by Watson, Rhea
“Welcome to Fort Dàn, little one.”
As per the terms set at our meeting this past Thursday, the use of a chosen nickname indicated the start of a scene. Two short days ago, Alecto had strolled into my office during her lunch hour for what was supposed to be a review of her first six months at Root Rot Academy; I had them scheduled for all staff now that the new year had begun, which meant no one batted an eye at our hour-long conversation behind a closed door.
No one but Iris, of course, but she had nothing concrete to pin on either of us—so there.
In said meeting, we had discussed her professional performance at the academy, but that had taken roughly ten minutes total. My new submissive was an exceptional educator. She attacked her job with vigor and was well liked by students. No formal complaints from her coworkers. No professional infractions. Never missed a staff meeting. Embraced my rehabilitation philosophy. Volunteered here and there to take on added responsibility. Huge success with the Samhain ball—despite how it ended.
My girl was leaps and bounds ahead of many of my new hires. Such an impressive creature, Alecto Clarke.
Her evaluation was but a drop in the ocean that day. For the rest of the hour, we discussed formalizing our kink relationship, for I couldn’t carry on as we had lately. While scenes themselves were about letting go, it needed to be structured and regimented beforehand so no one got hurt—physically or emotionally. Soft and hard limits had been discussed and defined, then noted and categorized. We had considered appropriate levels of undress and set each of our safewords in stone.
Then there were the nicknames.
I had chosen little one for her—which, all things considered, was the sweetest, softest title I had ever given a submissive. Alecto in turn settled on Sir, something safe and easy, and agreed to refer to me as Headmaster elsewhere, then by my first name during aftercare.
As soon as she heard her new name now, she practically sprinted for me, soaked to the bone and legs splashed with mud. The skies had shattered some twenty minutes back, turning a grey, miserable January morning into a bleak, dark, wet affair. These were the stormy months, after all, and the rain came with a chill that never really lifted until late spring. While I had studied everything about this morning in excessive detail last night, from the predicted hour rain would fall to the temperature changes, even the anticipated wind speeds, Alecto appeared to have been caught off guard.
I had brought an umbrella large enough to fit half the student body.
She looked like she had crawled out of the loch to my right, soaked and shivering.
As soon as she stumbled under its reach, I dragged her close and tucked her trembling figure under my arm, using my body heat to warm her—for now. A simple drying charm would see to us both inside the fort…
Not that she would be in her running gear long enough to relish the cozy, fresh-out-the-dryer feel. We looked like quite the matching pair this morning, me in my black track pants, her in a pair of black wool leggings. Up top, she wore a cotton Root Rot sweater with the emblem across her chest, heather grey and provided at no cost to staff and students. I, meanwhile, wore a swishy black jacket, both waterproof and intimidating, then a plain grey tee beneath.
A morning jog was a simple excuse we had agreed wouldn’t arouse suspicion around the castle, as it was something we had each partaken in separately since July. I had a regimented schedule other staff runners knew about, and while Alecto had been more erratic with her outings, she did so enough times to be lumped in with the rest of the cardio junkies. Although we were in the thick of winter, snow came and went in the highlands, which meant many still used the trails when they had the chance.
Alecto and I simply went west rather than north, along paths seldom trod these days—overgrown and slippery, steep and rocky.
Worth the effort for the guaranteed privacy.
I had arrived two hours ago to set up and ensure the fort was safe enough for this morning’s scene.
Now huddled against me, shivering and pink in the cheeks, Alecto had rolled in at seven o’clock, right on time.
Which boded well for her backside: I would have loved to punish her for tardiness.
Another day.
With both of us shielded from the relentless downpour, I steered her around to give Alecto a better look at the grey stone fort that had once sent terror through Root Rot students. Built into the cliffside of a soaring great incline, the crumbling castle had been a part of the academy’s property for centuries. Before my arrival, it was a threat, a place where students were dragged out to in restraints—a torture chamber where they would be whipped and broken and punished for poor behavior. Agony stained the walls of these ruins like a persistent black mold.
When I had taken over, I intended to use the three-story fort as a rehabilitation retreat—a reward to scrub the old reputation clean. Unfortunately, it was in such disrepair that I couldn’t in good conscience bring my charges out here. Until we had the budget to repair the dilapidated stone structure, here it sat, carved into the mountain on its eastern side, overlooking the indigo-blue waters of Loch Dùdach to the west. Time had worn the place down, and past headmasters used its decay as just another scare tactic. Most of the wood doors had rotted away. Parts of the roof had caved in, the parapets had seen better days, and the sentry towers at all four corners were full of debris and open to the miserable skies.
But there were a few spots in which I could gleefully torment a new submissive with pain and pleasure—make her scream bloody murder and no one would ever hear it.
A few rooms still possessed four walls and a ceiling, along with solid, uncluttered floors that wouldn’t give way under Alecto’s feet.
I let her curious gaze wander for a few moments, taking in the ruins, the winterized ivy creeping up the towers and around the gaping arrow slits. Rainwater sloshed down the hillside toward the lake, and at the first distant crack of thunder, I finally eased us along, headed for the main arched doorway. It was there I left my umbrella to dry, the entry corridor still covered, then took a sharp right up a steep, dark, winding stairwell to the second level, Alecto at my heels, my fingers coiled tightly around her wrist.
Not her hand.
No romantic fingers entwined. Not a lover’s embrace.
Her wrist—possessively cuffed in my much larger hand, my grip capable of such cruelty.
And that was the thrill… for both of us.
Shrouded in shadow, I marched us to the tight doorway of the room I had spent the last hour preparing. Once used as a dining hall—maybe—it stood at the southeastern end of the fort, all the windowpanes shattered but the roof intact. Long and narrow, it made for the perfect playroom, lit and warmed with floating golden orbs, each one giving off the heat of a small bonfire.
She’d need them for what I had in mind.
Muttering the simple spell under my breath, I dried us both off with a quick flick of my wand, then tucked it into my forearm holster as Alecto basked in the feel of my magic.
“Inside, little one,” I told her, voice gruff but smile pleasant as I gestured for her to pass into our makeshift playroom. Hands threaded behind her back, she did so with a dip of her head as she tiptoed over the threshold. I trailed after, far enough that I couldn’t touch no matter how desperately I wanted to, but close enough that she could feel my presence crowding her.
Once again, I allowed her a beat to map the space with her eyes: the long empty hall, the wandering golden orbs, the shattered windows—the zipped bags of toys I had left out in the open. Arms folded, I cocked my head to the side as she stared at them, then cleared my throat so that she flinched out of her thoughts.
“Are you ready to play?” I asked, still light and airy and kind in the way I addressed her. Nothing like making a sub feel safe before ripping that sense of security out from under them. Alecto pivoted around, lower lip snared between her teeth, and then nodded.
“Yes, Sir.”
After the lengthy discussion of limitations and interests,
we had signed a contract—a vow of secrecy. Even though I already had it drafted, Alecto had been the one to bring it up first, going so far as to suggest we commit to a blood oath.
Which had just… made my day.
And reminded me why I had chosen her, why I felt so drawn to her.
On the same wavelength, Alecto and I had signed the contract with a bloody fingerprint each, swearing ourselves to secrecy, protecting each other. Trust was paramount between any Dominant and submissive, but signing it knowing the risks should either of us blab—an explosion of painful, pustulating blood boils across our entire bodies—ensured neither of our careers or reputations would be tarnished in the process.
Before I’d filed it, I had charmed the document to obscure the text to everyone but Alecto and myself.
Just in case someone—Iris—went snooping.
“Tell me your safeword.”
“Rot,” Alecto whispered, the word drowned out by the next crack of thunder. It tickled me that she had kept the one I initially chose for her, the thought of her using it like a safety blanket rousing my cock.
Not that it needed any further prompting.
Planning this morning’s scene had stuck me with the most stubborn erection from the time I woke up until I eventually fisted it to death in the shower. Since then, however, I’d navigated the world fluctuating between semi-hard and half-erect.
Bloody fantastic.
Such a brilliant display of self-control and discipline, wearing my desire out in the open. For now, it was tucked into my waistband where it belonged, though more than once I’d already caught her glancing down curiously, as if needing proof that this was as exciting for me as it was for her.
Trust me, little one. It’s even better for me.
“Good girl,” I rumbled, then flicked my gaze up and down her figure, purposefully dismissive of her outfit—like it offended me. “Now, strip down.”
As per our negotiations, Alecto was comfortable peeling away everything—but I had insisted that she kept her panties, just for now. I still had my own personal, private issues to grapple with over the fact that I had swept a professor ten years too young into my kink-sphere, and as much as I would enjoy her totally bare before me, offering all the lovely bits for me to hurt, one step at a time.
Panties were a must, no matter how confident she was with her body.
And what a body at that.
Gods. I should have pushed for bra and panties—because her breasts were absolute perfection, a small handful, perky with a little heft, too, and adorable nipples the same dusty pink as her lips. My cock snapped to attention at the sight, her virginal white panties almost cruelly unhelpful in this situation. A smallish chest area led down to a cinched waist, then flared out to positively delicious hips that always looked so fetching in pencil skirts and fitted cigarette pants. Pear-shaped and beautiful, Alecto stood before me practically nude, then tugged out her hair tie to free her curls.
The attire of a bratty, eager little pain sub complete.
And that… did things to me.
Made me want to shirk all the carefully laid plans I’d crafted since Thursday and go rogue.
No. Focus.
I owed it to her to be meticulous.
Still, I swept my eyes over her appreciatively this time, letting her know without saying a word that she had pleased me. Color warmed in her cheeks even as her skin prickled against the chill, rain battering the old fort from every side, and as I strolled down the long hall, I added another trio of warming orbs to help shield her from the cold.
Though nothing could shield her from me.
Not when I scooped up the restraints I’d embedded into the wall earlier. When I faced her again, I showed off a long chain that had blended into the grey stonework, then the thick leather cuff at its end for her delicate wrist. With nothing more than an arched brow, I brought her to me, pointedly ignoring the jiggle of her hips and breasts with every step. Once she was close enough, I snapped my fingers, the sound cracking through the space, and Alecto offered her arm like a very, very good girl.
Then jumped when I snatched it, lightning fast and no doubt harder than she expected, and attached the leather cuff around her wrist. Tight, but not tight enough to limit blood flow.
The other chain nestled on the opposite wall, and once I had that attached, Alecto was forced to stand in the middle of everything, the belle of the ball, with her arms outstretched and shackled. Pleased, I circled her once, just for show, as if checking my work, then left her to fetch my toy bag.
And she stood there in silence, gnawing at her lower lip, curling and uncurling her toes over the chilly stone floor. A strong gust of wind blew the storm in through the shattered windows, and her sharp inhale behind me suggested some of its wrath had brushed up her back. When I faced her again, I found those distracting nipples even more pebbled, the pair downright torturous to ignore.
In time, lovelies. I’ll get to you.
During our lengthy discussion of personal preferences, Alecto had requested that I not walk her through a scene beforehand, nor did I overly handhold unless I had something intense in mind. She expressed that being left in the dark, totally at my mercy, was rather exciting.
And who was I to deny her a little excitement?
So, I set up for the scene in silence, totally focused on unpacking but still keeping an ear out for the rustling of chains, the catch of her breath.
Which shot up her nostrils sharply when I opened my bag, unfurled a small black blanket across the stone tiles—and christened it with a flogger. Then a pair of nipple clamps, connected with a thin rose-gold strand.
Lastly, a wand-shaped vibrator, fully charged and downright merciless in the right hands.
Crouched over the spread, I glanced up and arched an eyebrow again, waiting until her eyes lost themselves in mine.
“Are you ready to give me what I want, little one?”
My raspy growl had the color in her cheeks plummeting down to her chest, her breasts dancing with each shuddery breath. Without hesitation, Alecto nodded.
Not good enough.
Not for this Dom.
“Say it.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Whether it was with the chill or the eagerness—or, please let it be the fear—Alecto trembled as I picked up one of my beginner floggers, all soft leather tails meant to induce a thuddy pain rather than a vicious sting. She had done well with the cane, but now that we had made our partnership official, this little witch had much to explore. No sense in rushing when anticipation was so fucking exquisite.
I stood, the flogger’s braided leather shaft held in a loose fist, comfortable and familiar against my palm, supple leather tresses hanging at my side. “What do I want, little one?”
“M-my pain,” Alecto replied. Gods, yes. I flashed a feral grin.
“And?”
She gulped. “And…”
I slashed the tassels at the side of her left thigh, light enough for this baby pain sub but sharp enough to center her thoughts. Alecto squealed on impact, eyes clenched as she shot up onto her toes, then lowered herself back down, arms stretched wide and starting to shiver.
“And my screams,” she gritted out, cracking one eye open to me, then the other, wearing a familiar Is that what you want to hear, Sir? look that made my heart ache. As much as she pleased me with just that expression, her flesh already warming to a dull pink, I kept my features neutral save for the unimpressed quirk of my brow.
The one that told her she wasn’t anywhere near finished yet.
“And?”
“And, uh—”
I brought the flogger down on her other side, catching her right thigh hard enough to turn her squeal into a squeak.
“And…” Alecto blinked hard and looked around, searching for what I asked of her. “And… And…”
I mimicked her stammering as I ducked under the chain and got to work on the backs of her thighs, getting them both at once, bringing down the flogger this
way and that, the tassels so responsive to the slightest flick of my wrist.
Missed you, old friend.
It had been far too long since he came out to play.
To make a subby shriek.
“Come on, little one,” I teased, catching her left calf so that she hopped onto one foot, supported only by the tension in the chains. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? What else do I want?”
I drifted back to the tops of her thighs, then worked my way down, striking in rapid succession from top to bottom. When I reached her ankles, I snapped my fingers and ordered her to lift her feet one at a time. Shaking, Alecto barely managed to offer up enough for a proper hit—which earned her a punishing whack to her ass, those thin cotton panties useless at muffling pain.
She hopped onto her toes with a pitchy squeal, then did as she was told, lifting one foot and then the other for me to slash at.
“You w-want my tears,” she managed, her words thick, choked, like she could barely get them out.
“Good girl.” Meanwhile, my words were warm—but my strikes were harder, cycling back up, alternating between her legs before getting to work on the rounded globes of her ass. One cheek, then the other, back and forth, painting the fleshiest parts a glorious red.
“And r-red skin,” Alecto cried, jostling about, shifting her weight, trying uselessly to twist out of my reach. I hadn’t instructed her to remain still, but one day I would: if she moved so much as an inch during my assault, she would deeply, deeply regret it.
“Excellent,” I hissed, letting the flogger rest for a moment as I ducked back under the taut chain and strolled into her eyeline again. Bloodshot, watery eyes greeted me. Flushed cheeks. Hard as fuck nipples screaming for my attention.
Circling my wrist, I made the tassels dance, forcing her gaze to drop—and in that moment of distraction, I flicked her right nipple. Alecto jerked back with a gasp, her back rounded as if trying to fold in on herself, to make herself smaller, finally realizing that she couldn’t go anywhere.
That this was how it felt to be at a Dom’s mercy.
Just as she wanted…
The fear glistening in her eyes had me wondering: Did she regret it?