Bicker 3
Title: Bicker pt 3
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2586
Prompt: 043. Tantric Sex
Apologies: Yeah, this is the obligatory(?) Princeton Eating Club AU. If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. And now you understand the premise. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
Yeah, this is still moving along. If anyone desperately wants to read the poem mentioned at the end, I can type it up and give the reference. It's mildly hilarious. I do not make this stuff up.
Part 1
Part 2
“So,” said Emma. “What are the real rules?”
Emily jumped, not expecting to be accosted on her way out of Firestone. “What?”
Emma stood up, her shoulders shifting off the stone wall she had been leaning against, and swung her backpack over her shoulder. “The real rules. Because obeying your every order is actually kind of easy if you don’t tell me to do anything.”
Emily laughed. “Aren't you eager.”
“Yeah, sub.” Emma frowned. “This wasn’t your idea at all, was it? It’s kind of gross that they’re using you to control me. Why you? Why did they make you be the one to top me?”
“Because I know how.”
Emma frowned.
“When they said that you weren’t the first person who had been claimed, they weren’t lying. I’m the other one.”
Emma gave her a long look with narrowed eyes. “Your psycho bitch of a girlfriend…”
That was kind of offensive, if not… untrue. In most ways Emily was grateful that Selene had taken her under her wing and looked out for her. She had never been the most socially apt person in high school, and Selene had introduced her to people and given her status and power in a society that admittedly she wasn’t very interested in. But her parents had been happy.
And Emma wanted this. She should at least respect the people who had what she was willing to do pretty much anything for.
“Why are you willing to do this?”
“Why?” Emma blinked. “Because it’s worth it. It’s a great school. It’s a great name to have on your resume, but whatever. A good education gets you fifty thousand a year as a professor. Power is about who you know, not what.”
Emily nodded, rather depressed. She had grown up meeting people she ought to know every day. When she had applied to college her mother had offered her a selection of letters of recommendation from twelve heads of state, two Nobel Prize winners, and a prince. She had just wanted to ask her teachers like the other kids.
“I hope it is worth it.”
Emma gave her an uncomfortable look. “You’re not going to make me be totally celibate, are you? There were rumors going around last year about you… was it true that you weren’t allowed to masturbate?”
Emily turned red. How did these things get out? She shook it off. “Yes. It was true. And it’s true for you as well.”
Emma snorted. “I’m so sorry, but how the fuck are you going to know?”
“That’s where the orders start.” Emily gave her an appraising look. “How do you feel about futons?”
“Um, they’re ugly, uncomfortable wastes of space?”
“Well, you’re going to be sleeping on mine, so get used to them.”
Emma frowned. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You’re moving in with me. You don’t need to live there, but I need to know where you are at night, and it’s easier if you just sleep in my room.”
Emma scowled. “This is really going to screw up my life, isn’t it?”
“Just your sex life. Remember the fine print.”
“You wrote that.”
“I lived that.” Emily tried not to think about the huge fight after she had disobeyed an order to go to an exam review session. She had ended up in McCosh Infirmary with a sprained wrist and a bloody gash on her cheek that needed stitches, but she won her point.
“If I want to get myself off, I don’t need all night. Fuck, if I want to suck a guy’s cock I don’t need all night.”
“So, I need your class schedule and whatever extracurriculars you do. And you need this.”
Emily held up a small metal tube. Emma frowned as she opened it. It was lipstick, a thick chalky greasepaint kind, in a pale white with an odd blue shimmer.
“What is that?”
Emily warmed it against her thumb, then she held Emma’s chin still with her opposite hand and spread the lipstick across Emma’s mouth. She finished the touch up with her thumb. Then she capped it and stuck it in her pocket.
“You’re going to wear that all the time.”
Emma grimaced and rubbed her lips together, then flipped out a compact. “Did she make you do this?”
Emily nodded. “I still wear it sometimes. It’s really heavily dyed, so it tends to leave a trace if it gets smeared. It’s a bit of a tell all.”
“Interesting color choice.”
Emily smiled. “I thought it would suit you.”
“It's actually not that bad.” She chuckled. “It would leave an interesting ring around any boy’s cock.”
“Yeah, but it won’t, right?”
“Of course not!” Emma played the innocent for a moment and then leaned in and pressed her lips against Emily’s cheek. “Wow. It really does leave a stain.”
* * *
Emma printed out an extra copy of her class schedule in the basement of East Pyne and Emily looked over it quickly.
“I didn’t know you were in Abnormal Psych with me.”
“Yeah, you sit in the front. I don’t.”
Emily gave her an odd look. Apparently she had noticed that they had that class together.
“Ew, Econ. You have Brandburg?”
Emma nodded, wrinkling her nose. “You had him?”
“No. He’s a friend of my parents’. Is he as sleazy in class as he is at parties?”
“Yes.”
“You like Econ?”
“My dad would flip if I didn’t take it.”
Emily gave her a long look. It wasn’t like she was hearing something new, but it was always a little disappointing. College was so short, and wasting it worrying about what other people wanted usually meant you’d waste your life worrying about what other people wanted. But of course she had become inured to disappointing her parents a long time ago, since she did it so often. “If that’s a good enough reason…”
“No,” Emma scowled. “You don’t understand. My dad will stop paying if I don’t at least get a certificate.” She glanced away. “He’s willing to cough up for your club, but none of the others are good enough.”
“You’d do this for him?”
“Oh please. He thinks it’s like an extra class in getting ahead.” Emma gave her a dirty smile. “I want it all.”
Emily laughed.
* * *
“It’s usually unlocked,” Emily said, opening the door to her room.
“You don’t lock it?” Emma was giving her an ‘are you an idiot’ look.
Emily shrugged. “Not during the day. It’s just stuff.”
Emma took a long look around the two-room single. “I hate you.”
She dropped the bag of clothes they had picked up from her 110 square foot room down-campus on the floor and walked through to the window on the other side.
“I got a good place in the lottery.”
Emma glowered. “You were in Rocky, weren’t you?”
Emily blushed. It wasn’t as if she wanted the perks of everyone knowing who her parents were. But somehow there wasn’t an “opt-out” box she could check on the application.
Emma was still scanning the room with an odd expression on her face. “Your mistress’ room didn’t look like this, did it? You don’t have a lot of… equipment.”
Emily glanced around. White walls, blue bedspread, huge pile of books… No, It really wasn’t anything like Selene’s room had been. “Most of the big things are basically decoration. It’s the details that really mean something.”
Emma nodded, considering this, and then blinked, looking at Emily. She stepped forward and reached out, looking curious and slightly confused. She touched Emily’s earlobe.
Emily froze, unsure of what to do.
“You’re right.” Emma checked her watch and winced. “Got to go.” She stepped away, heading for the door, but then paused, looking back, and smirked.
“I really really love it that you don’t have your ears pierced.”
She turned and walked out the door.
Emily covered her face and laughed, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into.
* * *
It was only the second day.
“Your lipstick is smeared.”
Emma frowned and glanced up to the mirror above the bed. “I didn’t notice.”
“I can tell,” Emily replied, her voice darker. She didn’t quite have command of that nasty terrifying tone of Selene’s, but she sounded less insane when she snapped.
“I was eating. This crap stuff gets everywhere.”
“Strip.”
“I’m doing my homework.”
“Shut up. You’re playing spider solitaire. I can see it.”
Emma stood up from the desk, pouting. “If you want me naked, you take my fucking clothes off.”
Emily shrugged, slid off the bed and walked over to her. Then she slapped her across the face. Emma stared at her in shock.
“I got that every time I sassed back. You can sass as much as you want, but you will not order me around. Get it?”
The hurt on her face was more than she had expected. It felt kind of dangerous, as if she had tapped a vein she might not want to have tapped.
Emily reached out and ran her fingers gently over the red mark on her cheek. Her thumb rubbed beneath Emma’s lower lip. The panic and anger in Emma’s eyes faded.
“Take your shirt off,” Emily said softly.
Emma bit her lip but took hold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head.
“And your bra.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “I think it would be easier for you.”
Emily accepted that and unfastened it, letting it drop to the floor. When Selene had done this to her it had never been sexy. It had been terrifying. Her long fingers and sharp nails ran over her body with the briskness of a doctor and the brutal disregard of a torturer. Emily slid her fingers down Emma’s throat, checking for marks, thumbs rubbing over her collarbone, pinching her nipples just to check for over- or under-sensitivity.
She was clean.
“Pants off.”
Emma gave her a look and rolled her eyes, but unfastened her jeans without comment. She slid them down her hips with an ease that Emily could only admire. That was one reason she had worn skirts so often last year. Taking off your pants in front of someone else was always a difficult feat, and with a skirt Selene would often just shove it up out of the way rather than waiting for her to humiliate herself. (Sometimes she would just push her over the nearest desk and stick her fingers in. Emily hadn’t been allowed to wear underwear that year either, unless it had been the only thing she wore.)
Emma stepped out of her jeans and stood, completely at ease is only a white thong. Emily considered her, then brushed her fingers over her hips. “Spread.”
Emma moved her feet farther apart. She tossed her head as she did, her hair shivering down her shoulder seductively, but Emily did not react. She pressed two fingers brusquely against Emma’s crotch.
“You’re wet.”
“I’m supposed to not be, with you touching me like that?”
And that was why it was probably better the way Selene did it. If Emily had had any traces of arousal it was clear that she had been looking, or worse, masturbating, and needed to be punished. But the rules were the rules.
“Yes.” Emily sat on the bed and patted her lap. “Come on?”
“You’re going to spank me? I didn’t do anything!”
“You got your lipstick smeared, and you’re dripping for it.”
Emma scowled and lay down over her lap. “If you don’t give me an orgasm after this, I will be very unhappy.”
Emily swatted her ass to shut her up and make her lie down faster.
The thing about spanking was that is had been conflated with ass-fetishization in too many ways, tapping, slapping, even just groping were considered forms of spanking. But that was wrong. Spanking was punishment.
Emily’s hand came down hard. The sound cracked off the walls and her hand stung. Emma didn’t make a sound, just jerked against her lap and buried her fingers into the bedspread. She shock ripped up into tension in her back and shoulders, and she breathed in, a quick little huff of response.
The second one she was prepared for, and she squirmed, letting out a little whimper of pain. “You hit too hard.”
Emily shook her head and smacked her ass again. “You need to hit hard, or you don’t get the adrenaline rush.”
“If I wanted adrenaline I could jump off a moving train. I want a fucking.”
Emily hit her harder, then quickly spread her ass, pulling the thong out of the way and pushed her finger roughly against her anus. “You want a fucking?”
“Oh my god, don’t you fucking dare!”
She tried to squirm away, but Emily caught her around the waist and kept her in her lap. She pushed in harder. “I told you to not give me orders.”
“Don’t. It hurts.” Her voice came out almost as a sob, and Emily hit her again.
“Then shut up.”
Emma cried as her ass got redder, but didn’t try to move or talk back. That was interesting, Emily thought. Selene had always loved to find her hard limits and then use them to break her until the limit was gone. Her therapist had told her that it was abuse of trust, but it was easy to think like that. It always felt good to know where your power lay.
Afterwards Emma lay limply on the bed, turned away from her. That wasn’t any good. Emily straddled her and pushed her shoulders down on the bed until she was on her back underneath her. Then she leaned down and kissed her roughly, biting down hard on her lower lip, and making sure to smear her lipstick properly.
Emma was unresponsive at first, but then opened to her, and closed her eyes, giving Emily dominance over her mouth.
“I really think you’ll like it when you’re ready,” Emily whispered in her ear before she started moving down her body.
Emma stiffened.
Emily crawled in between her legs and lifted her hips gently, coaxing her to lock her ankles over her shoulders. It would be easier to keep the weight off her burning ass that way. Then she leaned in and tasted. (She knew how to hunt for latex, for semen, but Emma tasted like girl and nothing else.) She let out a little gasp when her tongue slipped inside of her, and Emily felt the tension fade away.
Emily had taken a religion class on Tantra in Medieval India and had read a very interesting poem written in something like 1600 AD which described in detail the correct way to perform oral sex on a woman. It had a lot in common with most of what she had figured out on her own, and systematized it in the way Selene had made her learn (by striking the back of her head whenever she wanted her to move on to the next action), but she had her own twist to it which involved reciting the poem, her lips and tongue still pressed deep into the other woman’s cunt.
Emma was panting and grinding into her mouth before she was finished with the first stanza.
“God, please…”
It was so true that the person taking it was always going to be the one submitting. And Emily had made Selene beg. This brat of a sophomore was really no contest.
* * *
Part 4
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2586
Prompt: 043. Tantric Sex
Apologies: Yeah, this is the obligatory(?) Princeton Eating Club AU. If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. And now you understand the premise. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
Yeah, this is still moving along. If anyone desperately wants to read the poem mentioned at the end, I can type it up and give the reference. It's mildly hilarious. I do not make this stuff up.
Part 1
Part 2
“So,” said Emma. “What are the real rules?”
Emily jumped, not expecting to be accosted on her way out of Firestone. “What?”
Emma stood up, her shoulders shifting off the stone wall she had been leaning against, and swung her backpack over her shoulder. “The real rules. Because obeying your every order is actually kind of easy if you don’t tell me to do anything.”
Emily laughed. “Aren't you eager.”
“Yeah, sub.” Emma frowned. “This wasn’t your idea at all, was it? It’s kind of gross that they’re using you to control me. Why you? Why did they make you be the one to top me?”
“Because I know how.”
Emma frowned.
“When they said that you weren’t the first person who had been claimed, they weren’t lying. I’m the other one.”
Emma gave her a long look with narrowed eyes. “Your psycho bitch of a girlfriend…”
That was kind of offensive, if not… untrue. In most ways Emily was grateful that Selene had taken her under her wing and looked out for her. She had never been the most socially apt person in high school, and Selene had introduced her to people and given her status and power in a society that admittedly she wasn’t very interested in. But her parents had been happy.
And Emma wanted this. She should at least respect the people who had what she was willing to do pretty much anything for.
“Why are you willing to do this?”
“Why?” Emma blinked. “Because it’s worth it. It’s a great school. It’s a great name to have on your resume, but whatever. A good education gets you fifty thousand a year as a professor. Power is about who you know, not what.”
Emily nodded, rather depressed. She had grown up meeting people she ought to know every day. When she had applied to college her mother had offered her a selection of letters of recommendation from twelve heads of state, two Nobel Prize winners, and a prince. She had just wanted to ask her teachers like the other kids.
“I hope it is worth it.”
Emma gave her an uncomfortable look. “You’re not going to make me be totally celibate, are you? There were rumors going around last year about you… was it true that you weren’t allowed to masturbate?”
Emily turned red. How did these things get out? She shook it off. “Yes. It was true. And it’s true for you as well.”
Emma snorted. “I’m so sorry, but how the fuck are you going to know?”
“That’s where the orders start.” Emily gave her an appraising look. “How do you feel about futons?”
“Um, they’re ugly, uncomfortable wastes of space?”
“Well, you’re going to be sleeping on mine, so get used to them.”
Emma frowned. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You’re moving in with me. You don’t need to live there, but I need to know where you are at night, and it’s easier if you just sleep in my room.”
Emma scowled. “This is really going to screw up my life, isn’t it?”
“Just your sex life. Remember the fine print.”
“You wrote that.”
“I lived that.” Emily tried not to think about the huge fight after she had disobeyed an order to go to an exam review session. She had ended up in McCosh Infirmary with a sprained wrist and a bloody gash on her cheek that needed stitches, but she won her point.
“If I want to get myself off, I don’t need all night. Fuck, if I want to suck a guy’s cock I don’t need all night.”
“So, I need your class schedule and whatever extracurriculars you do. And you need this.”
Emily held up a small metal tube. Emma frowned as she opened it. It was lipstick, a thick chalky greasepaint kind, in a pale white with an odd blue shimmer.
“What is that?”
Emily warmed it against her thumb, then she held Emma’s chin still with her opposite hand and spread the lipstick across Emma’s mouth. She finished the touch up with her thumb. Then she capped it and stuck it in her pocket.
“You’re going to wear that all the time.”
Emma grimaced and rubbed her lips together, then flipped out a compact. “Did she make you do this?”
Emily nodded. “I still wear it sometimes. It’s really heavily dyed, so it tends to leave a trace if it gets smeared. It’s a bit of a tell all.”
“Interesting color choice.”
Emily smiled. “I thought it would suit you.”
“It's actually not that bad.” She chuckled. “It would leave an interesting ring around any boy’s cock.”
“Yeah, but it won’t, right?”
“Of course not!” Emma played the innocent for a moment and then leaned in and pressed her lips against Emily’s cheek. “Wow. It really does leave a stain.”
* * *
Emma printed out an extra copy of her class schedule in the basement of East Pyne and Emily looked over it quickly.
“I didn’t know you were in Abnormal Psych with me.”
“Yeah, you sit in the front. I don’t.”
Emily gave her an odd look. Apparently she had noticed that they had that class together.
“Ew, Econ. You have Brandburg?”
Emma nodded, wrinkling her nose. “You had him?”
“No. He’s a friend of my parents’. Is he as sleazy in class as he is at parties?”
“Yes.”
“You like Econ?”
“My dad would flip if I didn’t take it.”
Emily gave her a long look. It wasn’t like she was hearing something new, but it was always a little disappointing. College was so short, and wasting it worrying about what other people wanted usually meant you’d waste your life worrying about what other people wanted. But of course she had become inured to disappointing her parents a long time ago, since she did it so often. “If that’s a good enough reason…”
“No,” Emma scowled. “You don’t understand. My dad will stop paying if I don’t at least get a certificate.” She glanced away. “He’s willing to cough up for your club, but none of the others are good enough.”
“You’d do this for him?”
“Oh please. He thinks it’s like an extra class in getting ahead.” Emma gave her a dirty smile. “I want it all.”
Emily laughed.
* * *
“It’s usually unlocked,” Emily said, opening the door to her room.
“You don’t lock it?” Emma was giving her an ‘are you an idiot’ look.
Emily shrugged. “Not during the day. It’s just stuff.”
Emma took a long look around the two-room single. “I hate you.”
She dropped the bag of clothes they had picked up from her 110 square foot room down-campus on the floor and walked through to the window on the other side.
“I got a good place in the lottery.”
Emma glowered. “You were in Rocky, weren’t you?”
Emily blushed. It wasn’t as if she wanted the perks of everyone knowing who her parents were. But somehow there wasn’t an “opt-out” box she could check on the application.
Emma was still scanning the room with an odd expression on her face. “Your mistress’ room didn’t look like this, did it? You don’t have a lot of… equipment.”
Emily glanced around. White walls, blue bedspread, huge pile of books… No, It really wasn’t anything like Selene’s room had been. “Most of the big things are basically decoration. It’s the details that really mean something.”
Emma nodded, considering this, and then blinked, looking at Emily. She stepped forward and reached out, looking curious and slightly confused. She touched Emily’s earlobe.
Emily froze, unsure of what to do.
“You’re right.” Emma checked her watch and winced. “Got to go.” She stepped away, heading for the door, but then paused, looking back, and smirked.
“I really really love it that you don’t have your ears pierced.”
She turned and walked out the door.
Emily covered her face and laughed, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into.
* * *
It was only the second day.
“Your lipstick is smeared.”
Emma frowned and glanced up to the mirror above the bed. “I didn’t notice.”
“I can tell,” Emily replied, her voice darker. She didn’t quite have command of that nasty terrifying tone of Selene’s, but she sounded less insane when she snapped.
“I was eating. This crap stuff gets everywhere.”
“Strip.”
“I’m doing my homework.”
“Shut up. You’re playing spider solitaire. I can see it.”
Emma stood up from the desk, pouting. “If you want me naked, you take my fucking clothes off.”
Emily shrugged, slid off the bed and walked over to her. Then she slapped her across the face. Emma stared at her in shock.
“I got that every time I sassed back. You can sass as much as you want, but you will not order me around. Get it?”
The hurt on her face was more than she had expected. It felt kind of dangerous, as if she had tapped a vein she might not want to have tapped.
Emily reached out and ran her fingers gently over the red mark on her cheek. Her thumb rubbed beneath Emma’s lower lip. The panic and anger in Emma’s eyes faded.
“Take your shirt off,” Emily said softly.
Emma bit her lip but took hold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head.
“And your bra.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “I think it would be easier for you.”
Emily accepted that and unfastened it, letting it drop to the floor. When Selene had done this to her it had never been sexy. It had been terrifying. Her long fingers and sharp nails ran over her body with the briskness of a doctor and the brutal disregard of a torturer. Emily slid her fingers down Emma’s throat, checking for marks, thumbs rubbing over her collarbone, pinching her nipples just to check for over- or under-sensitivity.
She was clean.
“Pants off.”
Emma gave her a look and rolled her eyes, but unfastened her jeans without comment. She slid them down her hips with an ease that Emily could only admire. That was one reason she had worn skirts so often last year. Taking off your pants in front of someone else was always a difficult feat, and with a skirt Selene would often just shove it up out of the way rather than waiting for her to humiliate herself. (Sometimes she would just push her over the nearest desk and stick her fingers in. Emily hadn’t been allowed to wear underwear that year either, unless it had been the only thing she wore.)
Emma stepped out of her jeans and stood, completely at ease is only a white thong. Emily considered her, then brushed her fingers over her hips. “Spread.”
Emma moved her feet farther apart. She tossed her head as she did, her hair shivering down her shoulder seductively, but Emily did not react. She pressed two fingers brusquely against Emma’s crotch.
“You’re wet.”
“I’m supposed to not be, with you touching me like that?”
And that was why it was probably better the way Selene did it. If Emily had had any traces of arousal it was clear that she had been looking, or worse, masturbating, and needed to be punished. But the rules were the rules.
“Yes.” Emily sat on the bed and patted her lap. “Come on?”
“You’re going to spank me? I didn’t do anything!”
“You got your lipstick smeared, and you’re dripping for it.”
Emma scowled and lay down over her lap. “If you don’t give me an orgasm after this, I will be very unhappy.”
Emily swatted her ass to shut her up and make her lie down faster.
The thing about spanking was that is had been conflated with ass-fetishization in too many ways, tapping, slapping, even just groping were considered forms of spanking. But that was wrong. Spanking was punishment.
Emily’s hand came down hard. The sound cracked off the walls and her hand stung. Emma didn’t make a sound, just jerked against her lap and buried her fingers into the bedspread. She shock ripped up into tension in her back and shoulders, and she breathed in, a quick little huff of response.
The second one she was prepared for, and she squirmed, letting out a little whimper of pain. “You hit too hard.”
Emily shook her head and smacked her ass again. “You need to hit hard, or you don’t get the adrenaline rush.”
“If I wanted adrenaline I could jump off a moving train. I want a fucking.”
Emily hit her harder, then quickly spread her ass, pulling the thong out of the way and pushed her finger roughly against her anus. “You want a fucking?”
“Oh my god, don’t you fucking dare!”
She tried to squirm away, but Emily caught her around the waist and kept her in her lap. She pushed in harder. “I told you to not give me orders.”
“Don’t. It hurts.” Her voice came out almost as a sob, and Emily hit her again.
“Then shut up.”
Emma cried as her ass got redder, but didn’t try to move or talk back. That was interesting, Emily thought. Selene had always loved to find her hard limits and then use them to break her until the limit was gone. Her therapist had told her that it was abuse of trust, but it was easy to think like that. It always felt good to know where your power lay.
Afterwards Emma lay limply on the bed, turned away from her. That wasn’t any good. Emily straddled her and pushed her shoulders down on the bed until she was on her back underneath her. Then she leaned down and kissed her roughly, biting down hard on her lower lip, and making sure to smear her lipstick properly.
Emma was unresponsive at first, but then opened to her, and closed her eyes, giving Emily dominance over her mouth.
“I really think you’ll like it when you’re ready,” Emily whispered in her ear before she started moving down her body.
Emma stiffened.
Emily crawled in between her legs and lifted her hips gently, coaxing her to lock her ankles over her shoulders. It would be easier to keep the weight off her burning ass that way. Then she leaned in and tasted. (She knew how to hunt for latex, for semen, but Emma tasted like girl and nothing else.) She let out a little gasp when her tongue slipped inside of her, and Emily felt the tension fade away.
Emily had taken a religion class on Tantra in Medieval India and had read a very interesting poem written in something like 1600 AD which described in detail the correct way to perform oral sex on a woman. It had a lot in common with most of what she had figured out on her own, and systematized it in the way Selene had made her learn (by striking the back of her head whenever she wanted her to move on to the next action), but she had her own twist to it which involved reciting the poem, her lips and tongue still pressed deep into the other woman’s cunt.
Emma was panting and grinding into her mouth before she was finished with the first stanza.
“God, please…”
It was so true that the person taking it was always going to be the one submitting. And Emily had made Selene beg. This brat of a sophomore was really no contest.
* * *
Part 4