Chapter 393: Dressing Room 3

"He’s nothing special."

"You say that very quickly."

Kuri shut her mouth and went on with the hooks.

She did not mention the the lessons she took from him.

"So I will wait," said Aurora. "Tomorrow I will not sleep through Class D’s test as I do every year. I will sit in my box with my mother’s tea and watch the back row, and I will learn what he is. When I know him completely, I will decide."

Kuri nodded slowly, though the princess could not see it.

It was none of her business what the princess did to a boy she only slept with once or twice.

He could look after himself. She told herself so twice.

The last hook slid home.

"Gloves. White, the long ones."

Kuri found them in the third drawer and knelt again.

Aurora held out her arms, and Kuri worked the white satin up each one, button by tiny pearl button, from the wrist to above the elbow, left arm and then right.

Aurora shook her hair loose over the velvet collar and faced the mirror.

The woman in it was tall and graceful and kind.

She was the girl on the banners, the one a whole town loved.

Her silver hair looked paler against the green, and the white gloves made her hands look small and gentle.

Nobody who saw her would ever guess what she kept in the vault beneath her feet.

"Beautiful," said Kuri, before she could stop herself.

"I know." Aurora slid a gloved hand into the pocket on the left, found it empty, and smiled. "See how well it hides things?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go. Sit with your class tomorrow, cast something that does not embarrass you, and watch him. I want to hear everything."

As Kuri turned to go, Aurora swatted her across the backside with one white-gloved hand, a sharp and cheerful crack.

"Off you go, little spider."

Kuri yelped and clutched her backside.

She bowed badly, still glaring, and headed for the side door while muttering something low under her breath again.

The side door banged shut behind her.

Aurora stood alone in the long hall with the lamps burning low. The smile left her face. She crossed to the window and put one white-gloved hand against the cold glass.

Below her the city lay in its thousand lights.

Banners hung from the lampposts in the academy square.

The wooden stand stood finished and waiting.

Somewhere in those dark streets, a boy with a lazy grin must be asleep in a narrow bed, with no idea that the wolf had turned her head.

"Tomorrow, then," she said, to no one. Her breath fogged the glass. "Let them all shine. Let them shine as brightly as they can."

She smiled, soft and sweet and kind.

"I am so very hungry."

_

Nellie’s breath broke in the middle of a word. Her palms slapped flat against the low table, and the whole table shook under her weight.

"L—Lor—"

He did not answer. He kept the gem pressed under his fingertip and let the pressure sit there, and he watched her shoulders shake.

She was bent over the table with her skirt lifted to her waist, black stockings pulled tight over her thighs, pink lace dragged aside to show everything she had prepared that morning.

The paper lamp lit her skin warm gold. Through the lattice the corridor lamp laid a thin red glow across the moss.

The plum ribbon hung crooked at the end of her braid. Her thighs were already trembling.

He took his other hand and slid it between her thighs.

She was already wet.

Her inner thighs were slick with it, the skin shiny and warm. When his fingers found her, she made a thin, startled sound and rose onto her toes. He did not hurry.

He dragged two fingers slowly along her pussy, back and forth over the soft, swollen lips and the hard little clit above them.

She pushed back against him a little more each time until she was rocking on his hand without noticing. Her breath came in short, wet gasps against the table.

"You’re soaked," he said quietly.

"I’ve been like this since the morning." Her voice was shaking. "Since I put it in. I kept thinking about this."

"All morning?"

"All morning."

He slid one finger into her pussy, and she clenched around it at once, drenching his knuckles.

The plug pressed against it from the other side, and he felt how full she already was.

Her whole body trembled.

A fresh wave of wetness coated his hand.

He curled the finger slowly, and she let out a long, broken whine and dropped her forehead onto her arms.

Her hips jerked once, then settled into a small, helpless rock.

He took his time.

When her thighs began to quiver harder, he drew his hand back, hooked two fingers into the band of the pink lace, and pulled it down her legs and over the stockings.

It dropped onto the bench behind them, dark and clinging.

She stepped out of it without being asked. Her bare skin was hot where the fabric had been.

Then he took hold of the gem.

"Tell me if it hurts."

"It won’t. Please. Please take it out."

He pulled gently.

The plug resisted a moment.

Nellie’s breath stopped.

Her asshole clenched hard around the base, then loosened. It began to give, and he drew it out in one slow, steady motion while she shuddered from her shoulders to her heels.

The stretch was visible.

Her skin pulled tight around it, then relaxed as it slid free at last with a small, wet sound.

She moaned long and low. Her knees nearly buckled.

He set it on the table.

What it had left behind held his attention.

Her asshole was open, soft and pink and shining with oil, and it opened and closed a little with each breath she took.

The ring of muscle fluttered. He had never seen anything more inviting.

He felt his cock throb hard against the front of his trousers, the fabric suddenly too tight.

He did not think about it.

He knelt, took her by the hips, and put his mouth on her.

"Ah—!"