Chapter 157: +18 Lisara, Lacus and Orihime. Arche and Enri’s ride. Renner joins Charlotte and Neia.

You look between Enri and Lisara, both leaning against the mantle with the satisfied expressions of women who have been enjoying the show. Lisara's auburn hair is disheveled, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, her smirk firmly in place. Enri stands beside her, green eyes bright with warmth, her practical clothing slightly rumpled from the evening's festivities.

"One of you come here," you say. "I want to ride you in front of these two."

Lisara pushes off the mantle immediately, her smirk widening into something predatory. "Thought you'd never ask."

She crosses the hall with confident strides, stopping before you. You pull her against your chest, your hands finding the hem of her blouse and lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. Her skirt follows, pooling at her feet. She stands before you bare, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, her body responsive and ready.

You lift her, positioning her above your erection. She wraps her legs around your waist instinctively, her arms draping over your shoulders. You enter her slowly, inch by inch, watching her face contort with pleasure as you stretch her open. Her wetness coats you, her walls gripping tight around your shaft as you bottom out.

"Tease," she breathes against your ear.

You hold still inside her, letting her feel every inch, before beginning. Her breasts press against your chest with each thrust, the soft weight of them shifting as you gradually increase your pace. Lisara's head falls back, her auburn hair swinging, her moans building as you drive deeper.

You pick up speed. Her breasts begin to bounce with each impact, the flesh rippling beautifully. You catch them both, one in each hand, using your grip to hold her weight as you pound upward. She cries out, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her thighs clenching around your hips.

Orihime and Lacus watch from the cushioned bench, their faces still flushed from their own climaxes, their fingers still intertwined. Orihime's grey eyes, tracking every movement of Lisara's bouncing body with fascination.

Lisara comes with a sharp cry, her walls clenching around you, her body shuddering in your grip. You lower her gently onto the bench beside Orihime and Lacus, keeping yourself buried inside her as you rock slowly, extending her orgasm into gentle aftershocks that make her whimper and clutch at your arms.

You withdraw from Lisara and turn to the two women beside her. Orihime gasps as you kneel pulling her legs apart, your mouth finding her swollen slit again. Lacus shifts to accommodate you, her pink hair fanning across the cushion as you alternate between them, your tongue working one then the other efficiently.

They come almost at the same time, Orihime's scream dissolving into exhausted whimpers while Lacus sighs beautifully, her composure finally breaking into something raw and genuine. Both women slump against each other, their eyes fluttering closed, their breathing evening into the approaching sleep.

You turn back to Lisara, who lies sprawled on the bench watching you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile. You scoop her up again, her legs wrapping around you instantly, and bounce her against your chest. Her breasts slap against you with each thrust, the sensation of her hard nipples dragging across your skin making her gasp.

"Again?" she manages, her voice breaking.

You answer by driving deeper. Her second climax builds faster, her body already sensitive, and when it hits she throws her head back and laughs breathlessly even as her walls clamp down around you. You follow her over the edge, releasing deep inside her, filling her with hot semen that makes her shudder and press her forehead against your neck.

"Good monster," she murmurs, echoing Prim's earlier words.

You cradle Lisara against your chest as her breathing slows, her auburn hair sticking to her flushed skin. Her lips curve into a satisfied smile even as her eyes drift shut. You lower her gently behind Orihime, tucking her between the sleeping auburn-haired woman and the pink-haired pacifist, their bodies forming a warm pile of exhausted contentment. You withdraw from Lisara carefully, the motion drawing a soft whimper from her sleeping form.

The main hall resembles a battlefield of pleasure. Ten women lie scattered across cushions and couches in various states of undress and unconsciousness. Kallen, Alicia and Prim form a tangled knot near the fireplace, their limbs intertwined. The four half-cup maids occupy the large couch in a heap of half-maid uniforms and exposed flesh, Villetta's dark skin still glistening with traces of your seed. Orihime, Lacus and Lisara rest in a row on the cushioned bench, their fingers still loosely intertwined.

Movement catches your eye from the hallway. Princess Renner stands at the threshold, her golden-blonde hair catching the firelight, her blue eyes wide as they sweep across the carnage of satisfied exhaustion. She wears a simple nightgown of pale blue silk, her slender frame outlined by the fabric. Her lips part slightly as she takes in the scope of the evening's aftermath.

"Perfect timing," you say, rising from the bench. "I was just about to decide who gets the last rounds."

Renner's gaze lingers on the sleeping women before returning to you. A faint blush colors her pale cheeks, but her expression remains composed, analytical even now. "I came to ask for my turn," she admits, her voice quiet but steady. "Though I see you have been thorough tonight."

"I have two options left," you tell her, stepping closer. "The last public set with Arche and Enri, or the last private set with Charlotte and Neia. Which would you prefer?"

Renner's blue eyes flicker with calculation. You watch her weigh the options, her strategic mind working through implications. Public with Arche and Enri means witnesses among the remaining conscious household members. Private with Charlotte and Neia means intimacy in a smaller, more controlled space with two women she has observed but not yet shared an intimate moment with.

"Charlotte and Neia," she decides after a moment. Her voice carries quiet certainty. "I have watched them from a distance before. I would like to understand them better, and I suspect they would benefit from seeing that even a princess finds this manageable."

You raise an eyebrow at her reasoning. Renner meets your gaze without flinching.

"Besides," she adds, a small smile playing at her lips, "Arche has her sisters to consider. I would not want to complicate her morning routine."

You nod. "Then until we visit Charlotte's room. You will sit and watch while I lay down. Enri will ride me and Arche will sit on my face."

Renner's composure flickers for just a heartbeat. "You want me to watch?"

"Watching is part of it. You chose the private set, those two have been hearing the lust-filled moans and screams of their roommates for over an hour." you remind her. "Charlotte and Neia need to see that a princess can observe without judgment. That this is normal."

Renner straightens her spine, her golden hair swaying. "I understand." She pauses, then adds more quietly, "Will I have my turn after?"

"After, beside Charlotte and Neia." you confirm.

She nods once, decisively, and sits to observe you as you move between Enri and Arche. The hallway leading to Charlotte's room silent. Around you, ten women dreaming in satisfaction.

You settle onto a wide couch near the fireplace, its cushions warm. Renner stands at the hallway threshold watching with those calculating blue eyes as Enri and Arche approach.

Both women have already shed their clothing. Enri's green eyes gleam with warmth as she kneels beside you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that tastes of anticipation. Arche follows, her slender body pale in the firelight, her violet eyes meeting yours with quiet confidence as she kisses you softly.

"We heard," Enri murmurs against your mouth, her hand resting on your chest.

Arche says nothing, simply climbing onto the couch and positioning herself above your face with ease. Her thighs frame your cheeks, her fingers lacing with yours and guiding your hands upward to cup her breasts. She settles her weight, her lower lips pressing against your mouth, and you taste her immediately.

Enri straddles your hips, her wetness coating you as she guides you inside. She takes you slowly, adjusting her angle with a soft gasp, her green eyes finding Arche's violet ones above you. The two women exchange a look of shared understanding.

You work Arche with your tongue in rhythm with Enri's rolling hips. Each time Enri sinks down, you press deeper into Arche. Each time Enri rises, you withdraw to circle Arche's clit. The synchronization builds both women steadily, their breathing quickening in tandem.

Enri rides with patience tonight, trying to match your pace rather than chasing her own pleasure. Her breasts bounce gently with each descent, her hands braced on your stomach. Arche's head tips back, her violet eyes half-closed, her nipples hardening beneath your palms as your fingers trace circles around them.

"Close," Arche whispers.

You feel Enri's walls tightening. You increase your pace on Arche's clit while thrusting upward into Enri, and both women crest together. Arche cries out softly, her thighs clamping around your head, her fingers gripping your hands against her breasts. Enri throws her head back with a sharp moan, her body shuddering as her climax ripples through her.

They continue. Enri rocking through her aftershocks until she builds again. Arche grinds against your mouth, chasing a second peak with growing urgency. You service them both through another round, then a third, until their movements grow sluggish and their moans dissolve into exhausted whimpers.

When they finally go limp, you gather them both into your arms. Arche's slender frame curls against your chest while Enri drapes herself across your side, her green eyes already closing.

You rise carefully, carrying Arche to the couch where Milly sleeps and laying her beside the student council president. Enri you place next to Prim's sleeping form near the fireplace, tucking her between the pink-haired princess and Kallen.

A whispered "Prestidigitation" sweeps across the hall, cleaning sweat and fluids from every sleeping body. Then "Mass Rejuvenating Slumber" settling over them like a warm blanket, ensuring they will wake rested and whole before sunrise.

You turn to Renner, who stands watching with her hands clasped before her, her golden-blonde hair catching the dim firelight. Her expression is composed but her pupils are dilated, her breathing slightly elevated.

"Ready?" you ask, extending your hand toward Charlotte's room.

Renner takes it without hesitation, her slender fingers wrapping around yours. "Lead the way."

You push open the door to Charlotte's room with Renner at your side. The room is warm, lit by a single magical lamp that casts soft golden light across the space. Charlotte lies on her bed, white negligee smooth, her blonde hair spread across the pillow, her blue eyes snapping to you the instant the door opens. Neia sits rigidly beside her, her grey eyes wide, her matching negligee pristine and untouched.

Both women's textbooks lie closed and forgotten on the bedside table.

You lean against the doorframe, surveying them with a slow smile. "You two look like you haven't studied at all."

Charlotte's jaw tightens. Her composure holds but her cheeks flush pink. "We were perfectly productive until certain auditory distractions made concentration somewhat difficult." she says, her voice clipped and precise. "After that,"

Neia shifts beside her, unable to meet your eyes. "I tried," she offers weakly.

Renner steps past you into the room, her pale blue nightgown swishing against her thighs. She stops beside Charlotte's desk with fluid grace, her golden-blonde hair catching the lamplight. "I will be joining," she announces calmly. "To help normalize the experience."

Charlotte's blue eyes flick to the princess with something between relief and bewilderment.

You approach the bed. The women watch you with different flavors of nervous anticipation. Charlotte's analytical mind is working behind those blue eyes, calculating what comes next. Neia's fingers twist in the fabric of her negligee.

"Remove your nightgowns and panties," you tell them. "Together."

A beat of silence. Charlotte sits up slowly, her movements deliberate and controlled. She reaches for the hem of her negligee with steady hands, though you notice the slight tremor in her fingers. Neia watches her, then mirrors the motion, both women rising to their knees on the mattress. Renner matches their preparation still standing.

They pull the white fabric over their heads simultaneously. Charlotte's body emerges lean and elegant, her small breasts tipped with pale pink nipples already stiffening in the cool air. Renner's breasts slightly larger than Charlotte's but clearly less athletic. Neia's frame is more athletic, her breasts slightly fuller, her skin flushed from neck to navel. They both slide their panties down their thighs and kick them aside.

Three blonde women now bare before you in various states. Renner still standing beside the bed, watching with those calculating blue eyes. Charlotte and Neia kneeling on the bed, their bodies exposed, their expressions a contrast of controlled anxiety and nervous curiosity.

"Sit," you instruct.

They settle onto the mattress side by side, their thighs touching, their hands finding each other instinctively. You take a long moment to savor the sight. Charlotte's slender legs, the neat blonde triangle between them glistening faintly. Neia's more muscular thighs, her grey eyes finally meeting yours with something approaching trust. Renner's smooth thighs and calculated calm disturbed only by her growing expectations.

You kneel before the bed, your hands settling on their knees, pressing them apart gently. Each women complies, their legs opening to reveal their virgin pussies, already wet from listening to their roommates scream in pleasure.

You lean forward and press your mouth to Charlotte first. She gasps sharply, her spine going rigid, her fingers clutching the bedsheets. You taste her arousal, sweet and clean, and work her slowly with your tongue. Then you shift to Neia, giving her the same patient attention, her grey eyes rolling back as her head tips against Charlotte's shoulder. Moving to Renner last, her gasps turn to moans sweetly, you can tell while she's enjoying it she's also performing.

You alternate between them, building each steadily, your hands resting on their inner thighs as your tongue traces circles around each clit in turn.

You build them slowly, deliberately, reading each woman's body like a familiar instrument. Charlotte's thighs tremble first, her controlled breathing fracturing into sharp little gasps she cannot suppress. You pull back just as her hips begin to buck, leaving her hovering at the precipice. Her blue eyes snap open, blazing with frustration.

"You are doing that on purpose," she manages, her voice thin.

You shift to Neia without answering. The squire's grey eyes are already glazed, her fingers white-knuckled in the sheets. You bring her to the same trembling edge with three slow strokes of your tongue across her clit, then withdraw. Neia whimpers, her hips chasing your mouth.

Renner is last. Her composure is impressive but cracking, her golden hair sticking to her forehead, her calculated breathing ragged. You work her until her thighs try to raise around your ears and her fingers dig into your scalp momentarily, then stop.

"Bastard," she breathes, the word stripped of all royal pretense.

You cycle through them repeatedly. Charlotte's analytical armor shatters completely on the third denial, her hands flying to your hair and pulling you against her with desperate force. You resist, holding her at the edge until tears prick her blue eyes and her hips roll involuntarily. Neia abandons all pretense of dignity, begging softly with each withdrawal, her voice cracking on please. Even Renner's strategic mind dissolves into incoherent pleading, her golden-blonde hair a mess across the pillow.

When you finally allow them over, you push all three simultaneously. Your tongue finds Charlotte's clit and does not relent. Your fingers work inside Neia while your thumb circles her swollen bud. Your other hand cups Renner's sex, two fingers curling against her front wall while your palm grinds against her.

They come together in a cascade of sound. Charlotte screams, her spine arching violently off the mattress, her slender legs locking around your head. Neia cries out in a high broken note, her entire body seizing, her grey eyes rolling back. Renner's orgasm is quieter but no less devastating, a shuddering gasp that breaks into something raw and genuine, her composure finally and completely undone.

You extend each climax with patient attention, softening your touch as their bodies convulse through aftershocks. Charlotte's legs release your head and fall open limply. Neia collapses sideways against Charlotte's shoulder, twitching. Renner lies motionless, her chest heaving, staring at the ceiling with an expression of stunned vulnerability.

You rise and settle against the bed over them, your hands finding their bodies with unhurried appreciation. Your palm traces the curve of Charlotte's hip, the dip of her waist, the gentle swell of her small breasts. She shivers under your touch but does not pull away.

"So," you say softly, your fingers tracing Renner's collarbone, then sliding down to cup Charlotte's breast. "How was your first evening studying?"

Charlotte laughs, the sound surprised and genuine. "Educational," she says, her voice still breathless. "Though I suspect the curriculum was not what either of us anticipated."

Neia shifts against Charlotte's side, her grey eyes finding yours with something in them. Trust. "You keep satisfying us," she admits quietly.

Renner turns her head, her golden hair fanning across the pillow. Her blue eyes meet yours without their usual calculation. "You are remarkably gentle for someone who could destroy nations," she observes.

Your hand slides down Charlotte's stomach, fingers tracing the blonde hair between her thighs without pressing inward. She tenses, then relaxes. Your other hand rests on Neia's hip, thumb drawing lazy circles on her skin. Renner receives your attention through your gaze, held steady and warm.

"Tell me about your day," you say. "The real parts. Not the performance."