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Overtly lewd and wet shlicks resound through the office of Mr. Qi, clicking with each and every desperate flick of your wrist. The man watches intently, tired eyes hidden behind a dark lens, those shades edging a slide down the bridge of his nose as a sheen of sweat beads around his face. You reflect on them, on the big screen in front of him, your desperate attempt to get off mirrored in the darkness of Mr. Qi’s office.
The footage was a little grainy, the signal shotty, beady eyes of a camera peeking through a pinhole hidden away with the perfect angle of your setup; The handsome farmer, writhing in bed, flushed and doe-eyed as you lull your head, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as you pathetically pump at your length.
Mr. Qi can see what you’re watching, the grotesque writhe of suckling tentacles fucking into some sort of wet hole, the suckers nearly drowning out the noise of your own cock. The man watching along lets his lip quip with a twitching smirk, fingers interlocked and holding his chin up, tightening as you let out a breathless groan, the sound crackling through the speakers.
A wet, pink tongue glides over azure lips, licking up the drip of sweat-riddled arousal that beads under Mr. Qi’s nose. The man allows himself to sigh, a dreamy sound, breath hot and heavy and fueled with a temptation he’s not so sure he enjoys.
He shifts, pupils, blowing impossibly wider, head tilting for a better angle, those shades of his sliding down his nose, eyes tracking the way two of your spit-lubed fingers poke and massage against the twitchy, puckering squeeze of your hole. You gasp, and Qi holds his breath, teeth gritting, brows furrowing, cheeks heating up to splay a soft dust of purple against the sky-blue tint of his face.
He shifts in his seat, cock straining against the seam of his trousers, a palpable tent he resists touching, the slight friction of fabric to cockhead more than enough to keep him focused and enticed. Your fingers continue that tentative dance, readying your asshole with circles and rubs, ever so carefully dipping your fingertips past the taught rim before you gasp and pull away - As if Mr. Qi hadn’t already watched you fuck yourself silly on something bigger..
Yes, it's true, this was not the first time Mr. Qi had dabbled in a little voyeurism.
He had nothing better to do with his time; he had people to do his bidding at any beck and call, why not spend his days and nights observing his new.. Interest…
Sure, he was curious. The new face in town, there was no harm in finding out a little bit more about you, what with some careful watching. But the curiosity quickly burned into something brighter.
He has eyes everywhere, y’know? And with your libido? It wasn't his fault that he stumbled upon the usually so proper and respectable farmer indulging in a little debauchery.
The first time, he’d spotted you having a quick moment to yourself in the spa house. Doors purposely locked up tight, trapping you in and keeping the potential of others out. But that didn’t particularly stop Mr. Qi. The sauna-hot steam glistened against the muscle that had worked its way into your body thanks to all the heavy lifting that came with running and maintaining your land. The view was a little obscured, the warmth and steam creating a soft humid fog that hid you behind a thin screen, enticing Mr. Qi, letting his imagination run wild; The full details of your ministrations obscured, arm jerking up and down and bent at the elbow, fingers surely wrapped nice and tight around your length with each pump, maybe even a squeeze right at the tip-
Safe to say, Mr. Qi found himself wanting to see a little more.
He watched the way your back flexed as you hauled a hay bale into a stack, your shirt unbuttoned and sweat-soaked, another minute before you ripped it off to show off your skin to the sun – And the hidden camera – jeans hanging low, hands dirty and covered in mystery grime.
He saw droplets of shower water patterning down your body, the top-down view from your shower head giving him an excellent view. You washed your hair, head tilted back and rinsing the soapy products out, your adams apple bobbing, eyes squinted shut, brows creased, unintentionally lewd. Would you make the same face if he raked his own fingers through your hair? Giving a taught squeeze at the root?
Things tumbled further one late afternoon as Mr. Qi stalked his surveillance down each level of the caves you descended into, shifting in his seat when you found a safe little nook in the mines. You were battered and bruised from the merciless monsters that lurked in the dark, minor cuts dripping with richly fresh red blood and surely stinging from the sweat, dirt and dust. You pant, heavy breaths laced with the stuffy and humid cave air, a soft whimper rippling from your throat. Did the strong and robust hands of a shadowbrute have your cock twitching? Monstrously murderous in its attempt to squeeze the life out of you, beastly claws imprinting into the flesh of your neck? You got yourself off after you’d slayed the beast. Quickly and desperately. Fisting at your cock, pants shimmied down just enough to free your hard on, relishing in the sticky, stinging pain of your wounds, favouring to cream a load all over your knuckles over making haste to the town’s doctor for proper medical care.
You were something of a freak, obviously. Mr. Qi was intrigued.
He watched on edge as you wedged yourself between a fallen fence, an attempt to grab something or.. To be honest, he doesn’t remember. Too fixated with the way your writhes to free yourself bleed into desperate little shifts and squirms, lips bitten between your teeth, a blush on your cheeks and droplets of sweat trickling down your temple. It nearly had Mr. Qi jumping out of his chair and taking the next bus into town! Eventually, though, the mayor stumbled upon you, let you free and scolded you to be more careful in the future. That little situation you had yourself in there only floods Qi’s mind rampant with ideas..
Uniquely cryptic letters with convoluted instructions itched their way into your letter box, sending you off on a makeshift scavenger hunt – Of course, Mr. Qi watched along the way – getting a kick out of the way you so obediently did as he asked.
He challenged you. And? You followed, climbing down into the hungry snake pit waiting below in the depths of the desert skull cavern.
Mr. Qi watches as you descend the ladder into his makeshift room. You were rightfully out of breath, left with a graze here and there, sand and dirt pebbling off of your clothes, boots scuffing into the sandstone of the floor as you turned to him.
“Well, well, well… You made it.” Mr. Qi gives a light chuckle, tipping his hat in greeting, injecting a small pin of praise into his words. He looks you up and down, eyes hidden behind the tint of his glasses, taking in your tired form.
“Come closer now… Don’t be shy.” He watches the cogs turn in your head, obeying him once again, your fatigue surely assisting in your willingness to step towards him. He beckons further with his fingers, gesturing you to park yourself at his feet. You’re eager to rest, to sit on the rough stone floor and finally take a breather without the risk of a serpent taking you by surprise from behind. He has to keep his composure, seeing you sit all nice for him, looking up through your tired lashes expectantly. Mr. Qi makes a show of looking you over, his hand rubbing against his chin, lips pursing before they tut an affectionate sound.
“Impressive.. Very Impressive.” He’s cryptic with you, having you hang on to every word he says. “Making it all the way down here is quite a feat!” He praises, a little more outwardly this time, his hand coming to ruffle your hair.
“That sort of dedication is praiseworthy...” He lets his words linger, fingers carding down your temple, his palm cupping against your cheek, “You’re a rare one, kid…” Mr. Qi can see the subtle glint behind your pupils, the shine in your eye at his attention, the anticipation of his odd presence before you.
“I..” You’re lost for words, it seems, brain still catching up with the rough trek down to the way Mr. Qi strokes his thumb against your cheek, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “T-Thank you..?” You croak, the dust of the chasm roughing up your voice, allowing Qi to outwardly grin, flashing just the slightest glint of an extra sharp canine tooth.
“Now… Drink some of this special milk I’ve prepared for you.” Mr. Qi’s confidence often paid off; the ease to direct that came from his tone, often edging those into doing exactly what he wanted. Call it a gift, or a talent, or just sheer luck of the valley, perhaps the spirits were often pleased with him. Just like that, Qi had you lapping up the thick lavender froth of iridium snake milk, eyes watching intently, watching you gulp down the thick liquid after he’d promised it’d enhance you, make things a little easier.
Sure, it's true to an extent, your baseline will raise just that little bit more.. But the side effects? Well-
You gag below him, coughing thick against the last sip of milk, eyes going glossy, looking up at Mr. Qi like a pup searching for approval. His thumb wipes against your bottom lip, starkly blueish compared to the soft, glossy pink that peeks through when he drags his finger down, letting your lip drag down and pop softly back into place.
“Go on home now.” He gently orders, turning to take his leave, “Good luck out there, kid.”
Qi watches your journey back to the farm – Of course – Seeing the way you blink a little sleepily on the bus ride home, fatigue settled into your bones, the sunset shine soft on your skin, looking picture perfect, Qi can’t help but hit the well-loved button to capture the on-screen moment.
He watches you stumble into the bathroom, peeling off your clothes, another gracious view of your bare body in the shower, washing off all the grime, unknowingly preparing your body for what was soon to come..
Mr. Qi had to tear his eyes away, from your form splayed comfily in your bed, your hand practically glued to your cock once again – But this time, things were different.. Your skin sheened with more than just the residue of the shower, pores clammy and sticky with sweat. You had nothing playing to watch, simply indulging in yourself, surely feeling the tingling burn of arousal, hot and steady, settling into your bloodstream as the milk slowly absorbed into your body.
It made you leak. That glossy dribble of precum lubing up your cock, making the glide of your hand effortless. Your fingers found your desperate little hole, poking and prodding, a choked whine ripping from your throat. You curl into yourself, surely the dizzying feverish flush settling in now.
It was time for Mr. Qi to make a journey.
By the time he arrived, the special milk had done its job, rendering you, the strong and independent farmer, into a state of hot, arousal-stricken paralysis.
The snake milk made you stronger, sure, enhanced you enough for you to reap the benefits. But Mr. Qi knew exactly the cost – The fever, the numbing of your limbs, staying stuck in a state of half-lucid neediness. Practically an aphrodisiac, rendering you into a pliable thing, a toy for your admirer.
He smiles when you spot him, approaching like a phantom, flashing a grin, those sharp canines giving a glint.
You blearily watch him from your bed, eyes glossy, skin flushed and tacky with sweat, breaths quick with staccatos, all choppy, laced with some hot form of anxiety. Sure, it made sense – Being stuck inside of your body while your nerves tremble in your limbs, pores sweating, and cock aching with a nervous twitchy flex. Mr. Qi approaches you, his shades hiding the way his eyes soften just that little bit, his azure skin stark against your own when his fingers trace down your temple, coming down to cup at your cheek.
“Well, well.. Look at you…“ Mr. Qi starts, he tilts his head, magenta eyes laced with desire peeking from behind his shades, “Lovely like this..” He praises you, watching you keen into his palm, finding a sickly sweet solace in his touch, body reacting to the milk, bubbling your brain into a sweet blend.
“S..Sir.. p-please…” You manage a slur, eyes looking up at him, all desperate, half rolling and lazy, so much focus into looking up at him, heart-shaped eyes giving him a bedroom stare. Mr. Qi stirs, his hand tracing down your neck, feeling the quickened beat of your pulse against his fingertips. They twitch, his thumb pressing into the pulse point, forefingers wrapping around the juncture of your throat, adding a soft pressure that had you groaning out a weak sound, the noise vibrating against his palm before he cuts it off with a tighter squeeze.
He watches your cock jump, twitching with life, your cheeks turning flushed and desperate for a little air. He tilts his head, brows raising, taking in your face as he finally lets go, feeling his own shiver at the look of relief that rushes over you, the way your eyes cross as you try to come to. Yoba, you were something.
“M..ore…” You softly beg, lip wobbling and parting, spitty tongue on display.
In a blink, Mr. Qi finds his azure digits slipped into your suckling mouth, tongue swirling over his fingers, all pink and pretty, taking them down to the back of your throat with ease. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing the man to curl and beckon into your mouth, obediently slobbering all the way down to his digits, lubing his fingers for something more.
He pulls them out, and you gasp in return, panting once again, lips smacking wetly, looking at him eagerly, tracking him as he slinks down the length of your body.
He lifts one of your dead-limp legs, bending at the knee and spreading you lewdly, showing off the supple wink of your hole. Qi breathes, making eye contact with you, watching your reaction as two of his thick, spit-slicked, blue fingers breach past the supple tautness of your asshole, delving into your sticky-soft insides. Your throat gives him a soft moan, the barest indication of protest before it melts into something breathless, something nearly sweet. Mr. Qi curls his deft digits, nice and slippery from the lovely way you drooled all over his knuckles, twisting, prodding, working you open with little hesitation.
The man was eager, barely easing you into the squelchy fucking, stuffing his fingers all the way down to the knuckle, all wet and sloppy already, opening up for him on a whim, taking a third finger into the mix to stretch you further. You twitch on him, plushy insides of your boycunt kissing squeezes against his digits, reacting with the way he mashes them into that special little pudgy spot inside of you.
Mr. Qi was sure that if you weren't paralysed from the neck down, your back would fully arch right into the press, you’d fuck yourself silly on his hand, chase down the pleasure. Your lungs force you to gasp, a stuttery and hiccuped sound, lips parting, eyes unfocusing into a dumb expression. You like this, he knows you do – Why else would your cock stand tall despite the effects of the potion he gave you? Full of hot blood, pulsing by its own rhythm, weeping and crying, literally, dribbling precum down your balls, the translucent mixture adding lube to Qi’s fingers, frothing all sticky around your puffy hole.
“You’re a messy one..” Qi notes out loud, his free hand giving a firm stroke to your dead inner thigh. It was a sweet relief, he was sure, from the searing hot scald of arousal that would be coursing through your bloodstream. You nod at him, all dumb and sweet, cock leaking, chest heaving, throat in a constant hiccup of groans and soft moans, giving him all the feedback he needed.
He drives his fingers a little faster, a little harder, lips pursing into a cat-like grin when you moan a little louder. Your boycunt cries with each pump of his fingers, messy shluck, shluck, shlucks all so filthy for him. If you could, you’d writhe under him, maybe even try to crawl away, ohh, but you were totally and completely his for the evening.
Sure, he gives you a little mercy, changing his space every minute or so, torturing you through the buzz of searing arousal that wrecks you.
He wanted more, becoming greedier with the premise of having your body like this, meanly pulling his spit and slick-soaked fingers from your hole, giving a few gracious rubs to the abused and puffy lil’ thing. Mr. Qi allows his pants to unzip, the zipper softly buzzing down, down, down.
He frees his cock, letting the half-hard chub flop out of his pants and into the palm of his hand, the length steadily swelling with blood-laced arousal. His hips give a grind, the purplish blush of his tip pressing a kiss against your own, feeling the warmth of your heat-struck cock dripping with sticky blots of pre. You whimper at the barest press of friction, eyes glossy and locked on to his length, stomach contracting with a clench when he frots his cock against your own.
The stark difference between you has his lip tugging into a half smirk; The azure tone of his cock, blending into a pinky-purple at the very top, lined with thick veins feeding blood to his tip- His tip, it pebbles its own pearl of precum, hot and thick with arousal, leaking from his slit and dribbling down his length, squeezed out with a careful pump of his fist.
“Sir..” You slur, giving him a doll-eyed look.
The man only hums, taking his time, working up his cock against your own, feeding it with his own arousal, all nice and chubby to stuff you soon enough.
He squeezes, feeling the velvety flesh of your two cocks squeeze together. He pumps, frotting against you, sensitive glands kissing sweet rubs, tip-to-tip all dribbly and slick, veins running up each underside of your cocks throbbing hot with arousal. He tugs at you both, jerking you off between you, edging you further and further, closer, even, watching the way your chests stutters, your core does that lovely squeeze again- You’d desperately fuck into his hand, wouldn’t you? Fuck against his cock with eager cranes of your hips, all slick and lubey from your arousal, maybe you’d join in? Wrap your own hand into the mix to give a squeeze?
Your chin tilts, teeth gritting together, that telltale groan Mr. Qi had heard over and over. You choked on your voice, barely managing to even articulate that you were about to make a mess of yourself before you were-!
“Cuh-! Hahh~” Your voice strangles, cock flexing in Mr. Qi’s palm, blowing spurts of creamy cum all over your cocks, painting Qi’s flushed, purplish head nice and white, all slick and lubey, perfect for his next plan.
He tugs a little more, milking out all you had for him, grinning fully when you weakly plead at him, soft “mores” and “pleases” chirping up. He’s jerking off your overstimulated cock until you're whimpering, the deep timbre of your voice cracking with each sobby sound.
“That's it.. So vocal, aren’t you?” The man lets his voice linger, impressed with just how true to yourself you were with him right here, right now. Mr. Qi methodically works you into exactly how he wants you, dead legs slung over his hips, nice and spread to show off your puffy asshole, all prepped and twitchy with anticipation.
He wastes absolutely no time, taking his spit and cum-slicked cock, pressing the blunt tip right against your hole, feeling the way it flutters and suckles against him, practically begging for his pudgy length. He sinks in without remorse, hips craning forward to plug you up nice and quick, his heavy sack resting against your ass, azure-blue cock wrapped around the soft and flushed peachy pink of your rim. Ohh, you flex against him, your inner walls all gummy and snug, gripping on to him in all the right ways, giving way for him to retract, right up to the very tip, watching the ombre of his cock drag from your boycunt before he’s slugging his heavy hips against you in an easy push.
That's how he fucks you. Hot and heavy. Abusing the limpness of your body, holding on to your thighs for leverage, pulling you back onto his lap to fuck down into you.
“Ah..hah.. M-Mister..” You speak with each thrust, punctuating his hips.
“Qi..” He corrects you, his shades sliding down his nose as sweat seeps from his pores, revealing the hot flash of his eyes. Your lips wobble, spitty and slurring, creaking into a dopey smile.
“S’good..” You praise him, earning a few quick fucks all plappy against your drooly hole. Mr. Qi Growls, foregoing holding on to your legs, now wrapping a heavy palm around your throat, giving a soft squeeze on those supple pressure points once again. His other? Right back to the cock that stood tall between you, weeping with the remnants of cum and new pearls of pre. He squeezes both, chokes the base of your cock and threatens to strangle the consciousness out of your clouded head.
You struggle against him – Well, the best you can anyway, being paralysed from the neck down – Throat bobbing, cock throbbing, going dizzier and dizzier, those heart eyes rolling back before he lets you go, allows you to gasp for air, patting your face with a few rough smacks before he’s right back on your throat where he started.
You were such a freak. And Mr. Qi admired that about you.
He stroked you off, your poor overstimulated cock twitching in defiance, all flushed and surely achy, plump and swollen with abuse, looking rather lovely against Mr. Qi’s blue palm.
You were a sight, so much nicer in real life than through the grainy, crooked lens of a camera. He could see you, all the little details of you, all up close and personal.
He lets your throat go again, feeling his cock throb and balls go taught with the way you gasp for air, how you come to, all dopey and dizzy, your crosseyed gaze landing on his face. You hiccup, eyes all glossy, tears rolling down your cheeks, mouth forming into nonsensical sentences, pleading begs.
“Gon.. t’much… s’much..” You slur out, giving him a long and whiney cry when Mr. Qi pushes down against your tummy, feeling the barest outline of his cock pummeling into your guts. The man grunts, leveraging himself against your stomach, his other hand feverishly jerking off your cock as his hips snap and fuck against you.
Wasn’t Mr. Qi so kind? Or perhaps it was obsession. Making sure his new toy was thoroughly looked after, pleasured, giving rather than just taking what he wanted.
Or maybe it was a guise, to see you lose yourself, make you into a cock-drunk fool, fuck you so stupid you won't remember a thing in the morning-
Ohh, his cock aches, a squeezy pulse thrumming up his length, a warning-!
“Can’t- can’t! C-cuhmmin- can’t h-hold!” You babble, forcing the man to push into your sensitive stomach harder, pump his fist faster, fuck you into completion-!
The cry you make would wake the neighbours if you had any. Your body finds it in yourself to writhe, head flinging back into your pillows, back managing to arch just that little bit, toes curling as you practically squirt yourself in Mr. Qi’s hand. Spurt, spurt, spurt of more of that richly thick cum of yours, so milky, pulsing out in ribbons all over yourself, messy, filthy-
Yoba- There’s more. Perhaps it was the paralysis, the overstimulation? The way Mr. Qi presses meanly into your stomach for leverage to fuck you, pushing against your sensitive bladder…
You have Mr. Qi shuddering as he unloads his cum into your guts, watching you pathetically piss yourself, spraying in pulses as if you were cumming, squirting like a good boy all over yourself, all on his fist, all wet and messy with each jerk of his wrist. He buries deep inside of you, feeling each and every flex of his cock spurt loving ropes, emptying his balls into your supple hole.
Mr. Qi breathes with a growl, face in a tired grimace – Nonetheless content, mind you – groaning as he pulls out of your poor abused hole, tucking himself into his pants as if nothing had even happened. He watches his cum leak out of you, satisfied at the mess he’d left behind.
You breathe softly, left in a heap right where he left you, lulled yourself to sleep, drooling a mess on your pillow. He’ll be there when you wake up.
Just not.. There, you know?