From CEO to Concubine

Trigger warning: non-consensual touching, vulgar and demeaning insults

"Fuck, look at this little harlot, see how he's wriggling his hips—"

Hands pawed at Yan Zheyun, grabbing roughly at his waist to haul him unceremoniously away from the stables. He tried screaming, but only managed to let out a garbled shout before it was muffled by a piece of cloth that was slipped into his mouth. The cloth tasted acrid like stale sweat and the fumes made him even more lightheaded.

"Tch, it's such a pity that someone else is going to enjoy this feast, you sure we can't have a taster bite first?"

Someone else laughed callously. "That's enough," they replied. "You can touch all you want but don't spoil the goods, unless you want to die."

"I wouldn't dare, haha, I wonder who Master's giving him to."

"Don't be nosy. You know the consequences."

Yan Zheyun's vision swam. He tried to catch a glimpse of his captors, but he was quickly losing control of his senses. Desire thrummed unbidden through his body, eliciting a strong sense of despair. Was the plotline going to be inevitable? He'd already thought that he'd been so careful, ensuring that no one was around him when he boiled the water or drank. And yet he wound up in this situation despite all his precautions.

His knife was still in his shoe. If Scumbag 2 touched him later, if he so much as came near Yan Zheyun, then they could die together. Yan Zheyun would be executed for killing a prince, but he'd at least drag one deviant asshole down with him. And maybe he'd even be able to address his grievances in the King of Hell's court. Make Scumbag 2 reincarnate as a pig in his next life.

[No…wait, pigs are so cute, what wrong have they ever done to you? He can be a dung beetle…]

Why was he thinking about insects again? Yan Zheyun couldn't process all the heightened sensory information coming through. His thoughts were also becoming scattered. Quiet moans escaped from his lips every time his captors brushed against his skin. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't hold them in, the noises impossible to suppress against the growing want.

"Aiyo, listen to this little slut, haha! I don't think it's the medicine that's making him so wanton, I bet he's always been thirsty for men—"

The humiliation burned. But Yan Zheyun was completely powerless against it. His futile attempts at struggling weakened, until he was slack in the arms of his captor like a lifeless ragdoll. The route that they dragged him along was unfamiliar to him, but this could also be because he was disoriented. The place was dark and quiet, with none of the red wedding lanterns that decorated the main house. The fog in his brain thickened but he tried his best to rationalise his location. They had brought him to a secluded area that the visitors wouldn't see, so he must be in the inner part of the main compound, reserved for family members and close overnight guests.

A door swung open. He was lugged over its threshold and flung onto a bed. So there was a bed, with silk sheets on them, but they smelled musty like they hadn't been cleaned in a while. One of the guest rooms, then. But where? Which one? Was there a way out—

Dust tickled his nose. He shivered from the brush of gauzy curtains against his cheek, feeling himself grow so impossibly hard that he lost all coherent thought, reaching a hand down without care about who else might be in the room watching. But his actions were rudely halted when his captors snatched his wrists and bound them together with rope.

"Look at him, so needy already and he hasn't even been touched yet! Big Young Master is lucky to be able to enjoy such a treasure, I bet he's always eager to spread his legs in Big Young Master's bed—"

A rough hand felt Yan Zheyun up greedily, one hand slipping down to his waist to loosen the strings that bound his simple tunic shut. It slipped inside to brush a teasing knuckle against his nipple and he couldn't help but cry out around his gag, hands reaching up to grasp at his assailant's wrist. For a second, he wasn't sure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer.

"Shit, what a beauty—"

"That's enough, you idiot," the other voice interrupted. "Let's go, do you want the master's guest to come back and see you salivating all over his gift? You're thinking so hard with your lower head that you're okay with losing the one on your neck?"

A bout of disgruntled swearing broke out but the hand disappeared, leaving Yan Zheyun clutching at the front of his clothes and panting.

"Fine, fine. Fuck, you just have to toss cold water on everything I do, I'm going to go take care of myself, you stand here and guard the whore."

Footsteps faded away, followed by the clatter of doors as they slammed shut. Yan Zheyun curled up into a ball and tried to ignore the heat in his body. He felt like he was drenched in sweat, beads of perspiration slipping down his forehead and plastering his hair to his neck.

Fuck. He was alone now, those fools had actually left him alone. And they hadn't tied his legs up either, perhaps because they'd believed him to be too far gone because of the drugs. Yan Zheyun didn't know whether they would come back in, or whether Scumbag 2 was already on his way over now. He needed to get the hell out of here before it was too late.

He had never found it this impossible to concentrate before. He willed himself to sit up, contorting himself so that his bound hands could reach for the knife in his shoe, but even the slightest shift in position sent fresh waves of desire crashing over him. By the time he'd finally managed to pry the knife out, he was a quivering mess on the bed.

But he'd managed the first step. The rest would be easier.

Rolling over and pushing himself upright, he knelt on the hilt of the knife to hold it steady as he angled the sharp blade against the rope around his wrists. His coordination was so addled by now that he missed and nicked himself a couple of times, blood welling up from the lacerations on his forearms like small agate beads. The pain seemed to help dissipate some of the haze of arousal, but Yan Zheyun knew that this was only temporary. He had to act fast.

[Come on—]

Just as the rope finally frayed and fell off, someone yanked the curtains open.

Yan Zheyun's heart plummeted. He raised his knife in front of him, ready to strike, but froze when he saw the soft, petite figure of a girl.

What was going on?

He hadn't heard her approaching and definitely hadn't heard the door. Was this because he was going in and out of lucidity? Or had she already been hiding somewhere in the room all along?

The girl's face was slightly familiar, but it wasn't until she placed a finger on her lips and started reaching for his gag that he recalled where he'd seen her before.

Wu Roushu's maid. The one who'd rushed out with a blanket to cover her mistress after the incident in the eastern pond.

Why was she here? He had a million questions but was in no shape to ask any of them.

The maid's hands were blessedly cool against the skin of Yan Zheyun's face. He pressed into the touch mindlessly, turning his cheek to nuzzle into her palm, and almost let out a whine when she snatched her hand back.

Fuck. What was he doing?

The maid frowned but didn't say anything as she tugged on his arm like she wanted him to follow her somewhere. Yan Zheyun wasn't in the right frame of mind to be making executive decisions, but his gut instinct told him that if she wanted to harm him, she would have done so by now. And really, it wasn't like he could find himself in a worse position.

He struggled to the edge of the bed and tried standing up but it was a lot harder than he'd expected. No wonder the goons outside hadn't thought to tie his legs up, there really wasn't much need to. His thighs trembled beneath his weight and his calves felt like jelly. He wasn't going anywhere without help.

To his embarrassment, his arm was hoisted onto a slender shoulder as Wu Roushu's maid supported him like a crutch. There was surprising strength in her tiny frame.

"Just a bit further, Young Master," she whispered, pointing at the window. "You'll be safe soon."

He nearly cried at the relief her words brought him.

The journey from the windowsill to the stables was a confusing blur to him. The drugs must have spread throughout his system by now because he found himself unable to do more than follow the maid's lead blindly. He obeyed when she coaxed him to hide behind trees, listened to her instructions when she told him to slink through hidden servant back doors. As she navigated the both of them through the maze that was the Wu Estate, he found himself struggling harder and harder to resist the effects of the drugs. More than once, he'd tried reaching for her body to relieve himself of the ache inside, and she'd pushed him away gently but firmly.

"You'll be safe soon," she would repeat during those moments, and Yan Zheyun would regain some of his consciousness and gasp out an apology.

By the time they reached the stables, the night watchman had already rung the gong twice. The banquet would be ending soon so that the groom would be able to proceed with enjoying his wedding night. Perhaps some visitors would linger behind to drink, but others would be leaving, and before long, their servants would approach the stables to ask for assistance with the horses and carriages.

"You need to find somewhere to hide," the maid insisted. "But your room won't be safe anymore."

Of course, Yan Zheyun knew that. But all he wanted to do now was to climb into his pallet and touch himself, relieve some of the desire that was quickly impeding even his last ounce of common sense.

It hurt just to refrain from following his base instincts and push the maid to the ground. It would feel good to enter her, without a doubt. He knew it wasn't what he wanted, wouldn't make up for the empty feeling coming from a certain place below his spine that he didn't want to think about, but it would be something at least—

"Leave me," he rasped, shoving her roughly aside. "Hurry." He wasn't sure how much longer he could control himself.

The maid seemed to realise the danger because she backed away from him. "Young Master," she said warily. "I'll go, but you really have to go somewhere else. They'll come to your rooms once they realise you're missing, may even be on the way already."

But where could Yan Zheyun go? Blood pounded in his ears as he looked around frantically for a place to hide. He felt like he was drunk, the world distorted and fuzzy at the edges like nothing was real except the need that burned through his veins.

At some point, he found himself wandering out onto the streets, just outside the Wu Estate. The moon was a blur in the black sky. He stumbled between rows of carriages, eliciting curious looks from the manservants and coachmen that hung around waiting for their masters' commands. Luckily for him, his hair, which was a haphazard mess, covered his face from their prying eyes, and everyone just mistook him for a slave that had gotten too caught up in the revelry of the day. More specifically, the alcohol.

Further down the road, he felt his vision dimming. If he passed out here, near this alleyway, would he become the unsuspecting prey of some criminal? Being r**ped by Scumbag 2 or some homeless beggar seemed to be his fate.