Sylvie, the Slave Girl (Lily Futa) - Chapter 42 (pt. 2)

She watches the girl’s expression.

One hand parts Sylvie’s dry, soft pvssy lips.

Her fingertips rub the small cl!toris gently. Her voice softens.

“Long, long ago, in a faraway place, there was a kingdom. The king and queen had a very beautiful little princess… Everyone was happy for her. The kingdom held a grand banquet, inviting many, many fairies to bless her…” she says.

Soft kisses trail along her cheeks and neck, gentle and lingering.

Her slightly cool voice, telling the story, carries an oddly captivating charm, echoing in the quiet room.

“The fairies’ blessings… and the forgotten, angry evil witch. But she wasn’t born evil. People isolated her… And that king, deceiving her feelings and pulling her wings, he kind of deserved it,” she says.

“The witch was furious. Dark clouds gathered, black mist swirled, with piercing thunder and rain… She cursed the princess,” she says.

The girl’s pvssy slowly grows wet under the rubbing.

Wei Qing’s slender fingers ease inside, moving in the equally burning pvssy.

After the lust value hits 1000, the increased sensitivity makes the girl’s unconscious body respond enough.

In her high fever, not only her skin burns, but the heat inside her body feels alarming.

The scalding passage grips Wei Qing’s fingers.

Sylvie’s breathing seems to quicken slightly.

Her brows stay furrowed, but the sinking, deathly stillness seems to fade just a bit.

Wei Qing brushes aside a sweat-soaked strand of hair from the girl’s forehead.

“The king ordered all spinning wheels burned, but… what was meant to happen couldn’t be avoided,” she says.

Her voice carries a smile, the tone rising slightly, finding it amusing because it feels a bit cliché.

Like now, a forced, unavoidable plot kill.

“The princess still touched a spindle, fell, and slept. Not just her—the entire castle, the king, the queen, the guards, the cooks… even the fire in the hearth slept. Thorns surrounded the castle, turning it into a silent place,” she says.

She pulls out her fingers, spreading the wetness onto her own listless c0ck.

Half-soft, not hard, it looks limp, far smaller than when erect.

She could hold it in one hand.

Wei Qing rubs herself roughly, getting half-hard, then presses against the girl’s private area, grinding.

Her fingers keep moving in the small pvssy, two fingers gripped tightly, making faint wet sounds.

The girl’s face seems redder.

Her eyelids tremble almost imperceptibly.

“Many, many years passed. Legends spread. Some said only a true prince, cutting through thorns, could find the sleeping princess and break the curse with a true love’s kiss, waking her and the kingdom,” she says.

Her voice pauses, eyes lowering slightly.

“But I always wondered… what if the one who entered the castle wasn’t a prince?” she says.

Her voice carries a hint of allusion, sounding awkward but calm.

“Not a prince, not a man, maybe without a sword, unable to cut through all those thorns, a bit disheveled, with no prince’s mission. Maybe just passing by…? Out of kindness?” she says.

“She didn’t want the princess to sleep there pitifully, didn’t want her to just disappear…” she says.

Wei Qing touches her burning face, kisses the corner of her lips, her teeth gently nibbling with unrestrained force.

Her eyes show anxiety.

“If the princess disappeared… she would feel sad,” she says.

“Very sad,” she says.

…

The room falls quiet for a moment.

The woman’s c0ck still grinds against the root of Sylvie’s thigh.

“Why?” Sylvie asks, eyes closed, her voice weak.

Wei Qing blinks at her.

“Because she likes her,” she says.

“I like you too,” she says.

Sylvie opens her eyes slightly, looking at her.

The woman’s eyes have dark circles, slightly red rims, and messy hair.

A rare disheveled look.

“Don’t die. Don’t let my first spark of love end like this,” Wei Qing says.

“Otherwise, you’re just a heartbreaker,” she says.