The School Grounds

[Miss_Vivi]

Vivi's body twitched with every single dip and drip of those fingers and that cunt. She ached with and for the girl spread out before her, she wanted to be those fingers, to replace them with her tongue. To push the girl further and further till they both broke under the weight of their combined orgasm.

Not this time.

Her movement was sudden, she was out of her seat, to the sound system. The music blared to life over the speakers, once more. She stretched under the bass, kicked off her heels and moved soundlessly to the girl's side. Knelt there. Took in the smirk, the smile, the fingers, the bare skin. Even if only for the moment, she loved all of it.

Because it was hers.
For now.

This is how I show my love
I made it in my mind because

One hand curled around a tender throat. Feeling for the pulse there, the sensation of it quickening against her thumb... or was it her own heartbeat speeding up? Could be either.

This is how an angel dies
I blame it on my own sick pride
Blame it on my A.D.D. baby

Her other hand slid easily over the girl's warmth. Slippery. Wanton. Vi smiled. Two fingers. Warm.
Tight.

Whimper.
From whose throat did that come from?

Maybe I should cry for help
Maybe I should kill myself (myself)
Blame it on my A.D.D. baby

Three fingers. Wetter. Harder. Hips moving.
Thumb rubbing over exposed clit. The smell of sex enveloped her hand and her senses. Another soft moan. A dripped "..damn.." from ruby lips. Hair sliding over hazel eyes, while she pumped her fingers in and out of the girl.

Fucking her.
Four fingers.

Maybe I'm a different breed
Maybe I'm not listening
So blame it on my A.D.D. baby


"..fuck.. good girl..."

Soft little cooing words that were in direct contrast to the force of the music or the pounding of her hand, which slipped and slid and pushed it's way inside, Vi twisted her hand, curled her thumb inward.

Five fingers.
Her whole arm moving in time to the music, fucking the girl under her.

Her whole hand, disappearing between two lips, the hand around her throat moving to her clit, rubbing her there. Soft little gasps between them.

"My very good girl."

 

[thestruggle]

The scratches made upon her skin were beginning to dry. When Tess flicked her tongue over her lips she tasted salt and iron. Blood, sweat, fear, desire. Bitter and tart, none of the sweetness that some people longed for—she had always craved bolder flavors. They studied each other, a moment preserved under glass. Tess wanted it to shift and yet stay, to examine it at length, to watch as she touched and then touch again. The curve of her shoulder blades and how they settled against the wood, the dip of her hips and the small mole that marked one. A mental image, a photograph snapped.

Such an ache.

Vivi leaped up from her seat, striding to the stereo system. Tess was momentarily adrift, her fingers paused in making circles on her thighs. The walk across the floor, the music blaring. The heels were kicked off and Tess felt stalked, hunted. A hedonic scene: a Headmistress inching towards a girl. Voluptuous walk, and then the lust crept back towards the abandon Tess neared before. The music almost rippled around Vivi and Tess smoothed her fingers over her legs, cunt, landing flat on her stomach. Testing its width, its strength, wondering if the fire would seep through.

Dreading it.
Needing it.

As the Headmistress's hand closed on her throat, Tess could not keep back a low whine. Her thirst was acquisitive. She wanted the hands upon her throat, the nails digging into her back, the fingers stretching her apart. Please, oh please, please—waited, waiting--

When those delicate fingers searched her flesh, found her warmth, slipped inside—Tess moaned, the sound forcing through lips that suddenly worked together, biting through the soft skin there. Her own fingers dug into no one place: her waist, the floor gouged, her inner thighs. Too much, so fast, and not enough. She could feel her muscles clenching around the clever digits that worked; as tight as she was, she rippled them tighter. The entrance of a third, and the slick touch over her aching clit forced a more strangled noise—wet in her throat, wet mouth, wet for more.

“Oh my God,” Tess cried, her hips rocking. To still them was beyond her and she did not even conceive of it. She was singularly focused, her fervor working as a high powered beam, intent on the hand that thrust inside her. For it was becoming that, more than the sum of a few fingers, and so pushed inside another. Filling her. Tess felt that near indescribable sensation of being complete and yet wanting, the edge of orgasm, so close to cumming that she would have been surprised by her staying power.

“Good girl,” and Tess knew those words would be imprinted somewhere, so hoarse and raw was the sound she made after. She was shameless. She was wanton. Tess brought her fingertips up to her teeth and raked them, bit down, sought to alleviate some of the pressure—she felt that her head would spin round like a top, her body would immolate. Her pussy slicked and slid around the fingers, and then the fifth joined them.

Her head snapped back and she panted, feeling impossibly stretched—it could not be but it was, she took it greedily, shocked at her own wantonness. Shocked, yes shocked, but fucking Christ I can't help-- And she came, gushing, her feet arching and toes curling, the pleasure-pain racking her, as she bucked and writhed with those lady-like hands caressing her--not a caress, just thoroughly fucked--fingers gripping at the wrist that controlled the hand within her.

Her eyes snapped to Vivi, unfocused, looking as though frightened by the aftershocks—so intense, she might have come again, she felt the contractions—and her nails loosened on the arm it held so fast to.

Beats,waiting.
Time, passing.
It never lasted long enough.

“Ooh, G-god,” she stuttered out, her cheeks flushed, nipples pink and peaked. Her hips rolled and rolled, as though it would not end: but it was slowing, soothing, shifting into exhausting warmth. Tess sobbed, more a pronounced exhalation than anything, but a noise so thankful that she almost did not express her gratitude--

But she did, as her hips lay still on the floor once more, her toes relaxed, the light sparkling and glinting above her, the music still echoing round. Her voice, its sweet tone almost shy, said, “Thank you, Miss.” Breathing still labored, fighting to calm. Tess closed her eyes, and her fingertips lightly caressed the wrist between her legs, and she smiled.

A good lesson.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

It didn't matter that she had cum, it's what Vi had wanted. She let her because it didn't matter.

Her pleasure didn't really matter, and it had been demanded anyway.

Vivi's fingers and hand were covered in her. Which, meant of course that they would have to be licked clean. At any other time, she'd make the girl do it herself. But Vi wanted a taste.

While the girl watched and sighed her thanks, and beamed beneath her Headmistress, fingers were licked mostly clean, not in a showy messy way, but each digit tasted and sighed upon, much in the same manner one employs when drinking an excellent glass of wine.

The girl tasted as intoxicating as her breathless pleas promised, leaving shivers crawling up Vi's spine. Her still wet hand caressed a soft thankful cheek, while the other sought out something else.

Something sharp.
Shiny.
Broken.

Pads of her fingers found it. Nails slipped under it and lifted it from the floor. While cooing red lips comforted the girl in her arms, in her charge. Vi shivered again.

Pleasure and pain cursed through Vi's own veins, it was a gift that she would bestow upon the girl. To leave her always craving more, to wrap her tightly around Vi's fingers once more with only the slightest pressure.

She pressed the girl back to the hard wooden floor with a kiss imbued with silent thankful trust. Then bent to her task. Above her thigh. Below her hipbone.

Press.
Watch the blood well.
Drag the mirror between the open folds of skin. Slightly.
Repeat.

Ignore the soft cries, whimpers and intakes of breath from beneath her. It was beautiful and red and the tiniest little cut. A forever reminder.

A "V" carved into the flesh of her student.
Lips curved into a smile, pleased with the results.
Marked. Forever.

"Welcome to the School, sweet girl. I'm very proud of you."

Another sweet kiss.
Then Vi stood, picked up and dropped her coat over the girl, picked up her shoes and, glanced over her shoulder.

"Your interview is over Tess. Ms. Fiala will have your clothing in the front office. You may seek out your dorm room, and get cleaned up."

Vi smiled, licked her lips and left the girl panting on the floor.
She had a school to run.

 

[JadeKnight]

Well, he had been told that he would be good for the school. Then again he had also pretty must been told that he was supposed to be at the school. He sighed and shook his head for a moment as he printed out the student application and looked it over for a few moments. He had no idea what he was getting into, and he was almost certain he didn't want to know. On the other hand, it would definitely broaden his horizons, so to speak.

He picked up the paper and carefully answered the questions.

1. What brings you to the School?
A variety of reasons. I was prodded to join the school by a new friend. Also it would help to increase my knowledge..well, of lots of things.
2. Are you known to have disciplinary issues?
Well, overall I am pretty good. I do slip and try to maybe incite some trouble just to watch the results.
3. What do you seek to gain from your time as a student?
Overall, an increase in whatever knowledge I am able to acquire. I enjoy learning what I can.
4. Are there any particular classes you are interested in?
I've not got any real preferences at the moment. I am an open book.
5. Do you know any of the staff? And are you interested in having any of them mentor you?
The only two staff I know are Miss Brit and the Head Mistress Vivi. Anytime.

He took a deep breathe for a moment before slipping the paper into a manilla envelope. He decided the best way to make an impression was to give it in person. He dressed up in some casual wear, faded blue jeans, red button-up short sleeve shirt and black shoes.

He soon found himself at the front desk of the office, placing the envelope on the counter top. He ran a hand through his short, military crew cut, black hair for a moment as he waited to be seen.

 

[LeChatNoir]

The first day at a new school.

Even for a teacher the phrase was pregnant with possibility, carrying with it the prospect of new students, new colleagues, and new challenges. The previous school year had not ended well for Dr. N, due in large part to his fundamental disagreement with the principal, the school board, and numerous parents as to what constituted “proper discipline for young persons,” and he was eager to make a new start at Miss Vivi’s School for Difficult Girls and Boys. Even at boarding schools, he believed, the standards for students had gone to hell in a handbasket, so the chance to head up the social studies department at a school dedicated to dealing with the most challenging of behavior problems was simply one he could not pass up.

The telephone interview with Miss Vivi, the headmistress, had gone quite well. She was clearly a vivacious sort, enthusiastic about her mission and rightfully proud of the results that her school had achieved with instilling both academic discipline and discipline of a more…personal nature in her students. The simple fact was that she had intrigued Dr. N, and he was quite curious to meet her in person to determine if his initial impressions were borne out. However, such simple pleasures as curiousity would have to wait. There was work to be done.

This being his first day at a new school, he decided that a slightly more formal approach would be appropriate. Rising early and taking his customary shower - first ice-cold and then as hot as he could stand – he gazed at his reflection in the half-steamed glass of the bathroom mirror. Forty-one years old and already your beard’s almost half white. At least you still have your fucking hair. He shaved carefully up his neck, the neatly-trimmed beard ending just below the line of his jaw. A quick splash of aftershave, a run of the comb through his short brown hair, and he was ready. Dr. N strode purposefully to his closet and selected tan worsted-wool khaki trousers, a crisp white Oxford shirt, a navy wool blazer, and brown dress shoes with a matte finish. A belt to match the shoes and a splash of color in the form of a pink necktie with thin diagonal navy blue stripes finished what he thought of as his “teacher uniform, mid-formal.” Stepping forth from his apartment, he hailed a taxi and was off.

As he was driven through the crowded streets at what seemed like an unseemly, if not downright reckless, speed, Dr. N braced himself in the back of the cab with one strong arm and attempted to look over an email that had just arrived from the Headmistress. Apparently, one of the duties of his new position involved interviewing potential applicants to the school to see if they met the Headmistress’ strict rules for suitability. Today, as his first duty, he had an interview to conduct.

This should prove interesting, Dr. N thought as he scanned the application.

Name: Tamsin J. Walker
Educational background: Expelled from previous school – No further details available
Contact method: e-mail
Appointment date: today

The social studies chair sighed. Really? This is all I get to work with? She could have been expelled for being a dope smoker, an axe-murderess, giving blowjobs in the toilet, or anything in between. Ah, well, half the fun is finding out, right?

The Yellow Cab (“444-4444! All you need is 4!” the roof-top sign proclaimed) let Dr. N off in front of the very impressive building that housed Miss Vivi’s school. In order to work off some excess energy, Mr. N took the stairs to the fifth floor, emerging from the fire door next to Ms. Fiala’s desk. He nodded to the irrepressible secretary and greeted her by name, his voice soft and deep and smooth, before making his way across the floor towards the prospective new student.

Black, spiked boots. Check.
Tights. Very tight, and legs very long. Check.
Short, faux-leather skirt. Check.
Cropped jacket. Check
Is that a bustier? Good God. Check.
Oh, this will be entertaining.

Good morning. Is it Miss Walker? I am Dr. Noir, and Headmistress Vivi has asked me to conduct your intake interview. If you will please follow me, I will begin your tour of our facilities here at the school.”

 

[MTPersson]

The past few weeks had been some of the best of TJ's life. Free from the daily restraint of a school timetable, she was able to do what she wanted, when she wanted. She had all but forgotten about Miss ViVi’s School for Difficult Girls and Boys and was surprised when her phone woke her up one lunchtime telling her that she had an induction interview scheduled for the next day. Just enough time for this hangover to do one. Rolling over onto her front and pulling the covers over her head she went back to sleep.

*

The next morning found TJ across the street from the school building, smoking again. She was a little late but she didn’t care too much, well, she didn’t care at all really. The school wasn’t going anywhere and she did have to wait a long time for them to respond to her application. Quid pro quo. Surveying the high rise building, she noticed it was busier, with a touch more hustle and bustle compared to the last time she had been here. Taking one last drag from her cigarette, she stubbed it on the low wall she was sat on, repeating the action from weeks before, and started across the road.

The same muzak was being piped into the elevator as TJ rode it up to the fifth floor and she hummed along whilst absent-mindedly checking her appearance in the mirror before the doors slide open and Ms. Fiala’s perma-grin greeted her. Does that woman ever take holiday? TJ knew the drill, and ignored the receptionist, instead heading straight for the row of chairs lined up against the far wall and started to play angry birds on her phone.

Five minutes had passed when the unmistakable sound of shoes on polished floor came drifting down the hallway. A middle aged man with a speckled beard approached the reception and spoke briefly to Ms. Fiala before turning to her and speaking over the game noises emitted by her phone.

“Good morning. Is it Miss Walker? I am Dr. Noir, and Headmistress Vivi has asked me to conduct your intake interview. If you will please follow me, I will begin your tour of our facilities here at the school.”

TJ didn’t say anything; she just turned off the game, put her phone in her bag and stood up; all in one motion that practically shouted boredom. She looked at Dr. Noir as if to say “Come on gramps, I’m waiting on you here,” before following him down the hall back in the direction he had come from.

 

[seven_of_nine]

A postman delivers an official looking brown envelope that obviously contains a file full of paperwork. It is addressed to the headmistress and the covering letter inside explains that enclosed are the details of a scholarship candidate

Eden Miller was raised by a family who belonged to an insular Christian sect. She was home schooled along with a bunch of other disciples' children, until she began to question her faith and eventually reject their teachings. Eden would regularly abscond from the commune, spending her time either hanging out with 'secular' kids or soaking up books on science that her community considered blasphemous. She started drinking at an early age and dabbled with other drugs. An older guy befriended her and she even ran drugs for him for a while, till she was caught and got a criminal record. She has been sentenced to community service that she never showed up for and it must therefore still be served.

Things have come to such a pass between Eden, her family and the church's elders that she has been expelled from the commune. At a single stroke she has lost virtually everyone she has known for the whole of her life. She has no family outside the commune and after scavenging on the street for a few days she opened up to a friendly cop and was found emergency accommodation.

Eden is a bright girl but her education has been highly selective and she has not one single qualification. In addition, she has no computer skills and has never used the internet. Attempts to integrate her into school communities have failed, as she's such a target for bullying and will lash out wildly when threatened or provoked. Eden's knowledge about sex and relationships is dubious and she views sex and marriage as tools of male dominance. Whenever anyone has made a move on her she has responded with savage violence. It is believed that she is virgin but she has never consented to see a doctor of undergo an examination. In order to assess what Eden has been taught and give her a fighting chance of passing secular exams, it is thought she needs a lot of one-to-one input from teachers and by boarding at the school the problem of her homelessness will be solved as well.

It is suggested that to keep her out of trouble and from being tempted to run away again, Eden should not be given much in the way of free time. Remedial classes will be required in I.T. and other subjects but when she's not studying or working on assignments, her community service can be served out at the school, performing menial tasks. An orange jumpsuit will be provided to impress upon Eden the seriousness of her conviction and the fact she could have been sent to jail for failing to carry out her sentence.

The letter also suggests that Eden has some kind of psychological disturbance, as she's very cold and detached and there is evidence to suggest that she has self harmed in the past. Eden has not consented to psyche eval and little can be gleaned from her hostile, sullen demeanour. If the school is kind enough to take her on, any observations regarding her mental state and input from a counsellor - if she will allow it - would be appreciated by the social team currently responsible for her welfare.

 

[Britwitch]

Heels clicked a sharp, quick, rhythm down the corridor. A little too quick, a little too determined. It was a march in high heels and the body propelled by it was tingling with fury. Miss Witch was headed to see her employer, there were things to discuss.

Usually she let things go, she let a lot of things go, it was one of her charms. Easy going Brit. But this? This was important. Monetary matters always were. Any other day she’d have let an unanswered email go without comment but today was a different day. A student hadn’t shown up meaning hours of planning and preparation had gone to waste, she’d spent countless hours waiting for her door to be fixed by the custodian, lots of little things that had built up to form the nudge that pushed her over the edge and sent her into the spiralling fall towards Miss Vivi’s office. Hips swaying as she made brisk pace through the school.

And she had to do it before she chickened out, before she reasoned and argued with herself into giving up before she began. And so she knocked brusquely on the door as soon as she reached it.

Nothing.

She knocked again. Then again.

Still nothing.

Normally, if the Headmistress was engaged or not in the mood to be disturbed, she simply pressed the button on her desk to illuminate the little red light beside the door frame. No light glowed there so Brit assumed she was either out or available.

“Miss Vivi?” It was so hard to say that and sound determined, despite the fury that had driven her down to the woman’s office. A hand nudged the door and it slowly swung open to reveal the empty office behind.
Pink tongue grazed dry lips before she dared to step inside. It felt wrong to be in there. Dangerous almost.

“Hello…?” She called out tentatively when both feet were upon the carpet beyond the door.
“Damn.” She cursed quietly, realising she was totally alone. Anger fading by the second, to be replaced by doubt.
She shouldn’t have come. She was paid well enough, more than enough really. She didn’t need more, not really.

That little voice poked her from inside.
‘Yes you do! Everyone always needs more!’
But what if she didn’t deserve more.
‘Bull!’
What if Miss Vivi didn’t think she did?
‘She hired you, didn’t she? She likes your work. If she wants to keep you, she can pay for you.’
What if she’d been hired for how she looked in a pencil skirt rather than the way she’d been educated?
‘You know that’s not true. Well, not entirely…’
Being the only female member of staff, beside the Head, the secretary and the nurse, wasn’t easy. And she did work hard.

Feet carried her into the office without really thinking, taking her to the simple brown chair she almost always sat in. It wasn’t too uncomfortable and it was unassuming. She liked it. Legs crossed and a heeled foot bouncing slightly as she leant back and folded her arms over her chest.

“I deserve a raise,” She murmured. Trying to convince herself of the validity of the statement as much as practice saying it before her employer. “I do!”

Blue eyes wandered around the room idly as her mind repeated her purpose over and over.
…a raise, a raise, a raise…

‘What if other things are raised beside salaries?’
No. No getting side tracked.
There was a hint of Vivi’s perfume in the air. Brit tried to ignore it. Tried not to think how much better it smelt up close.

“I deserve a raise…” She repeated, closing her eyes for a moment. “I deserve a raise…”

A sound filtered into her thoughts. Heels approaching. Almost leisurely in pace. Whatever she’d been doing, whatever she’d done…she’d enjoyed it.

There was a fleeting temptation to skirt around the desk and look at the screens displaying the camera feeds from the classrooms but it was squashed.

Brit pushed herself to her feet as the speed of the heels slowed to enter the office, smoothing down her skirt and straightening her fitted blouse. Fingers, that were suddenly trembling slightly, tucking straightened hair behind ears to hang down her back in a long, chocolate curtain ending somewhere after her shoulder blades.

A breath was drawn in. She had to speak first, she had to. Otherwise she might not get it out at all.

Blue eyes met hazel and the world stopped briefly. All thoughts fell out of her head save one or two and they certainly had nothing to do with being paid.

Brit closed her eyes for a second. She had to say it or get out.
Say it or get out. She reopened them and spoke before they could focus on the Headmistress.

“I…need to talk to you…” She nodded, privately pleased with how confident she sounded. "It's important."

 

[thestruggle]

Tess lay forgotten on the floor.
Marked.

She squinted her hazel eyes shut, turning her back on the room at large. But it loomed, and grew, taunting--asking for it--so her eyes flew open again. There was silence in the room. No tinkling glass, no cries of longing, no heels mincing their way towards her prone figure. She shifted her hands, pushed her torso up until she sat. The coat draped over her fell to the floor in a perfumed swish of fabric. Tess eyed it dispassionately, then looked up. Saw herself in the mirror.

Hair fucked.
Lips smeared.
Blood-stained.

Vivi licking her fingers: tasting, luxuriating. Tess watching. The scrape of the mirror. The avidity in Vivi's face as she shadowed her, eyes glinting, hungry for something.

Tess looked until she had seen enough. It took awhile. Moving her legs--did her muscles even work anymore? There was a marked lack of protest in her ascension. Feet flat on the floor. Pretty red nails. A veneer of something had been peeled from her in that room, something she had lost before but not as tangibly. The coat still pooled at her feet and she leaned over, picked it up. She had time. Leisurely, Tess slipped her arms into the sleeves. An inhalation of feminine scent not her own, tickling her nostrils, cradling her upper body.

She caught the eye of her reflection again, with its dazed expression. Why are you such a mess?

The lowering of Vivi's hand. Tess still breathing hard. The mirror sliced and drew, sliced and drew. Tess 's ribs standing out sharply from the shock, the fluttering of her lungs. Pleading for cessation after the task was already done, already marked.

Why? How was it any different?

Smiling a little, because there was only one answer to that question. Tess looked at the scraps of her lingerie: it seemed so abandoned in its raggedy state, the pile on the floor. It too had been shed, along with—what? Inhibitions? Not likely. Reservations? Perhaps. About this school and its occupants, their practices, what? Tess had already understood going in. The crop on the desk. Her own interpretations of the disciplinary question on the application. She had known. She had accepted the truth with delight, with relish.

And so.
And so.
And so now, she strode to the door, with the jacket encasing her, a lissome slip of a thing. And when her hand came down, when the glass came down, when her lips came down--

Pulling the door to the studio open, Tess glanced over her shoulder at the havoc they were leaving behind. No trail of destruction there. An implosion. A localized whirlwind. It drew everything into its orbit. Suitable for Vivi then. A hand clutched at one of the jacket's lapels, curving easily around its softness. Tess grinned. There would be other messes. She eased out into the hallway and shut the door behind her.

She walked with her head held up, a thousand miles away. If people saw and whispered, Tess paid them no mind. The “v” on her hip stung with each step she took, the skin feeling tight and hot. Her bare feet came up, set down. A relaxed pace. Red toenails gleaming above the floor. She was in a fog—a pretty mess. When she came upon the first of her shoes--dragged kicking and gasping, one flying off then the other, skidding on the floor--she hesitated, then scooped it up. The cool of the leather surprised her. Hadn't they just left her feet? How long had she been in the studio? Time skipped on. Fits and starts.

Finally she reached the reception area with Ms. Fiala busily working behind her desk. Tess's clothes were neatly folded and placed on a corner.

What had she lost? What had she gained? Why had she knelt to her?

“Stop,” she breathed. Ms. Fiala glanced up at her and then kept working. Tess reached out for her bag, took out her compact. She should have slipped her dress on right away, her shoes, coat—gone to find her room, ran away.

Instead she pulled out the tube of lipstick she had so confidently applied to her mouth in the elevator. She pulled out the compact. The red, creamy paste was spread over her lips. Puckering, pouting, evenly distributing. Tess smiled and deposited both items into her purse. Felt the concealed claiming mark sting minutely. She draped her coat around her, slid off Vivi's jacket. Sneaky fingers snatched a scrap of paper from Ms. Fiala's desk, although she seriously doubted that the movement had gone unnoticed. Lifting it up to her mouth, pressing its newly stained shape against the grain. Tess folded the scrap, fingers pressing and pushing and finally smoothing the creases. She tucked the small shape into the Headmistress's coat, and approached the door.

“She's with someone now, you can't go in,” Ms. Fiala remarked, fussily.

A smile. “Don't get your feathers ruffled. I've had my audience already. I just need to leave her coat.” Tess hung it from the doorknob. “Thank you, Ms. Fiala, for looking after my things.”

Fingers busily tying her coat, not bothering with the dress. Tess picked up her other shoe. She would need to send for her clothes and articles, or at least would if allowed. Not just then, perhaps. Slid the heels back on, feeling the coat whisper against naked skin.

“Now, if you could please tell me the procedure for procuring a dormitory room?” Tess asked, polite and soft-spoken.

Moving right along.

----​

Much later, as that same bare flesh rubbed heatedly against cool new sheets, trying in vain to sleep—Tess stayed wakeful in the gloom. A glass shard, a scratch of nails, panting cries.

Giggling as her hand slides down her body, finding something much warmer.

Don't get caught on your first day of school.

After, as her head hit the pillow, Tess dreamed of the days ahead--a medley of fulfilled and unfulfilled needs.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"Mmm..." She stretched her neck as she sauntered down the hall, ignoring the scampering students around her, rolling her eye as she passed the science room, laughing to herself when she caught sight of him and his cane.

A better love story than Twilight, him and that cane.

The language teacher's room was empty, and Vi wondered only briefly at this, before hearing the door to the Social Studies room slam closed. Why she let him have that heavy door... but at least that meant that Dr. N was settling in nicely and with his first intake.

She sighed softly, the school was running very well. Funny. Her hand smelled of girl, but she had spent the last several minutes on the way to her office not thinking of the girl mess she had just left. The thought made her laugh softly.

Until she got to the front office and was given that look from her secretary. Vi held out her hand and glanced over the paperwork that filled it.

New girl. Severe behavioral issues. Her intake would take two of them. Probably herself and her dean or Vi and the science teacher. It would depend. She'd figure it out.

Next.

New boy. Lackadaisical answers, unsure of himself. Near non-existent behavior problems, well.. in comparison to some of her students. Like her Dream, who had run off... again.. truant. That girl. The new boy would likely get his intake with Vi, later.


"Fiala, darling go ahead and let both of these incoming students know that their intake will be happening shortly. Thank you. And can I-" Ms. Fiala nodded towards her office. Vi glanced up and noticed that Ms. Witch waited within.

"I'll be back..."

"Right," snickered the harried blonde woman. Vi rolled her eyes and wandered into her office.

Middle chair. Witch meant business.

“I…need to talk to you…It's important."

Vi nodded and moved to stand behind her desk, hands crossed over her chest, while she contemplated her language teacher.

Her beautiful, well spoken, submissive language teacher. Oh.

"I'm listening." She opened the door to the bathroom off her office and washed her hands of her previous encounter. Drying them on the soft towel, she came back into her office to face the seated woman.

Vi smiled, the sweet, lilting smile of one who has yet to toss the snare.

"How can I help you, Ms. Witch?"

 

[Britwitch]

"I'm listening."

Brit took the few moments it took the Headmistress to wash her hands and return to try and compose herself.

She was trying desperately not to look like the deer in the headlights she suddenly felt like she was. Her mouth went dry, her stomach began to tight and her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she was certain the other woman would hear it. How this woman managed to make her so nervous and so excited all at the same time was beyond her comprehension.

"How can I help you, Ms. Witch?"

Straight to the point. This might actually go easier than she'd anticipated.

"I sent you an email earlier?" The tone was that of a question but no response was forthcoming. Not that she really expected it. Miss Vivi wouldn't say anything unless it was what she wanted to do. "It was about my salary."

A pause. A breath. Another wetting of lips and fingers began to fiddle with the hem of her skirt.

'Don't falter now!'

"I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of an increase."

No noise. The almost silent hum of the Headmistress' computer, a ticking clock or watch somewhere in the room and that infernal beating of her own heart threatening to deafen her.

"I feel my experience prior to coming should stand me in good stead and I'd like to think my work here has been...successful, for the most part."

'And I feel like I should earn danger money some days!' Her mind added wickedly.

Throughout it all her voice remained level, her eyes never left those looking back at her over the desk.
It was going rather well.

Almost too well.

It was then she noticed the smile. It was warm and inviting and just the kind of expression one expected to see on a wild animal just before it pounced on it's prey, when a hunter found it's trap with a new guest inside.

Deer in the headlights.

'No!'

She stood up, she actually stood up. She almost terrified herself.

"Look, you know I'm the best English language teacher you're likely to find, and one of the few who'd be interested in this position in an establishment such as this. I feel I've worked extremely hard and dedicated a lot of my time to helping the school develop. I feel I should be compensated for it."

She was shaking. She hoped Vivi couldn't tell.

She knew she could.

 

[IvoryTigress]

Loud, industrial music filled her ears from white, flexible head phones that had been molded to fit her ears. Black and white cross training tennis shoes covered her feet, allowing her steps to be almost completely silent no matter the surface she moved upon. Men's dark blue jeans covered her lower body. A tan leather belt held them to her hips. A black and red spring assisted switch blade rested in her back pocket. A black, zip-up hooded sweatshirt covered her upper body. The sleeves had been removed, leaving toned, cut arms bare. Starting at her bicep and working all the way up to her shoulder along her right arm, an image of a phoenix was inked into her skin. Her guardian of fire. The protector of the side of her that had been born beneath the rule of the Sun. To match the bird, on her left arm, a sea serpent spiraled up her arm. Her guardian of water. The protector of the much larger side of her that was ruled by the Moon. Her hood was up, casting shadows along her features. But a sharp, observant emerald gaze surrounded in a ring of steel blue couldn't be hidden.

She stopped in her walk, as she always did when she passed by the school. That gaze studied the building closely. She knew several of the employees there. She knew some of the students, had heard of others in passing. Each time she passed it, she was tempted to explore it. But each time, she ended up passing it by. Something had stopped her. Excuses had always flooded her mind. She had a million of them. But they were always just that. Excuses. In the end, she accepted that the timing was never right.

But as she looked up at the building, she found herself tired of the excuses. The song changed in her headphones and she changed direction, slipping through the front door of the school. She passed right by the elevators, heading for the stairwell. When she was alone, she took the stairs. Always. A light jog had her up to the top five floors quickly. She slipped through the stairwell door and leaned back against it. Her breath was elevated, her heart pulsing a bit quickly in the long line of her throat. But it was a familiar feeling. A natural state of being for her. It would pass quickly.

She made no move as she watched the students scurry around the halls. School had always been a slightly uncomfortable place for her. It seemed time hadn't changed that. The main office was to her right. She caught the tail end of a door to the Headmistress' office closing. She should probably head into the office. There were likely forms and applications, ID badges and visitor wrist bands. Formalities. Strict order to contain the chaos that was often within the minds of teachers and students alike.

The Tigress understood rules and order. She believed in them. She often followed them. But she had her moments. She didn't always follow the set paths, or take the correct turns. She didn't always do what was bid of her. Sometimes rules were not the way. So, instead of going to the office, she started down the hall ways. She knew the secretary, Ms. Fiala the name plate on her desk had said, had seen her. She had watched the Tigress move past without bothering to check in. She had eyes like a hawk.

She passed the Counselor's office. The name on the door brought a smile to her lips, but uncertainty in her gaze. So, she continued on without opening the door. The Science Lab. She raised an eyebrow at the activity in that room. It didn't look very science like to her, but she wasn't surprised. The Social Studies office. The door was closed, but she recognized the name as someone she'd seen in passing. The English room. Another name she's seen, but did not know well.

Finally, she found the gym. Peering through the windows on the double doors, she saw it was empty. She found that strange, but it tempted her. Since she was apparently in the frame of mind to appease her curiosity, she slipped through the door. The space was large and open. Bleachers. Doors for locker rooms. Doors labeled "Weight Training" and "Equipment." She knew without having to take off her headphones that the place was eerily silent. But she wasn't afraid, or even the least bit nervous.

Beneath her feet was an indoor track. She knew immediately that it wasn't hte standard 400 meter track. It was half that. Her lungs burned and her feet grew antsy as she remembered just how many times, how many different ways, she had circled a track just like this one. She resisted the temptation to start a jog. Instead, she found herself walking to the equipment room.

She pushed the door open. Steel shelving housed every piece of sports equipment possible. But as her gaze traveled across the rows, she came to an abrupt halt. The perfectly round, black and white checkered ball spoke to her very soul. Memories poured through her. Victory. Defeat. Strength. Patience. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Pain. Endurance. Perseverance. Loyalty. Sacrifice. She lived and breathed them all. They pulsed within her with a life of their own. With a profound sadness, she realized she hadn't touched a soccer ball since her last match in college. She had put soccer away, locked it within the deepest part of herself. She wasn't good enough for nationals. The women's professional league was always up in the air. There had been no place for her to advance in the sport. But that didn't mean it had stopped pulling at her heart.

She stepped forward, her hand moving to the ball. She had always been able to hold a soccer ball in one hand. It wasn't that her hand was overly large. But her fingers were elegantly long and the ball was light. She easily picked it up in one hand, tucking the ball close to her chest, protecting it in a two armed grip. The universal symbol to soccer players that the ball belonged to her. Keeper's ball. Just try to take it. She knew she wouldn't resist the temptation.

She stepped out of the room and the song song changed in her headphones, bringing a grin to her face. She unzipped her hoodie and pulled back the hood. It came off quickly. Her upper body was covered only in a black sports bra and the sports armband that held the phone that was playing her music. Her body was all sharp, defined lines. There was a silver curved bar pierced through her belly button, a gleaming crimson gem within it. She spun the ball on one finger for a moment before tossing it up in the air further out into the open space of the gym.

From there, her body moved naturally, as if years had never passed. The ball was juggled, kicked, caught in diving rolls. Chested and brought to her feet, a maneuver most women would wince at. Women were actually better at the chest trap than men. Women had to focus harder on it, to catch the ball in just the right way. Their sight and technique had to be more precise. A mistake was rather painful. But she didn't miss once. Her body moved in one fluid dance, moving in time with the music blaring in her ears.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"I sent you an email earlier?"

The words were softly spoken as if she was unsure, Vivi waited.

"I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of an increase."

Ah. Here it comes. The real reason her language teacher sat in front of her. Vi let the silence continue.

"I feel my experience prior to coming should stand me in good stead and I'd like to think my work here has been...successful, for the most part."

Ms. Witch wasn't wrong. She had been mostly successful, and the student evals of her classes had been positive. Still, Vivi let none of this show on her face. She waited. She knew the witchling wouldn't stop here, she wasn't done.

And then she stood up, her language teacher stood up, and raised her voice, surprising Vivi and herself it seemed.

"Look, you know I'm the best English language teacher you're likely to find, and one of the few who'd be interested in this position in an establishment such as this. I feel I've worked extremely hard and dedicated a lot of my time to helping the school develop. I feel I should be compensated for it."

Vivi smiled at her. It couldn't be denied that the two women couldn't be more different, even if their bodies were amazingly similar. Red and brown, blue and hazel, soft pink lips to Vi's more daring red. Ms. Witch was the calming balm to Vi's own frenzy. They worked well, and often together. But the Witchling rarely asked or demanded anything from Vi.

This was new.

She moved to Brit's side, and breathed the woman in, she slid her arms around her language teacher.

"Ask again." Softly said, urgently whispered, before Vi's lips found Brit's pulse on the side of her neck, "ask again, darling." She pulled the other woman closer, pressing their bodies together.

"Say the words without a tremor in your voice and I'll give you what you want." The words were barely spoken as their parted lips were a breath apart.

"Again, my witch."

 

[Britwitch]

"Ask again."
This was when it became dangerous.
"Ask again, darling."
This was when the battle was lost or won.
"Say the words without a tremor in your voice and I'll give you what you want."
This was when she had to take a stand, to try and keep her wits about her and not give in.

Not give in to how much she wanted to kiss her. Not give in to how good she knew it felt when they touched, when they shared.
Brit's heart was already racing before the arms encircled her, pulled her so knowingly, so confidently.

"Again, my witch."
It would be so easy to beg, to plead and whimper as countless others had done and how she herself had done so many times. Give everything she had for one little piece, one little moment, of the glorious creature holding her so carefully. Vivi knew her so well, too well. Knew just which buttons to press, which words to say, to ensure she was well behaved, to ensure she was good.

She had come in here all fire and fury and now she was determined not to be mollified so easily.

This was when it became dangerous.
Tongue moistened lips, a slight move forwards they would meet. Ruby and pink, soft and sweet. Not now. Not yet.

Blue eyes rose, holding the hazel gaze that met them.
"No."

The silence dragged out and for a second or two Brit felt sick but she pushed on. She had to.
As they said, 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. A sudden surge of self belief propelled her onwards and downwards.

"I've already asked. If you think I deserve the rise...give it. If not...tell me why.

"But I can tell you now, I'm not leaving your office until I get it."

This was when it became dangerous.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"No. I've already asked. If you think I deserve the rise...give it. If not...tell me why. But I can tell you now, I'm not leaving your office until I get it."

Soft laughter bubbled up and she laughed while Brit stood there with fire in her eyes and steel in her spine. It was simply too wonderful to pass up.

One hand curled into the brunette tresses, one hand dragging through her hair, while those blue eyes filled with not just with a little fear, fear that Vivi would take and not give. Those same fingers filled with beautiful hair, now tightened their grip and brought those pink lips forward to meet red ones.

Vivi tasted and drank from her English teacher, softening and parting those lips beneath her own demanding tongue, holding the woman close, pressing their bodies together. Vi adored the woman in her arms, she adored her grace, her willingness to work with the difficult students and the more difficult staff. She adored her patience with Vi, herself.

The woman was a treasure.
She deserved a raise.
She also deserved "It".

Vi broke their kiss and grinned at the woman she held. She quickly stepped away, and stood behind the desk, leaning over it and placing her palms down upon the wood. She cleared her throat softly, and watched her teacher under her gaze.

"My darling Mrs. Brit, please define what IT is that you deserve and want so badly. Then perhaps we can get to the business of giving it to you." Vivi's eyes are full of mirth, that almost makes it to her lips, but she doesn't laugh.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Sandalwood and vanilla.

The scent is unmistakable. The boi who wears that particular combination is known by all and sundry. In one small hand, she carries two roses~stunning in their simplicity. Pale pink, without thorns, long stemmed, feminine. Tags are wrapped just beneath each crown, names jotted in an almost masculine hand.

Vivi. Witchy.​

In the other? She carries a flat envelope filled with a simple sheet of paper.

I figured you could use a little color.​

She doesn't bother to mark her name, why would she? Vi will know and Witch will guess. Instead, she moves soundlessly toward the desk that guards the main entrance and stares at the woman who sits there, a professional smile tilting her lips upward until...the woman realizes...that the boi will NOT return her smile.

"Give these to the ladies as marked. The envelope goes to Vi. IF you fuck it up? I will be back...and I won't be happy."

Message and flowers delivered~ the boi turns away, retreats and disappears back the way she came.

 

[Britwitch]

Brit felt herself at that point she dreaded, so close to breaking down, to giving up and giving in. The light, almost tinkling, laughter was what almost did it. The hand that then wound into her hair and tugged almost sealed her fate entirely.

There was a familiar rush, a sudden burst of feelings and sensations as lips met lips. Soft light gloss blending with heavier, richer lipstick. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy kissing Vivi, she did. That was precisely the problem.

Kissing Vivi was delicious and decadent. Usually flirtatious and lots of fun. More often then not ending in Brit being left a wanting, whining mess, panting for more and willing to do just about anything to get it.
This was surely the plan here. Which made sense. Why fight a battle when you could win it so beautifully with what could be seen as affectionate action.

As such Brit didn't fight. She gave into the kiss, into the woman who held her with such little effort. Letting tongues brush and tease, breath to flicker between parted mouths. And then she was gone. The heat, the sweetness, the hands, all gone.

Vivi didn't retreat, she never retreated, not from Brit but she did regroup. Shifting back behind her desk, leaning to show and enticing swath of cleavage in the process. Leaving Brit with tingling lips and breathing to try and control.

"My darling Mrs. Brit, please define what IT is that you deserve and want so badly. Then perhaps we can get to the business of giving it to you."
There's no laugh this time but that entertained glimmer is sparkling in those eyes.

Brit let out a breath, trying to de-Vivi her brain enough to think, to respond in a way that didn't equivocate lying on the carpet to have her belly rubbed. As pleasant as that would doubtless be.

"Might I suggest that if you're having trouble following this conversation? You might want to think of hiring a deputy." Came her reply, sooner than she expected. "I came to discuss a raise in salary." Steady steps crossed the floor and brought her to stand on the opposite side of the desk, hands lowering to mimic her employer's position.

"To discuss how much my services might be worth. To you. To the school."

Blue eyes held hazel over the desk's top.

"To discuss what you're willing to give, what you're willing to do to keep me."

Stand off.

The question hanging in the air now was...who would give in first. And what would they surrender in the process.

 

[JadeKnight]

He took a deep breathe for a moment as he stood outside the enterence to the school, holding a yellow, thin and long box. The decision really wasn't a bad one to make, it just needed to be done right. Inside the box was a single red rose, and a card was attached reading Ms. Vivi.

He pushed his way inside, making his way to the office. He was surprised to find the receptionist out for the moment. He shook his head for a moment and laid the box on the counter before leaving, knowing the message should be received soon.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"Might I suggest that if you're having trouble following this conversation? You might want to think of hiring a deputy. I came to discuss a raise in salary."

Vivi watched silently as her position was echoed and mimicked.

"To discuss how much my services might be worth. To you. To the school."

She wasn't backing down, or melting, or any of those things that often marked the interactions between the two. Vivi was impressed.

"To discuss what you're willing to give, what you're willing to do to keep me."

A slow nod as if letting the words sink in. As if she was considering her words, when really, all Vivi was doing was working on slowing her racing heart, and the near insatiable need to bend her Language teacher over her desk, and show her that she was going to be kept for a very long time.

Breathe, Vivi. Consider her words. They are important. Breathe and nod.



Fuck it.

Quick hands reaching out to curl themselves back into brunette tresses, while Vivi kicked off her shoes and climbed over the desk and drew the woman closer, pulling her against the desk as well.

"You are kept, Ms. Brit. You are mine. And as such will take what I give you."

Climbing off the desk and pushing the other woman down upon it, standing close to her side and sliding a free hand down her back, lightly.

"You are not going anywhere. You belong to me." Vivi leaned over and whispered softly into the other woman's ear, "And you like it, don't you?"

 

[Britwitch]

There was a split second where Brit allowed herself to believe she might actually have stopped Vivi in her tracks. She didn't think for a moment that she might have won, but to have delayed the ending that usually came along with discussions between them was a victory in itself.

She had time to breathe, twice, before Vivi showed just how much she cared for her well worded statements. Fingers launched across the desk and wound into brown hair, pulling her without an inch of restraint. Brit let out an exclamation somewhere between surprise and discomfort as her hips were bumped against the desk's edge.

"You are kept, Ms. Brit. You are mine. And as such will take what I give you."

Another exclamation as back was pushed down in tandem with the pull on her hair and Brit found herself bent over the desk. Vivi all at once beside her, close beside her. Finding it hard to stand still as an all too light touch moved down her back.

"You are not going anywhere. You belong to me."

It was all about tone. Tone and emphasis. Vivi didn't need to shout to be completely and utterly in charge of the situation. She was using that tone, the one that made Brit want to whimper and beg and do anything for a touch, for a word....and she fought like hell not give in to it.

As much as she wanted to.

Because the words were true. They both knew she wasn't going anywhere. But she wasn't going to admit it not yet.

"And you like it, don't you?"

'Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...she's sexy and she knows it and she knows you far too well...don't you dare give in..!'

her face turned as much as the grip in her hair would allow so that blue eyes could meet the hazel ones beside her head. The position was uncomfortable, her heels awkward to stand in and her skirt was tailored to fit her curves when stood and seating, not bent over and was now inching up the backs of thighs, steadily revealing more and more of stocking clad legs beneath.

"And if I say no?" Palms moved to push against the smooth surface of the desk, to try and get up. Vivi was far too well position to keep her where she was, to keep her precisely where Vivi wanted her.

Which is pretty much where Brit always was.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Pliant for the moment. Vivi wondered if the language teacher would push back today. When her head turned and she fought to make eye contact, Vivi's heart jumped a little. She grinned down at her quarry and tried to keep her face mostly neutral.

"And if I say no?"

She made to push against the desk and stand, and for a second, Vivi let her think she was going to. For a split second they both pretended that Brit stood a chance, that she could move against Vivi and wouldn't end up curled up and begging in the palm of Vi's hand. For a second.

It was a very long second for Vivi. But she gave it to Brit. To allow that small flame of resistance to brighten a little higher before Vivi doused it.

Then, it ended.

It ended with Vivi pushing Brit down on the table by a tight grip in her hair. A flash of teeth, and a soft sigh that drifted from red lips to settle upon the back of the one she would always keep.

It ended with a quick and sure hand that pulled up a skirt, that moved effortlessly through the air to meet flesh to flesh over and over while both hand and ass reddened under the onslaught.

It ended when finally, out of breath from the spanking that she had delivered for several long minutes, she pulled her language teacher up from the wooden desk by her hair and stood behind her, long nails caressing the red cheeks with short little scratches. Vi pressed their bodies together, loving the heat from her language teacher, loving the little noises she made.

"Tell me you don't like it again. Ms. Brit. Tell me that you aren't mine."

 

[Britwitch]

Brit knew it was only a matter of time. Moments, minutes, maybe longer, unlikely to be more than a second or two. Only a matter of time before she was shown what happened when she tried to buck against the status quo.

It happened quickly. A push to keep her down, pressing freckled cheek against oddly cool wood. A pull to hike skirt up over hips and behind. A strike to push her higher onto her toes and cause lips to unleash a high yelp. Another to make fingers curl against the edge of the desk. Again to make her cry out properly for the first time.

Again and again, the slaps rained down on her behind. Heating it, searing it. Leaving her breathless and whimpering, glowing and tingling with pain.

Then upright again, wobbling slightly in her heels. Hissing quietly through clenched teeth as nails teased abused flesh.

"Tell me you don't like it again. Ms. Brit. Tell me that you aren't mine."

Her chest was heaving with her well fitted blouse as she fought to control it. Her eyes were sparkling but they had yet to grow wet. She was shaking, enough to be noticeable by the one who held her but only by her.
She should quit while she was behind. She should do what was wanted, what was expected, of her. Say sorry, plead for forgiveness, get on her knees and try to make amends.

And she would...Brit knew she would just...not yet...

"Do let me know when we're going to get back to the point of my visit won't you?"

The smile that accompanied the breathless response was far too confident and was entirely formed of smoke and mirrors. As the words left her lips she felt her insides jolt with panic, with uncertainty.

This was more than slightly unfamiliar ground. It was exciting sure, but with Vivi...familiarity was a good thing, anything recognisable was a possible aide. New situations were fun, but they could quite easily become quite the opposite. Brit knew she was seconds from finding out which this was going to be.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"Do let me know when we're going to get back to the point of my visit won't you?"

Vivi almost laughed. Almost. Instead she let her language teacher go. Let her fall from her hands, stepped quickly around the desk and sat in her chair. Crossing her legs she quietly contemplated Ms. Brit, who still stood before her, hair mussed and skirt around her hips.

"Alright, Ms. Brit, when you can tell me who you belong to. When you can admit you want to be on your knees, utilising your years of teaching experience to elucidate how wet you are right now, we can truly talk about your raise."

Leaning forward then, Vivi pulled out some of her paperwork and began running through the numbers while she waited to hear the tremulous words from her staff.

Vivi knew she would though. She would spill so easily.
She couldn't wait.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The sun was bright as he stepped out of the school, and he blinked into the brightness until he was able to get his sunglasses on. Spring gave whispers of it's impending arrival in the pleasant breeze and plentiful sunshine that bathed the world, and it turned out to be a fine day for a bit of a walk.

He was not, however, without purpose.

A rarity for him, indeed, the cane was left behind in the Science room. He needed his hands free, for he intended to return after a time with his hands full of packages.

Calls had been placed. Times were expected to be kept. Plans were made.

Now, he left the school behind in search of the bow that would tie it all together.

Bows, perhaps, was more appropriate. Though one half of it was easy, and would be saved for last. It was the initial searching that would take the real time and effort. More calls had been placed in that regard, pleasant conversation had with pleasant women that listened patiently to his desires, and assured him they had just what he was looking for.

It was in his mind, and he'd know it as soon as he saw it.

First, though, he had to see it.

It was with that image firmly in mind that he set off, expecting his wallet to be significantly lighter when he returned.

 

[Britwitch]

The release was a surprise. So much so that Brit barely moved between the hand in her hair letting go and Vivi settling herself in her chair. Shocked almost.

"Alright, Ms. Brit, when you can tell me who you belong to. When you can admit you want to be on your knees, utilising your years of teaching experience to elucidate how wet you are right now, we can truly talk about your raise."

The room went very quiet. Odd snatches of sound drifted through the air from beyond the closed door. Muffled and unintelligible snippets of conversation, the faint ring of the telephone on Ms. Fiala's desk. The flipping sound of paper upon Vivi's desk. Within Brit's chest, her heart still pounding ominously.

It took a little while for her to remember she had limbs and that she could control them. Hands moved to push skirt back down over her behind, wincing slightly as still throbbing flesh was irritated by the motion, while her mind tried to figure out just how to respond.

She could turn her back and walk away. That would achieve nothing and only make it twice as hard to come back.
She could give in, beg and plead. That would give Vivi exactly what she expected but part of Brit baulked at the idea of being so easily read, so easily controlled. Even if it was true.

What Vivi wanted her to say, to do, wouldn't be too hard to deliver, given it was largely the truth. But Brit wasn't quite ready to hand over everything to the stunning redhead currently focusing her attentions on columns of figures, not just yet. Tongue moistened lips, a decision was made.

Vivi would get what she wanted. But the method of delivery would be Brit's choosing.
Heels carried her slowly around the desk, breath catching every step, every time the fitted skirt put pressure on her reddened backside.

"Very well, Miss Vivi...." She stressed the title as she came to rest behind her employer. "I never said I wasn't yours...I just didn't admit to it..." She leant down to whisper in her ear. Voice low as fingers gently pulled red curls back to allow lips to meet ear lobe. "Because we both know whose I am. What I am." A nibble, a lingering kiss, then mouth was gone.

A slight side step and heels were silently kicked off. Legs bending to bring her to her knees on the carpet, lips brought close to stocking clad knee. Pressing a light kiss upon it.
"...and I believe you wanted me to elucidate...? It will be my pleasure..." Blue eyes looked up, knowing they'd find those bright, intelligent eyes looking back down at her.
"I'm unbelievably wet, Miss Vivi...and you've done that...you always do that..."

Another kiss, a little above her knee. Hands rising to take the chair and turn it slightly, bringing legs and body around to face where she knelt. She lowered herself until she was sitting on her heels. A flicker of pain dancing over her features in the process. A kiss to shin, to ankle, hands stroking lightly over silken encased legs.

"I'm on my knees for you, and you know I'll do anything for you..."
Eyes slowly rise back up over delectable curves until they reach Vivi's face.
"Which brings me back to my original question...what will you do for me...?"