Imperio

...The warm palm of his hand resting against her cheek, cold flagstones against her knees, the sound of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears. Every sensation feels amplified when her actions aren't her own, a passenger in her own body. "Your hands. Put your hands on my cock." She's overcome with shame at the command, watching her own hands carefully grab him as instructed. Why? Why would he make her do this? How could he let /her/ do this to him? She wants to apologize, run out of the room. Never show his face to him again because how could she? The feeling of him rubbing his thumb against her cheek with gentle motions would be enough to bring her to tears if her actions were her own because she doesn't deserve to feel...She doesn't know what it is, but it's something someone like her has no right to. "Your mouth. Put your mouth on the tip." The taste of him on her tongue is strange. She should be disgusted at the sensation but she isn't. Tongue envelops him, instructions that tell her exactly what to do to him spilling from his lips.

Noisily licking along the prominent vein on his shaft, one hand fondling his sack while the other strokes the inner part of his thigh like she's soothing him. "Tell me..." His breath hitches. "Tell me how I make you feel." Inbetween her licks her voice rings out and the even unaffected tone of it makes her shiver. "I like it when you're mean to me." The sharp inhale as she runs her tongue along his weeping slit sends a pang of warmth to her core. "Why?" "Because you look at me." His hand is in her hair now massaging her scalp as he pushes her closer still to his cock. "Why do you like me looking at you?" She wishes she could bite her own tongue. "You knowing I exist makes me happy." He unleashes an avalanche of breathy words she can't catch, hips buckining and his cock reaching into her throat and it should make her want to throw up but it doesn't, her body doesn't have the capability right now.

The force of it makes her hips shift where she's crouched infront of him and she feels the damp cloth of her underwear cling uncomfortably to her. He tells her to look at him and she does, her blue eyes taking in his flushed features and disheveled hair. Guilt tugs at her mind for seeing such a side of him, something so intimate and beautiful not meant for her, never her.

Her eyes shoot open and she can feel the cool wetness of her tear-soaked pillow, the disgusting sensation of her sheets clinging to her limbs. This isn't the first time this has happened but the shame she feels isn't something she'll ever get used to. Blearily she looks around the still dark common room. No one else is awake and she's grateful for it as she tucks her pillow under one arm, uniform and wand under the other and walks out into the dark hallways while trying to ignore the sensation of her underwear rubbing against her sensitive dampness. She can't sleep around others when these dreams keep happening and she's grateful that the room of requirement is sure to provide a bed for her. On the way there she catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror, skin flushed and blotchy, eyes swollen and red from crying, hair sticking to her damp forehead and she can't help but laugh.

She is pathetic, isn't she?

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Pub: 29 Mar 2023 19:11 UTC
Views: 200