A/N: I own nothing. I am poor and this is merely for amusement and nothing more, so enjoy!
Chapter 1:
It's midnight now. Ann is asleep, but I can't say I blame her, it has been a trying day. Mrs. Nightwing held inspection of this week's lessons. She tested out table manners, inspected crafts we had completed, and, much to my dread, held a twenty-minute conversation with us entirely in French. We were allowed a break after lunch which was spent on the grounds in the sunshine. However, the time passed to quickly and our break ended much sooner than I would have preferred. The last part of our day was a display of our individual talents, singing, painting, etc… She was unusually harsh in her judgments and criticisms, a few girls actually cried.
No, tonight is not going to pass as easily as I would hope. The bed seems unreasonably uncomfortable, the padding shifting in the wrong directs, and not as soft as I desire. The blankets feel heavy and rough to the touch, while my pillow feels as if it is no more than an empty sack. I turn from my back to my side and then to my back again restlessly, as if moving about in such a fashion will offer me comfort and sleep. I feel a slight chill and groan as I pull the covers higher around my neck.
"I feel so damn uncomfortable!" I curse to myself. Ann lets out a loud snort and I pause my thrashing to sense if she actually awake. Her normal, steady snoring resumes, and with it my wriggling.
It takes me awhile to calm myself enough to try and pin-point exactly what is making me so agitated. I close my eyes, and roll onto my back. Okay, I think, just breath and feel. No muscle cramps in the limbs, I conclude, and no headaches. My back feels fine, but yes, there it is, a pressure, no a urge to be touch, just between my legs. As if realizing this spurs on the sensation, I begin to feel a little warm and tingly.
Quickly, I shimmy out of my night clothes and lay my hands against the flat expanse of my belly. No, I shouldn't do this, I think to myself, poor Ann is in the room. Yes, an evil little voice replies in my head, and she shall be none the wiser- the girl is fast asleep.
I close my eyes, hoping for some inspiration, a fantasy, to guide me. Simon? No, not him. Kartik? His lips…his lips…so soft and full, with mine…yes, he's perfect. I imagine my hands are his, and that his face is above me, watching…
Eyes, still closed focusing on Kartik, I lift a hand and drag the fingers slowly, and lazily up to the underside of my breast and back down the side of my body until I reach my hip, then they slide down into the inside of my thing and out to the knee and back in again.
The other hand reaches up and cups a breast. Kartik smiles.
The fingers squeeze gently along the outside and work their way closer to the nipple, pinching caressing. The heat is becoming more intense, almost as if it's a burn inside of me. I pry my hand away from my breast and moisten the fingers in my mouth and then again, place the around my nipple, pulling gently and then letting it fall only to catch it again. I imagine Kartik's mouth fastened around it sucking and pulling. I pinch sharply and think of him gently nipping it with his teeth.
All while this is going on, the other hand is far south, exploring, probing until it finds the wetness it is seeking. A single finger slides in, and I see Kartik stop his work at my breast and give me a devilish grin. I imagine that he finds himself terribly clever for finding the source of my pleasure. But I want more and I drag that finger up smearing the juice taking care to properly wet the tiny bundle of nerves. Slowly, almost painfully, I begin stroking myself. Kartik's dark eyes beyond amusement, now they hold only lust. I squirm under the sensations, but I pretend he's pinned my hips down with the unbusy hand, limiting my moving and enhancing my pleasure.
The finger's work dips down again into my opening and slips inside again, but this time a second finger follows and I nearly groan out loud. The rhythm is steady and I rock my hips with it. Kartik's lips beginning to work on my other breast while increasing the tempo. There are shooting sensation between the two areas and I can feel a slight pressure building in my abdomen.
My hand at my breast abandoned its work and, wet with juices, strokes in rhythm with the fingers sliding in and out of me. A sheen of sweat covers my body and my curls cling to my skin in desperation. I am panting. The pressure is increasing and I'm not sure how much more I can take. A few strokes later and my hips buck and I can feel a sudden spasm inside of me against my fingers, as if a soft mouth was suckling them. I continue to slide my fingers in and out until the climax passes. I look into Kartik's phantom eyes, still struggling to catch my breath and they seemed to grin at me for making me do such improper things.
Slowly, my heartbeat calms and the bed seems much more comfortable. I scoop up my nightgown and pull it over my head before I settle into the covers. I sigh and look to the window, only to notice that its been opened. But when?
That's when I see him, sitting in the corner next to the dressing screen, grinning like the devil he is.
"Having fun, Miss Doyle?"