“What price do you think it’s worth? (shy)”
Shen Qing pondered for a moment, deciding to follow her heart rather than stick to the plan. She sent the message.
On the other side, Yang Haoran saw it and scratched his head, two question marks popping into his mind.
What price? As a hooker, you’re asking me?
Maybe it’s her first time in the business? She doesn’t know the going rates?
That made sense. If she had experience, even without considering her looks, that killer body alone would have clients lining up. She wouldn’t need to fish for customers on WeChat like this.
Besides, judging by that figure, her face couldn’t be half bad.
Soon enough, Yang Haoran had pieced together a full logical loop in his head. He tapped out a test: “Ten thousand?”
Shen Qing nearly popped a vein when she saw the message. This body of mine is only worth ten thousand?
Her teeth ground together in fury, but she held back her anger and sent just a single emoji.
“(smile)”
Yang Haoran got it immediately—this wasn’t enough. He tried again: “Twenty thousand?”
“(smile)”
And so their conversation devolved into this.
“Thirty thousand?”
“(smile)”
“Fifty thousand?”
“(smile)”
“Sixty thousand?”
“(smile)”
“One hundred thousand?”
“(smile)”
Now it was Yang Haoran’s turn to grit his teeth. Damn it, I haven’t even seen your face. Yeah, the body’s top-tier, but a hundred thousand for just the body is ridiculous. Sure, he had money to burn, but he wasn’t a total sucker.
Just as he was about to rage-quit, the other side seemed to sense his waning patience and fired off a message.
“To have me, there are three conditions. One: Treat me sincerely. Two: Chat online to build feelings first—no meeting in person. Three: I have masochistic tendencies. I don’t have a master right now, and I’ve never had one before. I can acknowledge you as my master. You’ll be responsible for conquering me, training me, and working hard to turn me into a true Bitch under your crotch—exclusive to you. You can’t rent me out or give me to anyone else!”
“Just agree to these three conditions.”
Yang Haoran stared at the two messages in disbelief. What the hell?
No money? And these “conditions” that really just handed all the power to him? This didn’t sound like a hooker at all.
“Could my guess be wrong? She’s not a prostitute—just a masochistic Bitch desperate to be trained?” Yang Haoran muttered to his phone screen.
Something felt off. He knew some girls had M tendencies and, since reality wouldn’t allow it, sought out strangers online to be their masters. But he didn’t think he had the luck to snag one this extreme.
His guard went up. Some vague idea bubbled in his mind, but he couldn’t pin it down. He scrolled back through her photos, examining each one again. The face was blurred out, but the body was undeniably elite—a one-in-ten-thousand stunner.
“No qipao?” he muttered after reviewing the ten shots of various lingerie. It didn’t add up. If it was her, there should be a qipao outfit.
“Unless…” Lightning struck his brain, enlightenment dawning. His eyes lit up. “The very absence of the qipao makes it most likely her. Shen Devil knows that if she sent a qipao pic, I’d recognize her right away.”
Thinking back, he’d been chatting with Aunt Shen when the friend request popped up. In hindsight, no one would connect the two. But he had the info advantage—he already knew Aunt Shen’s true face. Someone as clever as her wouldn’t leave such an obvious slip. The only explanation was an information gap between them.
“Heh heh… Shen Devil, once you’re in my hands, I’ll train you into a lewd, filthy Bitch to avenge my childhood trauma.”
Yang Haoran grinned sleazily. He was ninety percent sure now it was Aunt Shen. All he needed was solid proof.
Even confronting her directly wouldn’t make her admit it. But with evidence, she’d be a lamb on his chopping block—to toy with however he pleased.
Double win. He’d thought he’d have to take it slow with Aunt Shen, but now a express lane had appeared.
Curbing his excitement, he hammered out a reply: “Fine.”
But he couldn’t hold back entirely and sent another: “So what do you call me now?”
Aunt Shen waited tensely for dozens of seconds with no response, but she stayed calm. Her terms were a hundred percent in his favor—he couldn’t refuse.
Sure enough, soon Yang Haoran’s message arrived. Seeing the content, Shen Qing smiled faintly and typed as he wished, adding a shy emoji.
“Master (shy)”
Yang Haoran felt a rush seeing it, but it wasn’t enough. Words alone? He fired back: “You filthy Bitch, don’t you know any manners? Acknowledging a master can’t be this sloppy with just text. Send a voice message—at least. Got it?”
He’d almost asked for video but thought better of it. If it was really Aunt Shen, no way she’d agree. Voice it was.
Later, once Aunt Shen was truly his, he’d demand a full nude Master Acknowledgment video.
Shen Qing read the message, her eyes lingering on the humiliating words “filthy” and “Bitch.” Instead of anger, a strange thrill stirred in her. Those words held some magnetic pull. Her gaze drifted back to them, and unconsciously, her thighs clenched together.
Snapping out of it, she smiled alluringly, pursed her plump red lips to the phone, steadied her voice, and purred two words in a mature, seductive big-sister tone.
“Master!”
Yang Haoran snatched up the voice message and played it, ear pressed close. When that enchanting “Master” hit, the sultry timbre conquered him utterly. It was electric—pure bliss tingling through him.
He looped it several times. Even with the altered voice, it struck a faint chord of familiarity.
He didn’t call her out. He saved the clip and dove into chatting.
He unleashed a barrage of depraved texts, like an emperor commanding his servant—or slave.
“You’re such a lewd, filthy woman, aren’t you, Slutty Bitch?”
“Say it yourself—how filthy you are, shameless. Send a voice check.”
“Slut, report to your master: is your pussy wet?”
“Do you love it when Master insults you, Slutty Bitch…?”
The filthy talk rained down, but she complied perfectly with every insult and demand—like a true female slave, or lowly Bitch.
They chatted into the wee hours, past one a.m., nearly two. With school tomorrow, Yang Haoran reluctantly ended it. Still buzzing, he lay in bed.
Too wired to sleep right away, he drifted off around three.
That night, Yang Haoran had a wet dream…
