Chapter Twelve

The nine-tailed fox didn't stop because of the man's breakdown. On the contrary—when her fingertips felt those two lips twitch slightly and open uncontrollably under the pressure of her fingertips, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, as if to etch this moment into the depths of her soul forever. Then she opened her eyes, looked down at her hand that was slowly moving in and out, and a very gentle smile curved her lips.

"My lord," her voice was so soft it sounded like she was talking in her sleep, yet her tone carried a heart-stopping certainty, "from now on, every morning, I will wake you up like this."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Jingxuan felt a warm, wet sensation on his lips pressed against the outside of her vagina—her other hand also reached down, her two slender fingertips simultaneously parting his lips, gently separating his upper and lower lips. Then she began to rhythmically mimic the thrusting motions of intercourse—her index and middle fingers alternately entered between his lips, the pads of her fingers pressing against his lips, her knuckles spreading his lips, then slowly withdrawing, then entering again, the speed increasing, the force becoming lighter and lighter, just like the rhythm of him moving in and out of her body.

"Ugh—! Ugh—!"

He wanted to call for a stop, but all he could manage was a muffled whimper, stifled by fingertips pressed against his lips. Each time his lips were passively clenched, he could simultaneously feel the walls of the human-skinned vagina contract sharply in perfect unison, causing his entire body to convulse. The two sensations combined—the invasive feeling of having his lips penetrated and the uncontrollable feeling of his desires being completely trapped—exploded into a single white light deep within his consciousness.

And her tongue wasn't idle either. Those nine soft labia enveloped his genitals, beginning a new kind of torment—the nine labia taking turns squeezing and grinding, some slowly pushing from the base to the tip, some drilling downwards from the tip, some circling the tip, and one pressing tightly against the indentation at the tip. Each labia had its own independent rhythm, like nine different movements playing simultaneously on his lower body. And the thinnest and longest labia of her tongue gently probed into the opening at the tip, like an extremely fine and soft tentacle, gently rotating inside the highly sensitive urethral opening.

He tried to close his legs, but his legs had become her arms, supporting him on the bed as he slowly sat up. He tried to push her away, but his hands had become her legs, passively parting her thighs as she got out of bed. The blanket slipped down to her waist, and she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet on the wooden floor.

Then she got up.

The moment she got up, the nine-tailed fox's vaginal walls contracted violently three times—the first contraction tightly enveloped his lips, forcing his tongue against an extremely sensitive protrusion; the second contraction caused her fingers to slip from his lips, her fingertips carrying a little clear fluid; the third contraction enveloped his lips completely within her vaginal opening, like an overly gentle kiss. Immediately afterward, because his tongue was pressed against this soft flesh, he could clearly feel her nerves spasming deep within her vagina—she herself was being stimulated during her ascent.

"Mmm... Husband's tongue is especially warm in the morning. Look, my legs are already trembling before I even get to the mirror."

She silently finished speaking those words in her mind, then walked barefoot onto the cool wooden floor to the copper basin in the corner of the room. As she bent over to wash her face, her upper body leaned forward, and the curve of her abdomen slightly pressed against the inner walls of her vagina. Lin Jingxuan felt a slight downward friction on the soft flesh pressed against his lips. His lips tingled from this slight movement, and his tongue instinctively retracted, only to push against the soft flesh even deeper inside.

"Wait a minute..." she said to him in her heart as she wiped the water droplets from her face with a cloth, "My husband hasn't had breakfast yet. How could I bear to let you go hungry?"

She pulled a phoenix sugar figurine she'd bought the night before from the teacup on the table. The figurine was slightly melted, and a thin thread of the phoenix tail clung to the cup's rim, shimmering with an amber luster in the morning light. She held the figurine in her hand, then looked down at her lower abdomen, her gaze tender and heartbreaking.

“I’ve thought about it. My husband is upside down here, his mouth can’t eat directly, and his body is still getting used to the new position… someone has to feed you. So I made something last night. Don’t be afraid, it’s just to make you more comfortable to eat.”

She pulled something from a hidden pocket in her robe. It was a golden bell, about the size of a thumb, its surface covered with extremely fine runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. At the top of the bell was a small ring, through which a similarly thin leather cord was threaded. This was no ordinary bell—Lin Jingxuan recognized it at a glance. It was a demonic artifact used in the demonic path specifically for cultivating the art of sexual intercourse, called the "Bell of Union." It didn't ring, it only vibrated, each vibration precisely targeting every sensitive point on the vaginal walls. Many female cultivators in the cultivation world had been tormented to the point of near death by this object.

The nine-tailed fox spirit twirled the bell between her fingers, then lowered her head and opened her palm, scooping out a large lump of pale golden syrup from a small porcelain jar on the table with her other hand. She had prepared it sometime last night—the syrup was warm, emitting a sweet fragrance mixed with peach blossom nectar and some unknown medicinal herb, its texture like thick honey. She carefully placed the bell into the syrup, stirring it with her fingertips until the entire bell was coated with a thick layer of golden sugar.

"The Vitality Balm, made by mixing the honey of a hundred flowers with the inner core of a demon beast, can not only satisfy my husband's hunger but also replenish his spiritual power. As for the Hehuan Bell, it is coated with syrup, which isolates most of the evil artifact's sensations with spiritual power, leaving only the faintest layer of vibration—when the bell vibrates, my husband will only feel as if he is being gently touched by a tongue. I will endure it with my husband, so it can be considered that I am playing with myself."

She explained this casually, her fingertips already pinching the sugar-coated acacia bell, and placing it below her lower abdomen. Then, with a gentle push of her fingers, the syrup-coated golden bell slid into her vaginal opening.

Lin Jingxuan felt something warm, round, and smooth press against his lower lip. It was a bell coated in syrup. The syrup coating had begun to melt slightly under her body heat, releasing an intensely sweet aroma that slid into his mouth. He was forced to open his mouth—not because he wanted to, but because the walls of her vagina contracted, pushing the bell inward. The outer layer of the syrup melted between his lips, the extremely viscous golden syrup coating his tongue and palate. He tasted it—a sweetness of peach blossom, lychee, and some indescribable medicinal herb; it was indeed edible, and delicious. But the next second, the outermost layer of the syrup, the one that protected him from spiritual energy, finally melted completely under her continued body heat. The evil artifact inside the bell, upon contact with the temperature of the vaginal walls, was instantly activated.

Buzz—!

A rapid vibration instantly traveled from the bell to the vaginal wall where it was placed, spreading outwards along the soft flesh. Lin Jingxuan's lips were pressed tightly against that soft flesh, his entire mouth covered by this sudden tremor—his upper lip, lower lip, tip of his tongue, root of his tongue, palate, and even his gums—every inch of his lip and tongue mucosa felt that subtle yet intense vibration at the same time. The vibration didn't just stay on the surface; it seeped into deeper nerves through the mucosa, like a tiny insect fluttering its wings beneath every part of the mucosa.

This was not at all the "weakest tremor" she had described. Even through the sugar coating and the barrier of spiritual energy, the vibration of the Hehuan Bell was still far beyond what a normal person could bear. He could feel the bell vibrating rapidly deep inside her vagina, each vibration precisely hitting her most sensitive soft flesh, and his mouth was completely pressed against that area, meaning he was directly receiving this wave of frenzied shocks with his lips.

"ah--!"

Her body swayed violently, and she had to grab the edge of the table to steady herself. The walls of her vagina contracted violently under the stimulation of the acacia bell, the layers of soft flesh clenching tightly, making the bell even more vibrate. These contractions also pressed against his lips, trapping them between the surrounding soft flesh, preventing him from even opening his mouth to breathe. He could only passively feel the tiny folds of the mucous membrane inside his lips rubbing against his mouth with each vibration.

"Hmm...it's too deep..." She slowly knelt down, supporting herself on the table, her fingers digging into the table leg, her nails leaving shallow marks on the wood. "I wanted to give my husband breakfast, but...ah...the bell seems a little different from last night..."

Inside her tongue, Lin Jingxuan was in no better shape. Stimulated by the bell, her throat began to swallow continuously, each swallow causing the nine lobes of her tongue to squeeze his entire body from head to toe. Those nine lobes of her tongue were like nine soft tongues of different shapes—some were wide and flat, repeatedly pressing against his base; some were thin and pointed, circling along the indentation at his tip; and two lobes were specifically wrapped around his most sensitive ring, repeatedly tightening and loosening from left to right. Her swallows came quickly and frequently, each swallow causing the entire root of her tongue to contract and the surface of her tongue to rise, violently sucking him from head to toe.

He wanted to ejaculate. No, he was about to. He'd already been tormented by her fingers and tongue for ages when he got up, and now with that sudden vibration from the bell, he couldn't hold back any longer. But just as he was about to ejaculate, her tongue suddenly blocked the tip of his penis—the thinnest, softest tip of her tongue precisely pressed against the opening, forcefully stopping the gushing semen from flowing out.

Then she stood up. She slowly rose, using the table for support, took a deep breath, and walked to the dressing table in the corner of the room. Before the bronze mirror, she began to style her hair. Her movements were as steady as possible; her fingers threaded through her long hair, dividing it into three sections, braiding them into a loose braid, then coiling them into a bun and securing it with a silver hairpin. Her face was reflected in the bronze mirror—her cheeks were flushed, her peach-blossom eyes were watery, her lips were slightly parted, and her tongue touched the roof of her mouth; her whole being exuded a seductive allure from the very core of her being. Yet, she successfully maintained a facade of propriety.

At the same time, her voice softly spoke in his mind: "Husband, please bear with it a little longer. We just got up. The weather is so nice today. I'd like to go to that newly opened teahouse in town. I heard they have the finest Longjing tea after the rain."

She spoke these words using an external sound. Because her mouth was now his genitals; she no longer had a tongue—her tongue had shed its membrane and split into nine lobes, wrapping around his genitals. Her mouth was now a hollow cavity, and his genitals extended from the base of her tongue, replacing it as her "new tongue." When he perceived it from this angle, he could feel the smooth bone surface of her palate, the enamel on the inside of her teeth, and the soft mucous membrane inside her lips—all of this enveloped him, becoming an extension of his senses.

“I need to use my mouth more today,” she said to herself in the mirror. Then she smiled, a gentle yet sickly smile, and lightly licked her palate with her new “tongue.” The sensation traveled back from the tip of his tongue—her palate was smooth and warm, with fine horizontal lines on its surface. As he gently scraped the lines with the edge of his tongue, he could feel the subtle differences in the spacing and depth of each line.

“My dear husband, look, our breakfast is very simple, just talking to you. Look—this is ‘morning’.”

She opened her mouth, looked in the mirror, and slowly uttered the syllable "zao" (早). To pronounce it, the tip of the tongue touches the back of the palate, and then airflow bursts out from the sides of the tongue tip. As her mouth began to shape the sound of "zao," her palate lowered, the smooth bone pressing directly onto the top of his head, flattening his crown slightly; her teeth on either side pulled inward, gently biting the sides of his root, forming a tightly sealed oral cavity with the nine lobes of her tongue, squeezing from all sides. Hot, moist air rushed from her throat, washing over the entire surface of his body, flowing rapidly along the narrow grooves formed by the nine lobes of his tongue. His nerve endings tingled and trembled from the crisscrossing flow of heat, his whole body stiffening at the base of her tongue.

As soon as he finished uttering that one word, he almost ejaculated inside her. But her tongue once again precisely blocked his exit, and at the same time, a very thin talisman at the base of her tongue flashed—it was the seal she had carved last night, specifically to prevent him from secretly ejaculating. She could now control his release at will; she could make him ejaculate when she wanted, and if she didn't want him to, he could only hold it in until she gave him permission.

"Then comes 'peace'."

She opened her mouth again, this time uttering the vowel "an"—her tongue first pressed down, then the front part rose to press against the roof of her mouth, the back of her mouth opening, and airflow squeezed out from the sides of her tongue. At this moment, the root of her tongue performed an extremely complex movement: first, the three lower lobes of her tongue, pressed against the soft tissue of his throat, arched and then fell back simultaneously, lifting him up and down; then the lateral lobes pressed inwards, rubbing repeatedly against his skin; finally, the tip of her tongue blocked the exit again, forming a flexible ring that gently bit down on the urethral opening. The bony surface of her roof of her mouth intermittently tightened and loosened in rhythm with the sound, pressing against his back. By the time he finally recovered from this stimulation, she had already begun to utter the third word.

"And then there's 'hao,' the rising tone. This syllable requires the tip of the tongue to first press against the front of the hard palate, then slightly flick it open, letting the airflow rush out from the gap created by the flicked tongue tip. My husband, can you feel it? Every time I flick my tongue to pronounce 'hao,' your skin is slapped by the flicked tongue tip, then your entire row of front teeth lightly bites the root of the tongue, and then your throat inhales again when the sound ends. To say 'hao,' my husband gets bitten several times by me."

As she dressed and groomed herself, she used him as her tongue, reciting the morning greeting word by word. Each syllable required incredibly complex movements within her mouth—the palate, the root of the tongue, the teeth, the throat, the lips—all the vocal organs working in unison, and the vehicle for this movement was his genitals. He was like a drum placed inside a sophisticated vocal machine, each vibration striking him from all directions. By the time she finished reciting a complete "Good morning, my husband," he had lost count of how many times she had sucked, pressed, bitten, flicked, and licked him. Each time he was on the verge of climax, each time blocked by the seal of her tongue, his ejaculation gate repeatedly knocked but never able to enter.

"Alright," she finally finished combing her hair, took one last look in the mirror to make sure her makeup and clothes were impeccable, then picked up the money bag on the table, pushed open the door and left the inn. "Now let's go eat. We also need to go to the teahouse for Longjing tea."

She went to the morning market first. The morning market was more down-to-earth than the night market. The aunties selling vegetables carried two baskets of small green vegetables still covered with dew on a shoulder pole, the old men selling tofu were cutting hot, tender tofu on a cutting board, a line of people was gathered around the soy milk stall, the fried dough sticks were fried to a golden brown and crispy in boiling oil, the freshly steamed buns were white and plump, and the dough still had the marks of fingers pinching it. The aroma of pork and green onions mixed with the hot steam rising from the steamer swept through the street.

The nine-tailed fox stopped at the soy milk stall and bought a bowl of hot soy milk and a freshly fried dough stick. The soy milk was served in a large, rough porcelain bowl, with a thick layer of white foam floating on the surface, and the steam carrying the aroma of soybeans filled her nostrils. She broke the dough stick into small pieces and soaked them in the soy milk until they were soft and fluffy, then picked up a piece with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth.

This is where the real torment begins.

The soy milk was scalding hot. She blew on it, then put it in her mouth. The scalding liquid poured directly onto the tip of Lin Jingxuan's penis, the instantaneous high temperature causing his nerve endings to contract violently, and his entire organ jerked violently inside her mouth. The heat wasn't the kind of pain that burns skin, but a numbing sensation somewhere between burning and tingling—it was too hot, so hot that every capillary was rapidly dilating, pumping more blood into the already congested tissue.

Then she took a bite of the softened fried dough stick. Soaked in the warm soy milk, the dough stick became soft and juicy. Her teeth gently bit down, the pressure transmitted from both sides to the base of his penis, trapping it in a moderate bite force. She began to chew—her upper and lower teeth opening and closing, each bite causing the entire organ to be repeatedly squeezed, ground, relaxed, and then ground again in the narrow space between her tongue and her mouth. The rhythm of chewing was irregular, sometimes three times, sometimes five, each time with varying force. He was thus trapped in an extremely gentle hammering machine, each round of chewing a grotesque and cruel form of torture.

Then came the wontons, which she had specifically asked the vendor to make into cold wontons served in an icy bowl. The wonton wrappers had been rinsed in icy well water, and water droplets still clung to their surfaces. Crushed ice was placed in the vinegar sauce at the bottom of the bowl, and the whole bowl was steaming. She picked up an icy wonton and put it in her mouth. The icy sensation abruptly switched from the scalding hot soy milk to another extreme—the sudden cooling after being scalded caused the capillaries on her skin to constrict instantly. The tips of her mouth, which had been swollen from being hit by the scalding liquid, were now pressed against the icy wonton wrapper. The alternating hot and cold stimulation violently shook his rationality. He was then chewed. The sourness of the vinegar sauce and the spiciness of the minced garlic seeped into her skin through her oral mucosa. He felt as if he had fallen into a constantly changing, comfortable, melting pot of flavors, where all of his senses were engaged in a meal.

He couldn't ejaculate. His ejaculation point was completely blocked. He could only hold it in, trembling all over, letting out soft whimpers. The nine-tailed fox simply wiped her mouth elegantly with a handkerchief, smiling as she said to the stall owner, "Another bowl of iced soy milk, please." The stall owner had no idea what this beautiful woman was going through; he only noticed that she was eating with a flushed face and seemed to have a particularly good appetite.

The rest of the day was a nightmare for him.

They drank Longjing tea at the teahouse. She sipped the scalding hot tea, her entire being immersed in the slightly hot tea, the unique bittersweet aftertaste of Longjing permeating every fold of her skin. With each sip, her mouth formed a small chamber, the tea swirling and impacting his surface before being swallowed, the swallowing motion of her throat causing her nine-lobed tongue to squeeze him from all sides. In drinking one pot of tea, he was swallowed at least a hundred times by her.

For lunch, they had plum juice, cold lotus root slices, and steamed pork with rice flour, fresh from the steamer. The alternating hot and cold sensations made them eat with great care, chewing each bite more than a dozen times. While shopping, they bought freshly roasted chestnuts. The piping hot chestnut meat was crushed into a paste by her teeth in his mouth, the creamy chestnut paste covering his entire body. Only then did her tongue slowly lick the soft, sticky fragments clean from the folds of his skin. He could even feel the longest and thinnest of her nine-lobed tongue, deep within the ring-shaped groove below the tip of his tongue, patiently scraping out a tiny, finely ground chestnut fragment embedded at the bottom of the groove.

For dinner, she ordered a spicy hot pot broth. The bubbling red oil, glistening with a dense layer of Sichuan peppercorns, was intensely flavorful. She picked up a piece of cooked tripe, blew on it a couple of times, and then popped it into her mouth without hesitation. The numbing sensation of the Sichuan peppercorns felt like a thousand incredibly fine needles simultaneously piercing every pore of his sensitive skin, and the temperature was unparalleled by any cold food she'd ever eaten before—it felt like her entire organ was engulfed in flames. As she chewed, the cracked peppercorn shells released a burst of numbing oil that coated her entire body, while her nine-petaled tongue didn't miss a beat—the tips of the petals all stood upright, like nine tiny brushes simultaneously scrubbing away the remaining peppercorn fragments from every angle.

Several times he thought he would die in her mouth—not from injury, but from being overwhelmed by endless pleasure until he truly lost consciousness. But each time, she saved him from the brink of death at the last moment with an iced lychee, a sip of herbal tea, or a refreshing jelly. The sweet juice of the lychee flowed over his skin after he bit into it, bringing him a moment of comfort; then the next bite was freshly cooked crispy roast pork, the scalding hot crust being crushed by her teeth, the crumbs scraping against his skin while the meat juices seeped into every crevice of his mucous membranes.

She ate everything with great satisfaction; the beautiful woman at the table certainly had a great appetite—her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were watery, and she would occasionally wipe the fine beads of sweat from her forehead and neck with a handkerchief, sometimes nodding and smiling at the tea drinkers next to her. But inside her mouth, Lin Jingxuan was experiencing a seemingly endless oral sex ordeal.

"Husband, don't hold back too much..." She would occasionally pull herself back to restraint in her mind, but this restraint was often overshadowed by the next bite of food or the next sentence.

When her mouth finally had a moment to rest, she began to converse with people using his voice. Haggling with the cloth shop owner while shopping, encountering an old man asking for directions, chatting with the waiter at the teahouse about the newly arrived Longjing tea—every time she spoke was a complete act of oral sex. The rise and fall of her tone, the shifts in syllables, the varying intensity and pace of her voice, all translated into the squeezing and friction of different parts of his body from different angles within her mouth. When she uttered interjections like "ah," "ma," and "um," the back of her tongue would flick slightly; when she spoke the heavily nasalized "er" sound, she would lightly press her finger against her nostrils, but that tiny breath of air would still brush against the skin on his back through the subtle curve of her palate. He could hear himself—as his penis—participating in each idle chatter, each chatter laced with his own convulsions and frustration.

“My lord, do you know,” she suddenly whispered to herself as she left the teahouse, her tone intimate yet sickly, “that you’ve been speaking up for me all day. Do you remember how many words you spoke today? Four hundred and seventeen. That means you were subjected to four hundred and seventeen rounds of the pressure of my words as your tongue—but I found each round delicious, more delicious than anything I’d eaten yesterday.”

Lin Jingxuan no longer had the strength to even answer her in his consciousness. His consciousness was curled up deep inside her tongue, the seal at his ejaculation point was making him almost hallucinate. Every flick of her tongue gave him the illusion that he had reached his limit, while every blockage made him realize that he could never release anything before she allowed him to.

As darkness fell, warm yellow light shone from the inn's windows. The nine-tailed fox opened the door, placed the things she had bought that day on the table, and sat down on the bed. "I'm tired," she said, collapsing onto the bed, closing her eyes, and letting out a long sigh. As her body relaxed, the nine lobes of her tongue inside her mouth finally loosened—the slender tip of her tongue, which had been tightly blocking his exit, slowly moved away, and the talismanic threads sealing its base dimmed.

"Ah... umm—!"

Lin Jingxuan's genitals sprang up from deep within her mouth, and the long-suppressed semen gushed out like a flood, rushing into her throat and oral cavity. His nine-lobed tongue contracted violently again at the moment of release, like milking a cow, squeezing out the last drop of semen. His consciousness was blasted into nothingness by this release, long overdue and far surpassing all previous orgasms. He could finally shout out into her throat, the sound, enveloped in semen, echoing in both of their consciousnesses. He wanted to say "madman," "devil," anything that could hurt her, but what came out were broken, tearful pleas for mercy, limp as a puddle of mud.

"Let...let me go..."

The nine-tailed fox lay on her side on the bed, her lips stained with his milky white semen—it had spilled out because she hadn't swallowed it. She stuck out her tongue and gently licked her lips, feeling the familiar taste spread through her mouth, rising from deep in her throat to her nostrils. Then she curled up in front of the blanket, and gave a soft, satisfied laugh to her pillow.

“Silly husband. I’m practicing how to be a good wife—how can you let this go?”