"Get up," Feng Wuya's voice was calm, cutting through the heavy, lust-filled air of the private room.
Su Qingyue pushed herself off the floor. Her limbs felt like lead. The muscles of her buttocks were spasming uncontrollably from the trauma of the beads, and sticky fluids—oil, mucus, and the remnants of her dignity—trickled down the back of her thighs.
She clutched the tattered remains of the black Shadow-Gauze dress to her chest, trying to hide her breasts, trying to preserve some illusion of modesty.
"Drop the rags," Feng Wuya commanded, leaning back in his chair and swirling his wine.
"Feng Wuya... please..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Not in front of them... I beg you..."
"You beg me?" Feng Wuya raised an eyebrow. He looked at Han Li and Zhao Fugui. "She begs me."
Han Li laughed, a harsh, barking sound. He leaned forward, his eyes predatory. "Young Master Feng, your pet is shy. Maybe she thinks her body is too precious for our mortal eyes?"
"She does," Feng Wuya agreed. He stood up.
He didn't scream. He didn't hit her. He simply walked up to her, grabbed the neckline of the Shadow-Gauze, and yanked.
RIIIIIP.
The flimsy material, already strained, disintegrated. The black fabric pooled at her feet like a dead shadow.
Su Qingyue stood in the center of the room, under the bright, unforgiving glow of the Spirit Lanterns.
Completely Naked.
She instinctively moved her hands to cover her groin and her breasts—the "Venus Pudica" pose of a desperate woman.
Thwack.
Feng Wuya slapped her hands away.
"Arms at your sides," he ordered. "Chest out. Chin up. Stand like the Holy Maiden you are."
Trembling violently, Su Qingyue obeyed. She forced her arms to her sides. She lifted her chin, though tears streamed down her face.
The silence that followed was heavy. It was the silence of three men drinking in the sight of a goddess brought low.
She was magnificent. Her Nine-Yin Ice Phoenix Body gave her skin a translucent, porcelain quality that seemed to glow. Her collarbones were delicate arches framing a long, elegant neck. Her breasts, freed from the compression of her robes, were heavy, perfect teardrops of white fat, tipped with nipples that were a stark, frozen pink, hardened by the cool air and her terror.
Her waist was cinched tight, flaring out into hips that were purely womanly. And below, the smooth, hairless mound of her venus—shaved by Feng Wuya personally—left nothing to the imagination. The pink slit was tightly shut, but the thighs around it were trembling.
"By the Gods..." Zhao Fugui breathed, standing up and waddling closer. The fat merchant's face was slick with sweat. "I have seen thousands of women. Slaves from the Western Desert, Elves from the Forest... but this... this is premium grade jade."
He reached out. His fingers were sausage-thick, adorned with gold rings.
"May I?" he asked Feng Wuya, his eyes glued to her breasts.
"Inspect the merchandise," Feng Wuya granted. "But be gentle. She bruises like a peach."
Zhao Fugui didn't wait. He placed both hands on Su Qingyue's breasts.
"Ah!" Su Qingyue gasped, flinching back. The touch of another man—a disgusting, greasy man—on her most private parts was a shock to her system.
"Hold still," Feng Wuya's voice was a whip crack.
Su Qingyue froze, squeezing her eyes shut. She bit her lip until it bled.
Zhao Fugui weighed them in his hands. He kneaded the soft flesh, watching how it deformed under his grip. "Heavy... so heavy. And cold! It really feels like touching ice, but soft as silk."
He rubbed his thumb over her nipple. It peaked instantly.
"Look at that reaction!" Zhao chuckled. "Han Li, come feel this. It's firmer than any brothel whore."
Han Li, the swordsman, stood up. He didn't go for the breasts. He walked behind her. He ran his calloused hand down the curve of her spine, tracing the path to her ruined buttocks.
"A warrior looks at the structure," Han Li muttered. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh. "Wide hips. Good for bearing sons. Good for taking impact."
He slapped her ass cheek. SMACK.
The white flesh rippled like water. The red handprint bloomed instantly.
"Nngh!" Su Qingyue whimpered, her legs buckling.
"Strong legs, too," Han Li noted, forcing her to stand back up. "She has the cultivation base to go all night. Brother Feng, you truly have a treasure. To think the lofty Ice Goddess is just a piece of meat to be passed around."
"She is thirsty," Feng Wuya said, sitting back down. "Qingyue. Serve the wine."
"M-My hands are shaking..." she stammered.
"I didn't say use your hands."
Feng Wuya picked up a fresh pitcher of strong, amber spirit wine. He walked over to Su Qingyue.
"Lie on the table," he ordered.
Su Qingyue looked at the table. It was covered in dishes of half-eaten food, spilled sauce, and wine stains.
"Master... please..."
"On the table. On your back."
Defeated, Su Qingyue climbed onto the low table. She lay down amidst the plates. The cold wood pressed against her back. A piece of roasted duck grease smeared against her shoulder. She lay there, spread-eagled, a naked feast for the three men.
Feng Wuya poured the wine. Not into cups.
He poured it into the valley between her breasts.
The amber liquid splashed onto her cold skin, pooling in her cleavage, threatening to spill over the sides.
"Han Li, Zhao Fugui," Feng Wuya gestured. "Drink."
The two men laughed. They leaned over her.
Su Qingyue stared up at the ceiling, dissociating. She felt Zhao Fugui's fat, wet lips latch onto her left breast. He sucked noisily, lapping up the wine that coated her skin. His tongue swirled around her nipple, slurping and groaning.
On her right, Han Li was rougher. He licked the wine from her ribs, his stubble scratching her delicate skin, moving upward to claim her right breast.
"No... no..." she moaned softly, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes into her ears.
She was being consumed. Eaten alive. The sounds of their slurping, the smell of their breath, the weight of their bodies pressing down on her—it was a nightmare.
"Delicious!" Zhao Fugui declared, lifting his head, his chin dripping with wine and saliva. "Wine drunk from the body of a Holy Maiden tastes like nectar!"
"Brother Feng," Han Li said, wiping his mouth. He looked down at Su Qingyue's crotch. Her legs were spread slightly, and the inner thighs were wet with the wine that had spilled down her stomach. "We've tasted the top. What about the bottom?"
Su Qingyue's heart stopped. She instinctively tried to close her legs.
Feng Wuya reached out and grabbed her ankle. He pulled her leg wide open.
"The bottom is a bit messy right now," Feng Wuya said clinically, pointing to the red, gaping hole of her anus and the swollen pink lips of her vagina. "But it is worth admiring."
The three men stared at her crotch.
"Look at that," Han Li pointed. "Shaved clean. Like a little girl."
"But used like a whore," Zhao Fugui added, poking her thigh. "Is she a virgin in the front, Brother Feng?"
"For now," Feng Wuya smirked. "I'm saving that seal for the Wedding Night."
"Hah! Saving the wrapper but wrecking the box!" Zhao laughed, clapping his hands.
Feng Wuya leaned over Su Qingyue. Her face was pale, her eyes dead.
"Tell them, Qingyue," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "Tell them what you are."
Su Qingyue's lips trembled. She looked at the three faces looming over her—the Fat Merchant, the Cruel Swordsman, and the Devil who owned her.
"I... I am..."
"Louder."
"I am... a toy," she sobbed, the words tasting like ash. "I am... Master's meat."
"Good girl."
Feng Wuya picked up a grape from a fruit platter. He shoved it into her mouth.
"Chew," he ordered.
She chewed mechanically.
"Now feed me."
He leaned down and kissed her. It wasn't a kiss of love. He jammed his tongue into her mouth, stealing the crushed grape, mixing their saliva. He tasted her shame, her fear, and the fruit.
He pulled back, chewing the grape.
"Gentlemen," Feng Wuya announced, pulling Su Qingyue off the table and throwing her to the floor like a used napkin. "The banquet continues. But my pet needs to be cleaned for the dungeon."
He clapped his hands. Two shadow guards appeared.
"Take her to the Water Prison," Feng Wuya ordered. "Let the cold water soak into her bones. She needs to reflect on her performance tonight."
As the guards dragged the naked, weeping Su Qingyue out of the room, Han Li and Zhao Fugui watched her go, their eyes lingering on her retreating form.
"You are a cruel man, Feng Wuya," Han Li said, pouring himself a drink. "Ye Chen is going to lose his mind when he finds out."
Feng Wuya smiled, a terrifying expression in the lantern light.
"That," he said, "is the point."