My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 01

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~~Antoinette~~

"What do you plan to wear to the ball, my love?"

"Mmm?" The little man looked up at her from her nipple, and withdrew his lips with blatant reluctance written into his eyes.

"It is a ball for all, but held by your covenant. Your choice of attire is dreadfully important."

The two of them were in one of her tower's luxury rooms, where she sometimes changed and tested her clothing against different backgrounds. Drapes of varying colors and designs, a vibrant carpet floor — carpet was a delight when used sparingly — and many mirrors with coiling dragons that circled them, of colors to match whatever drapes they were near. A few stools and chairs sat about, and the room was lit by hanging lights in what may as well have been miniature chandeliers. The room truly was with no purpose, other than to admire oneself in the mirror.

In the center was a large stool of soft design, perhaps four feet wide, and circular in shape. She had taken her love here so she could try clothing for him, but as per usual, his intoxicated gaze, and her need to satisfy him conflicted with her goal.

So now she sat upon his lap, her knees to the bed-like stool beneath them, and his cock buried within her. They had begun their love making with his lips and fingers upon her, and two orgasms later, she felt it her turn to repay him. She stroked his hair, and straddling him so, she cradled his head to her breasts. Such a wonder, such a delicious treat, to see her love squirm as she rode him in gentle waves, her dripping insides coating his member and milking at his length.

And to force him to converse during the act was sweet torture she did love to administer.

"I just figured, you know, my usual suit I take to these events?"

Ah, her little love was forever at a loss for the impact of clothing. There were kernels of growth and awareness, but she doubted he would ever truly grasp the art of fashion, and the power it controlled. She would eternally have to dress him, like a doll. The image made her laugh, and she hugged him tight to her body before she once again started to gently rock her hips back and forth.

"It will be the first gathering the Invictus have officially opened to the entire city in many years, my love. Carthians will be there. Perhaps even Jacob and his witches will be there. And I can assure you I will be there." She gazed down at him, drank his open, honest, enthralled gaze, and slowly guided his lips back one of her swollen, aching nipples.

And the boy took it into his kiss with a quiet groan. The warmth of his tongue and lips, the wet suckling that coated her nipple, and soon her areola as suckled the entirety of it into his mouth, had her swooning. His persistent suckling, guided by her words, had long ago found the perfect balance of pressure and softness, so each kiss and lick filled her chest with sparks of bliss. And to enjoy such bliss within the afterglow of two previous climaxes made it all the more pleasant.

But, she was satisfied. It was her love's turn to climax, and she squeezed on his length hard enough to make him groan yet again.

"I believe," she said, "that not only will your sire have advice that you should adhere too, it is his ball after all, I also believe you should wear something perhaps a little less formal than usual."

"Less formal?" He raised his lips from her breast, and then a brow in confusion. "But all the covenants will be there."

"The covenants, and perhaps even the wolves. Perhaps even the monsters." She did not agree with either, and did not expect them to attend as well. But stranger things had happened, and she knew Athalia and Daniel had danced together in a ball, once or twice in the past.

"The Uratha might come to the ball?" That got his attention, and he looked down, and then around a few times as he dug through his thoughts. He looked almost guilty. What could be bothering her little Ventrue?

She almost giggled. The poor boy did not know that she knew.

"Perhaps. Though I believe you should dress to invite the other covenants to peace and prosperity." She set her lips upon Jack's head, kissed his fuzzy, prickly hair, and smiled into the sensation as she eased her hips back and forth. No doubt the boy was on the edge of orgasm, but she kept him there, and would keep him there for some time.

"So, uh... business... casual?" His hands were on her back, her ass, squeezing and tugging at her, trying to get her to go faster. But she would not. Far more delightful to deny him his pleasure until she was satisfied with the conversation.

"A step in the correct direction, but not the conclusion I believe Julias will reach. He will want something with both the inviting quality of casual, but also the power of true formal wear. And he is intelligent enough to know that simply choosing something between the two will not quite fit the intent. No, he will ask you wear something both extravagant, but not formal. Something that speaks of warmth and joy." The words were too perfect to not capitalize. She squeezed on his length yet again, hard enough to force her love to tremble, and she used her knees to raise her body higher before squeezing harder still, before sinking herself down upon his cock until her lips devoured every inch of him. Her insides were warm, and joyful; it need not be said.

Jack stopped suckling on her, and raised his hands to hold her shoulder blades before his fingers caressed her spine; for his efforts, she shivered as the tingling pleasure danced up and down her back. He set his cheek to her sternum, and let his head come to rest there as he approached the edge of orgasm yet again, and yet again did not cross it as she ceased her movements.

"I'll... I'll ask him."

"Good." She put her hands to his shoulders, and pushed the boy down to lie upon the seat fully. It had no back to block him, it was simply a very wide stool. Once he lay there, she grinned her devil's grin, and started her dance for him. She brought her hands up to her hair, and ran her fingers through the long waves of white, back over her shoulders so her elbows raised high. She jutted her chest outward to accent the size of her breasts, the curve of her stomach and waist, and gently rolled her body back and forth to ease her dripping pussy along him. Always she kept him buried to the hilt inside her, and even as she started to rotate her hips in a figure eight, she kept him there to enjoy her efforts.

The boy had no idea how much it thrilled her to see him so pleasured. His eyes struggled to stay open, but she could see that he forced them to stay as such, to stare at her as he put his hands on her legs, and to gaze up at the dance she did for him. Those beautiful eyes. To meet them felt like she was drinking his soul.

"I believe," she said, "that I will wear something a touch revealing. I expect many women will feel the ball's semi-formal dress code will be an excuse to show off their curves." Men and women were customarily embraced when at their physical peak after all, and only once groomed into fitness. "Perhaps a backless dress, with sleeves, but also plunging cleavage, that reaches from here"—she placed one hand upon her collar—"to here." She slid the same hand down to her sternum, then her stomach, past her navel, and down to a mere two inches above where her lips were spread around the boy's cock, where her pubic hair would have been if she had any.

"That's uh... that's a lot... of cleavage." Poor boy, so close to climax, and struggling to speak as she tortured him on the edge.

"The dress also has a long skirt, thin, and split upon both legs. The split is unique, in that it runs up to here." She ran her fingers up her outer thighs, up her hip, and above it to the side of her waist.

"That's... a lot of leg."

"It is indeed. I will have to be delicate with my movements, if I do not wish to expose myself. And for such a dress, undergarments would be a fashion faux pas."

"... r-really?"

"Indeed." She smiled at her love, and set her hands upon her hips. The boy was imagining her in the dress, and staring at her as he did with overwhelming need in his eyes. A perfect time for her to dance upon his cock, and with relentlessness, drive him over the edge.

To see her love cum, to see his eyes struggle all the more to watch her, to see his muscles flex, his abs and stomach crunch, to see his mouth part and hear his quiet moans escape him, was delectable. She drew out his orgasm, her dance shifting her hips left and right, dipping them side to side with each squeeze of her insides, until she knew the boy was both filling her with his fluid, and struggling to handle the pleasure she was bathing him in. With a touch of force, squeezing harder until she felt her juices join the growing mess of his cum, she brought him to groans, pushing his pleasure until it bordered on almost painful. She knew exactly how much pressure, exactly what motions to use to ride him at that sweet spot of total bliss.

Only when a combination of their juices started to trickle onto the boy's body, did she ease her clenching insides. She set her hands upon his quivering chest, and traced her fingers along his flexing muscles, his abs, his jaw and lips, and leaned down to place kisses upon his nose, forehead, and soon his lips as well.

"Were it my gathering," she said, "I would dress you. But for this, my efforts are in vain. I am sure your sire has picked something for you already."

"You think so?" he said between kisses. His hands reached up to take her, sliding up her waist before hooking behind her to caress her naked spine once more.

She sighed into his touch, purred, and pressed her breasts to his shoulders and collar as she planted more kisses along his forehead. "But, you will sit with me. Understood?" Not a request. A commandment.

"No argument here."

She grinned down at her love, and kissed him once again. "Good. You can, perhaps, introduce me to this Clara woman I see vying for your attention." Ah, the look of shock on his face. She laughed, and stroked his lips with a finger. "Silly boy. I may not be omniscient, but I know much. And I trust you, my love, my little Ventrue. Do not fret." She felt the boy relax beneath her, and again she laughed. "Were you truly worried?"

"I mean... a bit, yeah? You are a very scary woman."

She leaned in once more, put her lips to his, and gave him a lasting, proper kiss. "I am."