Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson

by Korey Mae Johnson

  He tugged her firmly over towards the desk again, pulled out his chair and sat her down. The wood was so hard, so uncomfortable, so cool compared to her burning flesh, and she whined in protest and then wrapped her arms around her breasts.

  He flipped open another book page. “Maybe this will better inform you of your role. You’re mine. You’re my student, you’re my lover, and you need to learn to behave.” She didn’t meet his gaze until he took her chin and raised her face up to look at his dark, ominous expression. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” she replied quietly.

  “Does being nude embarrass you?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Let’s continue.” He made her practice another spell—this one was harder.

  She knew the words of the incantation. She knew them, because she’d stolen that information from his books. But her pronunciation was sloppy, and when she was naked, her confidence wasn’t very good, either. She wasn’t used to harnessing power for this spell level, and she felt like even though she knew the spells technically, she still needed practice. She struggled, and then trembled nervously in the chair as Ashcroft looked down at her with his smoldering look.

  If his goal was to humiliate her, then he had done more than an efficient job at it. She was shaking, and not from cold—autumn nipped the outside air, but the fire in the room was warm. She just felt… nervous. He was fully clothed. She… felt more naked than naked somehow.

  Finally, he cut the lesson short. “Charlotte,” he chided. “Stop trembling.”

  “I can’t,” she replied miserably.

  He made an exhausted sigh and then picked her up from the chair, and in the same motion, put her body at the edge of the desk. He forced her knees apart and pressed his body between them. He put a firm hand against her sex, and then grinned sensuously. “You are soaked, young lady,” he said in a fake chide. His voice was husky and deep as it rumbled in her ear. “You like me making my bad little girl into a good little girl, do you not?” His finger pressed deeply into her folds, thrusting deeply into her.

  She moaned and ground her hips against his touch, trying to get even more of his finger into her. The sensation was making her wild.

  He made a purring noise in the back of his throat and then tugged off his shirt quickly, discarding it to the floor. He brushed his large hands over his body as if he was learning her by Braille. He kissed her neck and breathed in the scent of her hair, and when there was space between them again he looked over her body heavy lidded with pleasure before making her legs wider and kneeling down between her legs, immediately beginning to kiss her inner thigh, and then along her folds.

  She blushed and pulled back. She had thought about this a lot in high school, back when it seemed like all the girls were getting and going to third base. Although she’d been curious about it, she knew she couldn’t actually receive that sort of attention. A mouth on her nether parts? True, she was modern. Yes, she was a ‘Californian Chickie,’ not blind or stupid to the idea of other sexual positions besides missionary… But it still seemed dirty.

  Ashcroft pulled her sex back to his mouth like she was trying to withhold a glass of wine from a man dying of thirst. He made a declarative grunt and then began to lap hungrily, his tongue delving deep into her folds. “You taste like honey,” his voice rumbled.

  She breathed heavily, as if she was running out of air. It felt so good, even though she was sure she shouldn’t feel this good. Not while she was naked in this giant room, the place where she spent so much time bratting and arguing. Not after her bottom had just been spanked so hard; the heat was still rising from her bottom, the skin still extremely tender. And certainly not by this man who had been so firm with her not moments ago.

  Although that’s who and what he was: a firm, passionate, jealous, and extremely aggressive wizard. One who she absolutely was in love with and bonkers about. He would never forsake her, never throw her out, never tire of her, and never let her have an ounce of control. He was going to fight her every inch of the way; train her to submit to him. And she looked forward to his efforts.

  The temperature of the room felt like it was spiking, and the pleasure was so good, so welcome, she was certain to erupt at any moment. Her breathing became feverish moans; her brain felt like it wasn’t even working any longer. All she could think about was this mind-boggling pleasure she was experiencing. Just when she felt like she couldn’t take any more, he came up from between her legs, leaving her grasping desperately for him. “No, no! Don’t stop. No…” she begged.

  He smiled and unbuttoned his trousers, freeing his manhood. “Oh, I’m not stopping. I’m demonstrating.” He rubbed the massive head of his cock up against her wetness back and forth as she squirmed against him impatiently. “You know how you feel right this moment? Feverish? In the desperate need of relief?”

  She mewed in response.

  “I’ve felt like this since the moment I met you. All the time.”

  “Ashcroft, please…” she whined. “I need you.”

  “Then know what a bad girl you were for even thinking to deny me this.” He pressed into her, causing her body to still and her toes to curl. Her body was clamping down, forcing him to fight for every inch. “Never even speak of denying me this. Only being a good girl will get you out of a firm spanking. And a good girl does what she is told, does she not?”

  “Uh huh,” was all she could say, writhing against him, bucking her hips for more of him, wanting him to fulfill her; needing it.

  Finally, he started to buck his hips against her. She felt like she was seeing stars. It didn’t take long before she was convulsing, crying, whimpering, and clawing for him as she climaxed. But he just nuzzled her and kept going.

  He seemed to be an expert, despite the fact that she knew he was coming off of an extendedly long dry spell—or at least so Moriarty claimed. But Ashcroft didn’t feel like he was lacking—he knew exactly when to slow down and when to speed up that would make her most crazy, reeling her into climax over climax.

  Just as she was on the edge, he gritted his teeth, the clamping down on his member, the milking of him, was just too much. As she was crying out, so was he—actually, he sounded like he was roaring. She felt his member pulse within her as he pumped his seed into her.

  The feeling of him pouring into her was gratifying, warming, and wonderful. And she took this moment to clearly think about how they simply couldn’t do this forever. When she turned immortal, which could be at any time at this stage of her life, he could impregnate her. Would human pills even work for her, or would her immortal body simply refuse to absorb the unnatural chemicals? She was suddenly worried that she did not ask her foster parents nearly enough birds-and-the-bees questions.

  Ashcroft was catching his breath afterwards, panting heavily. And then he picked her up and sat down in the desk chair, making her body straddle his while sitting on his lap, looking at him. He tilted his head back in a satisfied sigh, and then gave her bottom a gruff squeeze.

  Blushing, she ran her fingers across his chest. “Ash?”

  “Hm?” he grunted, his eyes still closed.

  “We won’t be able to do this when I’m an immortal, will we?” she asked, running her fingers through his chest hair. “You could make me pregnant that way. Will we just stop, or is there—”

  He raised his eyebrow at the word stop and raised his hand. “I don’t know what we’re talking about. Why wouldn’t I want to impregnate you?”

  Her eyes grew heavy with annoyance. He was too smart to pretend to be so dumb. “Because I’m a nineteen-year-old single woman, Ash,” she reminded flatly.

  “With beautiful little child-bearing hips,” he reminded, tapping his hands against her naked sides. His eyes were teasing.

  “Ash,” she chided, frowning, believing that he wasn’t serious enough.

  “I plan to marry you. I told you this morning,” he grumbled, as if that solved everything. “I told you I didn’t want it half way. I
f you wanted to be claimed, I was going to claim you as my wife.”

  Her heart fluttered with nervousness. “I thought that was pillow-talk,” she quickly replied, biting her lip.

  There certainly wasn’t anything awful about marrying Ashcroft—except for the substantial age difference. And the fact that ‘marriage’ was ‘forever’, and ‘forever’ was a very long time to an immortal.

  He sighed and sat up a little bit, growling, “I have got to stop making demands when we’re being intimate. You’ll never take me seriously.”

  “And it’s sneaky, Ashcroft,” she added. “Everything you say sounds like a great idea when we’re having sex. You could talk me into living on the moon. Besides, you just can’t slap marriage on me like its foreplay. That wasn’t a good proposal at all. I want romance.” She pressed her nose against his. “And then I want to say ‘no’ to you until you’ve given up all hope, forsake life, and then when you ask once more before jumping off a cliff or something, then I might say ‘yes’ to your proposal. When you least expect it.”

  “You are so… odd. And sadistic.” He drummed his fingers upon her thigh. “I’m rethinking letting you continue to read romance novels. They give you the strangest notions.”

  She pursed her lips tightly together and sat back huffily.

  He laughed. “See? They’ve got you all in a snit.” He shook his head and grabbed her hand to play with her fingers, then hummed thoughtfully. “I miss the old days where men used to just buy girls from their fathers. It was so much less complicated.”

  She didn’t reply, merely glared.

  “I’m just teasing you, my love,” he told her, petting her thigh. “I think your foster parents like me enough that they’d give you to me for free. Although, I should reward them somehow for raising you up to be such an interesting little brat, which I guess I like…”

  “Ash,” she chided firmly again.

  “Alright. Do you want me to get down on one knee, then? Buy you a ring with a diamond the size of an iceberg? One that could sink a ship?”

  “Stop mocking me,” she pouted unhappily. “It’s not romantic. I’m only nineteen. That’s too young for marriage, and too young for kids, and you act like it’s all a given.”

  He glinted a dubious eye towards her. “I’m not letting you out of your promise to marry me, if that’s what you’re trying to do,” he warned. “I can try to understand this ridiculous modern-girl babble you are blabbing, but I do not have to agree with it. You understand that I am from a different time—a time where girls went from their father’s care to their husband’s care, and then that girl settled down and had her husband’s children because he was around thirty. Can you please be a little lenient towards me, who will be turning 1180 years old this Winter?”

  She scrunched her nose as her eyes peeled over his skin and then the scars on his face. “You’re old.”

  He rumbled a lowly chuckle under her body. “I certainly know that, Darling. I’ve really been a bachelor long enough, wouldn’t you agree? And whenever I had thought of one day marrying, I have always wanted to get my wife with child on our wedding night… Or at least attempt it. Not just go through the motions for passion’s sake. I wanted something special and sacred with my wife.”

  She frowned, thinking that was quite a sweet sentiment. Not very many sweet sentiments came out of Ashcroft, that she knew. She made a very thoughtful, contemplative hum.

  Ashcroft sighed as if he recognized the thoughtful hum in her tone. “You’re about to negotiate with me, I can tell…” he noted skeptically.

  She grinned her white teeth at him. It was absolutely frightening how well this man knew her.

  * * *

  He looked at her turquoise eyes as she stared into his own—he knew that look very well. She was contemplating where ‘the line’ was. She was always testing his ‘line’—she was always wondering how much she could get away with.

  Although with this, he knew she could get away with nearly anything. He wanted to marry her, and soon. “I will give you anything you desire if you wed me,” he promised her gruffly.

  “No more discipline?” she tried, her mood already becoming lighter.

  He stifled from laughing out loud. His life would be absolutely miserable if he’d become a non-spanking husband. No—this girl needed spankings, and he needed to err on the side of giving too many than too few. “My Darling… Please do not push it,” he told her. “Be realistic. Let us not pretend that you’ll be a perfect angel for the rest of your life. You will need discipline. There will be spankings. There will be sex. You would be my wife, and you would have duties and expectations as such.”

  She blushed. “Your lack of faith in me isn’t very romantic,” she informed in a pout.

  “I have lots of faith in you, and your naughtiness,” he brushed his hand against her soft cheek. “I’ve no doubt that you will make my life interesting.”

  “Then I want my freedom,” she told him. “You said you’d remove the cuff this morning.”

  “This morning I told you I’d remove it, I did not say I’d remove it this morning,” he clarified.

  She glared at him. He sighed and pushed her off of his lap and then picked her up and put her back on the side of the table.

  She continued to list off what she wanted in quick succession as he kissed her knee and then removed his own dragon-crystal necklace and tossed it upon the table.

  “And I want an allowance—a big one. And I can spend it on whatever. Oh—and I want to wear whatever I want, and you can tell Moriarty to screw himself if he says anything. Oh! And I want a wedding ring. But I don’t want it big, I want it intricate. And I want cable—do you know what HBO is? Because I’m going to want it. And—”

  “I’m not Santa Clause,” he found himself laughing as he unclasped her dragon crystal anklet.

  Beneath her anklet was a pink, healing burn. He narrowed his eyes and ran his finger across it.

  “Owe!” she said, kicking his hand away.

  He looked up at her. “Did you try running away?” he asked her pointedly.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said, and then frowned. “Don’t look at me so accusingly. I’m not the one who kept me prisoner for a month with a thing that could actually hurt me.”

  “This looks fresh, Charlotte,” he noted. “When did you get this?”

  She blushed. “Yesterday. But I didn’t run away—I was chasing my shawl out of the garden… It blew away.”

  He looked up at her sternly. “Just so we are perfectly clear, Charlotte; I am removing your cuff, but if you run away, I will thrash you so soundly that they will hear the sounds of it in the Southern Realm. Do you understand me?”

  “So, I’m not actually free,” she stated sadly.

  “You are as free as any other wife,” he assured. “Never leave without at least informing me where you’ve gone off to. I will gladly admit that protective and I worry,” he admitted and tossed the cuff onto the desk. “Now nod like you plan to obey me.”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he grunted, adjusting his pants back up to his waist and buttoning them back up. “As for the ring, I will give you one, certainly. No allowance, my money is your money, and you’ll learn to wisely manage it. And as for your changes to this place—if you want even more modern conveniences, then you will have to team together with Moriarty. He is my steward and thus in charge of keeping my properties up to date on more modern conveniences, and I give you free range to make this place your home. And your dress has improved considerably since Moriarty took over. However, when he goes shopping for you, he will take you along if he must.”

  She pouted again. “I feel like all my demands were conditioned.”

  “You need conditions; you are nineteen years old. I’m not foolish enough to let you free range,” he reminded, tugging on his shirt before he put his hands on her waist and kissed her. “I promise, nobody you will ever meet in the Otherworld will ever say that you aren’t one of the most
spoiled-rotten wives they’ve ever met,” he teased. “Now, put on your clothing. I have decided to take you on a date. On the Earthside.”

  Her face lit up, making him instantly stop regretting that he was giving in. “Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “What about studying?”

  “Field trip,” he informed. “We’re discovering the effects of magic outside the classroom.” He grinned slyly.

  “Really?” She sounded less than excited about that concept.

  “Yes. I heard a lot of this magic happens in something called ‘lingerie shops’…” He smiled mischievously. “I’ve never been to one before, but I would like to see what sort of effects such magical objects have on me. I heard their magic is best possessed by naughty young ladies in need of a good fucking.”

  She grinned at his constant swearing, his dirty talk, and then giggled as she walked up to him. “You’re the naughty one!” she assured, bringing herself up on her toes and putting her arms around his neck so that she could kiss his lips. “Always breaking Rule Number Two…”

  “Only when it makes you blush.”

  “Everything you do makes me blush,” she assured sensually.

  “May that never change.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alice was already extremely weak and partially mad when she knelt in front of the Queen, the same queen that had put her mother to death just a week before. Alice was fidgety, uneasy. Her eyes were black; the irises had receded into nonexistence. The light of the room hurt her eyes.

  “And what do you want, Dirty Blood?” the Nymph Queen asked, gazing down at Alice from her throne with her cold black eyes.

  Alice had never felt so desperate as she spoke, digging her fingernails into the cold marble under her. Still, her heart thudded with fear that the Queen would merely throw her back into the dungeons, where she’d been since the rebellion. “N… Nectar, your highness!”