Niveilia’s nerves are on edge. She is docile and shy by nature, turning into a fierce and feisty, demanding maiden only when it cos to the lives of others.
Likewise, kissing N’Ïrk should fit into such category, but the stares of everyone in the room, are almost too much for her.
However, she complies, a Good Wife shouldn’t disobey her Husband, especially after it’s her own fault being scolded by the young man.
Her red lips touch N’Ïrk’s, the warmth of the contact is marvelous, yet, he goes slightly overboard, delivering a twin slap to the damsel’s rear, grabbing the prominent buttocks and squeezing them with fervent abandon, even if it is over the fabric of the lady’s skirt.
A moan is muffled in Niveilia’s mouth, her massive udders are pressed against the muscular chest of her Hubby. Her stiff nipples are so hard, that they are pushed inwards in the large bosom.
Luckily for her, the clothes prevent others from learning such shaful trait, as inverted nipples, even under such circumstance, are widely looked down in plenty of Civilizations.
Plus. Niveilia just discovered in the morning her tendency and taste for being spanked and groped at the sa ti she is making out, basically being just a silver away from a full-blown dry humping session.
Still, a yelp escapes and resonates in the room, though it is not from Niveilia. If not soone else. The oblivious responsible is Dyll’Phá, her mouth is wide open, and her thought process is stunned after witnessing the usually modest and reserved Niveilia being so devoted and daring in a partially public display of affection.
After all, Dyll’Phá didn’t notice the not so short lived kiss that the couple shared before they entered together in the Fake Zone.
"Wifey. This is only a quarter of the punishnt". Whispers N’Ïrk, giving a last peck on Niveilia’s forehead, and leaving the room before the lady can utter a word back.
The group that is representing the Preppers Fraternity reaches their destination in the Main building of the Intercultural Academy.
Entering in a reinforced chamber that has an hexagonal table, similar in design to the triangular wood table that is present in the Fraternity’s conference room.
Inside, there are six people present. They are divided in a group of five, sitting patiently at one of the six sides, and a single individual is mirroring them.
The group at the head is constituted by pure won. Two of them are easy to recognize.
Starting from the right side, is Mada Throllüsath, Gagk’Xannia’s Aunt and on N’Ïrk’s mory, she was only the owner of a waxing parlour.
The second is Coordinator Lycaonia, who rises an eyebrow at sighting N’Ïrk’s presence.
The pair is followed by the Headmistress, Ganeira Marriott, sitting at the center of the group.
She is a voluptuous and imposing woman, who is wearing a blouseless black militar uniform, showing a deep cleavage that could distract even the most holy and righteous of the mortals.
Her celest blue hair has a bright under glow, and the confidence she portrays, is only augnted by the black eye patch that covers the right side of her attractive face.
The accessory is embroidered with a purple skull, a similar tone to the iris on her left eye, having a small scar below. An everyday reminder of the Dangers that are lingering in Dhägna’Hür.
To her left, is Carildia Eldyron. A woman with orange skin, pinkish violet eyes and short blue tallic hair issued in a ponytail.
She has a dignified bearing, serious face and wears a tight outfit that has a cape with a piece of fur, a distinctive that accentuates her presence almost as much as her voluptuous curves, especially her breasts, as she shows a lot of cleavage.
Lastly. Another mature woman, Risteth Helixxand. She has an exuberant allure thanks to her seductive green eyes and the terracotta reddish wavy hair with quite a lot of volu, sohow, this is making the curves of her feminine body to appear even more prominent. Especially with her green dress that has black leather straps to support her bosom.
The Preppers advance without pleasantries and take their positions, sitting from left to right. N’Ïrk, Æ’Vérrya, Hát’Thöry, Myrrha and Norlan.
The Landowner ends next to the man who is sitting alone for the anti. He has 1.75 ters of height, burgundy skin absent of blemishes and a perfect toned silhouette with defined muscles. Dark purple hair is on the top, and the lower tonality is black, similar to the colour perceived in the vacuum of space, yet it has an energetic dim shine, evenly spread through each strand of his short mane.
He looks stoic, nonchalant, lancholic and nostalgic, a strange and unusual mix of emotions, more if they are tacitly depicted in soone’s bearing, but considering that his sole presence screams danger, makes everything more puzzling.
The monstrous young man reveals part of his potential and current prowess, his bright glowing lilac violet eyes are terrifying to look at, as he has three constricted pupils that are undoubtedly nacing. Though, is a fleeting occurrence, leaving only a single pupil after glancing in the newcors direction.
"Krïegdörn?".
"Correct...". Answers Norlan. Clearly caught flatfooted, as his aura reveals he is not aware of who is the young man asking.
"Is Trektör with you?". Says the young man, maintaining his stoic nonchalant intonation.
However, a lovelorn sigh leaves Risteth’s lips, whispering a surprised. "Trektör!". That is only caught by the Headmistress and the young man who initially ntion the na.
Still. Norlan confess. "No, He is not...".
"Later perhaps... . Although. It would had been good to see a friendly face".
Remarks the young man as he sinks again in his own thoughts.
For his part, Norlan is stunned for a mont, his semblance more calm, loudly laughing wholeheartedly, as he repeatedly says with mockery.
"Trektör equal friendly face".
Bursting into laughter again and again, which wins an amused snort from Risteth. But everyone else in the room, doesn’t catch the hilarious joke.
At that point, other groups arrive, and one of them, has a clear hostility towards Norlan. The Sadrín Fraternity...
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