Ermintrude's a bad kisser, but it's still fun. Take +1 XP, +1 Forward, and APPEASE.

"Undress me?" Ermintrude Cachalot invites. She gestures to the aureole of black tresses waving about your head. You have your own nest of snakes to more than match Miss Wormwood's, though where hers are scaly and venomous, yours are silky and dextrous.

You step closer. One dark tress hooks round a hairpin, two more clutch at the green ribbon at her collar, leaving your hands to unbind her belt from over her full belly, and your other lively tresses to slide inside the top of her robes.

"Ah ha ha ha ha!" Ermintrude laughs at the tickling tresses of hair caressing her breasts, her back, and underneath her arms. "Oh Morgan, you're perfect."

You hear a little note of pride in Ermintrude's voice, since she composed the ritual which you performed to put your magically restless hair under your control, and now she feels like you're her creation. It's a little tedious being her Galatea, especially since you and Fay have your own Galatea of sorts, Golondrina Redmoor, secretly of the Dragonfolk, who had charmed the both of you into changing Houses for her. Or maybe that makes Lolo your Pygmalion? Witches, we're mostly our own creation, Fay said once. Or each others'.

Ermintrude giggles, clucks, and coos as you caress her with your lively tresses as you open her robes, unpin her hair, and unbind her belt, leaving her in a thin loose smock. You bring your hair back to open your own robes as you pull Ermintrude's smock over her head, leaving her pale nudity on full display. She's not quite as pale as Fay, but both of them have the smooth full curves that a sculptor might find hiding in a block of marble, waiting for the chisel to free them, for the grinder to perfect their form and the polisher to burnish their surfaces to a dull gleam.

The scent of her perspiration rises from her warm skin, with the added notes you love, from the wetness between her thighs, that set your mouth watering. You breathe in deeply. She wants you. You can taste it.

With your robe and smock discarded, your slippers kicked aside, you wrap your arms round Ermintrude. Her lips are parted and her pale eyes are wide, looking into yours. She's warm in your arms.

"Oh, Morgan, you're a little chilly," Ermintrude says with a giggle.

"Not for long," you say. The warmth of her body flows into you. You lean forward to touch lips.

Ermintrude's a bad kisser. You're surprised that a fourth-year student who had never been a celibate could be like this, but maybe she'd just had boyfriends and flings? Or maybe she just never paid attention. She tries to lead, and it's all awkward lips and clashing teeth and tongues somewhere and rather a lot of slobber.

But it's fun. Even bad kissing can be fun. You bring your enlivened hair into play, your tresses tickling her ears, caressing her scalp, twining gently round her neck, and wrapping round her heavy breasts. Ermintrude is delighted by your distractions, laughing and quivering in your arms, in the many arms of your lively hair. Her mouth eases, loosens, letting you kiss her, letting you lead, letting her relax into your touch.

If you keep her distracted enough, stimulated enough, she's clay in your hands, yours to shape. You dance her around in the middle of the room, and slowly walk her over to her bed, and onto it.

"Lie back, let me eat you," you say.

"Yes, yes," Ermintrude says. She lies back and spreads her legs for you.

You breathe in deeply. Yes, this, you think. This. You bend over her sex, a pillowy mound with sparse light brown hair, full outer lips framing thickly swollen pink inner lips. This. You kiss each soft pale thigh, your hair curling forward to caress her hips, her belly, her legs.

"Oh Morgan, oh Morgan," Ermintrude says.

You return to the centre, moistening your lips. Kiss. Lick. Breathe. She's slippery, salty, strong. A hint of piss, but that goes right away. Your hair is a nest of tentacles, sliding over her from nipples to knees, going everywhere, caressing, squeezing, holding.

"Oh!" Ermintrude says, "This is just like the Dream of the Fisherman's... Oh, oh, oh yes! YES!"

Ermintrude's motions, breaths, voice, and words all sing out her excitement. Her hips rock and her knees quiver. She reaches down with her hands to tug at your hair, but each hand meets one of your curling, waving tresses, and your hair proves stronger than her arms. Where she would pull you, your hair wraps round her palms and her wrists and holds her tightly.

"Oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes!" Ermintrude calls out, panting and gasping after each exclamation. "Morgan, Morgan yes, yes. Everything, this is everything. Ooooohhhh."

You notice a familiar rhythm in the rocking of her hips, an extra quiver when your tongue touches her pearl. She's close.

"Put it inside me, put it inside me!" Ermintrude begs. "Your hair!"

Quicker than you can think, your hair pulls back the tresses caressing her thighs and belly and poises them underneath your chin.

"Inside me!" Ermintrude calls.

A fistful of your wriggling black tresses slides into her womb and two tightly wound tresses twist their way into her bumhole.

"Yes yes YESSSS!" Ermintrude cries out. "AUGHHHH!"

Her womb and her anus squeeze down hard on your wriggling, twisting tresses of animate hair. Everything feels warmer and brighter. The pulses of Ermintrude's climax wash through you. The wards hold, keeping the energy of her joys within the magic circle.

"Oh yes oh yes oh YESSSSS!" Ermintrude cries out as you bring her to a higher peak.

After some time, Ermintrude finally pleads for you to leave off.

"Make yourself, ah, do yourself," Ermintrude says. "I want to see."

You lie at Ermintrude's side, your eyes closed, touching yourself. With Ermintrude's scent in your nose, her taste on your lips and tongue, you think of Fay, of Golondrina...of Miss Wormwood the Nurse with her head full of serpents, who had been the cruel-and-kind mistress of your body's pleasures for half your first year.

"Yes Morgan, yes," Ermintrude hisses. "Show me, show me!"

The heat in your body wraps tighter and tighter as you move your fingers in your sex, more and more on your pearl as it swells. Your hair curls round your small breasts and pinches on your nipples.

"Yes, yes, your hair," Ermintrude says. "Ah!"

The hot paralysis of Miss Wormwood's bite. The warm eagerness of Golondrina's tall, strong person. Fay's hunger, her hunger for not just your sex, but your love. Your love. There.

The hot knot inside you explodes into waves of pleasure. Your voice rises to a high shout as you reach your first climactic peak. Victory. Release.

"More, more," Ermintrude urges. "More."

More comes. Your body flexes and bends as the pulses of pleasure flow through. There's heat and motion and sound and pleasure. And joy. The heat and joy ripple out through your enlivened hair, providing a strong echo, playing back through your head into your body. You feel caught between crashing ocean waves.

Ermintrude laughs. "Perfect, Morgan, you're perfect."

You lie limp, hot, and damp, feeling like a squeezed-out dishrag. A happy dishrag, full of pleasure. But not exhausted. You can still feel the heat of your inner fires pulsing from your sex down to your toes and up beyond your head to your hair. Even your hair feels so good, such pleasure even there.

You half-wonder whether... "Did you...?" you say. "Did you make my hair...? Sexy?"

Ermintrude giggles. "I was hoping it would turn out that way."

You feel your ears and cheeks get warmer yet. Maybe you would have to invest in a hairnet. A bonnet. A snood. But not with Fay. Not with Golondrina. You feel the tips of your hair wiggle. And after that last, you're wearing Ermintrude's sex juices in your hair. And a bit of her bumhole, too. Another thing to remember. You sigh.

But you still feel warm.

"Stay," Ermintrude says.

"All right," you say.

Warm.

Gain +1 XP. You have 4 XP, +2 Ambition, +0 Bravery, +2 Cunning, +0 Diligence.
Leontes Sex Move (Charm): Gain a FAVOR from Ermintrude.
Your hair is animate, like a couple of extra pairs of hands. If it's cut short, take -1 to Bravery until it recovers.
Your HANGER-ON is Ermintrude Cachalot of House Draconis. She owes you a FAVOR.
Your FRIENDs are Fay Applebum and Grace Winterthorn (both House Leontes, formerly House Minerval).

Roll +AMBITION(+2) to APPEASE YOUR HANGER-ON (+2 Ambition, +1 Forward, -1 HANGER-ON).