“Crawl over to the railing. Master’s going to pop your cherry today.”
“Right here?”
“You unwilling?”
“No… it’s not that… Master… could we go somewhere else?”
Faced with Yang Haoran’s stern expression, Xiao Shaowan’s voice grew weaker despite herself. But this desolate rooftop, especially with students coming and going below, filled her with deep resistance—even if they were too high up for anyone to see.
She knelt between Yang Haoran’s legs, gazing up at him desperately, on the verge of tears. “Master… Wan Nu’s first time… we could go to a hotel or back to the rental… anywhere but here? I’m begging you… Master… please…”
As she pleaded, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. After all, this was her first time—something that only happened once in a lifetime. She didn’t want it to end in a place like this.
Xiao Shaowan wept like a pear blossom in the rain, evoking pity in anyone who saw her. Any other guy, or one of her simpering suitors, might have given in to her begging.
But Yang Haoran had his reasons. From a PUA perspective, he needed to make her feel and cheap in every way, fostering a sense of inferiority and disposability. Only then would she become more dependent on him, more firmly under his control.
“I never repeat myself,” Yang Haoran said coldly, looking down at Xiao Shaowan kneeling before him, her eyes red from crying. He remained unmoved and counted icily: “One… two…”
Before he could reach three, years of conditioning kicked in. Xiao Shaowan stifled her sobs. Her delicate body trembled as she slowly crawled forward. Without needing further instruction, her two snow-white arms reached out shakily to grip the railing. She lowered her slender waist slightly and arched her beautiful rear.
As she assumed the position, tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in a few silent drops that pattered faintly onto the rooftop floor.
Bent forward with her hips raised, Xiao Shaowan’s figure looked even more curvaceous, her lines exquisitely sculpted. Beneath her black pleated miniskirt, a section of leg as smooth and tender as spring onion was exposed. Then came a pair of strikingly long legs—straight, slender, wrapped in flesh-colored stockings that hugged her fine skin. In the glow of the setting sun, they shimmered with a faintly lewd allure.
Yang Haoran was quite satisfied with those perfect legs. His heart itched unbearably. He decided to savor them first as an appetizer.
He squatted down and brought his face close to the calf of her stockinged leg, inhaling deeply. A faint, delicate fragrance filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes slightly to savor it. It wasn’t perfume, nor mixed with sweat—just the pure, budding scent of a flower-like girl in her prime.
The aroma was fresh and pure, clear without being muddy. The first sniff refreshed his soul; the second left him faintly intoxicated; the third brought a soothing comfort that eased his mind and body.
As a poor student with no flair for poetry, Yang Haoran could only think to himself, Smells great!
He’d never quite understood why some guys had a leg-licking fetish before. Now, he got it. Just the scent alone felt good—how much better would the taste be?
Yang Haoran stuck out his tongue like some pervert and lightly licked her stockinged leg. His tongue glided over the fabric covering her calf, making Xiao Shaowan’s body quiver slightly.
She didn’t need to look to know what that slick sensation on her calf meant. She hadn’t expected this kink from him, but considering his past perverse training sessions, this was nothing.
Her pale arms gripped the railing steadily, holding her pose. Her face flushed red, like an exquisitely plated dish awaiting her master’s taste.
Yang Haoran slid his tongue up and down her flawless legs, letting his saliva soak through the sheer flesh-colored stockings and seep into every inch of her skin.
Xiao Shaowan felt that invading tongue ravaging her legs, wetting her stockings everywhere. She said nothing, enduring it in silence.
She knew her place. Long-term training—or was it gratitude? Some complex, indefinable emotion—made her willingly fall into Yang Haoran’s grasp. She didn’t expect anything from him in return. Whether he treated her as a toy to defile or a pet to keep, she could accept it calmly.
She didn’t care about herself. Her mother was the last light in her life. For the boy who had brought that sole ray of hope into her dark world, she was willing to give everything.
If she could, she hoped that once Yang Haoran tired of her, he’d give her a child. It would be something to rely on for the rest of her life.
A few minutes later, Yang Haoran finished his masterpiece. Her flesh-colored stockings were drenched, his saliva claiming every inch of her skin. In the evening glow, they gleamed with a lewd sheen.
He pulled out his phone to snap some commemorative photos, but it felt troublesome. He loved collecting beautiful moments from his life, but during the main event, taking pictures disrupted the flow.
When faced with a feast, he preferred to devour it reverently, inch by inch.
An image of his sister flashed in Yang Haoran’s mind. Having Yaoyao film for him was a great idea. She was quiet by nature and soft around her big brother—like a harmless little lamb he could manipulate at will.
He secretly made up his mind to find a chance to devour that little lamb. He’d been eyeing Yaoyao for a while.
Baby-faced with massive breasts, pure and pretty, and obedient to boot—she was perfect.
He could have Xiao Shaowan set an example and help train her. What better way than to lead by doing?
Yang Haoran glanced at Xiao Shaowan’s alluring silhouette and finalized his decision.
Though his thoughts raced, only a dozen seconds had passed in reality. He looked up at the sun, now mostly set. Time to get to the main event and take Xiao Shaowan’s virginity.
