52. Cloud Box Part 1

Yin Yan touched the collar around his neck every so often.

In the mirror, the silver metal ring looked heavy, but it was lighter than expected. Lu Zhengming had custom-ordered it from lightweight alloy. It was more hygienic than leather, and unlike stainless steel, it would not weigh down the cervical spine. The exterior of the collar was engraved with intricate Byzantine-style patterns. Inside, in Lu Zhengming’s own handwriting, were the initials Y.Y.

They had designed it together. Lu Zhengming had drawn the outline and the lettering, while the patterns were Yin Yan’s work. Though he had little formal training in decorative arts, his sketch was neat and refined, indistinguishable from a professional rendering.

Lu Zhengming had commented on the design: “You’re not religious. Why use religious motifs?”

Yin Yan had smiled. “Personal taste.”

“Don’t brush me off.” Lu Zhengming’s face turned cold. “What did we agree on before?”

Yin Yan obediently knelt, looking up at him. “Before you, I will always speak the truth. I will never deceive you.”

Lu Zhengming sat down in a chair. With their heights now nearly equal, the way Yin Yan looked up made it seem like he was asking for a kiss. Lu Zhengming resisted the urge and said coolly, “You can punish yourself later. For now, answer the question.”

“Because…” Yin Yan lowered his gaze, hesitating, “Every time I become aware of my own will, I feel a sense of guilt. These religious symbols, steeped in the culture of sin, represent a kind of… commandment. They make me feel safe. When I ‘sin,’ you can punish me… guide me. And I… I can find redemption by surrendering to you.”

He spoke slowly and with difficulty. By the time he said “redemption,” his face was flushed. Lu Zhengming was surprised. He kept himself restrained and asked, “What’s so hard about saying that? Why lie?”

“I really do prefer medieval and early Renaissance aesthetics. You already know that’s part of my academic focus.” Yin Yan looked up briefly, then dropped his head again. “As for not being fully honest… saying the truth makes me feel ashamed. Maybe… maybe it’s like the real me breaks through and asserts itself. And then… I get punished for it. Harshly punished.”

Lu Zhengming couldn’t quite follow. But in this role, it wouldn’t do to appear confused, so he kept up the act and made a mental note to read up later. He followed Yin Yan’s train of thought and pressed further. “Besides me, who else is punishing you?”

Yin Yan hesitated. A spider flashed through his mind, then fog. He thought for a long while before shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t say. It’s like a fog. I don’t know what it means.”

He wasn’t telling the whole truth. But his expression was so devout, Lu Zhengming didn’t catch it and simply told him to fetch the tools.

Yin Yan returned with a slender training whip, one designed to deliver pain with precision and intensity.

Lu Zhengming hadn’t intended to use anything that harsh. He had thought Yin Yan would bring something milder, like a leather paddle or soft-tipped flogger. What he didn’t know was that Yin Yan was punishing himself. Not for disobedience, but for withholding part of the truth.

Yin Yan offered the whip with both hands, then unfastened his belt, pulled down his pants, and knelt with his hands and knees braced on the floor. Aside from his exposed buttocks, he remained fully clothed. The contrast made the shame even worse.

The sight left Lu Zhengming dry-mouthed. Yin Yan wore dark clothes. His pale skin stood out lewdly, the shadow between his legs tinged with ambiguous warmth.

Lu Zhengming took several deep breaths, forcing down the desire. He spoke evenly. “Ten strokes. I’m beginning.”

The whip was sharp. Even with just the tip grazing across, it left vivid red lines. At first, Yin Yan could bear it. But by the seventh stroke, his legs started to tremble. His white skin was now covered in red, like a web of lust. A touch anywhere would bring a wave of pain.

For the last three strokes, Lu Zhengming didn’t rush. He traced over the welts with the tip of the whip, letting it hover just one or two millimeters from the skin.

Yin Yan’s entire focus was on his back. The swollen whip marks were hypersensitive; even without seeing them, he could sense the slightest movement of the whip through changes in air currents. Wherever the tip of the whip moved, the skin would tighten, sharp and stinging like needle pricks.

It was a psychological pain, more direct and more elusive than the physical kind. In Yin Yan’s mind, the web of pain spread across his body like a prison, and also like a sanctuary. It kept him from falling.

Pain meant safety. And when he felt safe, pleasure followed, stretching from the mind to the flesh.

The eighth lash fell. He moaned softly, and his cock hardened.

Lu Zhengming told him to take off his pants. His lower half was now completely exposed. Yin Yan didn’t hesitate. He had long forgotten shame. He almost rushed to pull down both his underwear and trousers.

“Leave the socks on.”

Yin Yan kept on his mid-calf socks, black and snug around the ankles, making the pale skin of his calves appear even whiter. His upper half was still dressed in a dark grey, stand-collared shirt, buttoned meticulously to the top, just as he would wear in any formal occasion.

Above such prim clothing, his long legs lay shamelessly bare. His reddened ass looked swollen, fuller and rounder under the light, obscenely inviting.

Lu Zhengming swung the whip again. This time, he struck low, just barely missing the perineum.

Yin Yan’s upper body jolted up. His arms nearly gave out beneath him. He instinctively clamped his ass together, his hole tightening, his balls drawing up, and his cock jumped with the motion.

The floor between his thighs was wet.

Lu Zhengming’s cock ached, but he fought to remain calm.

Before, he had seen this as a game. He’d gone along with it in a playful spirit, thinking it was just something they both enjoyed. But he had never stopped to seriously consider what lay behind Yin Yan’s peculiar desires. Not until now.

Now, he approached it differently.

He was learning what it meant to be a proper Dom, and a proper lover.

He would not let Yin Yan walk that path again.

One lash remained. Lu Zhengming slipped the tip of the whip into the cleft of his ass, pressing against the tensed flesh as if to pry it apart. But it was clenched tight.

“Spread.”

Yin Yan’s face was flushed. His damp hair clung to the back of his neck, as if from heat or the dazed bliss of sex.

The skin that had been struck was burning now, the pain fading into a deep, spreading warmth. His whole ass felt like it was being kneaded by a pair of firm, hot hands. It was indescribably comfortable. The line of the whip between his cheeks sparked new cravings. The floor beneath him grew wetter and wetter.

“Spread. I don’t want to say it a third time.”

Lu Zhengming withdrew the whip, ran it down the length of his cock until it was soaked, then slid it back between those still-hesitant cheeks, pushing in to the base and gently prodding at his entrance.

Yin Yan gasped aloud.

Tempted by the touch, he began to spread his legs, lowering his torso further and further until his chest touched the ground. Lu Zhengming didn’t correct his posture. He continued teasing with the tip of the whip. Yin Yan’s moans grew longer. He lowered his hips and raised his ass, grinding back against the training whip.

The whip felt like a thin, penetrating cock. He wanted to be fucked by it, hard.

Lu Zhengming lifted the whip, tracing it up to his tailbone, tapping lightly. Yin Yan chased the touch, raising his ass as high as it would go. Just as his knees were about to leave the floor, Lu Zhengming brought the whip down hard on the spot he most wanted to be entered.

Yin Yan jolted like he had been electrocuted, then collapsed with a crash. His lower body convulsed wildly, and his cum sprayed across the floor.

Lu Zhengming clenched his fists and watched in silence until the end. Then he lifted him gently and carried him to the bed.

Yin Yan lay face down for a long time before he finally came back to himself. Lu Zhengming had already cleaned him up, applied ointment, and wrapped a towel around an ice pack to soothe the area. He had also tidied the room and mopped the floor.

While doing all of this, Lu Zhengming never once felt like he had compromised himself. Before they began this entirely new relationship, they had solemnly agreed.

When Yin Yan knelt, Lu Zhengming was his master. All rights and responsibilities were equal in weight. He held absolute authority over Yin Yan, and also absolute responsibility. He had to guarantee his safety. He had to care for everything about him.

When Yin Yan stood, they were equals. Whatever one did for the other, it was never something to be ashamed of. Lu Zhengming didn’t care about pride, nor did he care about how exhausting it was.

There was no contradiction.

When he was alone, Lu Zhengming often imagined the day he might kneel before Yin Yan instead… He hoped that day would come soon. It would mean Yin Yan had stepped out of the darkness. When that time came, whatever Yin Yan wanted to do to him, he would accept it gladly. Lu Zhengming believed that Yin Yan would hold the same sense of responsibility toward him.

But until then, there was still much he had to explore.

Yin Yan touched the collar around his neck and remembered the moment he had received it.

It had been a weekend. He was in the studio reading when Lu Zhengming signed for the delivery at the door. A few minutes later, Lu Zhengming walked in, visibly pleased, holding a flat black box.

He didn’t need to knock. He was already Yin Yan’s master. Yin Yan no longer had the right to claim personal space. But Lu Zhengming insisted on doing so. He always said their dynamic did not need to persist twenty-four hours a day. He also needed to be a lover who could be respected.

Yin Yan never argued. Lu Zhengming, in that mood, was always gentle. Yin Yan didn’t dislike that gentleness. He only feared becoming too attached, getting carried away, and inviting disaster once again. That fear was why he always kept himself so tightly restrained.

Lu Zhengming had already come to stand before him with the box.

His expression was unusually solemn, like someone proposing with a ring. Yin Yan lifted the lid. Inside, resting on black velvet, was the collar. He took it out and traced the engraved letters on the inner band, Y.Y. Lu Zhengming had tested dozens of pens, written it hundreds of times, just to choose a font he was satisfied with.

Yin Yan held it up in both hands and offered it to Lu Zhengming.

Lu Zhengming opened the clasp and placed the collar around his neck. Just before fastening it, he asked:

“You know what this means?”

Yin Yan nodded.

Lu Zhengming asked again, “What’s the safeword?”

Yin Yan replied, “I love you.”

Lu Zhengming’s chest tightened.

When they first agreed on that phrase, he hadn’t objected. He had only said one thing: If you truly mean it, then I’ll respect your choice.

Yin Yan had nodded with a smile. I mean it.

But in that moment, he had already made up his mind. No matter how painful it got, he would never speak that phrase during a session. If Lu Zhengming lost control and ended up killing him…

That would be the best possible ending.

He even looked forward to it, just a little.

Lu Zhengming brought Yin Yan to the mirror, held him from behind, and kissed his neck and ear.
“Beautiful.”

“Do I have to wear it all the time?”

“No.” Lu Zhengming lifted his hand and placed a key into his palm. “One for each of us. If it gets inconvenient, you can take it off. But when it’s on, you only listen to me.”

“Alright.”

“What’s the proper way to say that?” Lu Zhengming’s voice was stern, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Yes, ‘Master.’” Yin Yan smiled too.

He looked down at the key in his hand. The design was just as intricate, with delicate carvings all along its surface. There were only two identical keys in the world, capable of unlocking that collar.

The metal was cool, but his palm was warm. From the inside out, he felt filled with something again, like he had recovered a bit of strength. Enough to seal off his past on his own. He didn’t want it to contaminate Lu Zhengming. He didn’t want to tear open old wounds.

“Should we do something to commemorate this?”

Yin Yan turned to face him. His lower body pressed up against Lu Zhengming’s, grinding with teasing intent.

“Whose orders are we following right now?” Lu Zhengming gave his ass a sharp slap. “Looking to be punished?”

“Then how will you punish me?”

Yin Yan’s smile deepened as he hooked his arms around his neck, lips brushing lips.

“Out of control,” Lu Zhengming growled, breathing heavily as he gripped his ass and pushed him toward the bedroom. “I need to teach you some rules.”

But on the bed, there were no rules. Only endless tenderness and sweetness.

In that moment, Lu Zhengming wasn’t much of a master, but he was the perfect lover. He used his entire body to pleasure Yin Yan, almost drowning him in delight.

Yin Yan wore the collar as he rolled from side to side on the bed.

Its design didn’t interfere with sleep. What kept him awake were the memories. He ran his hand over his body. Every place Lu Zhengming had kissed still burned and itched. But his own hand could not soothe it. It didn’t feel the same.

He finally understood what Lu Zhengming had meant, that kind of weariness that came from pleasuring oneself and feeling nothing in return.

---

Not long after the new semester began, Lu Zhengming had to take his students on a field trip to the Northwest for an art survey. He had wanted to refuse, stay home and keep Yin Yan company, but the latter insisted on being left alone to draw. Lu Zhengming thought about it and, before leaving, fastened the collar around his neck.

“When it’s on, you follow my rules. Until I get back, you’re not to take it off without telling me. If something comes up, I expect an explanation.”

Yin Yan understood the weight of that gesture. Lu Zhengming added, “First order, stay alive. Don’t neglect yourself. If I come back and you’re not in good shape, I’ll punish you hard.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lu Zhengming’s face flushed. He still wasn’t used to the title, but he held steady, keeping a stern face. “Second order. Don’t touch any of your ‘toys.’ Only I’m allowed to touch you.”

The trip would last two weeks. Lu Zhengming thought it over and softened. “If you really can’t help it, you can use your hand.”

Yin Yan thought of that and smiled bitterly. He had no interest in toys anymore. Not unless they were in Lu Zhengming’s hands.

Because of the accident in Qingdao during the plein air trip, the studio had assigned another instructor to assist Lu Zhengming, one of the two new hires, the one with an innate flair for painting. Lu Zhengming was rooming with colleagues, so they had no chance to video call. He could only sneak a few photos during showers and send them to Yin Yan for comfort.

After some futile restlessness, Yin Yan’s desire slowly faded. He opened his phone and scrolled through the pictures. They were all sexy. Even if they weren’t nude, just a headshot selfie made his heart pound. Lu Zhengming’s eyes always had that pull, especially when he smiled. It could throw off his entire sense of direction.

He typed out the words “I miss you so much” in the chat window, then deleted them one by one.

It wasn’t because of any order from Lu Zhengming. He was always happy to get messages from him, and he always replied quickly. Yin Yan’s hesitation came from something else.

Lu Zhengming was deeply interested in his art. Every time they talked, he would casually ask how the painting was going. Yin Yan would either change the subject or reply vaguely, “It’s alright.”

But in truth, it wasn’t.

He had lost the ability to paint.