The Dirge of the Defeated [Closed]

"Ah... ha..." Light taps pressed against her flesh, sliding down her torso, creating small indents in the pale skin. The fingers found fabric, pulling open the last of her uniform with a rough tug, revealing her shivering body to the air. One of the hands cupped her left breast, squeezing down on the flesh and tightening. Those fingers pulled away for but a moment, and she made a soft sound of defeat and lust. The fingers moved back to her breast as if ordered to, an index finger playing around with her hardening nipple. She continued to moan softly while these fingers teased her bosom, the other hand moving back to her stomach and drawing circles around her navel. That hand moved downwards until it found warmth, pressing the fingers up against a softness that was peeking out from within. "Hh-han... Don't... stop." She bit her bottom lip as the movement of the fingers rubbing that little nub intensified, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her abdomen with each motion. Every so often one of the fingers would catch her slit and rub against that, causing her to arch her back slightly at the feeling. "So... fuck..." The motions continued further, and the hand that had been rubbing against her breast slid down her stomach and towards the slit, moving in tandem with the other hand to rub the outside of her opening. A liquid noise entered her ears and she moaned even louder, curling her toes slightly and moving her hips back and forth.

After a few seconds, a finger made its way into her. The penetration caused her to take in a sharp breath, her teeth biting down hard on her lips as she did so. The tip lingered inside of her for but a single moment, before slowly beginning to explore inside of her. It touched against her walls and etched shapes into the sensitive flesh, causing her body to quiver and pulsate with every millimetre explored. They found one of her most sensitive spots as if they had been there many-a-time before and pressed in against it, rubbing along in a long and slow rhythm. Her voice echoed out in pleasure and her hips gyrated, trying to get deeper, but not willing to escape from the pleasure of the finger. It started to equal in movements with the finger on her clit, and the assault from two places caused her more breathy and excited moans to escape from her mouth, threatening to leave the room and warn all those nearby that something was occurring. What if they heard me like this? What would happen? Sascha wondered, the blush on her face growing as she thought of the possibilities--but knowing them to be a bad idea, bit her lip and held back her voice. Her closed eyes closed tighter, and her back would arch, and her toes would scrunch up as she felt the pleasure within growing. Her walls tightened around the finger as it made wet noises through its motions, and she finally lost it, letting her voice echo through the room with a violent power. "H-harder, h-harder, yes, y-y-yes, yeeeeees~!" Liquid poured from the opening and around the finger inside of her, dripping onto the bed as her entire body quivered from the feelings. She fell to her back and the hands--not quite masculine, but not quite feminine either--moved away from her body. The person that was supposedly behind her vanished, and she slowly opened her eyes, looking up at the liquid-covered fingers. They were not the fingers of some mysterious lover--nay, they were her own.

"I'm pathetic," came the first words from her mouth, still edged with pleasured breaths, "Can't get the guy, can't get the girl, can't seem to get anything. You'd think that with all the romance I write, I'd have some idea, wouldn't I?" Sascha chuckled dryly, "But no, that's not how it seems to go. I have to live with myself being like this--a quivering, lonely mess." She sighed and sat up, shakily walking over to her desk and procuring a couple of tissues. She quickly cleaned herself up and readjusted her uniform so that it was hanging loosely over her body--it wasn't fully on, but it didn't show anything that would cause a problem. She groaned and shook her head, picking up a bottle of beer and opening it, bringing it up to her lips and chugging some of it back. A knock on the door awoke her from her stupor, and she languidly moved towards it, slowly opening it to see a bright-faced young woman--one of the Shinigami in her Division. Dirty thoughts flashed in the back of Sascha's still-slightly-aroused mind, but she avoided them. This woman held a clipboard and showed it to Sascha, "Here are the reports for today, Captain Koenig." Sascha nodded and took the clipboard, before raising an eyebrow and looking over the girl, "How long have you been here?" She blinked, "Ten seconds, at the most." Sascha sighed and nodded, before dismissing the girl with a tired smile and going back into her room, throwing the clipboard onto her desk--the top page titled, Movements of Third Seat Ito, xx-xx-xxxx. Genpaku had told them not to touch him. She wouldn't touch him. But she'd catch him in the act of any more stupid shit.

He wouldn't notice the people watching him, she was certain.