August 13, 2016 by Lyn
This is so very, very, non-canon; this is set early in an alternate-past 4th Year
Oralee was a beautiful girl, and the way her body moved could hypnotize a man, especially when the strap on her little bitty tank top went sliding down her shoulder. In his lucid moments, Conrad told himself that was how he’d ended up here; Oralee was luscious, and her friend Ivette, she of the perfect skin and the deep green eyes and those agile hips, was perfection in a cellophane dress.
There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for a taste of Oralee’s sun-kissed skin, or Ivette’s perky pink pierced nipples, which was fortunate, he mused, as he seemed to have gotten himself in a situation where he didn’t have much choice but to do whatever the two of them wanted. One at a time, at least, they were very, very pleasant company. Together, he’d found, they got a little scary, as they egged each other on to more extreme games. Two-on-one, they were very nearly terrifying, and absolutely hot.
Tonight, Oralee had told him, they were going to play with Ivette. The two of them had something special planned. Conrad found himself intrigued and a little concerned for his own well-being. He’d lost quite a lot of blood last weekend, enough that Dr. Caitrin had scolded him roundly while she patched him up…
…but Oralee had said she wouldn’t do something like that again. Of course, they got bored with their games quickly, and she hadn’t promised something worse wouldn’t happen, but a guy could hope.
She led him through the halls, and he tried to look calm and cool about the whole thing, not eager, not nervous, not even as he followed the sway of her ass in that little skirt and remembered the last time she’d let him touch her. After all, everyone wanted to look at her sublime curves, didn’t they? And only he got to, right now. Only he was willing to pay the price.
He wondered if that made him lucky or just very stupid.
She stopped in front of Ivette’s door, halting his wondering dead in its tracks, and turned to look him up and down. “Not a word,” she told him, her voice firm, “not a sound unless you’re given permission. Understand?”
He nodded, not really able to do much else, and, satisfied, she knocked.
“Come on in, darlings,” Ivette called, and they did. She’d rearranged the room again, shoving the bed against the wall and clearing the floor of everything except a new throw rug and a…
He was backing towards the door before he realized it, backpedaling desperately. Gods, fucking departed gods.
“Stay,” Oralee snapped. He knew, for a moment, just how far gone he was, that he stopped, head hanging, without even the urge to remind her that he wasn’t her pet. His only urge right now was to get out of this room.
Maybe it was a joke. They were known for their particularly sadistic jokes, after all. Let them see they’d struck home and maybe they’d be happy. He dropped to his knees, wanting to beg but constrained by her command, instead settling for kissing her sandaled, pedicured toes.
The guy kneeling on the rug sniggered at him. He shot a look his way, a glare, really, and then wished he hadn’t. He was already naked, trussed up tightly, and he still looked like an arrogant prig.
“Pretty, isn’t he?” Ivette purred, running her hand through the boy’s black hair. He twisted to glare at her, with a firm raspberry noise, and she backhanded him, all the while smiling at Conrad. “Beautiful, actually, no?”
He was, actually, if you liked that sort of thing. Conrad shook his head “no,” because, well, he liked girls, and if he survived this, he didn’t want the poisonous-looking boy to murder him in a dark hallway some night. He expected the hair tug, Oralee grabbing his ponytail to steer his head, so he didn’t react, except to move where she wanted him to.
“Take a closer look,” she murmured. “Remember, Ivette’s a succubus. She can read your desire – or, if necessary, create it.”
If he could have run, or whimpered, or shouted, he would have, but her commands had frozen him, so he took a closer look at the boy.
Emrys. He shared a couple classes with him, a sullen, angry kid that most of the teachers had already given up on; irritating, but with a mind behind the bitchiness that seemed sharp. Naked, presumably silenced by Ivette’s command, he was slender, smooth, pale, and with very little body hair, his expression sulky and yet still a little fierce. He wondered how many people called him pretty, and how many people survived doing so unscathed. He also wondered why Emrys was tied up while he was still unbound.
Oralee released his hair abruptly, and he struggled to not fall forward, catching himself with one hand. He looked up to see that she’d crossed the room to stand next to Emrys, and Ivette was closing on him.
He sat up straight, suddenly angry, as Oralee ran her hands through the other guy’s hair. No-one else got to be touched by her like that!
“Shh,” Ivette murmured in his ear, her hair trailing over his shoulders. “Take off your clothes, Conrad.”
He didn’t have to listen to her. Of course, if he didn’t, there’d be hell to pay, but that didn’t matter right now. He shook his head no, but she had knelt down straddling him, her lips on his, and she was pulling his shirt off.
She brushed her lips across his throat, just above his collar, and then below it, kisses each nipple with little butterfly-kisses, and worked her way down his chest and stomach until she was at the waistband to his jeans. “Pants,” she told him, and he struggled to pull them off over his growing erection.
“Good boy,” she murmured, taking him in her hand and stroking lightly. “Now…” Every word she said was like a caress brushing every sensitive area of his body, increasing his need and want. “I need your help with something.” She kissed the hollow of his throat again, her breasts against his chest.
Anything. He couldn’t say it, so he nodded his acquiescence. Somewhere inside him, a tiny voice of lucidity screamed, but it was such a small voice and she was right there in his lap, smelling so wonderful.
“I need to break Emrys. And Caitrin got so scoldy after last time.” Her hand was doing something divine to his balls, even as her nails raked down his back. Ow ow gods yes. “Would you help me?” She bit his earlobe delicately, and murmured, “I know you want to.”
Whatever you want me to do, just don’t stop touching me.
“Come here, Conrad,” Oralee called. He frowned for a moment, trying to figure out how to do that without removing Ivette from his lap.
She solved the problem for him by disentangling herself, letting him stand, her hands still trailing all over his body. “I promise,” she murmured, as she escorted him across the room, “you’ll enjoy it.”