Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Desire Like a Chasm
After finishing, Jima felt light all over. She felt as if she could almost float to the surface of the water. As the warmth within her faded, she began to feel the slightly warming cold water again, and a sense of weariness arose in her heart.
Jima withdrew her hand from the water, looking at her reddened fingers. She frowned in disgust but had no choice. Ever since her body matured, her desires had risen accordingly.
She supported herself on the edge of the tub and stood up, water dripping from her damp black hair. The cold seeped through her skin and chilled her bones, extinguishing the few flames still remaining inside her.
Jima took a deep breath, shivering a little.
The “green jelly” she had carelessly thrown onto the ground lay there, next to pieces of broken gelatin. Jima looked at it, feeling no reaction, only disgust for both the jelly and herself.
“Isn’t it sad to be impulsive over something like this?”
But the disgust faded quickly; she knew she would do the same thing next time.
“One cannot suppress one’s own nature,” she tightened her fist and muttered to herself, lowering her head to look at the tail emerging from the water. “Moreover, I am a succubus now.”
At that moment, a cold breeze blew in through a crack in the window, making Jima shiver again. She quickly got out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel to dry herself. Feeling still unclean, considering the water had been mixed with some of her own essence, she wished to wash again.
However, a glance at the full bathtub dispelled that idea. It would take at least twenty minutes to refill it.
If I were still a demon lord, with a multitude of servants, I wouldn’t have such troubles.
She glanced around the small bathroom, the moldy wooden window tightly shut, the light dim, and the stone walls gray, simple to the point of being heartbreaking. She uncontrollably recalled the warm bathroom in her demon lord’s castle, spacious enough to play basketball.
There wouldn’t be any hassle of changing the water, and it certainly wouldn’t be this cold…
Jima suddenly lifted her foot and kicked the bathtub.
With a bang, the tub tilted a bit but returned to its place without toppling. Jima stumbled, stepping on the “green jelly,” nearly causing her to fall.
Following the principle of being fearless against the weak, Jima kicked the “green jelly” away, feeling it was more of a piece of trash, disgusting. She felt even more pathetic for associating it with an indescribable matter and thereby developing uncontrollable desires.
If it were before, even before becoming a demon lord, she wouldn’t have needed her hands to fulfill such cravings.
Jima shivered as she dried herself with a rough gray towel. It was a bit painful against her smooth skin, and she felt as if she were using a rag. She decided to buy a new one tomorrow. She bent down and wrapped the “green jelly” with the towel.
After putting on her clothes, she tossed the towel and the green jelly into the trash.
At that moment, there came the sound of seventeen bells ringing from outside.
It was time to teach the saintess cooking and to dig into the corner of the virgin.
Jima perked up, and after combing her hair with a wooden comb, she stared into the mirror for several minutes, confirming that the long black straight hairstyle suited her best. She wore a plain white dress and threw on a fluffy shawl, clothes she had bought earlier from the street. Holding her head high, she excitedly walked toward the saintess’s house.
The journey was smooth, and a group of priests in white robes approached her, lowering their heads, clasping their hands together, reciting some prayer mumbling. They were clearly afraid Jima would use her own desires to play tricks on them.
She arrived at the saintess’s courtyard, stepped onto the red stone steps, and pulled the rope hanging beside the wooden door.
The copper bell rang.
Jima smiled sweetly, “Saintess, it’s me.”
Before long, the door opened.
Jima’s eyes lit up—literally lighting up—the source of light was the saintess, Jenna, who greeted her with a friendly smile:
“You came at just the right time; I just messed up a piece of beef—huh, Jima, what are you looking at?”
Jima shifted her gaze from Jenna’s hair, realizing this might be the first time her eyes didn’t land on the saintess’s chest first.
Saintess Jenna’s hairstyle was quite extravagant. Her golden hair was fixed in a manner that extended outward like the horns of a water buffalo. On these “horns,” there was a layer of semi-transparent cloth and several jeweled hairpins stuck in.
“I…” Jima almost blurted out, what is that hairstyle, but swallowed it down. After all, since she was digging into a possible relationship, she couldn’t offend the girl right away. Instead, she said, “Your hairstyle is quite unique; it caught my attention.”
“Really?” Saintess Jenna seemed rather proud and said, “This is the most popular hairstyle among ladies from George’s hometown.”
No wonder it looked so familiar.
Jima recalled the attire of ladies from the Knights’ Country, Bartor. Each wore extraordinarily thick skirts that concealed their alluring body curves. Their hairstyles looked like bird’s nests perched atop their heads, seemingly obsessed with finding ways to make their bird nests more colorful and eye-catching each day.
In her previous life, she hadn’t touched any woman from Bartor, thanks to those bizarre outfits that gave off absolutely no sense of desire.
At this moment, a burnt smell wafted from behind.
Jima sniffed her small nose, saying, “I guess you must have burnt a piece of beef; it should be burnt five minutes.”
Saintess Jenna jumped, floating an inch upwards, “I forgot; the beef is still in the pot.”
Without hesitation, she hurried back towards the kitchen.
Jima shook her head, closed the door, took off her brown leather boots, slipped on the thick cotton slippers that Jenna had prepared, and walked toward the kitchen.
As she approached the kitchen door, a blue plume of smoke wafted out.
The moment Jima entered the kitchen, she saw Saintess Jenna gripping the handle of the iron pot. Suddenly, the steaming pot shot up in flames, startling her and reminding her of childhood traumas. She let go, and the pot fell back on the stove.
Jima stepped forward, grabbed the handle of the pot, pushed, and the charred beef slid out, landing right in the trash can. She put the sizzling pot into the sink and grabbed a small wooden bucket filled with water, splashing it directly over the pot.
“Fizz~~”
The pot cooled down.
“Jima, you are amazing!”
Jima puffed out her chest proudly and said, “What do you want to learn today?”
As she spoke, she rolled up her long sleeves, took a loofah, and quickly cleaned the pot.
“I want to learn how to pan-fry beef,” Saintess Jenna said. “Last time, the spiced venison you made was delicious, and George ate a lot of it. I thought the same technique used to fry beef would surely be even better.”
Tsk, the virgin is really lucky.
Jima felt a bit jealous and said, “Sure, you have a good idea, but there’s actually a lot to learn. After all, the meats are different, and the seasonings used must also be adjusted accordingly. The subtle differences among these require a solid cooking foundation to truly perceive.”
“Please teach me.”
Jima smiled and said, “Alright, Lady Saintess, I can do that, but you must promise me one thing, a small request.”
“What request?”
Saintess Jenna instinctively became alert. She had undergone strict training in the mystic arts and knew to be very cautious of demons or devil’s requests.
Jima said, “Can I touch your hand, ah, no, your fingers?”
“Ah?”
Jima repeated her request.
Saintess Jenna finally understood. She looked at Jima’s clear, innocent eyes and felt that the other party was trying to please her, hence the humble request. Instantly feeling a bit ashamed of her earlier suspicion.
She extended her hand, tightly wrapped in snow-white gloves, and said, “Of course, we can shake hands.”
Jima reached out, grasping Saintess Jenna’s fingers.
With the fingers touched, it meant that Saintess Jenna was formally accepting her. Step by step, she would eventually be able to openly rub the saintess’s chest.
Jima’s heart was filled with joy, imagining the scene of directly NTR-ing George, her mood suddenly became exhilarating.
She tied on an apron, saying, “Let’s get down to business; I’ll demonstrate first. If you have any questions, just ask me.”
Jima put in great effort, personally cutting the beef and grinding pepper, her movements smooth and enjoyable to watch. Saintess Jenna felt pretty envious, yet also saddened for Jima. All she did was shake fingers with Jima, but this small act of acceptance led Jima to feel grateful and very generous.
Jenna had no idea that this succubus girl was merely coveting her body.
Fifteen minutes later, Jima placed the somewhat charred yellow beef onto a plate, saying, “Alright, your turn; let me see where you’re lacking so I can teach you how to overcome it.”
“Okay.”
Jenna began her operation.
“Your knife skills need work; you should practice more.”
“You let the oil heat too long.”
“When putting in the beef, don’t be so frantic, keep your hands steady.”
…
Fifteen minutes later, the beef presented before the two women was blackened on one side and blood-red on the other.
Jima suspectedly rubbed her eyes with her damp hand.
How did Jenna manage to fry the beef so “extremely” right under her nose?
Jenna turned her head, a bashful smile on her oval face.
Jima wasn’t angry; it wasn’t because she was broad-minded, but simply because working together with such a beautiful person like Jenna was in itself a pleasure.
“There were at least…” Jima counted in her personal system text, “thirty-eight mistakes, let’s start correcting from the simplest.”
Fifteen minutes later.
“Burnt again.”
“No problem, I’ll teach you step by step, starting with tossing the pan.” Jima naturally took hold of the iron pot handle along with Jenna’s hands. Her body pressed against Jenna’s side, and just like that, Jima could feel Jenna’s fullness and vitality.
Her tail tilted up slightly in happiness.
One piece of meat after another, either burnt or overly salty, kept falling into the trash, but each piece looked better than the last.
Saintess Jenna was smiling happily at her visible improvement in speed, and Jima was even happier, confidently taking advantage of the situation.
At this moment, there came a sound of a key turning at the front door.
“I’m back.”
George, dressed in a plain linen shirt and standing tall, walked into the living room. He had just taken a shower, and his hair was slightly damp.
No one responded to him; laughter and joy floated from the kitchen.
George walked toward the kitchen, only to see the tall and short girls happily handling an innocent piece of beef, with Jima teaching Jenna hand in hand, both wearing smiles.
“What’s for dinner tonight?”
The two girls turned around at the same time, both looking very happy. Especially Jima, upon seeing George, seemed even more joyful; her hand rested on Saintess Jenna’s hand, her tail excitedly raised.
George felt genuinely happy for Jima gaining Jenna’s friendship.
“You’re back,” said Saintess Jenna. “Tonight’s dinner is spiced pan-fried beef.”
—————-
Entering a frantic mode, as long as I can write six chapters before midnight on the tenth day, I won’t have to cross-dress.
Cross-dressing is out of the question; I even installed a plugin to block all sites except SF.
