Lady Jessica x Fem! Bene Gesserit Reader NSFW MINORS DNI 18+
Summary: Dissertations are difficult for most of us. Bene Gesserit dissertations at the hands of an unconventional advisor like Jessica would make dove's cry.
Warnings: Spanking, vaginal stroking, lowkey kinda dub-con, Jessica also invades R’s bed without consent initially, but it’s hot so she gets a pass, Jessica receiving, basically she’s your hot diss supervisor that teaches about sex! R is of age, DUH.
A/N: I started this in like November, when I got the news of who my diss supervisor was, and with the uni workload I had, I’ve just finished it now in APRIL. Pray for your undergrad friends y’all, diss season really took it out of all of us.
Word Count: 6.5k
Making it to the first degree of the Sisterhood was both an honor and a hazing experience. Schooled in the ways of the Bene Gesserit from toddlerhood to the reluctant beginnings of adulthood left much to be desired in way of autonomy and individual thinking. You knew that creative thinkers could have their place in the order, you knew that once you learned enough, whipped yourself into shape and passed the final assessments, the world would be your oyster—more or less.
What threw you into the abyss of despair happened slowly, a series of forms, seminars and lectures that led up to the shadowing of a current sister seemed as routine as the rest of your time spent at the school. What you didn't expect; what you could have never predicted; came in the final moments of your last class as an official student of the Bene Gesserit. You were accepted and sent off to your advisor in the span of fifteen minutes, names called and fates decreed in the same solemn tone Gaius Helen Mohiam used for the most important occasions.
As fate would have it, as fate would have you, a malnourished, half-breed Harkonnen from the loins of Abulurd Harkonnen and a clever Bene Gesserit mating scheme, you were sent farther away than any of your young sisters. Worse, you were sent to her.
Caladan was colder than you pictured for early fall. Wind from a coastal storm ravaged the room you were placed in upon arrival, howling and squealing against panes of glass that had certainly seen better days. The antiquity of the castle only made the brutalist architecture more apparent, sharp concrete and stone making up most of your room. Sleep was fitful and difficult, the constant wail of wind slipping into your dreams, disjointed and sharp images of your childhood home underscored by the constant sound of the gale whipping at the roof.
It took far too long for you to realize you'd been supervised since you'd stepped foot into the room. Four am brought a momentary lapse in your sleep cycle, the percussion of rain slowing down your senses, making you careless in your survey of the room. You failed to notice the rumpled cover of a nearby settee, the faint smell of bergamot and cinnamon. It was only the tightness in your gut that saved you from certain failure.
"…"
A distant ticking of a clock could be heard in the background, but stranger was the sudden warmth of your bed. You were sweating beneath the duvet, clothed in only a thin sleep set you'd inherited, or more accurately liberated from a senior sister's wardrobe. Your neck was also grotesquely humid, like a person had breathed shallowly against it for at least a half hour. Instinct saved you once again.
"… Still yourself." you commanded, the spidery warble of the Voice deflecting across the room as it searched for a target.
Behind you a body stiffened, breath stopping at once.
"Your name."
"… Lady Jessica Atreides, mother of the heir of House Atreides." a low alto answered, so close the back of your neck was grazed with every motion of her lips.
Your dissertation supervisor, your personal tutor for the next six months and now, the most invasive individual you'd ever met in your life. Whatever you had assumed she had planned, this black sheep of your sisterhood and 'trailblazer' of free will amongst your ranks was not near as creative enough. But the games she was playing weren't ones you were designed to win anyways.
"So the game is that I've been caught with someone in my room and I've failed to detect them, thus resulting in death were it any other circumstance?" you guessed, already fighting back a yawn.
"If you'd like to think of it that way, you may. I wasn't expecting you to notice me at all, I was expecting you to pass at least a few nights without seeing me before you realized I was here the entire time." she answered, voice betraying not a single line of motive, a tone indicative of the particular scheme she was concocting.
"That's insidious."
"You're in a foreign house with foreign politics, did you think it would be simple?" she pressed, a new sharpness to her tone toeing the edge of condescension.
"Well I wasn't expecting it to be a party. There's a very relevant reason you've never had a dissertation mentee until now."
One hand crawled slow up your hip, blunt nails making contact with your hipbone through the thin fabric of your pajama set. She was warning you, terrorizing and intimately testing you with methods you weren't sure she could've been supplied by any traditional teacher. Worse, you were tired beyond belief and sour with the circumstances to begin with. Lack of patience with a woman lapping you in all arenas of life was a recipe for certain regret and suffering. But the dumbest part of your brain—and the loudest—proudly declared you'd suffered worse in the three years spent as a senior student of the Sisterhood.
"What do you think will be the most important thing I'll teach you?" she asked, ignoring your jab for the present moment.
Brilliant, basic and boring answers flitted through your mind in no particular order. Respect for authority, discipline, and self-possession all seemed like reasonable, kiss-ass answers that might save yourself from further humiliation, but label you a pushover. Tenacity, flexibility and creative thinking were certainly generic, run-of-the-mill phrases spouted out by enough graduates to send you back off the beaten path. Worse were the sarcastic choices, the urges to try Jessica's patience with, 'nothing at all', 'more of the same', and 'treason against the Sisterhood's breeding plan' at the tip of your tongue. Flattery was the best choice, but not your favorite.
"I can't predict what you'll do, and I certainly won't predict how well your teaching styles mesh with what I've learned and what I'm expected to learn from you." you answered, keeping your cadence calm. "You're either the worst or the best teacher I'll have."
You expected to earn a small snicker, or at least a hum of intrigue from the older woman. Instead you got silence, thick and unimpressed. She knew very well you were throwing up dust, skirting away from the heart of the matter at hand. You were a cowardly matador, throwing up red as soon as the bull pivoted.
"You really didn't pick up on the subtext in class, did you?" she asked simply, one hand slipping underneath the hem of your pants. "All the recordings of erotic positions you studied, not to mention the constant encouragement of exploring your anatomy… And you're not even aware of the purpose of 'dissertation' advisors?"
Cold dread slid up your spine, or what little of it you could feel in your tired state. Jessica's placement of her body wasn't even insidious, now that you were thinking about it. Sleeping beside you in the same bed, analyzing your smells, leaving her own scents on your sheets… This was a classic example of the highly controversial seduction tactic labeled 'scenting'. She was literally drowning you in the closest thing to human pheromones, and the best thing you'd thought up was telling her to stop moving?
"The culmination of everything I've ever learned within the Sisterhood would be directly tied to the Breeding Programme." you mumbled, putting your head in your hands. "I get it, oh my god, I get it."
"Roll." Jessica ordered simply, leaving no time for you to process the strings that had been woven around you this entire time.
You obeyed immediately, turning into her chest, turning into the natural musk of her body that she'd been steeping her shift in for a week. The potency hit you hard in the nose, the distinctness of the foreign smell playing sensory bango drums in your fogged-up brain.
"Don't think too carefully about any of this. My methods aren't traditional in the slightest, but it is critical you understand how to use your Harkonnen physiology to the fullest." Jessica crooned, her arms already snaking around you, bringing you flush with her matured form.
To remove the Bindu Prani training was difficult, layers of protections that you would never lower, were specifically trained to keep up, even in sleep. These practices had alerted you of Jessica's presence, simultaneously labeling as a fully fledged sister of the Bene Gesserit. The ability to detect one of your own? Even with the tactics she would've used to circumvent your protections was truly remarkable. But truthfully it wasn't her delicacy that had caused the lapse in victory, it was the prime neglect to reduce your sense of smell. All other senses she would've dulled, but smell? To dull it was to kill her original goal of scenting; the practice was risky.
Your first unfettered impression of Jessica, in the purely physical sense, was one of comfort. You felt immediately the softness of her hands, the spongy give of her breast against your cheek. You wanted nothing more than to pass a night softly entwined with her body, hearing her breath against your ear and the soft drum of her heart against the other. A small thrill of delight went up your spine as you allowed these feelings, the animal appetites otherwise controlled given free reign of your desires. Jessica let you orient yourself in this natural environment, hardly lifting a finger to alter the ambience.
"What do you think of me?" a tone followed, bearing only the slightest thread of authority.
A simple question, testing your reflection and ability to understand sensual relationships.
"You're a warm, nurturing person. I feel it quite distinctly that you're a mother." you answered, letting your eyes slowly shut.
"And does that stir desire in you, to be cared for?"
Tiredness dulled most of your faculties, rendering you calm and complacent in the lesson she was spinning. Curling in her arms like a cat, soaking it all in.
"If it were another environment, perhaps. Right now I just want to sleep, my body leans towards the instinctual desires of safety and community."
Jessica hummed once, the only recognition you'd received up until that point. Slowly her hands moved, rubbing up and down your back in maternal, soft motions. You pressed your face firmly into her sternum, taking a long breath in through your nose. Safety, connection, comfort. All things you'd longed for since a child, all things denied to you, or commonly neglected. And her smell… Caladan was a cold climate, that you were grateful for. She didn't stink, but the musk was fragrant.
"What buttons am I pressing in your psychology?"
"… Maternal neglect, the desire for closeness with a figure of authority, touch-starvation, safety with another woman." you listed, doing your best to distance yourself from the very real danger of succumbing to what you were experiencing, regardless of Jessica's direct instruction to do just that.
"Good girl."
Praise buckled you over, your fingers clenching and then relaxing against the duvet. Fresh frustration, emotions of rage, pain and longing barreled into your exhausted mind, overwhelming you momentarily before dissipating once more. Jessica, for her part, remained calm, petting your head as you warred silently with the darkest, most desperate parts of yourself.
"The Bene Gesserit starve their girls of maternal influences as much as they starve them paternally," Jessica empathetically murmured, distancing herself from your mutual organization as best as she could, "You must recognize that these wounds are inflicted both for control and out of jealousy. I knew your mother, I know precisely how she was kept from you, and how it affected her own tutelage in the coming years."
"Don't tell me this." you spat, clenching fabric hard in your hands. "I'd rather blindly suffer."
"-Blind suffering makes you more likely to be indiscriminately used for ill as well as good." Jessica calmly answered, snagging your gaze upward with her finger on your chin. "You need to know why you are the way you are. Only then will you be truly impenetrable against any opponent, especially one of your own ranks."
Jessica's gentle conviction leveled any desire to lash out, to inflict the same suffering you were feeling. It was experience, simple maturity that gave her a toned outlook on life, on the games played by her own kind. And it was her choice to open your eyes, to educate you as she had educated herself that made it so noble. It was respect for Jessica that would define your lessons going forward, as remarkable and distinctly difficult as they would be.
But as your eyes closed, nose pressed firmly against her warm breast, you heard clearly the warning she left. To imply threat from one of your own ranks was clear heresy, and a dangerous reality.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Human physiology had been your strong suit in school. You felt stringent pride as Jessica watched you sketch with solemn, practiced accuracy, the two-pronged structure of the clitoris.
Each line brought with it the recall of countless hours spent in your room sketching the same shapes, memorizing the same array of nerves and synapses. You threw her for a loop drawing several possible combinations of nerves, labeling how differences in clitoral shape and placement could result in completely independent sensitivities and symptoms. Textbook knowledge was your only advantage in the coming lessons, though you could only know now how terribly lucky you were to have spent so much time studying this.
"… Well. I would say your knowledge of the male and female sexual anatomies is sufficient. You've saved us time today, certainly." Jessica nodded, reaching over your shoulder to clip your sketches together. "My lesson plans going forward must be far more hands on than I was prepared for today."
You looked up at her, one of your eyebrows rising before you could snap it back into a more acceptable mask of neutrality. A brief glow of amusement overtook her usually calm expression, proof that she was capable of finding humor in the otherwise unfortunate circumstances you were lumped into. A slip in your mask, this was a good sign for your mentor.
"Child," Jessica asked, addressing you as your tutors had colloquially addressed you in times past, "I won't sugarcoat this next lesson. To be frank with you, I was hoping to put it off for another few days."
Without lifting a finger, without twitching a single hair, you let every emotion of anxiety swirl briefly in your gut before shoving it down once more. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will-
"Come."
The Voice cracked through you like a bolt, limbs behaving, your very mind complying without any objection. It was your idea, this compulsion lied. So you rose, feet padding forward without delay as she sat, as she smiled, as she bent you over her lap like a doll.
The fog of your mind cleared slowly, the pervasive desire to obey still liminal as you breathed against her knees, face down. Tile stared up at you, worn smooth from years of tread. Loathing, a sense of embarrassment and assault bled through the last vestiges of the Voice, Bindi Pranu stealing the urge to run, to repeat this horrible exercise in forced obedience.
"To ensure your full cooperation, to recreate the same sense of helplessness one experienced during the Gom Jabbar test." Jessica calmly explained. "This lesson is universal, as that one was."
Ah. So this is what this was all about. Her hands remained on your spine as she talked, the pressure and warmth seeping through your clothes. Comfort, protection, safety. Still your previous impression remained, still your stubborn desire to trust Jessica.
"Discipline is the most contagious tool you will use in your lifetime." Jessica spoke softly, her free hand running over your clothed spine. "Discipline yourself, discipline others. But most of all you have to discipline the hunger."
Moving until she reached the curve of your ass, you shut your eyes in disbelief. Spanking, swatting, butt-slapping. Childish punishment for childish crimes. Perverting child desires, shedding light on traumas buried so deep you had surely forgotten they existed. Fuck the Bene Gesserit, you thought. Jessica knows this lesson to be wrong, the second.
The first strike against your bottom came swiftly, a crack only muted by your slip protectively clinging across your rear. You jerked with the force of it, yelping in shock as the pain registered. The air on your legs was noticeable now, so consumed were you in the physical position that the hiking of your dress up to your hips had literally escaped you.
"Harkonnens are distinctly reactive to pain and degradation. It's biology and culture, it's what has been used for breeding with them for centuries." Jessica continued, her hand pressing firmly against your ass.
The next smack drew another grunt of pain, muted and controlled. Fury rose up in your stomach, boiling with similar humiliation and shame. From this angle she couldn't see your face, couldn't watch your eyes flicker and twitch like an animal's. Being of Harkonnen ancestry twisted your desires. Throughout your schooling you'd watched your fellow peers behave in perfect charades of obedience, never once failing to bow down to teachers. Their appetites were simple; praise, sisterhood and belonging. Yours were feral; wolfish and wild. How many more spankings had been allotted for this? What science dictated the killing of these needs?
As the sting of Jessica's hand blurred into your skin, you felt more like a feral animal than a sister; a recruit of the Bene Gesserit. That humiliation lay bare under Jessica's hand, your tutor nursing the pain to tempt out reactions, analyzing and recalibrating.
Her third strike felt more sadistic than the rest, palm coming down hard on your tailbone, causing an involuntary twitch of your legs. A squeal broke out from your lungs, knuckles tightening against the legs of the chair. To be so easily consumed by your own body's reactions wasn't just disconcerting, it defied all previous training, all of the time spent carefully cultivating your natural urges into pure neutrality. But this sort of pain had nothing to do with the body, this was an attack on your ego, on the very concept of your relation with authority.
"What do you feel?" Jessica asked simply, her free hand slipping down to cup the back of your neck.
Breathing through your nose like an animal, trembling as tears pricked at your eyes. Years had passed since this injury, still it was too much.
"… Rage." you bit out, resisting every urge to bare your teeth like a dog.
"That's your breeding." she answered, gently petting the nape of your neck. "These appetites, these violent impulses must be tested, reduced or otherwise rerouted to other outlets. You can't control an animal you don't know, sister."
One hand drew gently down, pulling your dress back into place. She moved slow, petting your back until your breathing evened, until tears landing on the floor stopped. When you rose from her knees it was slow, making a point to still meet her eyes even though you felt every ounce of shame the act had permitted. Jessica didn't push you into contact, rather hands that had never left your body pulled slow until you made your own decision to sit across her lap, leaning in with cautious motion. Every moment felt more practiced, coaxing you until you sat curled in her lap, nose against her throat. Safety, relief, relaxation flooded in the second you recognized the smell of her clothes, the rub of her calloused hands against your head.
"Now what do you feel?"
Again tears pricked at your eyes, control stilling them from falling. To kill the trust you'd first been allowed to feel at her touch? To pollute it and offer further sexual teaching? It bred hatred, the purest and most universal sense of injury known to the Bene Gesserit, it separated sister from mentor and assured another generation of willful pawns.
"Confused." a small voice answered. "Violated. Injured. Hateful."
Two soft strokes against your shoulder.
"Good."
The stroking continued, and you fought against the urge for closeness until she shattered it, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. Shock smashed your lingering resentment to smithereens, bidding you to relax further into her embrace. A small twinge of desire bit hard into your pelvis, momentarily eliciting a clench of your thighs.
Jessica noticed, eyes still cataloguing every minutiae of data for her own theories. She saw it then, the way your breath stuttered, the way rage had given so quickly into submission.
"Harkonnen mating practices involve quite a bit of pain, as you've been taught. Sadism and masochism are familiar to you, of course." Jessica began, tone as detached as it was in any similar lecture.
Slowly, ever so gently, one of her hands slid down to your bottom, squeezing at the abused flesh. You spasmed in her arms, breath stuttering as you felt the resurgence of that throbbing in your core.
"What do you think Harkonnens lean towards?" she mused, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.
"Sadism." you lied, feeling your cheeks bleed with warmth.
"Ah. So I guess you haven't learned." Jessica sighed, tone dripping with disappointment.
The tender stroking of your sides vanished completely, leaving a stinging sense of loss. Guilt, moreso embarrassment at letting down your teacher pulled hard at your strings of rationale, bending to the press of her hands to your shoulder, your knees, your sides. Your body obeyed her without resistance, thighs trembling as you found yourself leaning over her lap once more. This time she jerked your skirts up roughly, leaving you little time to prepare before her hand slapped down hard on the flesh of your ass. The reverberating sound of your spanking filled the room, books on the shelf witnesses to your degradation.
"Count." Jessica murmured, hand sliding over the curve of your ass.
Oh my God, this isn't happening, you thought.
CRACK!
You shrieked in her lap, hands leaving their disciplined place behind your back, desperate grab for stability stopped by the sudden iron grip of your wrists.
"I said count, child." Jessica growled, tone devilishly graveled. "One!"
SMACK.
"One!"
SMACK.
"One!" you answered her, thighs trembling as blood swam to your head.
SMACK!
"Two!" you answered, breathing hard against the pressure of her thighs.
The successive smacks continued in a familiar pattern, your voice growing hoarser and more frenzied with each strike. You felt the burn intensify, wiggling like a fish in her lap as she pushed you from five, to ten, to fifteen.
"Now I'll ask again," Jessica began, tone smooth and controlled as her hand stroked gently over your throbbing ass, "What do Harkonnens like? Sadism or Masochism?"
Her words echoed slowly in your foggy head, bouncing around like marbles in a cotton nest as her slow rubs of your ass momentarily dimmed your higher cognitive function.
"…. Sadism… Because they're killers, they crave violence." you mumbled, forgetting immediately the answer that had won you this position in the first place.
Jessica scoffed above you, tutting like a primary schoolteacher. You found your thighs clenching without restraint, tingling slipping up from your pelvis, coloring your center in swirls of pulsing need.
"I'll ask one more time." she warned, much to your relief.
The hand that circled your wrists released, both of Jessica's smooth palms rolling slow over your inflamed bottom.
"What do Harkonnens secretly crave? Sadism… Or Masochism?"
She was speaking to you like you were a child, degrading you just as your position continued to degrade you, though your hands remained behind your back without any assistance, now. Sticky lips opened, your tongue stuttering in your mouth as you felt her hands dip lower… Lower…
"H-harkonnens crave-"
"You crave…" Jessica interrupted, fingers skirting along the inside of your thigh.
"Maso-Maso…Ch-hih-sm." you stuttered out, shivering like a leaf as her fingers dipped lower, and lower…
"Good girl." she purred, praise melting your clay-like brain into butter and dough.
Two of her fingers slid down, rubbing a long, firm stripe down from your fluttering entrance.
"Ah… Uh…"
"Shhhhhhh." Jessica tsked, free hand rubbing gentle circles over your hot bum.
Her fingers continued to rub over the slick fabric of your underwear, teasing delicate circles over your pulsing clit.
"Do you feel how wet you are? How your panties cling to your cunt?"
Jessica's sultry tone filled your mushy brain with cotton, molding it to register the silence between her words, the pause as she enunciated and pulled at each word, 'wet' and 'cunt' drawn slow and firm like the pads of her fingers over your soaked underwear.
"You're a masochist, sweetheart." she murmured, continuing that slow, firm rub of your erect clit. "You want me to degrade you," she added, fingers speeding up their slow rub, "You want, no you need me to take authority, to have full control of what happens when you're over my knee."
Hot pleasure bubbled in your center, the lack of ruminating in your brain placing you at the forefront of receiving. She was leaning over you, puppeting you in her grasp as your legs spread obediently wider for her, accepting the continuous stimulation without shame, let alone any sort of reflection.
"Sweetheart, are you close to climax?" she teased, fingers drifting over your bare skin in teasing circles.
"Mhm." you mumbled, grateful that the floor couldn't recognize the glazed, fuck-stupid glimmer in your eyes.
"Mmm, I bet there's something else you really need, then."
You nodded along, dumb and fully trusting in her ability to bring you relief, to end the throbbing ache in your thighs you'd warred with since the first night, since you'd smelled her skin, felt how soft and warm she was in the dim hours of twilight.
"Shame that edging you is going to do more for this desire than quenching it." she sighed, removing her fingers from you just as an orgasm began to build.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Weeks had passed in the castle. Rain smelled different here, clean and salted with the brine of the sea. Night fell early, study ended once the final lights were dimmed and the fireplaces stoked for the last time. Sleep came easy to you, a relief from whatever unsteadying lesson had come the day before.
Every night began the same, your dreams undisturbed and regular. Then the very air would shift, charged with millions of subatomic volts. When she entered your room, clad only in the thinnest slip her wardrobe had to offer, fear no longer stirred you. Like a child struck with fever, you didn't twitch like you had in the beginning. On a subconscious level she'd invaded your psyche, contorting every self-defense mechanism into parting with nothing but the barest hint of her nearness.
Relief filled you when she slid under the comforter. Ecstasy lit up your veins when her wind-chilled skin brushed up against yours. An embrace, soft and sweeter than the night before. This time you wouldn't control yourself, laying still and compliant under fingers that were just too soft, arms that didn't hold you half as tight as you needed.
Again the memory of the discipline resurfaced, the shock of her hand on your body a phantom pain now, buried deep in your mind. Confused, that's how Jessica made you feel. The following lesson, the feeling of her fingers stroking and manipulating you like a marionette contorted most dreams into hazy remembrances of her touch.
Most nights a sex dream would invade your private thoughts between twilight and morning, mostly when Jessica had spent at least an hour curled into your body. Left on the verge of climaxing, core throbbing hot as faceless bodies played your body like a flute, leaving you flushed and throbbing in the morning light. Jessica never pretended she didn't see it, nor did anything to help alleviate that constant burn.
None of the lessons she'd taught since then felt any less convoluted. Three days ago she'd brought you into her study only to sit without moving as you prattled about your learning. She'd been as immobile as a statue, face devoid of any interest as you performed perfect demonstrations of basic flirting techniques. Looking at her with soft eyes sometimes, brushing against her as you used the illusion of reading an old book of poems. Nothing.
It was easy to play tough, to turn the other cheek when Jessica struck with whatever lesson the day required. But not when she was soft, so tender you might have felt completely bare, spotlights burning you pink in an empty auditorium; on display for her.
The bed creaked as she shifted, sheets brushing against hairs and sending thousands of sensations up your spine. You flinched when her lips brushed the top of your head, hot and cold sliding up your fingers, fingering lace that you'd never before seen her in.
"… It's your job to feel desire for whoever you are paired with." Jessica murmured, startling you.
Desire? Was that what this was? This hot, achey, terrifying feeling of exposure? Lady Jessica of the Bene Gesserit, a mother to a powerful heir for House Atreides, partner of a man so embroiled in politics you'd only seen him in passing. Your whole world, the first thought when you woke, feeling empty sheets beside you, the last thought you had when she finally returned.
"I'm supposed to desire you, is that what this is?" you murmured softly, letting the darkness act as the only true barrier between you two.
"No. Never." she answered.
Never. You repeated it like a mantra in your head as her grip tightened. Never, as she leaned down, breath hot and a bit foul against your nose. Never as she brushed thin lips against yours, tongue salty against teeth. Never, never, never as yours responded, the first true kiss you'd ever had.
It burned like wildfire through you, this feeling. Hot and smoldering low in your belly like a glowing coal, shuddering red hot with every touch that breathed life from her lips to yours. It bloomed as her fingers slid underneath your chemise, touching and squeezing your thighs and bottom. The ache was less terrifying than the sensations she left in her leisurely pace; you didn't know how long you could bear the teasing without relief. Tracing the nape of her neck you found soft, wiry curls, a little sweaty beneath your fingertips.
And she let you.
She let you touch her skin, not as a sister controlling the moment, seducing her partner and ensuring the further embroiling of copulation, but as a newcomer to passion, as the inexperienced young woman you really were.
"Some men won't appreciate how timid you are." Jessica warned, her lips swollen and sticky from kisses.
"I'm not with a man." came your response, letting the silence fill in the blanks.
A terrible thought flashed through your mind, hanging in between technical thoughts revolved around the undulations of your tongue, how close you let your nose rest against hers as you kissed. Complete abandon, hot and wet and warm, all the luxuries you would never be allowed as a performer of the erotic act. Even if you were wed, married and copulating with a husband every night, a husband you might even come to like outside of the act, abandon would never be available for you.
You shoved the thought down, sucking hard on her bottom lip, enough that she let out a small grunt. Had that been too rough? Too fast, too eager? Jessica gripped harder now, legs sliding around your hips and locking behind your back. She bit you, sharp and quick, your lower lip smarting as you pulled away in shock.
"Expect the unexpected," she warned, a hand flying up to tangle in your hair, "You could find that the person you're with only enjoys sex when you hurt."
Sadism. When she leaned in again, tongue lapping over the mark on your lip, you found yourself tensing on instinct, expecting pain. She worked too fast for you, legs sliding lower, her hands reaching down and squeezing hard at the flesh of your ass.
"Jessica!" you squeaked, immediately drawn back to the memory of her domination, the feeling of a palm's sting on your bottom.
"You like this." Jessica husked, tone dripping with such sensuality that you almost didn't pick up the tiniest pitch in her voice.
She was using small undulations, just enough that you wouldn't be entirely ruled by it, but the intrusion of the Voice was enough to remind you that this was still a lesson.
"I do." you agreed, choking down your embarrassment. "I want you to do it again."
The way your voice trembled might've betrayed desire, but Jessica knew your facial expressions enough to recognize how ill-at-ease you were. And then her mouth met your neck, hot and wet, and you mewled like a kitten.
"Easy, there." Jessica cooed, working up wet kisses to your ear. "You're not even in the right position to initiate anything."
Like you cared about positions, feeling the slow burn of your core as her hands worked at your ass like dough. Kneading, pulling, squeezing each cheek like it would betray some secret, some hidden compartment to your sexuality only she knew lay there.
"You're trembling love, why?" Jessica whispered, tongue dancing along the curve of your ear.
So many thoughts rushed to the forefront of your mind. You make me feel pathetic, I'm so desperate, I want you to just throw me on the bed and shove your fingers into me again and again and again and again and again….
"You know why." you managed, squeezing your thighs together as the burning ache grew tenfold at the confession.
Again her tongue slid, dipping into the canal of your ear just once, breath whistling over your eardrum as your own gasps for air grew more prominent.
"The spanking affected you that much?" she coyly asked, fingers deftly hiking your nightgown over tensed thighs.
Holy fuck, holy FUCK… I want, I want, I want, I want, I wa-
"Are you ready to earn your dissertation?" Jessica murmured, fingers slipping over the bare flesh of your thighs.
"Y-yes." you squeaked out, grateful for the dim light and the new moon keeping your flustered, desperate, wanton expression from her gaze.
You felt Jessica smile, hands pressing firmly down your shoulders as her legs spread wide. A pause, moreso an attempt to stop at her cleavage was made, aiming for greater foreplay, for the soft flesh of her nipple on your tongue was met with a pinch to your ear, a huff of air betraying Jessica's impatience.
"No, none of that. Down." she commanded, pulling her nightdress up to reveal bare, silky smooth legs.
"No foreplay?" you managed, hands sliding to cradle her thighs.
"Sometimes the thought of what you're going to do will be the only foreplay you'll get. Learn to will your body into submission." she answered, each breathy word softening your thoughts into small heaps of clay.
She didn't let you kiss up her thighs, nuzzle into the crook of her leg and scatter love bites there. You nose met a wiry patch of hair, trimmed into submission, and your mouth met the wet opening of her center. Jessica dug her hands into the locks of your hair, head thrown back as she let out an uncharacteristically satisfied moan. One long lick from entrance to clit rewarded you with the proof of her body's submission, copious and warm against your tongue.
It tasted salty, tangy and organic, the way you had been warned all women would taste, variation aside. Still you dug your tongue in again, relishing the give of her body as her thighs clenched warm and toned against your hands.
"Dig your tongue in more." Jessica hoarsely requested, hands loosening the iron grip on your head. "It's a poor metaphor, but it's the most accurate; it should feel like your scooping ice cream."
A whimper left your throat at that, something shamefully meek and needy. It wasn't the metaphor that caused you such agony, thighs rubbing together in desperate squeezes as you moved to obey her command. It was the way she'd said it, breathy gasps punctuating each word.
She wasn't moaning, nor did you want her to, it would've felt fake. Jessica was almost wheezing, thighs trembling as you dug your tongue in again and again, nose rubbing against her clit as your tonguing grew more enthusiastic.
"Fuck… Yes." she gasped hips wiggling ever so slightly.
To hear her swear, to abandon herself as she was most certainly emulating, at the very least, had your eyes rolling into your skull. Each dip into her cunt with your tongue brought out small contractions, miniature eruptions from her innermost depths.
Again the same fuzzy mindspace of the spanking slid slowly over your senses, dulling any hesitancy, any training to monitor your impulses, the way with which you moaned and whimpered into her cunt as if you were receiving it. Further down, between your own thighs, a similar need broiled and burned, wetting the fabric of your underwear. By now your tongue was sloppy, lapping at her in constant cycles of short and long strokes, nose pressing into her clit with the natural rhythm of your lips.
Jessica arched her back slowly, humping your face in desperate motions the more you continued, breathy gasps of interspersed praise keeping you pliant, obedient, drowning yourself in the sensations of Jessica, of your tutor.
"I'm close, just keep the rhythm." Jessica coaxed, hand dipping to cradle the nape of your neck.
As if you'd ever stop, ignoring the ache in your jaw as your tongue worked at her with renewed energy. Her breaths changed, hoarse moans rapidly falling from her lips as her hips moved in desperate twitches against your mouth, forcing herself against your tongue, pushing into you like she was fucking the wet muscle alone.
The burning in between your thighs was constant, the pulsing need blaring into the limited space left in your thoughts for anything other than Jessica. You groaned as her legs tightened, shuddering out a few moans as her center shuddered around your swollen lips. You caught your breath slowly, waiting until the shudders of her pelvis stopped entirely before pulling your wet face from between her thighs.
"Come." she lazily beckoned, arms wrapping firmly around your back as you snuggled in.
She doted on you slowly, using the corner of the sheet to wipe your face clean, pressing a soft kiss onto your nose in the dim light.
"Well done." she said, teeth flashing in the dim light.
"I passed my dissertation then?" you dryly asked, fighting off the lingering sense of lack.
"Oh, not yet," she laughed, tugging one of your thighs open, "I still need to assess your performance in other places."
Her hand slid down, and when she met your cunt, hot and wet in your panties, she squeezed.
A/N: Please reblog and comment!!! Any feedback is welcome, even if it’s ’you’re not grammatically accurate during x, y, z!!!!
Tag List: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @dvrkhcld @k-mzy
already saw someone say that joy leaving pissed them off. i hope she has a great night. i hope she grabs something to eat then goes home to take a nap. i hope she buys a new game when she wakes up and plays it for the first time on stream. i hope she gets a $500 dono that night. i hope she gets nothing but the easiest cases for the rest of her rotation. i hope
can I be dramatically honest and say that I already feel that I will be bawling my eyes out with whatever happens here with ogilvie and mckay outside...
robby’s suicidal ideation is so much scarier this season than last. last season we were inside his head. this season we’re experiencing him like the people around him are—temperamental & selfish & basically given up. he’s pushed the audience away as much as he has anyone else.
i feel like the visual storytelling is really supporting that in a few ways; we're not accompanying robby into private, quiet moments anymore, we don't see his flashbacks and the way they affect how he treats the people around him in their aftermath, we're not seeing him try to stay calm & collected for other people's behalf.
and as robby's behavior likely becomes more erratic and angrier as the day goes on, as he pushes the people that love him further and further away... it's going to be interesting to see if the show frames that kind of breakdown. because it's just as much of a mental health crisis, but it's a significantly less easy one for the audience to sympathize with when the show is keeping us at arm's length.
i think that that's an immensely interesting storytelling decision and i am really, really excited (and terrified) to see how it unfolds.
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