escaped retribution. The three questions he had once used to crush Lu Cheng returned to confront him now. Shen Liu gave a bitter smile in his heart, his chest rising and falling as he answered in broken breaths, “As long as Master…give me a chance to take the initiative… I can do my best to give you pleasure.”
A faint, mocking smile tugged at Qin Mu’s lips. He cupped the back of Shen Liu’s head with one hand and leaned in. Slowly, closer and closer. The movement made the bound man tense instantly, nerves stretched tight, his heart pounding wildly.
“You thought I would kiss you?” Qin Mu stopped just a hair’s breadth before touching his cheek. His deliberately softened voice brushed his ear like a warm, blurred mist. “Sphinx, I don’t like people who assume too much. If you want to be my cat, you should at least learn to behave first.”
Author’s Note:
Sphinx: besides being a mythical creature, it is also a breed of cat — yes, the hairless kind.
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