Sisterhood - Burning Bridges

The light just after dawn was special. She though it ought to feel the same as dusk, at least at some point, given that the sun was on the horizon one way or another. But it didn't. Maybe it wasn't the light itself but the air through which it was filtered. At sunset the air was always thick, with the dust of activity, with the pent-up heat of the day. Now it was cool, and thinner, and everything stood out crisp.

From the open arched window of the top-floor hallway, she looked out over the rear courtyard gardens. Even still cast in shade by the surrounding tall wings of the house, the colors shone through stark and sober, the healthy green of the palms, the blue-tinted gray of the flagstones. She fancied she also heard the calls of the birds in Miss Anna's garden louder and more distinctly than she recalled from the previous evening. The atmosphere was pristine, as if it had been reset after the hustle and blur of the ball, for a fresh start. Fitting.

Ivy grimaced. She turned away from the window. She had made up her mind, earlier. And it was still made up. But now in the empty interstice between making her decision and carrying it out, the energy that had been tied up in deliberation had suddenly been released, and she found that once free of the decision itself, her imagination had begun to wander to places she hadn't anticipated.

The train that ran along the valley floor would only pass by the foot of the mountain mid-morning, a few hours from now. Initially she had imagined herself waiting there, sitting alone and despondent on the platform, in the gathering heat of day. Then it had occurred to her that some of the guests from the ball might be there also, and she found she couldn't face that prospect.

And once resolved to remain in the house, she had found she couldn't face the prospect of waiting there either. Or at least not just sitting in a quiet corner out of everyone's way. Ivy had never been good at waiting. She needed always to be moving, and doing. Both her mind and her body had to be engaged in something immediate, or else they would begin to make a mischief of themselves. She knew herself well enough now to anticipate it, had learned to make sure she found herself an entertainment before she became too restless. Hyperactive, was a word she had heard a lot while growing up. Annoying, inappropriate, too intense, were some of the unkinder phrases.

Ivy's rueful grimace curled into a grin as she made her way quietly along the hallway. Well she was going to be inappropriate now. The license that her decision had brought her, the liberation from consequences, she wasn't about to throw those away unused. Burning bridges had always been a particular pleasure. Not only the immediate pleasure in burning them, but the reassurance it brought, the knowledge that she had definitely blocked her own retreat, would never have to go back and face any of it.

There was another thought too. One that Ivy had tried hard to shove aside as soon as it surfaced. If she remained in the house, there was a chance that Katja might find her. Ivy found herself ruminating on too many tiny details about their last meeting, things she might have done a little differently. It nagged Ivy that she might not have pushed Katja away decisively enough, and if she hadn't, well then she would have to see her one last time.

The door she pushed open was not that of the dorm she shared with Katharina. She wouldn't need to go back there now. This was another one, further round the corner along the rear wing of the house. Ivy checked the stained-wood plaque again as she stepped inside, it was easy to mistake the rooms with the hallways being so long. XVIII. Yes.

Most of the dorms, this one included, had a strange antechamber before the main room, slightly wider than square, and not quite large enough to be useful for anything other than dumping piles of shoes. Ivy kicked aside two pairs of dusty sandals from in front of the inner door and pushed it open.

Inside, the room was blanketed in a morningtime half-darkness through which Ivy saw the outline of the beds. The curtains were drawn closed, but the light from outside showed as bright bands around the edges. The two metal-framed cot beds, each with its headframe to one of the windows, occupied the largest part of the space. At the foot of each, across a gangway of empty floorboards, was a wardrobe.

In the furthest bed, a figure stirred beneath the haphazard crumple of the bedcover. There was a drowsy gasp, which then lapsed into a faint snoring, air wheezing from a half open mouth. The occupant's clothes were heaped untidily at the foot of the bed, a ball dress hanging over the edge with the hem glancing the floor, and a top or shawl of some sort curled around a row of bare toes that protruded from the bottom of the bedcover.

Ivy crept towards the other bed. This one was much neater. The inner sheet was turned carefully down in a clean white strip at the top of the bedcover. The edges of the cover were tucked beneath the mattress, and the occupant lay straight, on her back, with her face to the ceiling and her breath lifting her chest in silence. Across her face was a black sleep mask, the band holding her long gold-brown hair against the sides of her head. When Ivy began carefully peeling back one corner of the bedcover, she saw a pale, slim body, with small breasts flattened against the chest.

Vladislava, or Slava, was one of the newest girls and quite young. Ivy guessed she might be eighteen or nineteen. She had joined a little later in the year than Ivy and Katja had, and hadn't made so many friends. Shy, awkward but pretty. And innocent. A fun target for a surprise sucking off.

Ivy thought at first that Slava was completely naked, but then when she reached in she found the thin cotton of a pair of tight undershorts. Ivy knelt by the bed and slid her head and shoulders under the cover. She groped for Slava's dick, and found a bulge at the front of the shorts, bent over to one side across the hip. As she took it in her grip and began to stroke it to coax it hard, Ivy noticed that the cotton of the undershorts was wet, with a warm, slick dampness. Ivy burrowed further beneath the cover, settled her head poised above the girl's shorts, then peeled them down. As Slava's slowly swelling dick flopped free, Ivy sniffed, then set her tongue to the skin of the girl's thigh. She felt the salty tang of cum and smiled to herself. A wet dream, perhaps a very recent one.

When Ivy brought her lips to the tip and pursed them around it, Slava finally stirred. There was a breathy, pained grunt and then her legs kicked, as if waking from sleep in a startle. Ivy brought her arms up to pin Slava's body in place across her stomach and her thighs. There was a brief struggle, and more grunting, and then the bedcover was swept away, exposing Ivy's head.

"What..." Slava's voice was a dry squeak, still groggy, "What the...?"

Slava sat up and reached for Ivy's head but Ivy snatched her wrist to fend her off, flinging her arm aside. Anticipating, she intercepted again as Slava reached with her other hand, this time for her sleep mask.

"Uh-uh," Ivy mumbled past the dick in her mouth, which was slowly beginning to straighten, straining against the inside of her cheek, "Mmnho peeking. Guesh."

"Wh-what?" Slava sounded still disoriented. Then she groaned, and reached to touch her fingers to the dampness across her thigh and stomach before Ivy swatted her away, "Oh no, I had a... I already... I'm sorry."

"Shh, s'okay. I'll clean you up," Ivy slurped. In a slow throb, Slava's dick swelled thicker. Ivy's own arousal began to stir, a triumphant glow in her chest and deep in her insides. "So," she disgorged for a moment, drawing her breath and bringing her free hand up to hold Slava's dick steady, now sticking upright. She spoke carefully, tried her best to mask her own voice in a bland whisper, "Go on. Guess who? Who were you wet dreaming of?"

Slava groaned again as Ivy slid her wet lips slowly back over her dick, lapping and sucking to clear away the residue of cum still trailing from the tip. Slava's torso shifted a little and Ivy saw her turn to look to one side towards her sleeping roommate, though her eyes were still masked.

"De-?" Slava shook her head, "No, what? Wait... Ivy?"

"Mmmh," Ivy murmured, affirmative. She lett her voice vibrate in her mouth as she sucked deeper, nestling Slava's dick against the back of her throat. Then she reared up and disgorged once more. She sucked the saliva from her lips and chuckled, "Although... which question were you answering?"

"Wh- what are you doing?" Slava knocked Ivy's arm aside with a huff of irritation and reached quickly to whip off her mask. Her hair tangled in fine streaks across her face as the band came free, then she flicked it aside to glare at Ivy, eyes wide.

Ivy grinned back at her, "Sucking your dick of course."

When Ivy felt the last throb to full stiffness in her hand, she tensed her lips into a tight circle and shoved her head forward, sucking Slava in and then driving her on past the back of her throat and into the clench of a gurgling tight choke.

Salava groaned again, louder. A hand came down on Ivy's head. The touch was light, but Slava's fingers were flexing in Ivy's hair, as if exercising a restrained tension. She stroked the side of Ivy's skull, mumbling and gasping, then her fingertips tickled across the back of Ivy's neck, a gesture that struck Ivy as curiously affectionate.

Ivy let go of the shaft as her face sank down and came to rest against the slim mound of softness at the base of Slava's dick. She shook her head slowly from side to side, gulping and gagging, stretching her jaw wide and pushing hard until her lips splayed and slipped into the creases of Slava's thighs.

Slava's groan sank into her throat, petering out in a quiet whining sound. Her legs kicked. Ivy planted one hand on Slava's hip to hold herself steady while with the other she scrabbled to pull Slava's shorts down over her thighs. Slava's continued kicking jolted Ivy's head and pranged her dick against the back of Ivy's throat until together they brought the shorts down past Slava's knees and to her ankles.

As Slava slid one foot free and spread her legs wide, the jut of her hipbone bumped Ivy sharply on the chin. Choking, saliva sputtering up and stinging her nostrils, Ivy lifted her head to draw air, leaving her gasping lips on the tip, pursing and kissing as she let her breathing calm.

"Oh. Ahh, I'm sorry, I just wanted to-" Slava's voice was shrill with dismay. Her hand went to Ivy's cheek, stroking her, "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm," Ivy panted, "S'okay. You want to... uhh... fuck my face, don't you?"

Slava moaned, the precise import of the sound not quite decipherable. But she fell back against the bed and thrust her hips up, her dick twitching against Ivy's open mouth.

Ivy slid her lips back over the tip and downward, keeping them pursed tense around the taut skin of the shaft as she sucked it in between her cheeks. She felt the heat pulsing up into Slava's dick, hot against the mess of watery drool in her mouth. Ivy's own body began to warm, responding to the sensation of another girl's hardness filling her, pressing into her throat where she was soft. The first flush of arousal that she had felt moments before now sank deeper and coursed through the base of her dick, swelling it between her thighs. Having been focused so keenly on Slava's body and the expression of the other girl's desire, Ivy became aware again now of her own dick, twitching in tight sympathy with Slava's moaning.

Ivy's gathering stiffness pushed against the front of her underwear. She normally made her nighttime dorm visits dressed only in a long t-shirt or gown, for comfort and convenience, but for this her farewell round she had taken the time to dress up, to look and feel desirable, so that she might exercise her power of attraction as fully as she could. Beneath her plain gray dressing gown she was wearing a matching top and bottom set in black lace. The bottoms were made in the manner comfortable for Sisterhood girls, with a broadened gusset that wrapped snugly over Ivy's balls, and a little extra looseness in the front that afforded some room for her to grow hard. Still, as her excitement swelled and she grew stiffer, her underwear began to constrict, reaching the limit of its modest give. The lacework was done in thick ridges, and scratched a little at the tautening skin of her shaft. She could feel it on the inside of the top also, rubbing at her nipples as they too hardened.

Ivy slipped one hand beneath her own body and under her top to rub and squeeze at her breasts as she lifted her head a little. Then she gripped her chest as she thrust her mouth forward onto Slava's dick again, and felt the coolness of her palm ease the sore heat of her nipples. After massaging herself in a few slow scrunches of her fist, Ivy withdrew her hand from her chest and slipped it between Slava's thighs, pushing them apart. Her fingertips crept behind the tight sack of Slava's balls to cup them and cradle them, before pulling gently down, tugging the skin of Slava's shaft tauter.

Beneath the grunting and gulping in her own throat and the quick breaths whistling from her nostrils, Ivy heard Slava whimpering still, a pathetic, shrill whine of desperation. Almost as soon as Ivy sensed Slava's cries and her writhing becoming more urgent, she felt a tight grip on the back of her neck, clasped fingers tugging at her hair. Slava cried out and her body stiffened, pushing her hips up against Ivy's face. Slava remained locked rigid in her thrust-up pose for a few seconds, the muscles of her thighs tensed solid, then she gave a sharp cry and fell back as her dick began throbbing thick in Ivy's mouth.

The first spurt was long, a steady jet pouring out for several seconds against the entrance to Ivy's throat. Caught somewhat unprepared, Ivy sputtered at first, coughing a few drops of watery drool from out of the corners of her mouth. Then with a quick snort of breath she set to sucking, bringing her other hand to the base of Slava's twitching dick to pump it hard as she slurped away the quicker spurts that followed, swallowing them back in quick gulps.

The grip on the nape of Ivy's neck loosened and Slava's body slumped, deflating as the breath left her chest. Ivy sealed her lips and sucked, testing the stiffness of Slava's dick. It twitched against Ivy's tongue, and began to wilt, bending as Ivy turned her head to let it slip out of her mouth. Ivy laid it across Slava's thigh, where it continued to spill a tiny trickle of fluid.

"Gah," Ivy spat, then swallowed. She licked the corners of her mouth clean, "That nice? Better than whatever you dreamed?"

Slava propped herself up on her elbows and looked down across her own bare chest at where Ivy was still leaning over her at the hip. Above Slava's small buttonlike nose her brow creased into a frown. Her expression was somehow plaintive. She was cute, attractive even, with her broad cheekbones, fine brown hair, and the few tiny dots of beauty marks on her cheek and upper lip. But Ivy found the open, abject confusion in the girl's face too pathetic to be endearing. Clueless, but not in an entertaining way.

"Ivy..."

"Yeah?"

"I... I mean, yes, it was," Slava's mouth sputtered in a nervous giggle, "But, why? I didn't see you at the ball?"

"What has that got to do with it?" Ivy took hold of Slava's gradually deflating dick, squeezed and waved it in her fist it as if to remind her.

"No, I mean, nothing," Slava shook her head and turned her eyes away, "I just had no idea, I never realized that you... liked me."

Ivy saw the tint of blush on Slava's cheeks, the awkwardness in the way she turned her head further away, avoidant. Ivy couldn't help but laugh, one short snort of surprise. Then she composed herself, and rolled her eyes. "Look," she held Slava's dick lightly against her mouth as she spoke, stroking the tip across her lips, "I don't like you. I'm just sucking your dick. You have heard the names they call me, right?"

"The names?"

Ivy saw Slava's lips twist in recognition. She squeezed her fist and slowly slapped Slava's dick back and forth, bumping it to her mouth. She felt it pulse thicker, and grinned, "Come on. You can tell me. It won't hurt my feelings. You're just repeating what you've heard."

Slava's breathing tightened. She brought her legs back together, and her body shifted, the muscles of her buttocks beneath her lifting her hips as they tensed. The wide-eyed dismay into which her face had fallen seemed to fade to something else that Ivy couldn't decipher. Hope, relief, maybe.

"Um..." Slava smiled awkwardly.

"Go on."

Slava giggled and hid her mouth behind her hand, "Well, about your lips, you know."

Ivy splayed her mouth across the tip of Slava's dick for a kiss, "These lips?"

"Uh, yes, your..."

"Mmm?"

"Your dick-sucking lips," Slava gasped. Then she burst suddenly into a louder fit of awkward laughter.

"Good," Ivy bobbed her head to suck Slava in, clearing the salty slick of cum from the skin with her tongue. She pulled back, "And what else?"

"Well they call you, um, cumdump. Sometimes. Or... fuckbitch," Slave spoke in a hurried whisper, still avoiding Ivy's gaze.

"Right, so-"

"And sometimes... princess," Slava continued.

"Oh?" Ivy had heard the others, and plenty more cruder ones, but she did not recall having heard them call her that.

"Yes, I mean, I didn't get it at first, but like 'Have you seen princess today?' or 'I'm too horny, I need to go put it in the princess.'"

"Huh," Ivy let go of Slava's dick and let it flop into the space between her spread thighs. She lifted her head and pushed herself up into a kneeling position. "Well anyway-"

"I think sometimes they expand it to a full title, you know?"

"Oh?"

Slava looked at her earnestly, as if somehow she were offering an intimate confidence, "'Princess Sluthole of the Kingdom of Cum'."

"Hm. Okay. Well what I'm saying Slava is that it isn't just name-calling, you know?"

"Oh?" Slava looked at her, and her face seemed to sag a little as it had before.

"You're a nice girl," Ivy shrugged. She leaned over to bring her face to Slava's. After lingering a splitsecond, she pressed her spit-smeared lips to Slava's and kissed her, taking Slava's cheek in her hand. As she pulled away, she spoke softly, "But I'm not. Maybe you feel attracted to me or whatever-"

"I-" Slava's eyes widened, confused.

Ivy cut her off, bringing her hand round to Slava's mouth to press it closed, "But you wouldn't like me. I would make you unhappy."

When Ivy withdrew her hand and stood, it seemed Slava might be about to offer a reply, but her mouth opened silently, eyes wide and wounded.

Ivy clambered away quickly and turned her back. She looked over at the other bed and saw Slava's roommate now awake, her bedcover partly thrown aside. She was lying on her side, with her head propped up on one hand, fingers buried in her long slick of glossy black hair, and her loose t-shirt scrunched up around her stomach. Her dick stuck out in front of her, twitching and stiffening as she clenched her thighs.

"Deniz," Ivy acknowledged with a quiet smirk.

Deniz had a figure and complexion that Ivy envied more than she desired. Deep tan skin and dark eyes, pretty, with a prominent nose and dense eyebrows. She was petite, more so than Ivy, but without being thin. Her shape was firm and rounded, her smooth stomach bulging slightly just above where her fairly small stiff dick hovered, hanging straight above her bedsheet.

"Ivy," Deniz yawned, "So, is it a mouth night tonight then? Or are you going to want to be fucked?"

Ivy scrunched her lips together and scowled. She parted her gown and stuck her thumbs into the lace waistband of her underwear to pull it down and free her dick. She pulled the waistband outward, savoring for a moment the release from confinement and the weight of her hardness swaying free in front of her, then she tucked the band under her balls to leave herself bare and protruding. She strode over to Deniz and stood by the head of her bed.