Sylvie, the Slave Girl (Lily Futa) - Chapter 30 (pt. 1)

Wei Qing finally hugged her and patted her head.

“It’s just thunder,” the woman said softly.

In the dim light, the paleness on the girl’s face carried a fragile look.

Wei Qing’s sleepiness had been jolted awake by the recent thunder.

She softened her voice.

This plot point… Did she fear thunder?

It had been so long she could barely recall if this scene existed.

She hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you want to sleep with me?”

Sylvie nuzzled her nose against Wei Qing’s slender neck.

Her half-closed eyes showed a hint of contentment.

Her voice was faint. “Yes.”

The woman’s hand rubbed the back of Sylvie’s head, and she hummed in acknowledgment.

Sylvie followed her to bed while clutching her pillow.

In the dim night, they lay together again.

The intimate space filled with a faint, enveloping fragrance.

Their soft, warm bodies touched unavoidably under the small blanket, bare skin brushing against each other.

Sylvie’s unease wasn’t fake.

True or not, it amplified her fear, and the effect was surprisingly strong.

She shifted slightly, curling up. Her toes grazed Wei Qing’s calf, seemingly by accident.

“Master.”

“Hm?”

Wei Qing tilted her head.

The dim light obscured their faces.

She couldn’t sleep now.

The rain outside poured too heavily, too noisy.

Plus, there was now someone beside her.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

The girl’s voice was soft.

“It’s a bit cold.”

“Cold?”

The woman turned to face her, reaching out to touch Sylvie’s forehead with the back of her hand.

Her cool voice sounded oddly gentle against the rainy night.

“No fever.”

They were almost nose-to-nose.

Sylvie noticed Wei Qing’s nightgown slightly open from the movement, revealing glimpses of her collarbone in the dim light.

The soft, pale curves rose and fell with her breathing.

“…”

Sylvie suppressed the surging ache from her pvssy, inching closer.

Her warm breath nearly brushed Wei Qing’s collarbone.

She looked up, and their eyes met.

A flash of lightning reflected in her misty blue eyes, her pupils trembling.

Wei Qing instinctively pulled her into an embrace, covering one of Sylvie’s ears with her hand.

The next moment, another thunderclap, mixed with the fierce rain, exploded as if right beside them.

The booming roar echoed.

Wei Qing felt Sylvie’s breathing quicken, her body trembling slightly in her arms.

Sylvie’s eyelashes drooped.

She let her curled body shiver faintly.

Her panting sounded like a kitten’s whimper near Wei Qing’s collarbone.

“Master…”

“Don’t be scared, don’t be scared… It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wei Qing said, patting her back.

Wei Qing shifted fully, lying on her side, holding Sylvie close.

She lifted her hand to rub the poor girl’s head again.

“Why are you afraid of thunder?” she asked.

Until now, she hadn’t talked much with this little heroine about her past.

Though she didn’t need to ask, the fear of thunder surely tied to something from before.

Sylvie’s mind sluggishly processed Wei Qing’s voice.

Her face nestled perfectly into the dip of Wei Qing’s collarbone.

The faint scent of the woman filled her nose.

Her chin rested against Wei Qing’s chest, soft and full.

Where no fabric separated them, the contact felt smooth, like sinking into a cloud.

So intimate…

She felt happy.

Her breathing quickened slightly.

After nuzzling, Wei Qing patted her head.

“Don’t move around.”

Sylvie responded faintly, staying still for a moment before burying her face deeper into that softness.

Before Wei Qing could stop her, she spoke, her voice trembling.

“It reminds me of before.”

Wei Qing’s hand paused.

Sylvie’s knee shifted, pressing against her thigh.

“When I was very young, it rained heavily, with thunder… My master then was very angry. I don’t remember why he beat me… Maybe there was no reason.”

“He hit my back, arms, legs with a hard wooden cane.”

“After beating me, he grabbed my hair and dragged me outside. It was pouring, like tonight. The thunder was loud, terrifying. He cursed me and slammed the door.”

“Some scars came from that time.”

The girl’s voice was soft.

The rough scars on her arm had smoothed out, leaving only faint red marks.

She took Wei Qing’s hand, guiding it to her wrist, letting her feel.

“Here on my arm, and my legs.”

Her hand moved lower, pressing Wei Qing’s palm against her thigh, their fingers overlapping.

She curled her fingers slightly, rubbing gently on her thigh.

“The old housekeeper who dragged me back from the rain said… When it hurts, think of warm things.”

Wei Qing felt awkward but didn’t pull away.

When Sylvie guided her hand higher, she pretended to rub her eyes, withdrawing it.

“It’s much better now. That ointment must have helped,” Wei Qing said.

Sylvie hummed softly.

She stayed quiet for a moment, then lifted her knee slightly, brushing Wei Qing’s waist.

“I couldn’t think of warm things back then,” she said.

Her bent knee shifted downward, grazing the soft flesh between Wei Qing’s legs.

Wei Qing’s breath hitched.

The girl’s voice came softly from below.

“But now I have you. You’re so good to me. You pat my head, hug me, take me shopping for clothes, talk to me… I always feel touched. When you touch me, I feel happy.”