“Hehe… isn’t this just playing along with you, Mom?”
Yang Haoran finished speaking, feigning a righteous and solemn expression: “I am the criminal right now. If you don’t want your precious son to see tomorrow’s sun, you better behave and listen to me.”
Liu Ruoxi’s lips twitched slightly at the corners; she was nearly amused by her son’s antics. Forcing herself to endure through his performance, she replied, “Then where is my son now? And how can you guarantee my son’s safety?”
Stumped by his mother’s question, Yang Haoran was at a loss. Where was he supposed to find another son for her? Without a ready answer, he resorted to nonsensical rambling: “Have one with me, and then you’ll have one. I—”
“Alright, alright… A criminal like you wouldn’t survive a single episode in a TV drama.”
Feeling a pang of guilt, Liu Ruoxi hurriedly cut her son off.
Yang Haoran was taken aback, then said with dissatisfaction, “Mom, I said all that for your own good, to help you relax. And you’re not even cooperating.”
His ridiculous chatter was all because he could see his mother was tense and he was deliberately acting out to help her unwind.
Liu Ruoxi pretended to be at ease, saying, “Enough now. Your mother’s mental fortitude is strong. It’s not like I haven’t been played by you before; you don’t need to worry about me.”
Seeing his mother’s stubborn front, Yang Haoran didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he turned and, under Liu Ruoxi’s astonished gaze, lay down on the floor. He shifted his legs, sliding himself under his mother’s chest, and said, “Mom, put your nipple in my mouth. I want to drink milk.”
Liu Ruoxi’s face instantly flushed red. She silently cursed—he was so grown up now, yet still wanting to drink milk? Besides, it wasn’t like she had any milk to give now.
Helpless, Liu Ruoxi could only blush, her slender arms bending slightly as she struggled to control the massive, swaying breasts on her chest. She brought her nipple to her son’s mouth, where he bit down on it.
Yang Haoran gnawed at his mother’s nipple with his teeth, each hand gripping one of the snow-white mammoths that dominated his view, kneading and fondling them. Muffled, he mumbled, “Mom… does it feel like when you breastfed me when I was little?”
Liu Ruoxi, fighting back the shame in her heart, scolded, “What milk does Mom have now? You’re so grown up—have you no shame?”
“Hehe… there will be someday.”
Yang Haoran continued kneading his mother’s breasts as he said, “Mother, dear, how about you bear a child for me? Then you’ll have milk.”
Liu Ruoxi’s face stiffened. She fell silent, her expression complex, and did not reply.
Yang Haoran waited for his mother’s response, but when none came after a long while, he felt greatly disappointed. He vented his frustration on her body, directly pinching both of her nipples, pulling and shaking them left and right, freely toying with her.
Yang Haoran forcefully rubbed and squeezed the magnificent snowy peaks in his hands, relishing the tender, smooth, and exhilarating sensation that filled his palms.
With every squeeze, the milky-white flesh spilled out from between his fingers, only to spring back into place the moment he loosened his grip—incredibly elastic. The pristine, enormous breasts morphed under his five fingers into various lewd shapes.
Waves of snowy breast flesh undulated before his eyes, an intensely obscene sight.
After playing for a while, Yang Haoran emerged from under his mother. Seeing her flushed face and evasive gaze, he sighed inwardly, knowing she was unwilling—clearly hesitant because of their mother-son relationship.
He caressed his mother’s exquisite, jade-like face, as fair as polished ivory, and said, “Mom, this might hurt a bit later, but your son is your master. It’s only right for me to discipline my disobedient bitch.”
With that, Yang Haoran picked up the whip. Liu Ruoxi’s heart trembled, and she closed her eyes. She knew what kind of situation she would face for “refusing” her son.
But she still hadn’t decided whether to tell him she was pregnant. She had been wrestling with the thought while he played with her breasts, and now, facing his punishment, she let go of the idea of revealing it, quietly accepting her chastisement.
Such was her nature. Even after being subjected to all kinds of humiliation by her son, she still held onto her own stubbornness—or perhaps her refusal to yield, unwilling to shed her dignity as a mother.
Yang Haoran walked behind her, whip in hand, gazing at his mother’s plump, fleshy buttocks thrust into the air. The flesh-toned stockings clung like a second skin, gleaming with a slick sheen. Her long, ample legs stood straight.
Seeing his mother in such a lewd and alluring pose, a savage cruelty rose in Yang Haoran’s heart. He raised the whip and brought it down hard on his mother’s snow-white peach-like bottom.
Crack!
A sharp crack of the whip echoed through the hall, accompanied by Liu Ruoxi’s gritted groan.
“Slutty bitch mom, if you’re your master’s bitch, you have to obey. Understand?”
Yang Haoran scolded her, then landed another lash on her bottom. After the second sharp crack, he harshly berated:
“You’re not even as obedient as Aunt Shen. What use are you? If I want you to be my bitch, you have to learn to be a bitch who knows how to shake her ass.”
This time, Yang Haoran showed no mercy. The whip whistled through the air before planting a fierce kiss on his mother’s rear.
“Ah!”
Liu Ruoxi threw her head back with a cry of agony, her whole body trembling. Restrained and unable to move, she could only present her bottom and endure the whipping, accepting her son’s punishment.
Tang Wenqian and Zhou Wenwen watched from the side, trembling with fear, but dared not intervene. They could only look on as their master continued to whip his mother.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
Yang Haoran delivered three consecutive lashes to his mother’s bottom. Liu Ruoxi clenched her pearly whites, fury mixing with the pain in her heart, but she made no further sound, enduring her son’s punishment.
The repeated strikes made her beautiful legs, supporting her raised posterior, tremble slightly.
Seeing his mother silent but her legs beginning to shake, Yang Haoran felt a twinge of reluctance. Yet, he hardened his heart, continuing to swing the whip as he shouted, “Slutty bitch mom, will you obey or not?”
Crack!
“Will you obey or not?”
Crack!
“Let me ask you again.”
Crack!
“Will you obey or not!”
After four or five consecutive lashes, Liu Ruoxi’s features twisted slightly in pain. Fine beads of cold sweat sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain on her fair forehead. She gritted her teeth stubbornly, low grunts escaping her throat.
Yang Haoran looked at his mother’s quivering buttocks and legs. Even covered by the flesh-toned stockings, her voluptuous peach-like bottom clearly showed crisscrossing welts from the whip.
Crack!
Yang Haoran threw the whip down onto the floor. At the sound, Liu Ruoxi’s legs instinctively trembled uncontrollably with fear.
Yang Haoran knew it was time. Aside from that initial cry, his mother had surprisingly endured everything thereafter, which astonished him. But her body’s reactions didn’t lie—she was also afraid, afraid of his whip.
Yang Haoran had experienced it himself. This kind of whip hurt terribly when swung with force. When his mother had whipped him, she had only used full strength two or three times before lightening her blows afterward.
But when punishing his mother, he had held nothing back.
Still, compared to the time he had whipped Aunt Shen, beating her until she couldn’t take it and begged for mercy, Yang Haoran was well aware that he still couldn’t quite bear to be that harsh with his mother.
When he walked around to face her, his mother hung her head, her expression hidden. Yang Haoran crouched down and said softly, “Mom, I’m sorry.”
The suppressed anger in Liu Ruoxi’s heart, after her son’s apology, began to fade away unnoticed, even though her bottom still burned with a fiery pain. Yet, a residue of anger remained, and she didn’t feel like acknowledging him.