Chapter 32 | 0032 Crying and Begging Master Not to (sp)
"Twenty-six, Master."
Twenty-six is a beginning, meaning it exceeds what Wuxian can bear. Hobert did not use any extra force; he still used the same method, starting from the top and blooming outwards like a flower.
He maintained his rhythm, his strength, and his posture.
What has changed is black silk, and what cannot be tolerated is black silk!
She is indeed a gluttonous puppy, but gluttony means she can't define her own appetite.
Her body, weakened by the afterglow of orgasm, was still limp, bearing the lingering marks of desire. Her master was right; twenty-five was the number that allowed Wu Qian to experience the most pleasure. Beyond that, her sensitive flesh would groan in pain.
If the dog had just stopped, Hobart would have gently rubbed her bottom, and she would have been lying on her owner's lap whimpering, instead of waiting anxiously for the slap that might come at any moment.
The pain was too much for her to bear on her own.
The twenty-sixth time, Wu Xian felt the pain intensify, but the afterglow of pleasure lingered, and she could still endure it.
"Twenty-seven."
"Twenty-eight."
"Twenty-nine... Master."
She counted faster and faster, letting out a brief, mournful cry. Hobert's speed remained the same, but Wu Qian increased her counting as if the pain in her buttocks would end sooner if she counted faster.
Wu Qian wasn't very capable; she was fragile and lacked willpower. She could only hold on for a few moments before she couldn't help but strain her buttocks, contracting her two fleshy mounds to avoid Hobert's slaps.
She shrank back in and climbed up.
Hobert grabbed her ankle and pulled her out just like before, but this time there was no comforting, only a soft scolding, "Cloud, you're naughty."
"Master... Master..." Wu Xian pleaded, her head shaking like her bottom, trying to escape by acting cute.
But her master was a cold-blooded master and wouldn't stop. Hobert swung his arm again, the sound of it cutting through the air so clear to Wu Qian's ears that she had to grit her teeth to endure the pain inflicted by her master.
"Number, cloud."
Thirty... um... thirty.
“Speak louder and clearer, Cloud.” The master was not satisfied and made a request, “Or add five more.”
"Ah, thirty, thirty, Master!" Wu Qian hurriedly responded again.
"Good boy/girl."
"Thirty-one, Master."
Thirty-one, even though it was only a hair's breadth away, Wu Qian felt the pain intensify. She lay on the bed, and because of the physical sensation, she subconsciously raised her lower legs, used her waist and back to sink as far as possible into the mattress, becoming a crescent moon.
Hobart methodically devoured the moon, adding more marks to that delicate skin.
No, it wasn't an increase. The first twenty-five strikes had already covered one round. The openwork on the mother-of-pearl fan left red marks on Wu Xian's body. He was constantly deepening the marks, dividing Wu Xian's skin with fine lines, leaving only red marks raised above the skin.
"It hurts so much, Master, please help me."
Hobart couldn't do anything about the puppy's cries. Before striking, he added a kneading motion, like squeezing dough and kneading it in one direction to ease the excessive pain.
But Wu Qian was far too delicate. Despite her gluttony, her body was incredibly fragile; her flesh was terribly sensitive, and she would cry out in pain at the slightest touch. Even though he was trying to help her, she accused him of "using too much force!"
"forty."
Wu Xian gritted her teeth; she was in pain, and with Hobart's help, she was able to endure until she was forty.
At forty-one, she moved forward, and even though she had been dragged out earlier, she couldn't help but tuck herself a little deeper into the blanket. But her master was right; fifty was too much for her, and forty was also too much. Only twenty-five was just right.
The pain can be transferred, even if the owner only hits the buttocks.
Wu Xian's thighs and soles ached dully, as if a clear line was pulling her from her femur. The blanket brushed against her back, as light as a feather, yet it made it hard for her to breathe.
Those tender buttocks were fully mature, plump and juicy. They couldn't take any more, or they would be ravaged and squeeze out tears like ripe peaches.
Wuxian started crying, just like a child throwing a tantrum, hiding under the covers and shedding tears, waiting for Hobert to finish the remaining nine strokes, constantly murmuring "Master."
I don't know who they're calling, whether it's Hobart or Mr. H, but it's definitely the master.
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