She squeezed Shen Qing’s breasts with all her might, as if trying to make the tits burst. The soft flesh overflowed between her fingers, enveloping her rough hands in layers. That plush, springy texture felt so good that the more she kneaded, the more exhilarating it became. The massive jugs morphed into all sorts of shapes in her coarse grip.
Even she, a woman, had to admit that this vixen was a top-tier beauty. Just these huge tits alone could conquer plenty of men—not to mention how amazing they felt to the touch.
“Mmgh~” As the kneading grew rougher, Shen Qing let out a muffled grunt of pain, her face twisting slightly. She felt like her breasts were about to explode.
Fortunately, Yang Haoran noticed the agonized expression on Aunt Shen’s face. Her snowy-white tits had been squashed flat and round. Deciding it was enough, he told Sun Ying to let go.
As Sun Ying released her grip, she gave the nipple clamps a vicious yank. Shen Qing’s nipples stretched out long before snapping back with a wave of jiggling flesh, gradually returning to their original shape—full of elasticity.
The jingle-jangle of the bells echoed through the hallway.
“Slut, stick your ass out,” Sun Ying said as she picked up the whip from the floor, excitement flushing her face.
Yang Haoran watched from the side, his emotions a tangled mess. Deep down, he didn’t like seeing anyone else abuse Aunt Shen. If there was abusing to be done, it should be by him.
But he couldn’t figure out if Aunt Shen truly enjoyed this or if there was some other reason. She kept stopping him from interfering, insisting they follow the plot.
He thought it over and figured three lashes weren’t a big deal. Afterward, he’d ask Aunt Shen her real thoughts. If she genuinely liked being whipped, he could handle it himself—no need to borrow someone else’s hand.
In the original story, the protagonist loved watching the heroine get whipped by Sun Ying, utterly engrossed. Yang Haoran didn’t know if Aunt Shen was the same as the original heroine, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t the original protagonist.
Shen Qing bowed her head low, her four limbs on the ground, her plump, round peach-like ass raised slightly. The sheer black stockings gave a hazy glimpse of her ivory-white skin beneath—crystal clear, like polished jade. The tantalizing if-hidden sight was incredibly alluring, like a ripe peach, juicy and tender. Anyone who saw it would want to take a hard bite or hug it to feel its soft fullness.
With her head down, her silky black hair cascaded to the floor like satin, hiding her expression. But the lewd pose she struck was enough to stir filthy thoughts in any man.
Sun Ying stared at Shen Qing’s fat, voluptuous ass. Even as a woman, she felt jealous. She swung the whip hard, and it whistled through the air.
Crack!
The fierce lash landed on Shen Qing’s ass. Her thick, meaty peach-like cheeks rippled with waves of jiggling flesh.
Shen Qing’s body trembled slightly. Her butt didn’t hurt as much as she had imagined—instead, it felt like a massage, tingling with a numbing, electric sensation.
She twisted her plump ass restlessly, as if craving more lashes.
Yang Haoran knew exactly what was going on. The black whip in Sun Ying’s hand was an SM toy designed not to cause real pain—especially on Aunt Shen’s ass, which had so much fat, plump as a big peach.
“Slut…” Seeing Shen Qing writhing her meaty ass like she was in heat, Sun Ying fumed and lashed down two more times, hard.
Crack! Crack!
“Mmm, yes—just like that. Harder,” Shen Qing said. A demonic flush colored her stunning cheeks. Her full red lips parted slightly, and an enticing moan escaped, as if she were taunting Sun Ying.
“Getting off on being beaten—you really are a bitch.” Sun Ying didn’t know the whip’s secret and assumed it was a normal one. Seeing the slutty bitch provoke her like this, she burned with rage and wanted to whip her more.
“Give it here.” Yang Haoran snatched the whip from her hand. “We agreed on three lashes. Now get lost. If you make a peep, I’ll drag you in and fuck you.”
His eyes gleamed with menace. Though he was a handsome young man, in that moment, he looked like a ruthless thug.
Sun Ying was just an ordinary housewife, her husband away at work, leaving her alone with their newborn at home. Seeing Yang Haoran’s vicious side, she lost her nerve and backed off.
“Bitch, don’t dress like a whore and seduce my husband again, or don’t blame me for spilling the beans,” Sun Ying spat as she left.
Shen Qing and Yang Haoran couldn’t care less. This was just a world constructed by the Illusion Space—it would collapse once they left.
“Aunt Shen, does your ass hurt?” Yang Haoran’s eyes darted slyly as his wicked hand pawed at Aunt Shen’s plump ass. The gossamer-thin stockings felt silky smooth, letting him savor the perfect texture of her peach-like cheeks through the sheer fabric.
“Little Ranran, does it feel good?” Shen Qing’s gorgeous face bloomed with lustful color. She glanced back at Yang Haoran, her watery eyes misty with seduction. She smiled coyly.
She didn’t mind him groping her ass—as long as he didn’t touch her private parts.
Yang Haoran’s rough hand traced the seductive curves of Aunt Shen’s ass before he waved it away in complaint. “What’s the point of groping? This fat, juicy ass, and you won’t let me fuck it.”
“…”
Shen Qing was speechless. This brat was always thinking about that, nagging her endlessly.
She twisted her ass slightly in response, staying silent to signal him: get on with the whipping and end the plot.
Yang Haoran sighed but said nothing. He picked up the whip and languidly lashed Aunt Shen’s ass three times.
Crack… Crack… Crack.
The strikes were weak, like he hadn’t eaten. Aunt Shen’s repeated rejections had killed his mood, so he wrapped it up half-heartedly.
Truth be told, it was boring. Look but don’t touch—who could stay interested?
Afterward, Yang Haoran led the crawling Aunt Shen back to Room 501. The moment he crossed the threshold, darkness swallowed his vision. The world around him warped like rippling water, and he gradually lost consciousness.
……
Jing’an Neighborhood, around midnight.
Liu Ruoxi felt restless, as if something she didn’t know about had happened. She stepped out of her bedroom, intending to check if her son was asleep.
At his door, she noticed faint light seeping through the crack underneath. Frowning, she knocked.
No answer after a few knocks. Liu Ruoxi turned the handle and opened the door.
She glanced around. The room light was on, and her son Yang Haoran lay sprawled on the bed, fast asleep without even a blanket.
Liu Ruoxi tiptoed to his bedside, gently tucked him in, then turned off the light and backed out quietly.
With a soft click of the door, the room plunged into darkness.
In the shadows, Yang Haoran stirred faintly. His eyebrows twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes…
