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Her Otome	By : Ratirez1 Category: +M to R > Mai-HiME Views: 1804 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Mai-HiME and Mai-Otome, and make no money off of writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Her Otome
- 1
Mashiro wasn't afraid to be rough when she wanted to; she knew Arika liked it, but was often in denial about it, which made everything all the more fun. Her Otome was just unbearably cute!
Mashiro kept her palms firmly on Arika's inner thighs, keeping her deliciously bent and vulnerable, with legs wide open. Such a wonderful sight, with glistening, flushed skin, lean muscles, and smooth curves, hair a wave of bright red on white pillows. Mashiro thrust hard into her, basking in soft whimpers and short breaths, and clutching of the sheets.
Great that Arika was an Otome! They've accumulated scores of experience in this kind of thing, which was difficult even for her to miss. Not that she was very interested at the time, but it came in handy when they found themselves in bed together. Mashiro wanted to know everything and grilled Arika incessantly, her mumbling, blushing, and whining notwithstanding; threatening to tell Shizuru everything in exchange for advice kept her talking without fail. That was worth a good laugh in itself, because Mashiro's been increasingly sure that every single Otome knew. Obviously it bothered no one, since for them such relationships were completely normal. She herself embraced that attitude instantly, while Arika has been somewhat uncomfortable. It just wasn't how her grandmother had taught her things should be. So cute…!
Mashiro stroked Arika's clit, her folds, wet and sleek, and then went slightly deeper, touching the tender obstacle within. Arika arched her back; she was very sensitive there. Otome's connection proved itself to be extremely inconvenient at times. They were both technically virgins, so if one of them lost it, the other would, too. Not that Mashiro objected, but there were royal matters to consider. She might want to enter a political marriage at some point, which meant that as a bride she should stay pure.
She bared her teeth in a vicious half-smile. If not having sex was a measure of innocence and purity, then she was as wicked as they come! Mashiro moved fast and hard, her hand skillful and effective. Arika writhed and moaned before her.
They could only do it in the butt. Otome's knowledge. Mashiro had been thoroughly disgusted when she first heard about it, but the idea had stuck in her head. She had been basically obsessed with sex then, which she stupidly associated only with men. Her body begged for it, yet it had been out of the question completely… until she had found herself desperately kissing Arika. It shouldn't have been surprising, in retrospective. Arika was very physical with showing her friendship and support, Mashiro cherished her, and also when you're very young you sometimes think not with your brain, but with something lower and much less inclined to create unnecessary complications. Or, like, wait.
Fortunately, Arika was Mashiro's age, and with, as they had soon found out, exactly the same problems, since she was, well, her Otome. So they were all over each other in no time whatsoever. Aoi had probably seen it clear as day even before it happened.
At the beginning, though, Mashiro had wanted to know how it would be with a man, however grossed out the only available option made her feel. So they had acquired the contraption she was now wearing and tried it out.
Men had gone out of her mind without a trace very soon after. Not that she didn't like them anymore, it just seemed Arika was too important, and great, and endearing to think about anyone else in that way. The contraption, on the other hand, had found its place in Mashiro's heart. In both of their hearts, actually, so they got a second one, also.
She pushed hers into Arika's butt mercilessly. It was sleek with smoothing oil and strapped tightly to Mashiro's hips. They both came to love doing it in their butts. It was exhilarating to take or be taken alike, to make away with any feeling of shame, and to give the other something so intimate. They will never judge each other for it. And it felt great when you knew how to do it right, for which they had had more than enough practice.
Mashiro saw that Arika drew near. She was restless; it won't be long. Moans and whimpers were crowding one another, muscles twitched on the thigh under Mashiro's hand. She worked her hips and fingers ceaselessly, not stopping for a moment, taking Arika's butt in long, fast strokes, rubbing her clit. A few small droplets ran through her folds, so wet Arika was.
She gulped for air when throws of orgasm took her. Mashiro savored the sight, almost pulling out. It looked as if Arika was somewhere else, her body acting in accordance with a world that was brighter, better, and without a care. Lips parted, she gasped and quivered in waves, muscles tensing and then relaxing, head turning from side to side, back arching, knees bent convulsively. Her hands squeezed the sheets, then released them, propped her up, then fell slackly with her, searched for something and found it where there was nothing. Her eyes were shut, eyelashes fluttering. She saw nothing, heard nothing. She was consumed.
It was some time before she calmed down, her body going limp in settling afterglow. Mashiro moved then; she wasn't done yet. She pushed Arika's legs on one side, half-turning her and eliciting a weak protest. It slipped out, and Mashiro guided it back, entering accurately, but only slightly. She held onto Arika's hip, balancing herself. And thrust in hard, plunging it fully into that perfect, pretty butt her Otome had.
Arika cried out, and then silenced herself, putting a hand over her mouth. Mashiro grinned. She was rough, but never ever rough enough to really hurt. Besides, she would suffer any inflicted injuries herself, which seemed very fitting. No doubt she will feel the aftermath of today, too, just not now. Now she was absorbed in Arika.
Mashiro entered her over and over again, not caring about aching muscles. She loved everything about Arika. How she fixed herself in place with her free hand. How her body jerked because of Mashiro's thrusts. How she was covered in sweat. How it went deep and hard in her butt, and she took it, not pulling away.
Mashiro imagined how it felt for her. It might have brought pleasure that would drown any pain or it might have just been painful. There was no way of knowing which one was the case. She loved how Arika didn't even try to stop her. How she allowed Mashiro to fuck her, to do with her butt everything Mashiro wanted, as long as Mashiro wanted.
She saw it going in and out before her, muscles stretching around it. It looked beautiful, flawless. She did it more. And more. And more.
Tears streaked Arika's face. Then Mashiro felt her shaking in another orgasm, and it was the best thing in the world!
Exhausted, she almost fell down beside her, hugging her with arms and legs, drinking in her pleasure and her limbo, her heat and her smell. Waiting patiently for her to come out of it and enjoying every moment before. Arika clutched her arm and Mashiro winced, but said nothing. She would be proud of any marks left on her body.
When she pulled out, Arika's butthole was open, the ring of muscle sore despite all the applied oil. It looked obscene and exciting; Mashiro liked it very much. She hoped Arika saw her the same way. The thought made her shiver with delight.
After a while, Arika's breathing steadied a little, and she found strenght to meet Mashiro's gaze, her eyes still red. Her hair was damp and disheveled. She was gorgeous, if somewhat upset.
"You're so mean, Mashiro-chan! Now I won't be able to sit for days," she pouted.
"You and I both. And it's worse for me, since I actually have to sit. Protocol, you know." Mashiro smiled wickedly.
"What, and that makes it okay!? Please be gentler with me."
"I didn't want to."
"You meanie!" Arika turned away and curled up into a ball, covering her face with her hands.
Mashiro propped herself up on one arm and kissed her shoulder, her hair, then cuddled close to her, feeling a little guilty. Arika said nothing, her breathing still uneven, but moved even closer to Mashiro.
"Forgiven?" she asked, a pang of fear making her heart skip a beat.
"I'm not mad at you," Arika sounded muffled, "I just don't want you to be this rough."
"Didn't you like it?"
"I liked it, but that's not the point."
"What is, then?" Mashiro felt suddenly uneasy.
"You know."
"That's hardly an argument!"
Arika wriggled in her embrace, turned around, and took Mashiro's face in her hands, kissing her tenderly. Deeply, wonderfully…
Yes, Mashiro knew. She broke the kiss, and pressed herself to Arika's breast, hiding in her arms. From herself, from what she might have done, or just from her desires, she couldn't tell. Her Otome held her, as always. Protected her, was there for her. Cared about her.
Mashiro closed her eyes and tried not to think.
"You are amazing," Arika whispered to her, "whatever happens."
For Arika, it was so. That simple. But Mashiro herself has been acutely aware that it wasn't true. She might do horrible things and be horrible because of them. And she was all-encompassingly grateful she had Arika by her side. That's who was amazing, not her.
She looked up.
"Take me?"
"Mashiro-chan, my butt hurts! Doesn't yours!?"
It did.
"Please…?"
She will, Mashiro knew. She has always done when asked to. Not that Arika was shy otherwise, of course. Or, actually, she was often shy; it just hasn't been enough to discourage her, about which Mashiro most certainly wasn't complaining.
Arika did it the way she liked. The way they both liked. She was just so strong; Mashiro felt completely helpless in her arms, loving and hating it at the same time. Arika held her up by the hips, suspended, Mashiro's knees bent and legs apart, her head leaned back on oh so familiar shoulder. She had little control, except when she guided it to her butt with her hand. Her other one was around Arika's neck, her back pressed to the soft warmth of Arika's breasts. It was breathtaking to be so close together.
It pushed in, entering easily, opening her up. There was no need for preparations; her butt was sore, an Otome's contract reminder of her own actions, but Mashiro didn't mind at all. She was ready for it. She wanted it.
Strong arms moved her down steadily, and it was going deeper, brushing along inside her. She stretched delightfully against Arika, enjoying the feel of her. They've done it so many times now, yet the appeal never faded. Mashiro loved the sensation of it pushing into her butt, filling it, stimulating her in a thousand hidden places. Arika lowered her further and further, until the point she could do so no longer. It was obscenely deep inside, and Mashiro trembled, pleasure coursing through her.
She couldn't hold back her body little desires, one arm clutching Arika's on her hip, shoulders rolling, legs moving farther apart, then almost closing, toes curling and uncurling, one knee going higher, then the other. She searched for more, but all control remained with Arika, who rocked her up and down gently, making it to go in and out in lengthy strokes.
Mashiro heard her own moans. She didn't care. Sometimes she touched herself, but now there was no reason to, so on edge she was already. Her butt ached, being stretched and full, and that wonderful longing bloomed inside her, brought on by her Otome's careful, knowing movements… Mashiro started to shake, held in place safely.
It made her happy how Arika always allowed her everything, beared with everything, yet was so gentle taking her. It meant something, something tremendously important, the most important thing in the world…!
Mashiro possessed enough self-awareness to admit that she was madly, head over heals in love. And her bliss became tenfold sweeter when, just as the bright veil of orgasm fell over her, she heard Arika whispering, "I love you, Mashiro-chan," in her ear.

Nothing mattered but that.
- 1
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Her Otome