Xiao Shaowan’s black pleated miniskirt made things convenient for him.
Yang Haoran glanced at the open rooftop door, feeling a thrill of excitement. Deflowering her in such an environment would deliver a double rush—mental and physical. It had to feel incredible.
He could hardly wait.
Yang Haoran flipped up Xiao Shaowan’s skirt, bunching it around her beautiful back. A dazzling expanse of snow-white skin came into view. The girl’s pert bottom was as pale as fresh snow, perfectly round and full, like a ripe peach just coming into maturity. It curved upward slightly, making it look all the more plump and juicy, irresistibly sexy.
She wore a pair of pink, sexy lace thong panties with edges of sheer white gauze shaped like little clouds framing her buttocks.
The design blended innocent purity with raw sensuality, creating that addictive “pure yet slutty” vibe. The cloudy gauze edges were the perfect finishing touch, like stars surrounding the moon, accentuating the pertness and allure of her rear even more.
The scene was so pristinely erotic it could have been a photoshoot, something to cherish forever.
Yang Haoran’s mouth went dry at the sight, his heart itching with desire. A surge of heat roiled in his lower belly as his cock stood rigidly at attention, eyeing her plump, upturned ass with predatory intent. He was losing patience.
He swallowed hard, eyes gleaming like a starving pervert. His wicked hands reached out, hooking the sides of her lace panties and yanking them down to her knees.
The last barrier fell away effortlessly. The private treasure of this flower-like girl was laid bare to the air—and to Yang Haoran’s gaze.
Her beautifully curved bottom lifted slightly. Between her snowy thighs, her tender pink labia were plump and closed, forming a tight slit like a secluded mountain valley.
The girl’s delicate pussy lips puffed out like a little clam, the faintly parting gap already slick and muddy. It breathed like a living thing, oozing thin strands of nectar that gathered into glistening droplets, trickling slowly down her flawless legs and leaving trails of wetness on her pale thighs.
“Slap!”
“You little slut, you’re already soaking wet, so what are you pretending for?”
Yang Haoran smacked his palm against Xiao Shaowan’s snowy, upturned cheek, sending ripples of flesh spreading outward. He grinned wickedly as he spoke.
Her full, round bottom had creamy skin with a silky, elastic feel. The slap felt damn good to him.
Xiao Shaowan’s face flushed beet red, her body trembling. Being spanked like a naughty child filled her with shame, but a strange sensation bubbled up from within—something unfamiliar, frightening, yet oddly blissful.
She had grown up without a father and had no idea what it felt like to be disciplined by one. As a child, whenever she was bullied, she fantasized about her absent dad swooping in to protect her.
But as she grew older, she realized those childish dreams were impossible. Her father had died the day she was born. That broken childhood lingered like shards of a shattered mirror, embedded deep in her heart, unhealed by time.
Now, with Yang Haoran spanking her, it felt like he was filling that void. She wasn’t a masochist, but the perfectly measured swats brought a mix of novelty and thrill. In them, she vaguely sensed the fatherly love she’d read about in books—though she knew full well he was just her peer.
That contradiction, that emotional rift, was what made it feel so strange and exciting.
Her lovely cheeks burned crimson, like sunset clouds fading on the horizon, delicate and radiant.
“H-Hao… ran, could you…” Xiao Shaowan stammered, her face burning, her lithe teenage body quivering. In a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, she forced out the embarrassing words.
“Could you… spank me again?”
On the empty rooftop, that tiny voice reached Yang Haoran’s ears. His face froze in surprise, then shifted to disbelief.
She hadn’t even called him Master.
“What did you say? Say it again.” As he spoke, he instinctively swung his hand, landing another slap on her snowy buttock.
“Slap!” The crisp sound echoed across the rooftop.
“Mmm~” Xiao Shaowan let out a soft cry, her blush deepening. She thought he was teasing her on purpose.
Gritting her teeth against the shame, she repeated her plea in a whisper. This time, Yang Haoran, listening intently, heard every word.
“Wan Nu, do you have masochistic tendencies?” Yang Haoran asked, stroking her silky, snow-white bottom with a puzzled look as he kneaded it.
That didn’t make sense. He’d whipped her naked body before, and she’d only screamed in pain, never showing any pleasure.
“M-Master~ Wan Nu~ doesn’t have~ masochistic~ tendencies. It’s just… just that~ Wan Nu kind of~ likes it when~ Master~ spanks~ Wan Nu’s~ butt like this.” Gone was her usual cool, aloof demeanor from class. Her face aflame with shyness, she stammered it out in broken phrases.
After her confession, she was no longer his goddess, nor he her admirer. Their roles had flipped completely—or even more so than before.
One was the Master, the other a sex slave. This was a conversation between lord and servant, and she knew she had no right to refuse.
“I see…” Yang Haoran mused thoughtfully. He pondered for a moment but couldn’t figure it out. Whatever—liking a spanking on the ass? The feel of it was great for him anyway, so he’d indulge her.
“Arch your back… lift that ass higher, lower your waist a bit more. Yeah, just like that.” Yang Haoran directed her into the perfect spanking pose.
Obeying his commands, Xiao Shaowan arched her graceful back lower. Her already perky bottom thrust up high, like two snow-white peaches standing proudly before him.
Her long, shapely legs parted slightly in readiness.
“Heh heh… Wan Nu… this is what you asked for. No crying about the pain later.” Yang Haoran smirked lewdly, slowly raising his palm. Teasingly, he added, “Get ready… it’s coming… one… two…”
“Slap!”
He didn’t wait for three. His hand whipped through an arc, slamming hard into Xiao Shaowan’s ass. Waves of flesh jiggled outward, the sharp crack resounding suddenly on the empty rooftop.
Xiao Shaowan bit her lip. Good thing she knew him—or rather, knew his wicked side. She hadn’t trusted his countdown.
But this slap was full force. Even prepared, the searing pain exploded from her cheek. She let out a muffled grunt, her face paling. This wasn’t the “lesson” she wanted—it felt more like outright abuse.
