January 10th, 1891 — Prefects' Bathroom
In the past two days, the scandalous photograph had been hunting Seneca's mind. Much as she tried, she couldn't erase the picture from her mind. Whenever she closed her mind, the naked couple flashed in front of her eyes. It was particularly bad when she tried to focus on her studies and when she went to bed. Particularly at night. She was alone with her thoughts, in the dark and quiet and the picture took life in her mind. She even continued the scene somewhat. She imagined the couple kissing, an act Seneca was familiar with and, up to two days ago, was the most scandalous one she was aware of.
The worst part? The more the scene remained in her mind, the more it changed. The faces in the picture morphed. The woman's features slowly started to morph into Seneca's. As for the man, Seneca began to ponder about any man she'd like to have in such proximity. Sometimes Tiberius came to mind, other times Germander. I know how that looks to the reader, given that they were both her cousins, but we should take into consideration that Seneca had little to no relationships with males outside her family. And Cadwallader Selwyn was anything but desirable!
Sometimes, in the night, her hand had travelled terribly close to the triangular region between her leg. It would rest upon her nightgown's cotton, and yet Seneca felt like she was committing a sin. However, just like the dark arts fascinated her, this did too. She knew that she couldn't do any explorations (or shall we say, sexplorations) in the girls' dorm, even if everyone else was asleep. It was too risky.
Luckily for her, she was in the privileged position to have an entire bathroom to herself.
Even though it wasn't her usual bathing day, Seneca headed to the bathroom that morning. It was early enough that nobody else would disturb her.
She removed her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes immediately fell in the dark patch of hair between her legs. It took for it to turn red for her to acknowledge her embarassment.
No, she was going to do this.
She got inside the bathtub and made herself comfortable. Then, she slowly brought her hand towards her private parts. It was all hair, then there seemed to be an opening of sorts, as though the hairs were parted in two. A little downer and - ow!
Seneca flushed and turned on the tap in an erratic motion and then put the hand that had done the crime underneath the water.
It took some minutes to compose herself, before she stopped the running water. This was stupid. If she could read about illegal magic, she could do whatever it was that woman was doing with her body.
Seneca slid her fingers downwards once more. She located the protruding part which had caused her to flinch before. She run her finger on it once more, this time more carefully. It gave her a weird sort of sensation. It was pleasant.
She continued to do that and, seeing that she was untouched to this day, it didn't take long for her to really get into the sensation. That one small bit of soft flesh seemed to be controlling the rest of her body and Seneca began to feel a sort of electricity.
A muffled moan escaped her mouth just as she heard footsteps on the bathroom's marbled floors, stopping her activity like a guillotine falling on a sinner's head.
The worst part? The more the scene remained in her mind, the more it changed. The faces in the picture morphed. The woman's features slowly started to morph into Seneca's. As for the man, Seneca began to ponder about any man she'd like to have in such proximity. Sometimes Tiberius came to mind, other times Germander. I know how that looks to the reader, given that they were both her cousins, but we should take into consideration that Seneca had little to no relationships with males outside her family. And Cadwallader Selwyn was anything but desirable!
Sometimes, in the night, her hand had travelled terribly close to the triangular region between her leg. It would rest upon her nightgown's cotton, and yet Seneca felt like she was committing a sin. However, just like the dark arts fascinated her, this did too. She knew that she couldn't do any explorations (or shall we say, sexplorations) in the girls' dorm, even if everyone else was asleep. It was too risky.
Luckily for her, she was in the privileged position to have an entire bathroom to herself.
Even though it wasn't her usual bathing day, Seneca headed to the bathroom that morning. It was early enough that nobody else would disturb her.
She removed her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes immediately fell in the dark patch of hair between her legs. It took for it to turn red for her to acknowledge her embarassment.
No, she was going to do this.
She got inside the bathtub and made herself comfortable. Then, she slowly brought her hand towards her private parts. It was all hair, then there seemed to be an opening of sorts, as though the hairs were parted in two. A little downer and - ow!
Seneca flushed and turned on the tap in an erratic motion and then put the hand that had done the crime underneath the water.
It took some minutes to compose herself, before she stopped the running water. This was stupid. If she could read about illegal magic, she could do whatever it was that woman was doing with her body.
Seneca slid her fingers downwards once more. She located the protruding part which had caused her to flinch before. She run her finger on it once more, this time more carefully. It gave her a weird sort of sensation. It was pleasant.
She continued to do that and, seeing that she was untouched to this day, it didn't take long for her to really get into the sensation. That one small bit of soft flesh seemed to be controlling the rest of her body and Seneca began to feel a sort of electricity.
A muffled moan escaped her mouth just as she heard footsteps on the bathroom's marbled floors, stopping her activity like a guillotine falling on a sinner's head.
Frida Lestrange
