"Whore."
"Slut."
"Psycho."
Amelia huffed. "I don't mind going to therapy, you know. It's okay."
Ingenue rolled her eyes.
"I don't want to talk about therapy, Amy. I talk about therapy enough while I'm in therapy."
"Yeah, Yamada let slip that you aren't exactly cooperative." She narrowed her eyes. "Also, don't think I didn't hear that."
Ingenue smiled, looked straight into her eyes.
"Amy. Don't you want me to make it up to you?" She lowered her voice to a purr. "You know I appreciate you taking time out of your day to rewire my brain..."
With her right arm still hooked around Amelia's waist, she pulled her closer and unbuttoned the girl's jeans with her free hand, dipped her fingers just below her waistband and ran them over the jutting bones of Amelia's hips. Amelia's eyes tracked her hand, and then she looked away, at the sterile white fixtures of the bathroom, the glowing red eye of the motion sensor over the sink. She bit her lip, and her eyes flicked shut.
With the hand that wasn't playing with the waistband of Amelia's underwear, Ingenue grasped a fistful of the girl's short hair and pulled, lightly.
"Or maybe you don't want repayment, exactly?" she murmured. "Because if you want me to top, all you have to do is say so."
The sterile overhead light caught Amelia's flush just fine. She made a noncommittal noise, pushed her hips back against Ingenue's hand, and Ingenue leaned in, kissed the line of her jaw, whispered in her ear.
"I am going to make you say it, though. Out loud, like a slut. Because we both know that the blushing virgin act is a front. So tell me what you are."
Silence, and Amelia gave another little gasp as Ingenue slipped two fingers into her underwear, found the cotton slick to the touch, her labia already slippery.
"If you can't ask for it, you can't have it, Amelia," she said. "Amy. Tell me what you are."
"I'm a whore." Her voice was breathless, the words a little rushed, and Ingenue could see her blush deepening, the way her breath caught a little when she exhaled. She looked into Ingenue's eyes, then, and suddenly her voice was level and confident. "I'm your whore."
She barely finished speaking before Ingenue felt the beginning of the change. Pressure in her throat, and a strange tickling in her mouth, under her tongue. She dragged her hand out of Amy's pants, knotted it in her hair, and when she opened her mouth to kiss her, she felt the pressure spill out. A thicket of sensory tendrils, like a sea anemone's, red and translucent, unfurling over her lips, pushing up from the inside of her throat. They seemed to be elastic, uncurling until they occupied a space much larger than the inside of her mouth, tangling and wrapping around each other. It felt as if they should have blocked her breathing, but they didn't. Instead she concentrated and a ripple went through them, languidly, as if she was underwater.
She felt the tendrils brush Amelia's face, felt some latent impulse in them — sting, her body told her, silently — but that she could test later. She pressed her lips to Amy's, tongue and tentacles swarming into her open mouth, down her throat. She could feel Amelia's chest heave as she gasped, trying to breathe through the kiss, and Ingenue's other tendrils — could she open her mouth this wide, normally? — were caressing her face and curling around the back of her head to pull her hair. They adhered, lightly, where they touched Amelia's skin, as if they were putting down roots, and where they touched her, Ingenue could taste-smell-feel the shivers running down Amy's spine, the vibration of the noises she was making it her throat. She pressed her knee up between Amy's legs, pulling her shirt up over her plain black bra, and felt something else starting between her own legs, a squirming pressure against the slippery silk of her panties.
She could see Amelia's power flickering, pushing at the boundary of skin between itself and Ingenue. She pulled half-way back from the kiss, her tendrils still gripping Amelia's face, lips nearly brushing hers.
"If you keep making adjustments, Amy, I'm going to feel like I'm not holding your attention."
By rights the tendrils forcing her lips apart should have kept her from speaking, but instead the words came up doubled, echoing, a humming chorus that seemed to emerge from somewhere deep in her chest and vibrate through each of her sensory tentacles. She was doing something with the ones in her throat to articulate the sounds, probably, but she couldn't have described exactly what.
Amelia, on the other hand, certainly couldn't talk, with Ingenue's tendrils still filling the inside of her mouth, stroking her lips, sucking her tongue. Her eyes widened, and she made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a moan, and Ingenue lifted her up by the back of her knees and used the weight of her hips to pin the girl against the bathroom door. She could feel the blood pounding in her head, the impulse to laugh, the way the second set of sensory tentacles were twisting inside her panties, each like another writhing clit, curling backwards to stretch open the mouth of her cunt, no, there were more coming from inside her, and Jesus Christ she was going to get herself off before she even got around to having Amelia touch her.
She pulled Amelia's head back, let the tendrils in her mouth swarm over her neck, kissing, tightening around her throat just enough to make her gasp. The thin tentacles were sensitive — she could feel the pulse in Amelia's throat almost as potently as if she'd put a vibrator to her clit. She had one hand under Amelia's hips, supporting her weight, and now she slipped the other back down Amelia's pants and curled her fingers up under her pelvis, fucking her with her hand.
"Shall I see what other gifts you've given me, Amy?" Ingenue murmured in her new, buzzing, echoing voice. "Because I think there's something else that I can do with these..."
Amelia whimpered, bucked her hips back against Ingenue's hand, her legs wrapped tight around Ingenue's waist, her hands tensing on her shoulders, taut with effort.
"You need to use words, Amy. Or you don't get what you want." She could feel the vibration of her voice buzzing on Amelia's skin, and she laughed lightly into her neck, pressing her legs together over her own arousal.
"Please, Ingenue," Amy whispered, her voice tight. "Please, please, please."
"Good girl," Ingenue purred, and then she released some impulse in her unfamiliar limbs and triggered her sting.
She felt the tips of her tendrils sink into Amy's skin, and then there was a starburst of something like electricity, a lightning-fast uncoiling, and Amelia arced back against her, a bow bent to snapping, and made a sobbing, strangled noise, her cunt pulsing around Ingenue's hand. When the tension ran out of her, she was limp, and Ingenue loosened her grip on her hips and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor, where Amy braced herself on her hands and knees, panting.
Ingenue wrapped her fingers in Amelia's short hair and pulled her head back until the girl was looking into her eyes.
"Slut." She slapped her, once, not too hard, and Amy looked at the floor. "I did not say that you could come before me."
"I'm sorry."
Ingenue smiled and stroked her hair, and Amelia leaned into her hand.
"I forgive you, Amy. But you have to make it up to me."
She reached up and unzipped her dress, let it fall to the floor. Underneath it, she was wearing cream and crimson silk, her bra cut low so that her breasts swelled out above it. She unclipped the straps that held up her stockings and slid her panties off, felt her vulva open up like a flower, a hundred anemone tendrils reaching out, pressing her open so that she gasped before she'd even touched Amelia. With her hands wrapped in the girl's hair, she pulled her face in, roughly, and Amelia opened her mouth without resistance and licked her where she was wet, her tongue working along the length of her tentacles as Ingenue let them crowd into her mouth, forcing her straining jaw wider.
She was gasping already, slippery wet, the pressure of Amelia's tongue clumsy as she fought to breath, as Ingenue pulled her hair and controlled the movement of her head, rolling her own hips in so that she was fucking Amelia's face, her throat. Each tendril seemed impossibly sensitive, and they squirmed together, braiding themselves into a thick knot. She spread her legs wider, dragged Amelia forward so that the girl was kneeling directly under her, her neck craning back to take Ingenue into her mouth. She stung her again, not with every tentacle this time, but with one, then two, and she could feel the vibration of Amy's whimper run through her own flesh. So close, slippery and squirming, and it felt like she was going to devour her, force her open from the inside. Amelia was gasping and whimpering around the pressure of her, her tongue working uselessly, still trying to lick, to suck — "Good girl," Ingenue murmured, voice tight, "good girl, you're trying so hard..." — and she was shaking, with her own hands down her pants, and Ingenue was shaking now, too, straining towards her, hips working faster, erratic, and then she tightened and shivered and came. Amelia coughed and gasped as she pulled out of her mouth, reached up to wipe the spit and Ingenue's own wetness off of her chin.
"Can I," Amy murmured, broke off to cough again. "Can we — ?"
"Oh, you're not done?" She'd pulled her upper tendrils back inside her mouth, but she found that even with them retracted, her voice had that same doubled humming quality. Amelia squirmed.
"You want me to fuck you, now? Is that it?"
Amelia nodded.
"Get up, then."
She stood unsteadily, her legs still wobbly, reaching for the sink to brace herself. Ingenue pushed her head down, roughly, so that Amelia was bent over the sink, braced on her elbows, then hooked her left foot with one of her heels and dragged her legs apart. She ran her hand up Amelia's thigh, cupped her crotch over her jeans.
"I want you to tell me how wet you are for me."
Amelia shifted under her touch, lowered her head.
"I'm wet. Really wet."
Ingenue laughed.
"Try harder, Amelia. You can do better than that."
"Fuck." She whimpered as Ingenue dragged her jeans down over her ass, ran one finger up the back of her naked thigh and over the slim curve of her hip. "I'm trying, I just — I want you to fuck me. I want it so badly I can't think. Please."
"Again." She touched her where she was slick, ran her finger down the pink of her labia to the soft pale fuzz of her pubic hair. Her tendrils were on Amelia's thighs, now, a nacreous, shimmery blood red against the paleness of her skin.
"Please fuck me, use me up, I just want to be yours..." Her voice was tight, almost a sob, and then she tensed and arched up into a gasp as Ingenue stung her, again, on the inside of her thigh, her tentacles swarming to open her up and press inside her.
She was slippery, narrower than her mouth had been, but she stretched under Ingenue's pressure, bucking her hips back as Ingenue's tentacles squirmed inside of her, pressing up against the walls of her cunt, the slick nubbly place just above her pubic bone, moving over her labia like a hundred little kisses to wrap around her clit. She started moving slowly, not so much fucking her as grinding up against her, letting her tendrils do the work, her hands tugging on Amelia's hair, pulling her head up until she met Ingenue's eyes in the mirror. She triggered her sting again, felt her tendrils grip and fuse with Amy's cunt, felt Amy's shiver as if it was part of her own body. Her teeth in her lip, now, panting, hands gripping Amy's shoulders, slick with sweat, nails digging into her tattoos.
"Now," she said, "now." And Amy arched up under her, and Ingenue stung her, again, felt her tense, convulse with a cry and go limp. She yelped as Ingenue fucked her to her own climax, roughly, selfish, her hands digging into the skin of Amy's hips. She pulled back while she was still feeling her own shivers running through her, dragged Amy upright and turned her around and pressed her back against the sink with a kiss, her jeans around her ankles. She could feel the tendrils in her mouth retracting, shrinking, folding back into her familiar lips and tongue. The ones between her legs were melting away, likewise.
She pulled back from the kiss, grinning.
"Did you have fun?"
Amy sighed. "Jesus. Fuck yes." Then her eyes widened and she tensed. "Fuck, we're still in a public bathroom, what if someone's waiting..."
Ingenue laughed.
"I think they probably will have given up. You're not the quietest, you know."
"Fuck you." Amelia frowned at her, but it was an exaggerated expression. A pout, really. "Just because you couldn't wait long enough to go back to my room..."
But she was smiling before the end of the sentence, and then she was leaning in to kiss Ingenue again.
Specific Protagonist's Journey to Redemption
(Автор: GladiusLucix)
Specific Protagonist's Journey to Redemption, or, How Taylor Learned to Stop Worrying and Love ALL THE FETISHES (or at least most of them).
* * *
Part 1
I glared at my most recent visitor; the only person who had visited, other than my father. "What are you doing here, Madison?"
"I wanted to apologize," she said. "The last bit went too far, and I wanted to make sure you were okay and still enjoying things."
I stared, open-mouthed. "The last bit went too far?"
She nodded and continued. "I know Emma said she would be dealing with the aftercare after school, and that I needed to stay away to keep the immersion, but the locker was too much."
Aftercare? Immersion? "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"There's no need to be embarrassed, Taylor," she said with a smile. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying humiliation play like that."
I finally realized what she was talking about. "You think I've been getting off on what you three have been doing for the past year and a half? Are you insane?"
"Well, maybe a bit of nymphomania, but nothing more than that. And Emma said you were into it when I confronted her about it a few weeks into freshman year."
I resisted the urge to facepalm. "So, let me get this straight," I said. "You were worried about me being bullied, and tried to talk to Emma about it. But she lied and said it made me horny, so you jumped right in."
Madison's shoulders drooped as I summed up her big mistake. "Yeah, that sounds about right." She sounded surprisingly upset about it, but then her spirits lifted just as quickly. "But that's okay, because I'm going to make it up to you. I spent a year and a half fulfilling the wrong fetish for you, so now I'm going to spend twice as long on the right ones!"
