Daughters of the Sun
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 5: Lessons In Proximity
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 5: Lessons In Proximity - A Mongol princess captured in a Jin border raid. A Jin emperor's daughter tasked with civilizing her enemy. What begins as captivity becomes love—until the Mongols take Zhangdu and everything reverses. Now the Jin princess must adapt or die, becoming war counselor to the Khan who destroyed her empire. Two women. Two cultures. Two captivities. One love that survives conquest, betrayal, and the fall of dynasties to find peace on the steppes.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Lesbian Historical Oriental Female Analingus First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting AI Generated
The morning lessons had become the center of Nara’s existence. Not because she cared particularly about Chinese poetry or court etiquette, but because they meant time with Wei. Two hours each day where they sat close together, where Wei’s voice became the only sound that mattered, where the cell she lived in felt less like a cage.
Today, Wei arrived carrying brushes and ink, scrolls of paper under her arm.
“Calligraphy,” she announced, setting up the materials on the low table between them. “If you’re to understand our culture, you must understand how we write. Each character is art, not just communication.”
Nara watched Wei arrange everything with meticulous care—the ink stone, the water, the brushes of varying sizes. Her hands moved with unconscious grace, and Nara found herself staring at those hands, imagining them touching...
She shut down that thought immediately. Dangerous. Forbidden.
“The brush should rest here,” Wei said, demonstrating. “Your grip should be firm but not tense. Let the brush be an extension of your hand.”
Nara tried to mimic Wei’s hold, but her warrior’s grip was all wrong. The brush wobbled.
Wei moved closer, her shoulder brushing Nara’s. “May I?”
Nara nodded, not trusting her voice.
Wei’s hand covered hers, adjusting her grip, positioning her fingers. The touch was electric. Wei’s skin was soft, warm, and Nara could smell jasmine—the scent Wei always carried.
“Like this,” Wei murmured, so close that Nara could feel her breath. “Relax your wrist. Let the movement come from your whole arm, not just your fingers.”
Wei guided Nara’s hand through the first stroke. Then another. The character they were forming was simple—”water”—but Nara couldn’t focus on the meaning. All she could think about was Wei’s hand on hers, Wei’s body pressed against her side, Wei’s hair brushing her shoulder.
“You’re tense,” Wei observed. “Calligraphy requires flow. Like water itself.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try less. Feel more.” Wei’s voice had dropped to something almost intimate. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes. Stop thinking about the character. Just feel the movement.”
Nara obeyed. With her eyes closed, every other sense heightened. Wei’s hand on hers. The warmth of her body. The jasmine scent. The soft sound of her breathing.
Wei guided her through the strokes again. Without vision, it became something else—a dance, a meditation, an act of trust.
“Beautiful,” Wei whispered. “See? When you stop fighting it, the art emerges naturally.”
Nara opened her eyes to see the character they’d created together. It was surprisingly elegant, the strokes flowing in a way her earlier attempts hadn’t managed.
“Now you try alone,” Wei said, but she didn’t move away. Her hand remained over Nara’s, their fingers intertwined now more than positioned for instruction.
They both became aware of it at the same moment. The unnecessary contact. The intimacy of it.
Wei should have pulled away. Should have created professional distance.
She didn’t.
Instead, her thumb brushed across Nara’s knuckles—a tiny gesture that could have been accidental but wasn’t.
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