Chapter 33
Even though the mudslide had passed, the mountainside remained slick and treacherous. Descending would be dangerous, especially now that night had fallen. The two had no choice but to spend the night on the mountain.
Perhaps it would be more than just one night.
Wakako headed northwest and found a small stream. The ground here was higher, and a large patch of vines had grown nearby, sparing the area from the devastation. The water was relatively clean.
Where there was water, vegetation and fruit were more plentiful. The trees entwined with the vines bore an abundance of fruits.
Wakako built a makeshift shelter here, using large leaves as a barrier against the cold.
Although she longed to jump into the water and wash away the grime, the drinking water was precious and shouldn’t be easily contaminated. She settled for gathering soft, absorbent leaves, twisting them into makeshift cloths, and using them to wipe herself down with water. It was enough to feel a little more comfortable.
After cleaning her face, Wakako was about to take off her clothes to wipe her body when she suddenly remembered something and turned around.
Miki sat in the small shelter Wakako had built, gazing at her quietly.
Perhaps the Saint couldn’t bear the sight of her own messy appearance. While Wakako wasn’t looking, she had somehow managed to clean her face, revealing her smooth, flawless skin once more.
However, her clothes were still filthy.
Wakako looked down at the leaves in her hand, unsure. “Do you want to wash up?”
Even she knew the question was unnecessary. Bathing was considered a sacred ritual for the Saint, and Miki herself was meticulous about cleanliness. In the past, she would bathe at least two or three times a day, let alone in a situation like this.
What Wakako wasn’t sure of was whether she should still serve Miki as she had before. As a child, she had done it without hesitation, but now that they were grown, she felt guilty.
Guilty because she desired Miki’s body. Every time she served her, her eyes lingered, memorizing every detail, and then replaying those scenes in her mind when she went into heat.
The Saint was her revered master. Wasn’t that a form of desecration? According to the law, even thinking such thoughts deserved punishment.
Wakako wasn’t afraid of punishment. She simply felt ashamed of her thoughts towards the Saint.
Yet Miki naturally raised her hand, as if waiting for Wakako to help her stand, but Wakako hesitated, not moving forward.
After a moment, Miki stood up on her own, her cloak slipping from her shoulders. The inner robe beneath was stained beyond repair.
The Saint should always be dressed in white. Now that her clothes were dirty, there was no reason not to remove them.
Miki’s hands moved to the fastenings at her collar, her slender fingers delicately unfastening them one by one, like white flower buds slowly unfurling.
“Waka,” she said, answering the unspoken question, “Help me clean myself.”
Miki had always called her “Little Waka,” a habit from their younger years. But now, she had begun to drop the “Little.”
There was no particular reason for it, simply that they were no longer children.
With her robe undone, it fell to the ground like the cloak before it, leaving her in a thin undergarment.
The back of the undergarment had a slightly complicated tie, difficult to reach and undo alone. It had always been the servants who handled such tasks for the Saint.
Miki’s tone carried a hint of frustration, as if she was both pouting and scolding, “Do I have to undress myself?”
The faint scent of cherries seemed to fill the air, teasingly enticing.
As Wakako’s heartbeat quickened, she instinctively drew in a deep breath. The intoxicating scent of Miki’s pheromones invaded her senses, a potent aphrodisiac that ignited her deepest desires and clouded her mind.
She forgot to respond, forgot to blink, her focus solely on engraving the image of the Saint, half-undressed, into her memory.
Miki paused for a moment, then smiled gently, crossing her hands behind her back. “It’s not impossible. I can untie it myself.”
With nimble fingers, she effortlessly loosened the ties, letting them fall softly.
Her inner garment parted, barely covering her body, though it couldn’t hide her graceful curves.
The Saint appeared slender in her clothes, but when undressed, she seemed delicate and graceful. Perhaps it was her exceptionally slender waist, barely a handful, that accentuated the fullness and softness of her breasts.
Her skin bore traces of dirt, like dust sullying a flawless piece of jade.
Wakako wanted to touch every part of her.
The cold night wind blew, yet the Saint, usually so sensitive to the cold, stood motionless, seemingly oblivious to the temperature.
“After you left, I never allowed anyone to attend to me personally,” Miki sighed softly. “So I learned to dress and bathe myself… But now that you’re here, would you be willing to wash me?”
Was it true? Had the Saint really refused anyone else’s service since she left?
“Or have you stopped listening to your Master?”
Master.
It was as if she held an invisible leash, tightly wrapped around Wakako’s neck, and the word “Master” was a gentle tug on that leash.
How could Wakako possibly resist?
She took the damp leaves and gently wiped Miki’s neck, moving slowly and carefully.
The process was slow, but Miki waited patiently, her expressive eyes fixed on Wakako.
“Waka, you’re so clumsy,” she sighed. “I’m still wearing my undergarments. At least help me take it off first?”
Of course Wakako knew how awkward she was being right now. Taking them off felt wrong, but not taking them off felt equally wrong. Her left hand trembled as it brushed the edge of Miki’s collar.
But then Miki’s hand gently pressed over hers, guiding her to place it on her body.
“Don’t you even know how to undress someone?”
The undergarments soon slipped to the ground, joining the others that had already fallen.
The next step was the task of wiping away the traces of mud from Miki’s body. It was a simple task, yet Wakako found herself unable to move. She knew that once she started, it wouldn’t just be cleaning.
When she hesitated, Miki took her hand and guided it. The damp leaves provided a slight barrier, but Wakako could still feel the contours of Miki’s body beneath her fingertips.
From top to bottom, inch by inch, she wiped away the mud, restoring the Saint’s pristine purity.
Her waist was so slender, easily encompassed by a single hand, yet the curves above and below were soft and smooth, tempting Wakako to bury herself in them.
The cold wind blew, but Wakako was drenched in sweat. When she finally finished, she tossed the leaf aside, her voice betraying her guilt. “I’m done cleaning now.”
“Done?”
Miki pursed her lips, clearly dissatisfied. “You should wash me at least three times.”
One time had already tested her willpower to the limit. Three times would be unbearable.
Wakako realized her voice was hoarse. “Miki, please, don’t torture me.”
She truly couldn’t take it anymore.
“Torture?”
Miki let out a soft “oh.” “If it’s torture, then why is your right hand still on my body?”
She tapped Wakako’s forehead with her fingertip, once, twice.
“You say one thing, but your heart desires another.”
“I…”
“And, who gave you permission to call me Miki?”
When they were younger, Wakako had to address her as “Saint” regardless of the time or place. But as their bond deepened, Miki allowed her to call her by name in private.
But now, it seemed that was no longer permitted.
Miki spoke softly, “Tonight, you can only call me Master.”
The Saint wasn’t known for being harsh or demanding. She had never put on airs in front of her servants. Only with Wakako did she occasionally insist on being called “Master.”
And every time, it was in bed. Without exception.
“…”
“Speak.”
“Master.”
“Good girl.” The Saint stroked her hair as a reward. “I want you to get in the water and clean yourself.”
Her eyes seemed to possess a mesmerizing power. Whenever their gazes met, Wakako found herself obeying without question.
Or perhaps it wasn’t her eyes but her scent. Anyone who inhaled the Saint’s pheromones would feel an instinctive urge to submit, rising from the depths of their blood.
Like mortals bowing before a divine messenger.
“But clean water is scarce, we can’t…”
“Be obedient,” Miki’s voice was as clear as a bell, soothing and reassuring. “Trust me.”
Under her Master’s command, Wakako undressed and stepped into the water. She had expected her filth to turn the entire stream black, but under the moonlight, the water remained as clear as it had been at the start.
Miki sat on the edge, her eyes fixed on Wakako.
“The last time I cleaned you, I made sure you were spotless,” she murmured. “Did you let yourself get dirty again?”
The last time, Wakako had deliberately provoked her by mentioning Miki. She had only mentioned that they had played on the ice together, and the Saint had completely lost control, leaving countless marks on her body.
If Miki knew that Miki was also in Nanling City, would she completely lose her mind?
If Miki knew that Miki even shared the same pronunciation of her name…
This dangerous thought flickered across Wakako’s mind for only a brief moment before she banished it completely. No, anything else could be dealt with, but the matter of the name was something Miki must never know.
Even Wakako couldn’t imagine the consequences if Miki truly lost control.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, Miki suddenly stepped into the water with her, bathing together in the small stream. The icy water had somehow become warm, and the moonlight reflected on the Saint’s face, seemingly radiating a pure, bright glow.
She didn’t say anything, simply pressed close, her long hair loose and dampened by the water.
Miki traced Wakako’s face with her breath, exploring every inch she could reach, finally stopping at her lips.
“Waka,” she said, “Call me Master again.”
“Master.”
“More.”
“Master.”
Miki’s hand found its way to Wakako’s face, gently pressing against her rounded dimples. She always liked to do this. “Let me bite you, okay?”
The Saint leaned down and gently took Wakako’s nipple between her lips, savoring her as though it were a piece of candy, warming her until she melted into sweet liquid.
She bit her.
“…Master.”
Wakako didn’t even open her eyes. She heard her own voice gradually breaking, coming out in broken, uneven gasps.
Miki had always been a woman of her word. Before they came up the mountain, she had said she wanted Wakako to beg her on her knees for an entire night. And now, that was exactly what she intended to make happen.
The stream wasn’t deep, and Wakako’s knees sank to the bottom as she knelt in the water. No matter what she said, Miki wouldn’t give her what she craved, deliberately teasing and tormenting her.
“Miki…” Wakako’s voice faltered as she slipped, mistakenly calling out her name.
For using the wrong name, her other nipple was met with a sharp slap.
“Master, good Master, Lady Saint…” In the end, Wakako didn’t even know what she was saying anymore. “Miki… Sister…”
The younger Omega lifted her head, clearly pleased with this title, smiling down at her.
“Sister?” Miki mused, contemplating the word. “I suppose that works.”
Back at the Saionji estate, she had sisters by blood, but none of them dared to call her that. She herself had never even considered the possibility. But with Wakako—who was a year older, yet completely melted at her fingertips—those two words seemed to carry a deeper significance.
“…Can I have it now?” Wakako asked, flushed and on the verge of breaking.
“No.”
When Miki said no, she meant it. She had promised a whole night of denial, and a whole night it would be. Not even a moment less.
