Despite her best possible efforts to conceal the amusement veiled behind her eyes, Junko couldn’t help but feel her lips peel up. Her dangerously white porcelain veneers leered from behind the painted coral hue of her mouth, which only parted to let a throaty cackle escape from the pit of her throat.
Not a single smudge of lipstick stained her perfectly ivory front teeth, and her eyes seemed to stare holes through the girl kneeling at her feet.
Mukuro Ikusaba, dearest sister, held in all esteem, held herself stationed perfectly on her knees. Unmoving from her designated spot at the queen’s too-reflective black boots, polished to nearly mirror her freckled face, she was left peering into the instep of Enoshima’s shoe, while her heel began tapping idly against the red carpet.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The speed never seemed to increase, though it did cease momentarily as the toe slipped beneath her chin. Mukuro felt her teeth dig into her tongue, eyes never breaking contact with her red laces, or glancing away from her beloved twin’s size 6 shoes.
Silent, she took the harsh criticism and occasional faltering praise of Junko. Something between spiels of the marketing ability of virginity, the ability to manipulate with a single orgasm, the unreliability of love and blah blah blah, something seemed to pique her interests.
Junko would occasionally slam her steel toe into Mukuro’s throat, making the breath in her esophagus catch. Only then did she break eye contact with her sister’s thighs and ankles, tensing occasionally with the pulse of muscle as she tightened and prepared for another kick.
The room was unnecessarily warm. Ikusaba could feel the sweat pool on the underside of her petite breasts and the leather against her skin, though her oath of silence was never broken.
"And so! I feel that it is necessary to reward you.."
A reward? From Junko, of all people?
Though she’d managed to phase out for most of her speech, the metaphorical monkey’s paw dangling above her head intrigued her.
The blonde then patted gently on her lap, clapping her hand against her pale, hairless thighs to trigger a lightswitch to reveal the room.
It was her throne, of course. The room was illuminated with an overt amount of royal hues, mostly dark crimsons and royal purples and blues. It was almost tacky, just how hard she tried to stick to her color scheme. It was known to expect as such, of course, as her coordination skills were lacking despite her fashionista facade. Plus, she was gaudy as hell.
Junko lifted a white fur around her throat, passionately kissing the head of the taxidermy beast on its snout before dropping it to dangle between her breasts, hanging limp and dead in replacement for her tie. She also seemed to have swiped a crown and matching gown, letting it pool off to her sides and drape off of the gold and red throne she sat herself on.
It stood out from the rest of the room only in that it was completely mismatched in color, being a pale red. Nearly salmon in hue, it was definitely not belonging in her room.
Of course, she wouldn’t say such a thing.
Mukuro nodded silently, seemingly forgetting what Junko had said in the moment of absorbing her current surroundings.
Another laugh erupted from her sister, who retracted her boots. She parted her thighs, slamming her hands between them to indicate that Mukuro needed to step up. “You think you deserve to be rewarded? Maybe I do, too! But not frequently, or else you’ll become spoiled! This is a gift from me to you..” Just to keep her in line.
The modest Soldier fell quiet again, the objections pooling in her throat seemingly escaping through her gaping mouth. She hadn’t quite realized the look she was giving Junko, but of course she wouldn’t argue. As instructed, she stepped closer to her dear darling beloved sister, sitting on the throne between the toned, pale limbs meant to keep her.
With a reckless movement, Junko crammed her hand beneath the virgin’s skirt, her lack of tact and consideration startling the older of the two. The raven-haired girl nearly leaped out of her own skin, her face flushing to reveal the dark freckles laced over the border of her nose. Her hands immediately went to grab for Junko’s wrist, legs reacting before she was capable of removing her hand.
She bounded up, knees locking as if she intended to jump off of the throne and leap away. Mukuro’s shaky knees were immediately taken captive, though.
Junko twined her arms around Mukuro’s legs, her bouncing pigtails’ bear-shaped clips seemingly disappearing beneath the dark brown pleats of her skirt. Her lips traced a quick, wet and invisible trail over Ikusaba’s thighs, lips immediately locating the bud beneath the overly-concealing shorts hiding her sister’s delicate bits.
No argument was posed, but it was obviously due to a stunned silence. With a quick heaved pant, Mukuro considered her options. Jump, run, face punishment? It seemed unlikely.
Examine.. whatever Junko was doing?
That seemed like a more plausible, but less morally correct, ideal.
Hushed although she had never spoken a word, Mukuro felt a cold gust brush between the airtight seal of her thighs as the cloth was dropped down to her ankles.
Oh. Junko seemingly had acquired a new skill, though it seemed she was just using her as test practice material again.
Junko’s tongue traced over the pale folds between Mukuro’s tactfully-addressed lips, tracing impolite circles near-mimicking the alphabet around her insides, never prodding too deep. She had been warned of such things, fortunately, by the more experienced faculty members of her despair crew.
Mukuro felt the warmth in the pit of her stomach begin to twist, and leaned into the upper headrest of the throne she stood on. Her stomach pressed into the button-pinched rest of the chair, boots taking a firm stance stationed on the opposite side of both of Junko’s thighs, giving her some headspace to move around.
Junko still worked quickly, making immodest and grotesque slurping noises, seemingly mocking Mukuro as she shook and trembled. Her sister’s fingers curled around her ankles, taking a firm brace to prevent her from moving as she stood. Not that she would, aside from grinding into Junko’s mouth, the rancorous depths still spewing muted insults even between laps and circles of her tongue.
Mukuro’s bud seemed to twitch and throb as she experienced the brunt of Junko’s containment, though the thought of her beloved chastity and moral values seemed to sink into the back of her mind, screaming for her attention. Along with the fact that, well, this was her sibling, afterall. She didn’t bother to think of everything else wrong with this situation, though.
Junko’s right hand snaked up Mukuro’s thigh, though she still held her tight around the ankle with her free fingers, digging her index and middle finger into her warmth.
Though, she did seem to disregard her sharp, pointed and filed manicure that nearly impaled the suffering Mukuro, just impatiently awaiting the shame of her climax. Her thighs tightened as she gripped for Junko’s pigtails, getting a quick huff and a bite against her sensitive walls as a warning to keep her hands off. Obediently, she halfheartedly leaned over the throne, grabbing at the back of the chair as she finally experienced the welled up warmth pooling inside of her.
With an immodest grunt, she broke her poker face, groaning shakily.
Almost immediately, though, she felt two impacts. One was a punch to the stomach, ruining the afterglow of her climax, and the other was her back hitting the three-step stairwell at Junko’s feet. She could feel the cement beneath bruise her, though her arguments were still quieted.
"Good girl! Now, get back to work. That’s all you get, now, hurry along now~"
Almost immediately, Junko began waving her hand, before tensing it into a fist. A threatening gesture of tensed fingers followed. “NOW! Get out!”
The command was heeded, and the humiliated and embarrassed Mukuro stormed outof the room, abandoning the boxers stationed between Junko’s thighs where they were.
…What a reward.