This one gets pretty ✨ rough ✨
No beta we die like Muriel’s virginity
Missed the previous chapters?
Go here:
[I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/tfo1hr/academia_mf_bondage_teasing_fingering_deepthroat/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
[II.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/th1hz6/academia_ii_mf_bondage_fingering_deepthroat_anal/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
[III.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/tmjeu3/academia_ch_iii_mf_bondage_teasing_anal_pillory/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
[IV.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/tq05ac/academia_iv_mf_deepthroat_facefucking_romance_bdsm/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
[V.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ty3ak3/academia_v_mf_bondage_tired_sex_overstimulation/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
I’m running out of ideas now.
Also, this is officially the longest Academia chapter so yaaaay!
By the way the entire second half of this was written while I was severely sleep deprived and quite possibly high on antifreeze fumes because my car blew up on Thursday.
+++++
In the woods behind Monarch Academy, there once stood a large abandoned stable overrun by vines and weeds. This was where Muriel and Elliott were planning to spar. However, it turned out that over the summer, the structure had crumbled to dust after being burned and reclaimed by mother nature. Fortunately though, the equally abandoned gazebo of the school was nearby and within eyeshot. The lovers cleared the path towards it, trudging through the bent overgrowth that wound across the forest floor.
The gazebo was in surprisingly good shape – aside from being quite overdue for a good spring cleaning… or maybe a hundred. The stained glass windows were all intact, albeit faded and only a shadow of their former splendor.
“A bit more romantic than a stable,” Muriel commented, stepping inside. It was a rather spacious little pavilion, one that must have been intended for outdoor gatherings judging by the sconces on each wall between the windows. “Perhaps for the best.”
“I wonder why this one was abandoned,” Elliott thought aloud, lighting the candles of each sconce. The circular space was illuminated with a gentle glow reminiscent of a time from before the Soleion and D’hivernalles families were enemies. “Muriel… are you up for something fun?”
“Define fun.”
“A strip duel. One hit, one piece of clothing. Quite simple.” Elliott said, kicking his longsword from the bench of the gazebo into his hand. Muriel eyed him with curiosity.
“First of all, mon chéri, I’d never refuse that. You know I’ll take any opportunity to see your skin.” Muriel picked up her rapier, swiping it through the air with a satisfying swishing sound. “Second… you’re left-handed?” Elliott twirled the blade in his left hand before passing it to his right, repeating the spiral motions.
“Ambidextrous.” He replied, returning the blade to his left hand. “I write with my left. *I think about you with my right.”* He looked down at Muriel, giving her a flirtatious wink.
“…B-bâtard effronté,” Muriel stammered, trying to suppress the blush that covered her face from ear to ear. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“My love, if I were trying to kill you, I’d be using my writing hand *and* my thinking hand instead of just my wit, don’t you think?” Elliott said with a cheeky smile, leaning on the pommel of his sword.
“…Your face is just as effective.” Muriel said, burying her flustered cheeks into her hands. Elliott pried them away, tilting her head up towards him and leaning down to kiss her.
*”Précieuse.”* Elliott whispered as he pulled away. “Alright, mon amour. I probably shouldn’t distract you too much.”
“Hoo… trois étapes!” Muriel called out. She and Elliott both stepped back from the center of the floor three paces. Elliott held his blade in front of himself and pointed it towards Muriel, his right arm folded behind his back. His knees were directly over his toes, with his left leg in front. Muriel’s stance was a perfect mirror of his, with her right leg in front instead. She held her sword vertically, her left arm folded and resting at the small of her back. “En garde!”
Elliott made the first lunge, thrusting his blade directly forward towards Muriel’s left shoulder. She pivoted on her right foot to dodge, planting her left leg behind her and making a swipe towards Elliott’s back. He shuffled to his right, gaining just enough space to send his sword over his shoulder and block her swing. They both repositioned, Muriel’s methodical gaze honing in on Elliott’s footwork. Him being ambidextrous could definitely pose a disadvantage if his feet were also equally dominant.
“Am I… baffling you?” Elliott teased, switching his blade to his right hand. Muriel scowled.
“Quite.” Muriel said, observing the way Elliott’s body adjusted to the right. His feet were indeed equally dominant. He could switch hands with a blade without missing a step – figuratively and literally. That did put a notable damper on Muriel’s ability to predict and counter his movements.
“Good!” Elliott exclaimed, dashing towards Muriel with a left-footed lunge. The flat edge of his sword connected with Muriel’s right shoulder, catching her off-guard with the mismatched directions. “Point.”
“That would be incredibly against regulations.” Muriel said, unbuttoning her blouse. She threw it to the bench, readying herself for the next round. Elliott took a few seconds to adore Muriel, glancing over the satin bra that concealed her breasts before preparing his stance with his sword now in his left hand. “En garde.”
Muriel made the first lunge this time, stepping forth as far as she could with her right foot to Elliott’s left side, ducking under his arm as he struggled to swing his blade backwards. Her blade was blocked by his as he managed to rotate his body to face her. Muriel twirled her blade around his, directing his arm downwards and making an angular hit on his forearm.
“Point.” Muriel declared, lips slightly curled as she watched Elliott remove his shirt. He threw it towards the bench and stretched, readying himself again. Muriel could spot the sweat gleaming on his abs, trailing around the curves of his biceps. Elliott could see Muriel’s tongue flick across her lips from the corner of his eye. He held his blade in his right hand, his left foot extended.
“En garde!” Elliott called, taking a running start and making a step-lunge towards Muriel. She jumped and pivoted her hips back to avoid the blade, tapping the top of Elliott’s head with her rapier. Elliott stood dumbfounded for a moment. “What the- what in the world was that!? I made a lunge right for you and suddenly I just felt a *thwap* on my head!”
“Perks of being tiny,” Muriel said with a shrug, balancing her rapier on the tip of her index finger with just the pommel as Elliott removed his trousers. “And fast. You are fighting me with a much bulkier sword.”
“Mon Dieu, I wasn’t expecting you to be *that* fast! You probably could have gotten away from me the first night with agility like that!” Elliott kicked his trousers to the bench, leaving him only in boxers.
“Honestly, I could barely see you that night. You had an athletic shadow as far as I could tell, so I was quite sure I was completely done for, even if I did.” Muriel said, flinging her rapier up a few inches before catching it and instantly resuming a ready stance. “En garde!”
“Good grief, you’re relentless.” Elliott said, barely in a ready position. There was a brief moment of stillness between them. The petrichor from their sweat colliding with the dust on the floor was palpable; a scent reminiscent of their night in the woods and the nights in Elliott’s bed. Muriel broke the stasis and swung her blade more like a longsword, aiming for broader hits rather than precision due to Elliott’s unpredictability. Elliott parried several successive swings before making a successful riposte that connected with Muriel’s left shoulder. “Stick to rapier techniques, love. Longsword combat is my specialty.”
“Indeed it is. You’re wielding what should be a two-handed sword with one hand, and you’re able to switch hands mid-fight!” Muriel slipped off her trousers, throwing them towards her discarded shirt. Muriel noticed the toned muscle of Elliott’s legs, waving her arms in frustrated admiration. “You *are* athletic! You can’t just be perfectly sculpted all over without doing *some* kind of sport!”
“Bareback horse racing and combat training. Judging by the muscles that you’ve toned yourself, you’ve dabbled in equestrian sports too. Can’t say I’d imagine you in any other sport. You don’t strike me as the social or rowdy type.”
“I did show jumping for a good portion of my life. Bareback as well.” Muriel said. Elliott nodded, humming in thought.
“Highest clearance?” Elliott asked.
“Just under seven feet.” Muriel replied, twirling her blade like a baton.
“Yeesh, that’s quite a landing impact.” Elliott said, readying himself for Muriel’s lunge as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of her blade and turned her attention towards him. *”No wonder you’re so good at taking me.”*
“Oh, you- en garde, bâtard!” Muriel dashed after him before she finished her sentence, making a mad swing that was easily parried and countered within a second. Elliott’s blade tapped her forearm and then the top of her shoulder in quick succession.
“Oi. You lunged before you finished the call. That’s a penalty strip.” Elliott said with a smile, circling around Muriel and standing in front of her. She smirked back at him.
“Oh? In that case, that little stunt you pulled in the first round gets a penalty strip too.” Muriel slipped off her undergarments, wrapping her arms around Elliott’s body and letting her fingers roam across the sweat on his skin.
*”Why don’t you do it for me, chéri?”* Elliott countered, tracing the muscles on her back. Muriel looked up at him, her chin resting between his pecs.
“Was this why you suggested a strip duel? To tempt me?” Muriel asked, slipping her fingers beneath the band of Elliott’s boxers. He chuckled lightly, giving her a subtle nod. “Bâtard…”
“I’m a Soleion, ma chérie. We’re known for being strategists just as you D’hivernalles are known for being duelists.” Elliott said, his hands drifting across her lower back towards the curves of her posterior. “So… is it working yet?”
“Perhaps a little too well.” Muriel purred, feeling Elliott’s dick poking her through the cloth. He groaned as he felt her slowly grind her body against his. He could tell she was teasing him, making a mental note to make her pay dearly for it. Though, judging by the internal monologue that she had let slip into the world the previous night, that was what she wanted. His mental note became neural scribbles when he felt her tongue trailing between his pecs and down across his abs. He looked down to see her bending to her knees, eyes locked with his and filled with a foreign kind of lust.
“Muriel, I swear…”
“Shh…” Muriel slid Elliott’s boxers down his legs, allowing his beastly cock to spring free. It twitched in anticipation as Muriel neared it, the warmth of her breath tickling it almost tauntingly. She brushed her dry lips across the shaft, making a tiny lick at the tip before turning her smug back up towards Elliott. He was at the end of his rope already just from watching her, and she wanted to see him fall.
Elliott wasn’t keen on giving in so easily. His breath hitched as he felt Muriel’s fingers crawling across his thighs, tracing the sculpted muscle that she so admired on him. She rested the tip of his dick on the tip of her tongue, looking up at him with a seductive stare capable of sending anyone off the edge – and that’s when he finally fell.
*”That’s it,”* Elliott gripped Muriel’s hair and yanked her head back, forcing her mouth open and shoving himself inside. “You think you can get away with teasing me like that? Or do you *like* riling me up so much?”
Muriel threw her head back and out of Elliott’s grasp, a frenzied laugh escaping her lips.
“I want to know what you can do. *Elliott Soleion, tu es la Bête du Soleil.* Whatever you’re capable of doing to me, I’m capable of taking.” Muriel challenged. Elliott cycled through a multitude of emotions before plateauing on a deadly mix of pride and lust.
*”Muriel D’hivernalles, my love… I’m about to fucking shatter you, so I suggest you start begging for mercy now.”* Elliott whispered, almost in fear of his own threat. Muriel let out a quiet chuckle, gripping Elliott’s hands and interlocking their fingers. She pulled him down towards herself, slightly knocking him off-balance and only adding to his frustration.
*”I beg you for none.”*
*”Then none you shall receive.”* Elliott wrangled his hands out of Muriel’s, tightly gripping her auburn roots and tilting her head up to look at him. She was completely manic – a somewhat frightening yet undeniably arousing side to her that he hadn’t seen before. “What do *you* want, mon amour? What do you really want me to do?”
“Be yourself. I know you’ve been holding back.” Muriel said. It was true, Elliott had been suppressing some of his strength and his darker desires. How had she gathered that much? “I’m curious what’s really going through that head of yours. Satisfy my curiosity, chéri. *Lâcher la bête.”*
“Promise me you won’t hate me,” Elliott whispered. Muriel could hear the floodgates of his strength breaking, and sailing on the crest of that tide was a ship loaded with lust. “I promise you no matter how much I end up hurting you now, I’ll take care of you when it’s over.”
“I’ll never hate you… je vous promets.” Muriel assured. She reached a hand towards her back where scars once lined her skin. “You’ve been so honest with me, Elliott. It’s time to be honest with yourself.”
“… I still feel like you’re going to hate me after this.”
“Ell, I’m *going* to hate you if you keep stalling for me.”
*”I wasn’t stalling for your sake, my love. But you’re about to wish I was.”*
To say that Elliott was strong enough to break the earth might have been an understatement. After all he did hold the epithet, ‘Beast of the Sun,’ and he certainly lived up to it. His eyes exuded a fervor that would put Mount Vesuvius to shame. He circled around Muriel and grabbed her by her bicep, lifting her to her feet and throwing her onto the floor. She landed on her back, quickly pinned down by Elliott’s entire body atop hers. She could feel him slither along her body, until his knees were pinning down her shoulders.
“Hey Muriel,” Elliott cheekily whispered as Muriel strained to pry his thighs away from her head. “Guess what?”
“What?”
*”You’re not getting out of this one.”* Elliott pressed his thumbs into Muriel’s neck, forcing her mouth open and plunging his length down her throat. He pivoted his body until he was on his back, fingers tugging at the roots of her hair to keep her lips around his dick. He wrapped one leg around the back of her neck, locking her in place with no intent of letting her escape. Muriel managed to push herself just an inch off of him, catching her breath with a labored cough. “Regrettez-vous cela?”
“Je ne regrette rien- mm!”
*”Then I suppose you won’t mind this, then.”* Elliott shoved her back down, wrapping his other leg around her as well. He had her in a complete leglock, her lips pressing against the base of his cock. The desperate whines that escaped her throat made it clear that she wasn’t physically built to take it, but Elliott was determined to break the limits of her body. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as saliva pooled around Elliott’s family jewels. His inner sadist was admittedly enthralled by the sounds of Muriel’s struggles – her broken croaking and gagging was perhaps the most beautiful set of sounds she’d made yet. “I told you I was going to shatter you.”
He looked down to lock eyes with her; they were glassy, wide with an instinctive kind of fear and a suppressed kind of arousal. He lifted both of his legs from the back of her neck, watching her entire body jolt backwards at full force. She landed on her side, violently coughing and straining to catch her breath. Elliott pushed her onto her back, straddling her and roughly sliding into the folds of her cunt without so much as a split second of preparation. Muriel threw her hands against him in a meek attempt to push him off, wailing as she felt Elliott pull back and buck into her without a shred of mercy. Elliott clapped his hand over her mouth, leaning down towards her with a gaze as sinister as it was beautiful.
“Quiet.” He commanded, the rhythm of his remorseless thrusts growing faster. Each slap of his hips against hers felt harder and faster than the last, rearranging the inside of Muriel’s body with a twisted finesse. “You really want to know what goes on in my head? You, breaking into pieces beneath me. Begging me for more, begging me to stop… an opera of your tears and your screams. *That* is what goes on in my head, every waking hour of every day.”
Muriel squealed as she felt a slap across her breasts, a light sting traveling across her chest. Then another came down, a backhanded strike across them from the other side. She pried Elliott’s hand from her mouth, letting out a piercing cry of equal parts pleasure and pain.
“Please,” she whimpered, clawing against his arm as he threatened to silence her again.
“When you really can’t take any more, my love… dis-moi que tu cèdes.” Elliott pinned down her shoulders and dug his nails into her skin, leaving two sets of crescent-shaped indents. “Until then… continuez à mendier. *You know how I love to hear it.”*
“Elliott! A-Arrêtez!!” Muriel gasped, feeling Elliott’s nails rake down across her chest. Between his cock tearing her apart and his claws skinning her alive, her brain was going into overdrive trying to figure out if it was pure agony or euphoria that she was feeling. Elliott’s thrusts suddenly slowed, followed by him exiting the swollen lips of her pussy and nudging the entrance of her ass. She panicked, flailing her arms and legs against him. “Attendez, attendez!” Elliott slammed her entire body against the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. She desperately pleaded again, her voice quivering. “S’il t-te plaît, Elliott! A-attendez!”
“Non, je ne pense pas.” Elliott said with a low chuckle, forcing himself inside. Muriel let out a blood-curdling scream, immediately breaking down into tears. They had performed this song and dance before on their first night – but it seemed that even then, he was holding back. It felt rawer and rougher this time, the nerves in her skin lighting ablaze with each ruthless thrust. She pushed against him with her feet, met by him grabbing her ankles and spreading her legs apart until they nearly formed a straight line. Her pained cries were melting into moans with each slap of their hips. *”Ma belle masochiste.”*
“Je ne suis-”
“Oh, yes you most certainly *are,* ma chérie.” Elliott interjected, cutting off her protest with a powerful buck. “Look at you. Just… oh, Mon Dieu, *look at you.* Do you have any idea what a man would do to get a glimpse of this kind of beauty? You would start the modern Trojan War. Gods would tear up the fabric of the world for just a look at you. Narcissus himself would find you worthy of his admiration.”
Elliott released her ankles, cradling her tear-stained cheeks and sealing his lips over hers for a brief reprieve. Muriel could see the sweat glistening across Elliott’s skin, keeping a few raven hairs stuck to his forehead.
*”And that’s why I need the world to know that you’re mine.”* Elliott ended his intermission, rolling his hips towards Muriel’s. His pace and his intensity were as volcanic as ever. Muriel whimpered beneath him as he pounded her, unsure if she’d be able to walk again after this night. She reached up towards his head, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her. Elliott nestled against the side of her neck, gently nibbling and sucking her pale skin as he continued his work below the waist.
Muriel didn’t even have the strength to make the slightest of sounds – until Elliott suddenly rammed into her, jolting her out of her paralyzed state. She let out a shriek comparable to that of a banshee, digging her nails into Elliott’s back and clawing his skin in a crazed frenzy. He groaned at the sensation, a cooling sting sprawling across his skin. He could feel where Muriel was drawing blood, letting the collision of hot and cold fuel his motions more.
“Elliott,” Muriel pleaded, Elliott’s skin beneath her nails. He looked into her eyes, awaiting her next words. “I- I can’t take much more…”
“Dis-moi que tu cèdes, ma chérie. Je vais arrêter.” Elliott reassured her, slightly slowing his pace. Muriel timidly nodded in understanding. Elliott slowly ramped up his tempo again, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uneven. Muriel could hear him slightly panting – it seemed that letting his beast out was quite draining, even for him. She soundlessly screamed as she felt him plunge deeper and harder into her, as if he had grown within the walls of her flesh. Her nails dug into the soft wood of the gazebo floor, leaving scratches like those of an animal’s claws.
“Ell, oh God, Ell…” Muriel’s voice was one tear short of a sob at this point, her chest heaving with labored breaths. “J-je cède!”
Elliott immediately came to a halt, exiting Muriel’s tender posterior and hovering above her. He reached a hand down, quickly stroking his length just a few times before several white ribbons ejected from it and landed on Muriel’s chest and torso. He collapsed next to her, panting and clearly exhausted. It only took him a few breaths to recover enough to sit up and lay Muriel’s head in his lap, gently combing his fingers through her copper curls and wiping the tears from her face.
“…Do you hate me?” He finally said, breaking the silence between them. Muriel’s eyes flung open, meeting his with a mix of surprise, disapproval, and horror.
“I hate that you think I would.” Muriel said, wrapping her arms around his. Elliott stretched out his legs and wrapped his arms around Muriel, lifting her on top of himself to face her. He paid no mind to the sticky warmth on her stomach that spread across his, pulling her into a tight embrace and hiding his face in her hair.
“I love you… I love you so much. I wish there was a word more powerful than love that I could use to tell you what I feel for you.” Elliott whispered, his voice shaking. “When I do these things to you… you have no idea how afraid I am that you’ll hate me for it.”
“I promise you, Ell… I will never hate you.” Muriel wriggled her ring-bearing hand free, pricking her thumb on a sharp edge of her signet ring and waving it in front of Elliott for him to see. “You have my word. And my heart.”
Elliott brought Muriel’s bleeding thumb to his lips, lightly kissing the self-inflicted wound. He pricked his own thumb in response, interlocking his fingers with hers.
“In that case, you have my word that I will never stop loving you.” Elliott said triumphantly. Muriel leaned down and pressed her lips against his, flicking her tongue between his lips and briefly across his teeth.
“…I’ll never stop loving you either.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/u12fs2/academia_vi_mf_hardcore_deepthroat_facefucking