The School Grounds

[Light Ice]

Oh, she uses that word. A trigger. She knows it, knows enough of him to know that it is something to be pressed and gouged and worked. Her ass fills his hands. It is not the flesh of a simpering girl. The curve is beyond feminine. Full. Womanly. It fights against the tremendous pressure his strong fingers apply, fights to reclaim the beautiful and flawless shape that it has when he is not mauling it. It's allowed so only in moments before he reclaims it again.

Silk around his hips. Pure, entirely girlish thrill as she winds herself around him like a vine. There are fingers in his hair, painted nails dragging through its clipper-cut length and along his scalp. There are lips tangled with his, a tongue that is small and sharp so that it cuts to his. Her breath is sweet and she shares so he might drink it between the moments their mouths are sealed so hot that his toes curl within his shoes and his prick strains violently against the seam of his denim jeans.

And then he forces her from him. Claims space. Sucks in a ragged breath of air, gathers himself.

Beneath her fingers, under her slight weight, he coils like a spring. In the time since she was last in his arms things have changed. He's become stronger. His body worked and sharp and sure. He throws her hard. Sets her to sail from his grasp until for a moment she is a flicker of red hair and creamy skin and that scrap of panty that kept his hands from creeping down her ass and dipping rough fingers into the slit of her sex.

She'd make the bed. Fall to it. Tumble. And he'd be on his way then, shedding his shirt and his tie. Shedding his jeans. On his way to her. To this. To a moment where what made him more than the iron-hard prick within the confines of his boxers was ripped from him by pretty painted toes, small fingers, full breasts. A flash of hair and smiles and sooty eyes and softness and silk and pretty fabric and sweet girl-cum and the ruin he will make of it all.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Fr33k's Wandering

*After showing Mz. Witch to her room, they'd shared a few words, a few ideas, and a few....other thoughts. He'd decided that her class would be a great addition to his curriculum. If he got any say in that department.

The rest of his evening had been rather boring. No one else had come in to his knowledge, though as he went on a wandering tour of some of the other floors' rooms that he had neglected before, he ran into another student. He seemed rather shy and instead of stopping to introduce himself, the other guy ducked back into his room.

One room held a large collection of books; a makeshift library it seemed. There was a girl with her nose buried in a book. She was cute, but preoccupied. He closed the door quietly and kept on looking around.

Nothing of interest...so he wandered back to his room to try and get some shut-eye. Maybe in the morning there'd be an announcement.*

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Continued from above.....

He threw me to the bed. He fucking just threw me to the bed.

I can't say I didn't like it.

Any other woman might wait for him, might allow him to decide the cadence and beat of their affair. But I'm not that woman. I've never been that woman. Moving to my knees I meet him at the edge of the bed and stop the downward fall of his jeans.

He throws me around and I make him pay for it.

Light teasing kisses down his belly, and it's also possible that I bit him on my way down as well. He's the one with the newly cut abs, who could refuse that? Fingers tease at his pants, his sides, his back, I'm sure nails managed to slide down his abs too, I was distracted and wanting to touch it all. The moment that he's free, it's like having a new toy.

His breath catches as I slide him all the way into my mouth. My tongue swirling and teasing at the head of his cock, my hand encircles the base and for the moment I'm completely lost in doing everything that I can do make him even harder.

Sucking, licking and squeezing his length until that oh-so-breathless moment when his hands are deep in my hair, tugging, and I can feel the control being usurped for me.

It was fun while it lasted....

 

[Daydream_weaver]

The streets were silent, businesses shut down for the night, people gone to their homes. A long black limo slowed and stopped before the school building. No movement could be seen behind the darkened windows. The engine was cut and for a moment there was silence, then with a muffled ‘foomp’ the trunk popped open. A tall, skeletally thin man emerged from the driver’s side and walked around to remove two bags from the boot. He set these on the sidewalk and opened the rear passenger door.

A moment passed, then two. He stood straight and silent, waiting. Another moment passed and an exasperated sigh drifted from the interior of the limo.

“Is this really necessary?” The voice was low and ultra feminine despite the tone of annoyance it held. The stoic driver stared straight ahead.

Another sigh preceded the owner of the voice as she climbed from the limo. Silvery grey hair glimmered in the moonlight as it tumbled around her face. The driver closed the door and glided around the vehicle to slip behind the wheel. The engine purred to life and the limo pulled away, leaving her staring up at the few lighted windows with ice blue eyes at once ageless and ancient.

She took up her bags and squared her shoulders.

“So be it. Let’s see what they have to teach me.” She murmured and walked resolutely into the school.

 

[Light Ice]

The pace changed. He felt it. The sink of her onto those knees at the bed's edge and the sudden sharp rush of the memories it provoked. He indulged in them for a moment. Sifted through them. Despite the gin and the long hours there were things that still came to him with snap and certainty. Snap. Like her nails snapping along his torso. Cutting, without carving, the smooth skin along the sharp angles that defined him.

And he'd made the mistake of closing his eyes. Didn't even realize it until the incredible heat of her lips engulfed him and he'd the sudden desire to root himself immediately by the soft tangle of her fiery mane.

It took everything not to. To take hold. To force her down. To fuck.

Damn it. He'd missed that first moment. That instant when her full lips spread wide and greedy and all the pretense left her and she took him. She nursed him, tormented him. All the things a good woman does and too many women don't. The ridge along the great, plump crown of his prick suddenly lathed with her tongue. Indulgent. Filthy. Her.

She hardened him. Coaxed it from him. He felt his prick flex ferociously, rampant with its hardness. The skin impossibly smooth, slick from the wet of her mouth, and veins pronounced. There were moments when he'd thought not to bear it. The pressure. The ache. It came in sharp waves with each hollowing of her cheeks and draw of her to take him. He finally rooted his strong fingers in the dark nest of her hair.

"Fuck." He breathed.

But he didn't lose himself. He'd missed it. That moment. His fingers tightened, lighting sparks along her scalp, drawing back until her chin was forced to crane upward and he'd pulled himself free. The pop audible. The line of wet from her gorgeous mouth to his prick hanging briefly before breaking and dropping to the floor. It was followed by heavy dollops of precum, creamy teardrops that splattered at his feet.

And watching her, intent to take it in, he thrust hard. Pinned her face in the cup of his palm, felt silk against his rough hand, and kept her looking up at him with the fist buried in her hair. Her throat his. Claimed by thick inches, plowed savagely and without concern. He took until her body attempted to pull from him, unable to by the course of his fierce hands, and finally he'd rooted her little nose to the flat ridge of his navel.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

"Fuck."

Hearing him breathe this word sent tingles up my spine, a little like being told you've been a good girl.

His fingers tighten in my hair, and though I know what is coming, my own breath catches, a tiny whimper cut loose in my throat at his removal from my mouth. It was the moment of calm before the storm, which is melodramatic but apt nonetheless.

He watched me for a moment, and I him. One might say the moment was intimate and sweet, but that would be the observer's view and not one that we might share. This moment was a promise of breathtaking violent sex to come, and the shallow breathing, heart pounding acceptance of it.

Those fingers knotted into my hair tighten and I take a breath, my lips are parted, his cock slides easily over my tongue, my focus lays in nothing but welcoming this invasion. My eyes look up to watch his face, his pleasure, even as my nose pushes against his abdomen, I know he's not going to pull back right away.

My nails dig into his hips, holding him as tightly as he holds me. Gagging, I can feel drips of wetness from my lips slide down my throat and over my chest. To stop my gagging, I swallow around him, my throat and lips tightening around him for a moment. My tongue pushes and teases along his length, and I can taste him, that salty sweetness that rolls over my tongue and drips down my chin.

I know I'm a mess.
I don't care.

This first moment of violence ends, but not before I get my shots in, dropping my hand down to his balls, that sensitive piece of maledom, where I roll them gently in my hand.

I'm listening for that moan I know is coming.
Damn I'm good.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

A deep breath, before flippantly tossing my curls over my shoulder. The students were away on break this week and I had the place to myself. The tea steamed in front of me, the book in my hands was sublime. I knew I would have a visitor today, but I had plenty of time, before he would show. At least I'm sure I did before I picked up the book.

Setting it down, I caught a glimpse of the time in my phone.

"Oh shit!"

I scrambled from my chair and practically leapt into the closet.

"Power suit, power, power, power, Vi... ah... here we go."

So getting a corset on wasn't going to be easiest thing in the world, but I manage it. Checking out the look in the mirror. C'est parfait.My red unruly curls are allowed to be free and falling down my shoulders.Heels meant to kill added and my crop is close at hand.

He came for a fight.
I'm ready.

He better not be in a suit.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Of course he did. And some part of him knew, she'd have been surprised if he didn't.

Playing fair was for people that were okay losing.

It was for this reason he showed up dressed as she... expected?... feared...? and carrying a leather bag, though the weight of anything inside it would be hard to determine from merely a glance. In his other hand was a rattan cane, though it seemed clear from the way he walked that he did not need it for support.

The school year had, thus far, been mostly uneventful, and he had grown weary of this. A new hypothesis had been bubbling up in his brain as he stood before the class each day, forming more every time he passed the headmistress in the hallway, or saw her in the teacher's room. Winter break, with a school house that was mostly empty, seemed the perfect time to test it out.

There were variables, of course, many things one had to account for when designing a new experiment. But then, wasn't that why one did the experiment?

Stopping before her door, he lifted the cane and gave two quick raps on the door to announce his arrival.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

The knock was precisely on time, and she chuckled to herself, not expecting anything less from him. He was precise. Precise in walking that line. Nothing overt this last term from him, just glances that sent tingles down her spine and somehow always landed in that one spot that would send her fingers traveling to naughty places when the school was silent and she had no one to pay attention to.

The black of his suit was easily visible through the opaque window and inside her heartbeat quickened. Another calming and deep breath before she opened the door.

"Monsieur S. Please come in." She left the door open and stepped away, careful always to keep him in the corner of her eye and just out of reach for him. No need to make it to easy.

Licking her red lips, she surveyed him silently for a moment, before smiling. "Shall I get you a drink? Or is this less than a courtesy visit?"

Pleasantries must always be dealt with. Something she instilled in her students. Course, she wanted to rip that suit and that sardonic, easy, "I've got you now" grin on his face.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"M'lady."

He grinned some, couldn't help it, and raised his hand - and in the process the cane - to touch the brim of an invisible hat. Turning his head as he stepped in, he let his gaze swim over her, ending at her eyes in a slight, and satisfied, nod.

Moving fully into the room, his back to her, he crossed to a small table and sat the bag there, but did not yet open it.

"A drink?" he repeated, his back to her now. "Dark rum, if you have it. No ice."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

His gaze left goosebumps over her skin and she wished she had put on more armor. Stop it, Vi. He's not hunting you down. This is your house. Give it back to him.

"A drink?" he repeated, his back to her now. "Dark rum, if you have it. No ice."

She said nothing. Prepared his drink, and nothing for herself. She wanted nothing to settle her inhibitions, for the moment she needed those. The dark amber liquid swirled in the glass as she brought it over to him. Pressing her chest against his back, she wrapped her free arm around his shoulder and set the drink down in his work space.

Glancing down at the bag, she grinned.

"Sure you're gonna need that sugar? I thought I'd just use your tie and my own crop. I like it simple. Simple and pretty."

Her red lips were a breath away from his ear, and her hand slid down his abdomen, when she whispered in his ear.

"You'd look gorgeous tied up to my bed"

Teeth sunk into her bottom lip, while her hand landed just below his belt buckle and pressed gently.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The cane was hooked over his forearm as she brought the drink, and he felt her against him, drawing a smile to his lips. Reaching out, he lifted the glass, tipping it to take a small drink, the alcohol burning nicely in his throat. It was replaced on the table as her hand pressed against him, and he glanced down, a brow arching.

Head lifted, turned, he looked at her over his shoulder, blue eyes gleaming.

"Need? No. But sometimes..."

He wrapped long fingers around her wrist, turning his body in the direction of that arm, and lifting it to drape over his shoulder. His other looped around, fingers splayed and palm in the small of her back, crushing her breasts to his chest, his voice low as he sought her eyes.

"...it's nice to have a variety of brushes to paint pretty marks on your skin."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

So easily she finds herself trapped within his arms. It is not a place she intends to stay. Blue eyes find hers and she steels against the sudden melting in her knees.

He cheats.
Sure he spoke of marks, of pretty little reminders.

Both of her hands slide easily over his shoulders, and down his arms. Green eyes meet his. One hand straightens his tie, slightly, while she looks up at him.

"Darling, didn't your mother teach you not to count the hens before they hatch?"

The words are softly spoken, though her hand tightens around the tie, she pulls him down and leans forward, pressing her lips to his, quickly. While he is slightly off balance for a moment she pushes herself free of his arms and takes a step back.

"Shall we dance again, Monsieur?"

She holds out a hand.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He smiled down at her, his eyes holding her gaze even as she adjusts his tie. They close at last out of instinct when her lips press to his, and then she is gone from him, backed away to a distance again.

A click with his tongue, a grin on his lips, and he half-turns away from her, lifting the glass of rum and taking a small drink, a trace of the alcohol left behind on his lips. Mixing with the trace of her.

"We always had wolves in the hen house. I learned from them, instead."

The cane still hangs from his forearm as he reaches out to take the offered hand, but his feet don't move. Bicep flexing under the dark suit, fingers gripping tight, he pulls.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

God, she loves that image. A confident man, drink in his hand, and the undeniable truth that sometimes you can't resist. Shouldn't resist. That to resist will, in the end cause you more pain, than if you simply fell into their arms and did as they told you too the first time.

She never excelled at listening.

His hand falls to mine, and she allows him to pull her against him.
She allows his arms to encircle her.
She allow her body to be controlled for the moment, by him.

For the moment, she is pliant. Sweet, even.
The rum is sweet on his breath, she wonders if she will taste it. Her arm slips around his shoulder and her free hand teases at his tie.

It's a tense moment, and though she is pliable, she waits.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

She's against him again, close enough that her scent fills his nostrils and his arm slips easily around her as he releases her hand. In the other the clear glass is still held, the dark and cool liquid inside filling it only about a quarter of the way now.

His eyes are on her, on hers, over the rim as he takes another small drink, and then it is set to the side, absently, not a glance wasted to see on what surface it ends up. His other hand now free, her curls are split by nimble fingers, the pads of each close against her scalp. He doesn't grip, not yet, but it is a thing as simple as curling his fingers, as quick as an electrical impulse down his arm.

Just for a moment, half a breath, a brow lifts, his head inclines, and then he's moving.

A step to his right, and pulling her along.

A sweep to the left, his body close against hers.

A step forward, his foot moving just to the side to step past her.

One fluid movement, and he has switched where they stand, putting her back against the table.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

It seems that it happened almost without her thinking that his hands caress her head and now her back is against the table.

What the hell happened?

A deep breath. Dammit, that breath is filled with him, that distinct male scent and the rum lacing over it. It goes straight to her head. She clings for a mere second and then tries to step away.

He holds her in place.

She pushes against him.

Nothing.

Finally, she looks up at him. Does she tell him to let go? Order him? Beg him? Something tells her that it would all fall on very deaf, very triumphant ears.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The brow arches again as he watches her, silently, smiling just slightly, as she pushes against him. He knows he's bigger, knows it would take far more of an effort for her to move him than it took to do the reverse.

And there's the table.

The fingers in her hair push forward as he leans closer, his lips moving toward her ear as if to whisper something. The sandpaper of his cheek moves against hers, softer, smoother, and there he pauses.

A clock somewhere in the room counts off the seconds, the silence only punctured by their breathing and tick, tick, tick.

And then, at last, "Hmm."

It is low, a rumble in his throat, a vibration in his chest, and then he's moving again, forward as if he could pass through her. Either her body gives way and moves back onto the table, or the table gives way and is pushed... where? To the wall? And then?

 

[Miss_Vivi]

She freezes as he comes near. She freezes as their cheeks meet and he slides past, she doesn't dare breathe or giggle when his breath tickles her neck.

"Hmm."

She could feel the sound next to her, against her, vibrating through her.

And then he pushed. He pushed and pushed. The table at her back, the immovable moving object that was his wall of chest in front of her.

Audibly, she sighed.

"If you wanted me in your arms sugar all you had to do was ask."

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let her skirt rise up over her hips as she curled her legs around his hips. The force from her jump had turned them to the side and away from the table.

"All better."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He heard her sigh and smiled. Her arms around his neck, he bent slightly at the unexpected weight as she lifted herself up and, basically, onto him.

Straightening, his hands fell from her hair and her back, both now gripping the firm, round shape of her ass.

"Mm," he said, supporting her weight, their bodies tightly together still. "Better."

A slight cant of his head and he finds the wall behind them. And then he's moving, swift and full steps that half the distance in a second, erase it fully in two.

"Better still," he murmurs, cheek against hers again. "I still have that card. If you need it."

His hands pull, her hips tighter against his now, and he has no doubt she'd feel his length against her.

"Last chance."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Pressed against the wall, wrapped around him. She can't think of a single complaint.

"Last chance."

She doesn't answer him, just tilts her head, looks up at him and then presses her lips to his, nibbling on his bottom lip.

He tastes...good. She's relatively sure the rest of him will too.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He watches her, waiting for an answer, and then is given one in the form of her mouth on his. She tastes sweet, better, even, mixed with the rum, and he is content for a moment to taste her, feel her, hold her up.

The moment is fleeting.

Left leg stepping back, he spins her away from the wall and over to the bed, his hands leaving her as he lowers her into it. Arms slipping between her legs and his body, he hooks them under the bend in each knee and pushes as if to fold her in half... or some approximation thereof.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

It was that moment again. Fight or flight. An internal choice as he lowered her to the bed.

He pushed her body to fold in half, and she pushed away from him her legs stretching her away from him. The smile on her face was nothing, if not mischievous.

No.

He pushed her body to fold in half, and she let him.
The smile on her face was nothing.

No.

His tie dangled on her chest and again she curled her fingers around it. Before he could stop her, she pulled him against her, his arm moving out from between them to hold his weight off her.

Her legs bent again, this time curling back around his hips.

She had meant to turn them both over, but he held himself away from her, preventing the move.

Stalemate.
She hoped.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Still fighting. They were locked in a standstill, each of them trying to move the other in a different direction, neither quite succeeding.

Looking down at her, a corner of his mouth pulled up into a slight, half-grin.

Pushing up from the bed, he uncoiled her legs and straightened as he disengaged from her. Pausing next to the bed, eyes fixed on her, he took a moment to close the top button on his jacket and adjust his cuffs, and then he turned away from her, footsteps of polished leather the only sound he made as he crossed the room, lifted his glass, and halved the rum that was left in it.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Wordlessly, she watched him disengage, straighten and down most of the drink. Not content to merely stay on the bed, she rolled off and stood. Tugging at the corset to put it into place, she then smoothed the skirt back down. The shoes were kicked into the closet.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she poured a glass of wine for herself, and downed the whole thing quickly. If her guess was right, things were about to become intense.

Setting down the glass, she looked up at him, the barest suggestion of a smile being the only hint at how excited she was.

"Ready for round two, Almost Sir Bubblepantz?"