Yang Haoran caught the flicker of dissatisfaction in Aunt Shen’s eyes and realized he had gotten a bit too carried away. With an awkward chuckle, he quickly climbed down.
“Hmph… It seems the Lord could use a little training from this slave…”
Shen Qing huffed, a smile playing on her lips.
When dealing with men, one couldn’t always be soft. She knew that no matter how stunningly beautiful she was, if she kept up a posture of utter subservience, a man would inevitably grow bored after a while. Only by being soft when needed and firm when called for could she keep him hooked, unable to get enough.
Being lowly was just a technique to please a man; getting the measure right was the key to capturing his heart.
“Shen…”
Yang Haoran started to call her “Bitch,” but unsure of Aunt Shen’s current mood, he tried to switch to “Aunt Shen” instead. Shen Qing saw right through it and cut him off.
“Lord… this slave is your Bitch. Why so formal?” Shen Qing said with a teasing smile.
Hearing this, Yang Haoran breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Aunt Shen hadn’t really been angry; it was just that he’d been thoughtless, pressing his over two hundred pounds down on her the whole time, which had rubbed her the wrong way.
With her attitude clear, Yang Haoran’s confidence surged back.
“You slutty bitch, daring to talk to the Lord like that.”
Yang Haoran reasserted his dominance, raising his large hand and slapping it hard against Aunt Shen’s enormous breasts.
“Slap!” The crisp sound rang out as the plump, tender mounds rippled with waves of flesh, jiggling and swaying endlessly from the impact.
“Ah… it hurts so much… mercy, Lord… this slave won’t dare again.”
Feeling the pain radiate from her ample chest, Shen Qing let out a muffled groan. But as the ache spread through her body, it morphed into a tingling wave of pleasure. A flush crept over her stunning face, stirring up an alluring springtime allure.
She quickly scrambled up, kneeling before Yang Haoran like an ancient servant being scolded by her master. Her eyes cast downward, her voluptuous body trembling slightly.
Aunt Shen’s submissive display thrilled Yang Haoran all over again. What a captivating vixen she was—impossible to resist.
“Down on all fours. Is that how a Bitch kneels?” Yang Haoran yanked hard on the silver leash in his hand, forcing her to lift her head as he growled fiercely.
Shen Qing obeyed without question, dropping to her hands and knees like a Bitch before Yang Haoran, displaying her utter degradation.
Gazing at Aunt Shen crawling under his crotch, Yang Haoran felt an unprecedented sense of satisfaction. She really knew how to play this just right.
“Take off your clothes, stick out that ass, and spread your slutty pussy open for the Lord to see.”
Yang Haoran cracked the black leather whip against the bedding and issued his command.
His heart itched unbearably—he’d been craving a look at Aunt Shen’s pussy for ages, and now he was finally going to see it in all its glory.
Shen Qing knew exactly what he wanted. With a soft smile, she put on no resistance and proceeded to give him a graceful striptease right there in front of him.
As the sheer erotic qipao slipped away, Shen Qing’s voluptuous, ripe body emerged like a peeled egg, slowly revealing itself to Yang Haoran.
Her massive breasts bounced out like two big white rabbits, swinging wildly in the air a couple of times before settling. Waves of breast flesh rolled outward. Those towering mounds, shaped like upturned bowls, stood proudly on her chest—huge, plump, and so soft and slick that their texture was palpable just from looking.
Proud, perky crimson nipples dotted the snowy peaks, their tender pink hue so vivid and juicy they seemed ready to burst. Like two ripe red grapes atop the summits, they stood bashfully erect, waiting for a man to pluck and savor them.
Even more astonishing was how little they sagged despite their size, like glistening stalactites—beautiful and tempting, begging to be grabbed and ravished. Yang Haoran stared, his mouth going dry. Forgetting his earlier orders, he reached out with his wicked claws.
Aunt Shen noticed and paused, thrusting out her chest with a playful smile, inviting his hands to maul her breasts.
The silky texture transmitted straight to his palms, and Yang Haoran found the sensation utterly blissful.
They were so soft and smooth to the touch, like the finest silk slipping through his fingers. Their incredible elasticity let them sink in with just a little pressure—perfection beyond compare!
“Slutty bitch, these lewd tits of yours are so soft, like jelly. This feel is just too good.”
Yang Haoran exclaimed in delighted surprise, his burning gaze locked on the enticing globes. Drool nearly dripped from his mouth.
“Lord… this slave grew these huge tits just for you to play with. Do you like them?” Shen Qing’s gentle voice delivered the most lascivious words.
“I like them… love them.”
Yang Haoran nodded eagerly. What premium breasts they were—soft, pale, bouncy like jelly. How could anyone not be obsessed?
He kneaded them without restraint, his two wicked hands mauling the perfect pair with all his strength, fingers sinking deep each time.
The slick breast flesh oozed between his fingers under the pressure, morphing like white dough into all sorts of obscene shapes.
Then Yang Haoran squeezed the two giant mounds together in the middle. The alluring cleavage deepened instantly, the twin peaks merging as one. Their tender buds pressed tight, like a pair of juicy cherries begging to be devoured.
Yang Haoran leaned down and bit at those succulent crimson nipples.
Shen Qing arched her beautiful back, her soul seemingly selling out her body as she smiled and let Little Ran ravage her chest. As Yang Haoran lowered his head, his hot breath washing over her breasts, her body shivered. Then she felt her sensitive nipple enter a warm, wet cavern, a slick tongue wrapping around it, swirling back and forth.
Shen Qing had expected him to gnaw at her nipples roughly like in the Illusion Space, but though Little Ran’s motions were forceful, his tongue was surprisingly tender.
It licked gently, circling clockwise one moment, counterclockwise the next, all while his small hands roughly kneaded. The combination felt indescribably good.
Looking down, Shen Qing saw him with eyes closed in rapture, suckling her nipple. His ten fingers dug deep into the soft flesh, leaving ten lewd indentations that shifted with every brutal squeeze into new depraved forms.
A warm, serene smile graced Shen Qing’s face. Her pale, tender hand gently stroked his hair, as if soothing a child desperate for milk. In that moment, her heart felt utterly calm and gentle.
