>[x] Soothe.
You sweep your arms underneath Vivian and in one fluid motion haul her up. Even though you're no strong-man, Vivian is so tiny and light that she's easy to tote around.
"Alabast-- What are you doing!" Vivian's voice is a mixture of indignation and surprise. She peers up at you over Johann's head.
"I'm going to put you to bed," you say.
"Let go of me at once," she demands. "I am not a child."
"Of course not. I'm not saying you are. But since you're asleep, you should be comfortable, right?"
Vivian makes a cute little murmur of indecision.
"I cannot sleep in this outfit. Please, let me change into my nightclothes."
You take Vivian to her closet and set her down in there - man, this place is bigger than your bedroom in the Mallory house, and jam-packed with racks full of expensive designer clothing. You turn to leave so she can undress in privacy.
"Alabaster..." She gazes at the floor, rubbing her elbow.
"What?"
"Please do not leave me alone."
"...Even while you change?"
Her lack of reply is reply enough of its own.
This is ringing as many alarm bells in your mind as possible. Doing this is most definitely a BAD IDEA. A very bad, horrible, no good, terrible idea that is likely to get you killed.
"I think I should step out," you say weakly.
"No... no." Vivian's insistence is equally weak, but so pitiable that your heart breaks in two just to hear it.
"Well, ah-- I'll turn around, at least," you say.
"That is acceptable," she says.
(Darkbloom can't fault you for this, can he?)
You turn and face the door. But you have a sinking realization: the door is mirrored. And so are the walls.
Vivian is already pulling off her dress. You can see the reflection of her doing it.
You have two options here. Stare at the ceiling, or close your eyes.
...So why aren't you doing either one?
The pace of your heart is quickening, your mouth is going dry. Your temples throb. It's as if there's something coursing through your veins commanding you not to rip your eyes away from the sight you're seeing, even if every rational part of you says you must.
Underneath Vivian's dress is a pair of conservative, but lacy, panties - black of course - and a matching bra that she absolutely doesn't need. You pray that she doesn't remove these as well, because you definitely don't have the strength to look away now. She might be the smallest and most pale girl you've ever seen, so small that she looks like she might break in two if you're not careful. (Careful with what?) And she's half naked right in front of you, her black underwear a wonderful contrast against her almost anemic skin.
Her toes curl and uncurl in the lush carpet of her closet. She catches your gaze in the mirror.
"I see that turning around did not defeat your baser instincts," she says.
"Sorry..." you reply. You look up at the ceiling, embarrassed - caught.
"You do not need to look away. Actually, I prefer that you don't."
BAD. BAD IDEA.
You turn around.
"I have to admit that the film was scarier than I anticipated... and although it is irrational... I am a bit afraid of mirrors right now. I would prefer if you kept a watchful eye on me..."
"I... listen, I feel kind of funny," you say. It's like all the blood pressure in your body is distributed between your throbbing temples and your crotch.
"That would be the effect of the aphrodisiacs," Vivian says.
"The what?" You breathe.
"I hope I did not go too far," she continues. "I did not intend to find myself in a vulnerable position like this where you might ravish me. I expected to leave you in a state of longing, is all."
You rub your face in disbelief.
"But now I need the stabilizing influence of your presence. And that being the case... I should show you what your body is telling you it wants."
She unclasps the hook on the back of her bra and peels it away. Her board-flat, pale body is adorned by two tiny pink nipples, the only raised surfaces on her chest. She's so thin that the barest hint of her ribs is even visible.
"This is-- really bad," you manage. "Your father--"
"He does not like the idea of this," Vivian says, "yes. But that is how fathers are. I am a young girl in my rebellious phase, so this is to be expected."
With that, she hooks her hands in the waistaband of her panties and pulls them down.
Her cuntlet is hardly more than an indentation in the puffy mons of her hairless pubic area. Impossibly small and pristine - and almost demanding violation. You can see the hint of wetness glistening on the outside.
And then she throws on a nightgown that covers it up.
You huff in frustration, your cock straining in your jeans. "Is that-- is that--" you stammer.
"All?" She says.
You close your eyes and shake your head violently. It SHOULD be all. Anything more is bound to have awful consequences.
"Do you need me to take care of you?" She says.
"Yes," you reply immediately. Damn the consequences.
"Take me to bed," she coos. You scoop her up again, princess carrying her -- and notice as you take her back to her bedroom that she isn't only holding her favorite stuffed animal, but also the panties that she just stepped out of.
As you lay her down in the soft and satiny bed, she snuggles up with the penguin and gazes at you with glimmering eyes.
"I have never..." she begins.
That's obvious. She hadn't even held hands before a couple days ago. What you're about to do is wrong on so many levels.
You unzip your fly. Standing over her bed, freeing your cock, you feel hopelessly and deliciously depraved. But, you reason, the last traces of your resistance disappearing: this situation is her fault. She spiked your food with aphrodisiacs. She should have expected this.
"Oh my..." she breathes. She hides from the sight of your veiny, pulsating cock in much the same way she hid from the movie a few minutes ago. But curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks up at it after a moment.
"It is nothing like what I expected," she says. "Please... do not rape me... I would never be able to take it..."
You have at least enough sense to agree to that. You climb up onto the bed, on your knees, and straddle her. You hover over her face, your cock wagging back and forth. Her eyes follow it as if hypnotized.
"You are a perverted man," she says, even as her tongue hangs partially out of her mouth.
"Touch it," you tell her.
She reaches up and lays a smooth hand against the shaft. You shiver with electric jolts of pleasure.
And then you realize what the panties were for. She grabs them, and using both hands, wraps the silky fabric around your leaking dick. Your precum quickly makes a dark stain in the crotch of the material.
"Do you enjoy that?" Vivian asks. "I believe this is called a pantyjob."
This perverted little girl with her panties wrapped around your cock, lying in her bed surrounded by a collection of stuffed animals, is about to make you cum. And she's barely touched you at all.
"Jerk me off," you growl.
"Like-- like this?" She asks uncertainly. She uses both hands now, neither of them able to fully encircle you, and tugs gently back and forth.
You help her along, bucking your hips in her grasp and not being afraid to rub your leaky cock against her unblemished cheeks, too. You can hear her inhaling deeply, basking in your scent as she stares transfixed at the obscene sight inches from her face.
The head of your cock pokes through one of the leg holes in the panties now, and a giant dollop of slimy precum oozes in an elongating strand before landing right on forehead. She never stops jerking you off, the wonderfully smooth fabric milking even more precum out of you. It drips messily all over her nose, lips and chin, too.
Vivian's eyes are glazed over and you can feel her weight shifting beneath you. Looking back, you see the cause: she's got the hem of her nighthown hiked up and she's rubbing her thighs together, trying to masturbate without the aid of her hands.
A new sensation turns your focus back to her face. She's licking the tip of your dick as she pumps it. Her dainty, bright pink tongue is lapping your dick-leak directly from the source, and she swallows it greedily.
"I'm gonna cum," you say. "I'm gonna fucking cum."
Vivian nods silently, granting you permission to blow your load as you wish. She increases her pace and you thrust your hips in ecstasy. Back and forth through the warm silk of her panties, your aching dick finds relief. She licks up and down the shaft now in sync to her pumping - a quick learner, able to pick up such a great technique so quickly - and her wet, searching tongue is quick to bring you off to an explosive orgasm. As the first surge of semen races up the shaft of your penis, she quickly envelops the expanding mushroom head with her panties. You groan, and fire spurt after spurt directly into them. She massages it all out with circular twisting motions, squeezing and tugging at the same time, to make sure you're dry.
When you're spent, she pulls the ruined panties away and gazes at the white, creamy stains on the inside. She sniffs at it, appreciatively, savoring the aroma of your seed. It makes her eyes droop, half-lidded, and a stupid smile spread across her flushing face, the face that's still wet with precum.
hen comes something you really didn't expect. She lifts her butt up off the bed and puts the filthy garment back on.
You stumble off of her, stand, and gaze at the lewd sight.
"It's so warm..." she purrs dreamily. "I'll be warm all night..."
She mashes a palm against the crotch of her panties, smearing your cum all over her pussy.
"Nnnn-- ohhhh--" she murmurs, her voice distant and breathy. She gets herself off - a little shuddering orgasm that makes her purr and shiver with delight. The already darkly stained and dirty underwear becomes inundated with wetness as she loses control of herself and cums in her panties too, her fluids joining yours. "Alabaster--" she pants, over and over again, in heat. "Alabaster-- Alabaster-- you're so warm against me-- you're so-- so--"
She's quickly drifting out of consciousness, falling asleep for real as she continues to lazily masturbate your cum against her dripping genitals.