After thrusting fiercely into Aunt Shen’s little mouth for a full five or six minutes, Yang Haoran finally unleashed his load, shooting it like bullets deep into her flushed lips.
“Gulp…” Once Yang Haoran released his hold on her head and withdrew his cock, Shen Qing swallowed his semen with initiative. She wiped the corner of her mouth and smoothed down her disheveled hair.
Gazing at the utterly satisfied Yang Haoran, Shen Qing shot him a playful glare. Her plump cherry lips parted slightly, a droplet of white fluid still clinging to them. With a coy smile, she said, “Satisfied now, Little Ranran?”
Her tone was light and flirtatious, just as always, showing no sign of anger over his rough treatment moments ago.
Faced with Aunt Shen’s calm composure—able to chat with him so casually even now—Yang Haoran felt a wave of frustration. Was this really a woman he could conquer?
“Aunt Shen, clean me up,” Yang Haoran said, dodging the question. But his voice came out weaker than intended.
“Sure.” Shen Qing lowered her head without hesitation, sticking out her pink tongue. She first circled the flushed glans, licking away the sticky fluid on its surface. Then, the tip of her tongue probed into the coronal sulcus, carefully cleaning the hidden grime there. Once she had it, she rolled it onto her tongue and, with a slight gulp, swallowed it down.
From there, she licked inch by inch along Yang Haoran’s thick shaft until the entire length gleamed slick and spotless.
Just as Shen Qing leaned in to take him back into her mouth, Yang Haoran stopped her. “That’s enough. If you keep going, I won’t be able to hold back again.”
“What’s there to hold back?” Shen Qing blinked mischievously and pointed to her luscious red lips. “I wouldn’t mind you fucking it again.”
“Forget it. Next time.” Yang Haoran knew he’d been the only one enjoying himself earlier—Aunt Shen had just endured it. He wasn’t about to push his luck.
Compared to her mouth, he craved her slutty pussy far more.
Yang Haoran hefted Aunt Shen’s left breast, weighing its slick, soft heft—like a water balloon filled to bursting. He picked up the nipple clamps, their sharp teeth glinting coldly, and clamped them onto her tender pink bud.
Noticing how Yang Haoran fondled her breast, Shen Qing watched him with tender, alluring eyes, her gaze flowing like water. Her red lips parted, and in a sweet, coquettish voice, she said, “Little Ranran, I already measured Sister’s chest for you. When are you free to measure Ruoxi’s? Come back and tell Auntie whose are bigger.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than a crushing, biting pain shot through her nipple. She glanced down to see the clamp’s jagged teeth gripping her delicate bud tightly, flattening it slightly out of shape.
A golden small bell dangled from the bottom of the nipple clamp.
It looked just like a pet’s accessory, adorning the snowy peak of her full, white breast.
Up close, it was a vast expanse of snow with a single red jewel caught in the bite, a little bell hanging beneath—like something straight out of a pet play fantasy.
“Next time, I’ll have Aunt Shen and Mom kneel in front of me together so I can compare them up close. Then I’ll give you the answer,” Yang Haoran said casually as he fitted the humiliating clamp onto her other tender nipple.
“Mmm~” Shen Qing let out a soft moan at the pain radiating from her nipples. Her face flushed with pain and delight, as if the ache was a twisted kind of pleasure for her.
Seeing Aunt Shen moan so lewdly, Yang Haoran couldn’t resist slapping her snowy breast.
“Slap… Ding-a-ling…”
The crisp slap echoed, sending ripples through the towering mound like an earthquake. Her massive tit jiggled endlessly, waves of flesh undulating, accompanied by the bell’s clear tinkling as a soundtrack.
Staring at the quivering white globe, Yang Haoran remarked, “Cheap slut tits.”
Shen Qing wasn’t offended at all. She gave him a seductive smile. “Auntie Shen is a bitch, after all. How could her tits not be cheap?”
With that, her expression shifted to one of pitiful longing. She sighed dramatically, “It’s just… Auntie Dog feels a bit lonely all by herself. It’d be perfect if Ruoxi came to keep me company.”
Her words sent Yang Haoran’s emotions tumbling. Even knowing she was deliberately teasing him, he couldn’t help replying, “Don’t worry, Aunt Shen. You’re best friends like sisters when you’re human. Once you both become my Bitches, I’ll keep you in the same cage.”
“Make sure the cage is big—custom-made, even. If you don’t have the money, Little Ranran, Auntie can buy it for you,” Shen Qing said thoughtfully. “Even as a Bitch, with Ruoxi’s cool personality and top-tier looks, she’d be a premium breed. If the dog cage isn’t luxurious, she won’t step foot in it.”
Yang Haoran couldn’t help but daydream along with her. “We could get a big villa in a remote spot—maybe with a grassland. Fresh air and all. On my days off, I could take you out for walks in the sun. Hire a Michelin chef to cook up feasts and serve them right to your cage.”
“Hee hee…” Shen Qing laughed until her body shook. “Little Ranran, you’re really dreaming big. I bet you anything—even if Ruoxi became a Bitch, with her temperament, you’d no sooner lock her in a cage than she’d grab a whip and beat her unfilial son to death.”
Yang Haoran pictured his mother’s ethereally beautiful, icy face. The thought of her in a dog cage—and the consequences—made him shiver. Sheepishly, he muttered, “I wouldn’t make Mom live in it all the time. Just occasionally, to satisfy me. She couldn’t refuse that, right?”
Shen Qing pondered the idea. “If you threw a tantrum, begged Ruoxi enough, and had my help… it might not be impossible to lock her up.”
She knew everything. With the Fallen Angel Game in play, and given Ruoxi’s profession, becoming Little Ranran’s Bitch was inevitable. When the time came, her own encouragement and example, plus his pleading, might just convince Ruoxi to indulge her son’s twisted fantasies for a bit.
If Little Ranran knew about the Fallen Angel Game, it would be even simpler—just issue a task.
The only thing that puzzled her was how Ruoxi—with her personality and as a mother—had chosen the “Bitch” profession in the first place.
When Shen Qing had picked her own profession, she’d casually asked Liu Ruoxi about hers and gotten “companion” as the answer. That fit Ruoxi’s nature perfectly: of the six professions, companion had the fewest restrictions and no perverse demands. But Ruoxi’s expression at the time had made her suspicious.
Shen Qing had probed Barbarossa indirectly about Ruoxi’s profession, but it refused, citing incomplete contract tasks. Only teammates could view each other’s professions after forming a party—it couldn’t break the rules.
Rules were flexible, though. Barbarossa had long resented Liu Ruoxi for her lack of respect toward the great Lord Barbarossa. So it gave a simple, easy-to-grasp example that indirectly revealed the truth to Shen Qing.
