The Lustful Young Master starting with Holy Maiden.-Chapter 46: The symphony of culture.

"Young Master...."

It felt deeper, hungrier, as if the first time had merely unlocked the gate, and now his tongue strode in like a conquering god through her sacred garden, planting flags upon every trembling petal.

Her thighs clenched around his head, trapping him in her heat, her nectar flowing freely now, sweet and thick, pooling on his lips.

Her body was already weak as dry leaves, and highly sensitive.

Yet,

His tongue moved like a serpent and a sage, circling, flicking, then plunging into her sacred depths with a rhythm born not of the flesh but of the very Dao foundation.

"Euckk...." Her tongue moved upwards as his tongue made a very sensitive lick.

He remembers everything...

She thought in dazed agony.

Every fold, every breath, and even every moan.

He’s reading me... as if I’m a scroll he wrote himself...

Ahhh, I hate it... How am I so weak to his tongue alone?

She could see her shameful face, in the mirror above realizing how much pleasure he was giving her, yet, she couldn’t give him the same.

She couldn’t even recognize herself, her eyes rolled up and lazy, tongue lolling out, gasping for breath, weak facial muscles, drooling saliva... How can she be a noble holy maiden of Supreme Peak Holy Land?

Is this the face of a sinner who has worshipped the sin of lust?

How vulgar,

Yet, her nails raked across his chest. Her hips moved of their own accord.

She had lost all shame, all resistance. Her body was no longer hers. It was his altar, his field, and his plaything.

It won’t hurt to be shameless in front of your man, would it? Her secret dirty little life, who would see it?

Forget about Ye Chen, he is merely a worm.

"Eee... So good,"

A sob broke from her throat, half-cry, half-moan,

"I-I’m going to...!"

This time, the release came not gently, but like a tribulation bolt striking from the clouds, her back arched like a drawn bow, and her sacred spring gushed in waves against his mouth, overflowing.

"Hnnghhhhhhh!!!!!"

She came with a cry that echoed off the jade pillars, eyes rolled back, lips parted, her entire body convulsing in his hands like a phoenix caught in its own flame.

Her very core shaped violently, her meridians lit up like lanterns, her soul, somewhere deep within knelt for mercy.

A massive pool of spring water gushed out of her Yin Garden, washing Zhao Fan’s face into her... She lightly stood up, making sure the spring water fibers every inch of his face.

( Squirting )

Did she do it knowingly or unknowingly was unknown, but she loved him the way his face was covered in her spring water.

"Young Master... I want to kiss you," She said with a proud face.

Yi Xin Xue smiled from below, her lips still wrapped around Zhao Fan’s throbbing celestial pillar.

She felt his body tighten beneath her, as if Ling’er’s pleasure surged directly through his flesh.

"Well, She is learning," the immortal master said between strokes, her voice cool as moonlight, yet deep within her heart, she was jealous.

She also wished to be eaten by the young master and wanted to give him a good face wash with her soft, serene, holy spring water.

Haah* Haah*

Ling’er collapsed forward, breath ragged, the aftershocks still rippling through her spine.

Her thighs remained clamped around his face, wetness dripping down like dew from a storm-battered flower.

I came again... because of his tongue... because of him... how shameful.

I even asked for a kiss.... Aah.

And somewhere inside, beneath the haze of bliss and the fire of humiliation, a dark joy bloomed.

That’s right... If Young Master hates it, he can also release all his Yang essence into her face, and give her a good face wash.

This must be what Sister Lotus feels... This must be why she smiles when he says her name...

Young Master must have eaten her many times.

Her peach was comfortable above his face, while Zhao Fan simply licked his lips, enjoying her soft peach.

...

Meanwhile,

Ye Chen sat cross-legged on a spirit-forged cushion at the far end of the chamber, surrounded by veils of pale incense smoke and the quiet pressure of silence as he had to quietly watch the scene.

Zhao Fan, supreme and unmoved, reclined on the immortal jade carpet like a sovereign god, was buried beneath the trembling hips of Ling’er.

Ye Chen’s supposed fated companion, the girl he had once sworn to protect, the woman who had once blushed at him, truth be revealed, he still loves her.

Yet, now she rode another man’s face with abandon, her thighs clamped tightly around his head, grinding herself against the tongue that conquered her without mercy.

Her sacred Yin garden, once shy and untouched, now dripped and gushed as if it had found the home it had been seeking in secret all along.

And,

Yi Xin Xue, his own master, a woman he had once revered like a cold immortal star, now knelt in between Zhao Fan’s legs, her lips suckling his celestial rod with the slow, reverent strokes of a woman long broken, and fully remade.

Her robe was half undone, her breath hot and full of discipline... She glanced at Ye Chen only once, eyes flickering with distant pity or perhaps it was condescension.

Ye Chen simply smiled brushing his back hair.

They all knew he was watching, yet no one paid any mind to him.

Ling’er, in her ecstasy, even looked directly at him once her moans catching in her throat as she came, and in that instant, Ye Chen’s heart shattered all over again.

But not from grief.

No, it was from pleasure, the twisted, vile, unearned pleasure, he hated it, yet, he lived for it, the feelings quite unfathomable.

This is wrong...

She was mine, they both were.

But why does watching her tremble make me feel complete and excited?

It feels like they were created to serve Young Master Zhao.

"Young masterrrr"

She cried out Zhao Fan’s name, not his, and her jade thighs convulsed around the man’s face as a flood of fluid burst forth from her sacred flower.

It sprayed in waves uncontrollably, anointing Zhao Fan’s lips and chin with the sacred spring she had never once given Ye Chen.

Maybe Ye Chen was never fated to bathe in the spring water of a woman.

Let alone this... They never even held hands, perhaps, Ye Chen was never meant to experience the warmth of a woman.

And yet Ye Chen didn’t look away.

He watched it all, the spasm of her body, the tremble of her voice, the soaking of Zhao Fan’s face in the sweet overflow of her pleasure, and something inside him thrilled.

His manhood was dead, but his mind was alive with agony and rapture.

I am not a man anymore,

I’m not her lover, nor her hero...

I am a vessel for her shame and his glory.

He almost wept from the weight of it, almost moaned, even, as if her climax had reached across the space and touched his shattered core.

There was no jealousy now neither resistance.

Just the purity of watching her fall in love with another man’s mouth, the sacred humiliation of knowing that she saw him watching... and didn’t stop.

He really enjoyed it... He liked it, he loved it.

His heart hurt yet he loved that pain.

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