“What do you think?” came the quick reply from the other side, followed by a shy emoji.
Little vixen! Yang Haoran felt a tickle in his heart as he read it. He kept up the flirtation.
“So, are you an S or an M?”
“M.”
“Wow… for real? I’m just inclined toward S myself~” He sent that along with a lewd emoji.
Meanwhile, Shen Qing stared at the message from Yang Haoran and nearly burst out laughing. She hadn’t expected the little rascal to bite so eagerly before she even had a chance to send her provocative photos. And when he spun his lies, he didn’t even bother drafting them properly.
She typed back: “So, what do you think of me?” followed by a shy emoji.
“Which aspect?” Yang Haoran thought for a moment before replying with feigned innocence.
“If I were merchandise and you were the buyer, what would you think of this piece of goods?”
That reply told Yang Haoran everything. The other party had finally revealed her true intentions.
Clearly, to him, she was a prostitute—one who enjoyed S&M games, no less. She had probably added him at random, chatted a bit to steer things toward money.
If the price was right, she’d land a customer. If she sensed he lacked the funds, it was no loss—just a few words exchanged, a couple of minutes wasted—before moving on to the next potential mark.
Yang Haoran glanced at her profile picture again. He couldn’t help but marvel at the scorching figure: big tits, tiny waist, plump hips—perfect curves, full breasts and round ass, a total knockout. Even with her face censored, that body alone was enough to drive a man wild.
“Not bad. By the way, is that profile pic really you?”
Yang Haoran had only planned on some casual dirty talk, but with a body like that, he changed his mind right then and there. A stunner like her was worth paying for.
After all, money was no object with his family background.
Meanwhile, Shen Qing had been waiting for exactly that message. She fired back immediately: “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I’m pretty satisfied with the goods. Just worried the real thing might not match the description.”
Pretty cautious, Little Ranran. Shen Qing smiled faintly at the message. Without replying, she opened her photo album. A grid of steamy shots popped up. She had come prepared and sent over the ten she had carefully selected in advance.
Meanwhile, Yang Haoran saw the incoming photos and tapped to view them. The first showed her in a wildly revealing erotic JK uniform, paired with black mid-calf socks. She stood straight and proper, like prized merchandise or an obedient schoolgirl. But the insanely exposed outfit and her sizzling figure created a deliciously slutty contrast.
The second was a classic maid outfit—but the erotic version. The fabric half-covered what it should and teased what it shouldn’t, leaving little to the imagination in the cool, scant material. The background was the villa’s entrance. She stood before the vermilion door like a real maid, bowing low in welcome to her Lord. From the photo’s angle, her slender waist curved forward, exposing a vast expanse of creamy breast and a deep, tantalizing cleavage. Her ample bosom heaved, impossible to ignore, utterly captivating.
The third was an erotic white dress with a plunging heart-shaped neckline.
The open heart at the collar bared huge swaths of smooth, snowy cleavage, her massive tits quivering. No bra—just thin straps holding up their heavy weight.
Below the heart-shaped neckline, the semitransparent white gauze hinted at the pale lower curves of her breasts, with purple pasties at the centers, veiling the most intimate spots like gifts awaiting her master’s unwrapping.
The dress’s hem was scandalously short, barely covering half her ass. But through the sheer fabric, one could make out purple string-style lace panties: a small patch clinging tightly to her privates, thin straps crossing her hips and framing her rear.
Draped in white, she evoked a pure, immaculate saintess. Yet the lewd, exposed uniform sparked fantasies of her fall from grace.
The fourth was an erotic nun outfit. The sixth… seventh… eighth… She posed in all sorts of erotic costumes, striking provocative, fiery poses against varied backdrops: bedroom, sofa, balcony, kitchen, outdoors, and more.
Yang Haoran devoured each one, eyes glued. The more he looked, the hotter a fire burned in his gut. His pants were already tenting.
His gaze lingered on the final photo. He swallowed hard. Too tempting. Too stimulating. It hit his kink perfectly.
In the shot, against an outdoor grassy field under a big tree, she wore the revealing white dress. On all fours like a Bitch, she knelt on the grass. Her long, swan-like neck bore a black collar, from which a small silver chain dangled over her towering breasts and deep cleavage, pooling on the ground.
Like all the others, her face was censored. Without it, Yang Haoran would have seen her kneeling with full, glossy red lips parted, pink tongue peeking out. Paired with her stunning beauty, it would have looked utterly depraved and cheap.
“How’s that? (shy)” came the message.
“Extremely satisfied.” Yang Haoran swallowed again and hammered out: “What’s the price for the goods?”
Meanwhile, Shen Qing read the message and fell into thought. She knew Little Ranran saw her as a prostitute—that was the result of her deliberate guidance.
Her original plan had been simple: quote a fair price here, have him agree, S dom and M sub with mutual interest, and the task would be all but done.
But now, an uncomfortable feeling welled up inside her. She realized that even hiding her identity, even if he didn’t know, she didn’t want Little Ranran thinking of her as some cheap hooker. She wouldn’t deny her inner slut, but at heart, she was immensely proud.
Over the years, her suitors had been like carp crossing a river, enough to circle G City several times: elite white-collar types, returned overseas talents, CEOs of listed companies, and more.
She had turned them all down cold. No spark, no interest. Otherwise, with her looks and figure—not to mention her wealth—how could she still be single?
