Tracey glanced over her shoulder, met Daphne’s gaze, and rolled her eyes meaningfully. “No, you idiot,” she said. She put her hand on the centre of Corner’s chest and pushed him, shoving him back onto one of the sturdier desks. She straddled him quickly, guiding his hands up to cup her arse. “Daphne’s a lady,” she explained. “But she’s curious, you know?”
Daphne shuddered at the lilting tone. She’d heard Tracey use it before – on seemingly endless boys, all of whom wanted access to Tracey’s body and none of whom seemed to care about the things she demanded in return. Money, mostly. Connections, otherwise. She’d heard Tracey use it before, and she knew enough to guess what came from it – but she’d never watched.
She’d mentioned being curious about sex two days ago; she’d wondered out loud in their dorm about what it would feel like and how people even went about it. Tracey, sprawled out on her bed in her underwear with bruises on her thighs and bite marks on her breasts, had offered to show her. Had, in fact, shown her that very evening – how it could be between two girls, at least. She’d used her mouth to bring Daphne off, and then smiled up at her from between her thighs.
“Can’t have you married off to some pureblood pillock without experiencing at least one orgasm,” she’d said, her lips slick and swollen. “It’d be a crying shame. But if you want spoilers for your wedding night, Daphne-dear, then we can do that too.”
She’d still been hazy from her orgasm when she’d agreed. And now, two days later, in an abandoned classroom on one of the lower levels of the dungeon, Tracey was keeping her word.
Michael Corner seemed almost irrelevant, although not entirely opposed to the situation either.
“First you’ve got to touch each other,” Tracey said. As she spoke, her hands were making quick work of Corner’s uniform: opening his robes and his trousers, unfastening his tie. His hands were moving over her, lifting her skirt to massage her arse. He was sliding his fingers under the red lace of Tracey’s panties, and as she watched, Tracey’s expression twisted with pleasure.
“He, uh, he needs to get you wet or it’ll hurt,” she continued. “And you – mmmm.” She cut off with a moan. Corner had been kissing down her neck while she talked – the hand that wasn’t in her knickers had been busy with the front of her robes, unfastening clasps and buttons. Tracey leaned back to shrug them off her shoulders.
Tracey glanced over her shoulder, met Daphne’s gaze, and rolled her eyes meaningfully. “No, you idiot,” she said. She put her hand on the centre of Corner’s chest and pushed him, shoving him back onto one of the sturdier desks. She straddled him quickly, guiding his hands up to cup her arse. “Daphne’s a lady,” she explained. “But she’s curious, you know?”
Daphne shuddered at the lilting tone. She’d heard Tracey use it before – on seemingly endless boys, all of whom wanted access to Tracey’s body and none of whom seemed to care about the things she demanded in return. Money, mostly. Connections, otherwise. She’d heard Tracey use it before, and she knew enough to guess what came from it – but she’d never watched.
She’d mentioned being curious about sex two days ago; she’d wondered out loud in their dorm about what it would feel like and how people even went about it. Tracey, sprawled out on her bed in her underwear with bruises on her thighs and bite marks on her breasts, had offered to show her. Had, in fact, shown her that very evening – how it could be between two girls, at least. She’d used her mouth to bring Daphne off, and then smiled up at her from between her thighs.
“Can’t have you married off to some pureblood pillock without experiencing at least one orgasm,” she’d said, her lips slick and swollen. “It’d be a crying shame. But if you want spoilers for your wedding night, Daphne-dear, then we can do that too.”
She’d still been hazy from her orgasm when she’d agreed. And now, two days later, in an abandoned classroom on one of the lower levels of the dungeon, Tracey was keeping her word.
Michael Corner seemed almost irrelevant, although not entirely opposed to the situation either.
“First you’ve got to touch each other,” Tracey said. As she spoke, her hands were making quick work of Corner’s uniform: opening his robes and his trousers, unfastening his tie. His hands were moving over her, lifting her skirt to massage her arse. He was sliding his fingers under the red lace of Tracey’s panties, and as she watched, Tracey’s expression twisted with pleasure.
“He, uh, he needs to get you wet or it’ll hurt,” she continued. “And you – mmmm.” She cut off with a moan. Corner had been kissing down her neck while she talked – the hand that wasn’t in her knickers had been busy with the front of her robes, unfastening clasps and buttons. Tracey leaned back to shrug them off her shoulders.