Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson (28 page)

He still would keep anal intercourse for later. But he was sure this would be quite the mental awakening for her.

SWAP! SWAP! “Ash! Please! Stop it!” she whined, helpless to do anything but cry and beg.

But he didn’t until her bottom had a dark red hue from his hand and her cries had gone quite over to sobs. And then he picked up the ginger and rolled it around in his fingers. “I wish that was all of it,” he sighed to her, and she sobbed harder.

“No! Please, please, just be done! I’m sorry! I can’t take any more of this! I’ll die!” she cried dramatically through her choked out sobs.

He frowned unhappily and had the spell pick her back up into standing. When she found movement in her arms, she made the mistake move of clutching her bottom, but then was not able to bring her hands forward again. “You will not die,” he assured as she unhappily found herself in a submissive stance, her breasts and nakedness on display, her hands behind her back. “I am in control, you understand?” He reached up and pinched one of her nipples with his fingers. She squeaked. “Always. I will always protect you. I will do anything for you; I will teach you, direct you, and spoil you, and you know that I will. You have made the feat of challenging not just my position in this relationship, but you doubt my powers as a wizard. I don’t know which is more offensive.” He pinched her other nipple and she tried her best to flinch away from him.

“Please, I can’t take this,” she begged pathetically. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“You did, Charlotte. You just don’t like when I do a better job of it.” He showed her the ginger in his fingers and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”

Her lip trembled. “G…G…Ginger?” she said unsurely.

“And do you know what it’s for?” he asked her, but he could already tell, by her lack of a gasp, that she had no idea.

She shook her head meekly.

“This will be going up your bottom little miss, and—”

“No!” she begged, giving him his gasp. “Ashcroft I—”

“Will hopefully sting it enough to make it feel well-punished inside and out. If you disrespect me, this is what you’ll get every time, do you understand me?”

She gave a sob in affirmative and hung her head. He waved towards the direction of the bed and her body levitated towards there, bringing her hands up to fold at the small of her back, out of his way.

He had actually seen other wizards punish young ladies or even their lovers. And there was one position that had aroused him so he had wondered if he would ever be able to
emulate
it. But now he was able to, because he drew up her knees in the air and bent her bottom out towards him, exposing her bottom hole and her pussy to his full sight.

He adjusted his pants, unable to keep from realizing how arousing this was. And now he’d be able to play with her and still teach her a lesson she’d asked for. He’d already carved the ginger so that it looked more like a bottom plug, with a larger mushroom head and a thinner neck. He traced it around her little pink, virgin bottom, and spread her bottom cheeks wide to look at it—it was one of the sexier things he’d seen, really, and he delighted in the scandalized sob Charlotte admitted, And just like it was his own cock, he readied the unused entrance; pressing the carved head in and out of her just a bit until stretching her bottom wider and wider.

“Arrghah!” she bellowed, her toes curling. As soon as the ginger was inside of her, he twisted it around, his other hand clenching her hot, tender flesh. He turned and he waited.

Suddenly, he heard squeaking. “A-A-Ash!” she chirped. “P-p-please! It hurts! Please! Take it out! I’m begging you! I said I was sorry!” She sniffled and moaned, then more shrilly asked, “What do I have to say to get it to stop?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. There’s nothing you can say. Just be a good girl and take your punishment and learn your lesson,” he told her, although his tone wasn’t completely void of sympathy. He had to set his chin in firm resolve.

Finally, watching her bottom squirm and
hearing
her
whimper
, he picked up the birch and gave a practice swing in the air.

SWISH-SWACK!

She screamed in wails that could certainly be heard throughout the house. Her words became incomprehensible. SWISH-SWACK!

He was quite understanding why Naomi had never had to bitch the
same
girl more than twice—it’s because of the markings left behind were red and angry, well
distinguished welts. But he kept on, crisscrossing the marks until they lines all over her bottom and thighs and over the delicate lips of her pussy, letting Charlotte cry out helplessly.

But finally he put the birch down and stepped back, looking at his handiwork and Charlotte’s quiet, dry
throated sobs, and simply thought: Well-punished. Possibly the most well
punished bottom he had seen for a century, although he had seen many well-punished witches punished firmly at the hands of their madams before that time.

And she was crying, and had cried, extremely loudly—his ears were still ringing. The whole tower had to have heard her punishment, which was just as well. It was good for everybody to know what happened to even the lady of the house when she crossed the wizard.

He made shushing noises as he put his fingers around the ginger root and she squealed in protest to the pain. But once it was out, she gave another sob, sounding both relieved and tortured as he threw it away and let her drop down to her toes, letting her have control of her body once again.

She stood awkwardly, her shoulders sloped and crossing her arms across her naked breasts. He came to her and helped her stand up straighter, pulling his arms tightly around her and kissing the top of her forehead as she continued to cry.

There wasn’t much for her—she wouldn’t tilt her head up to even look at him. She merely huddled into him as she continued to shake and tremble. Finally, after long, quiet minutes, he turned to pull down the bed covers, picked her up, and laid her belly down on the mattress. She hugged a pillow under her body and rolled away from him, still refusing to look at him. “Come, now. Your lesson’s over; now you can go back to being my sweet one.”

When she didn’t respond, he tugged his boots off his calves and then laid down next to her, bringing
her
body to his chest. As the minutes passed on, his heart began to sink, miserable on her behalf.

Maybe he had punished her too hard. Maybe she was too delicate for the birch? He stroked her hair behind her ear so that he could murmur to her, “Tell me if there’s something else wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just…” she gave a shuddering cry. “I’m just…” She swallowed. “I’m not ready to tell you yet.”

“Tell me what?” And then he remembered—what she hadn’t been telling him. “You’re not ready? How so?” he asked her with a cooing tone.

“I’m just not. I will, but… But not yet,” she assured. “I want to wait until you love me again. Because you’ll need to love me a lot before I tell you.”

“Love you again?” he asked. “When did you think I stopped?”

“You don’t even like me. I don’t do anything but piss you off,” she murmured. “You don’t have to marry me, Ashcroft, just because you had a moment of weakness. It was cute of you to demand it at first, but I won’t hold you to it. I know you were just trying to be romantic.”

She sounded so pathetic, and so ridiculous, he just had to laugh. “My dear, why in the universe would you think such a thing? I wouldn’t have taught you such a firm lesson if I didn’t plan to marry you and spend many happy years at your side. I do not find marrying you to be an obligation. It’s really my dream to look down on you and call you wife.” He brought his hand over to wipe the tears off her cheek. “I forgive you everything. This was just a lesson. When I fell in love with a girl a small fraction of my age, I had a feeling I’d be teaching a few.” He kissed the back of her neck. “No, I love you more than ever, if anything.”

She crunched her body into a ball. “I’ve never had… anybody touch there before. It was…” She closed her eyes. “Horrible.”

“That’s only because I put ginger in there, I assure you. It was meant to make an impression. Believe it or not, there are more uncomfortable things that I can use there if you don’t start behaving like a good girl. But if you ARE a good girl, next time I put something into that orifice, you’ll enjoy it.”

She rolled her face into the pillow, looking like she wanted to smother herself with it. He laughed, he couldn’t help it. She was being so dramatic. He pulled her back and rolled her around to face him. “Future Lady Medwin, you might as well
know
this well and now—I plan to use this naughty bottom of yours far more to make you moan than to make you cry.”

She blushed and averted her eyes until he raised her chin up with his finger and kissed her lips. “You know how sexy you are when you’re blushing?” he asked, and then stroked her cheek with his thumb.

She glared at him.

“I should probably marry you before you change your mind, shouldn’t I?” he teased, pressing his nose onto hers.

“Why? I’m able to change my mind?” He would be worried about that concept if he didn’t detect her smirk.

“Absolutely not,” he assured simply. “No, I plan to make you my good little wife come hell or high water.”

“And why would I want to be a good little wife?” she sniffed, teasing back more freely.

He brushed his fingers down to her
cunny
, which was just as wet for him as he knew she’d be. He pressed his thumb to her clit and delighted as she chewed her lip with delight and closed her eyes, as if to savor the touch. “Because good girls get one very long life of this,” he promised.

She moaned and ground against him. “I don’t know if I’m convinced. I think I need a bigger sample,” she purred.

He chuckled. God, she was naughty. But did he love her!

Alice fully realized that no one in the universe was freer than she was right now. She was immortal, after all. She wasn’t even a slave to time. She wasn’t tied to her hive anymore. She wasn’t locked in some man’s room.

Yet she couldn’t help but be miserable.

The spare boots of Moriarty’s that she had stolen were far too tall and too big on her feet. She felt like she was wearing flippers as she walked slowly and clumsily through the blanket of snow around her. Moriarty was big enough that even his coat hit her at mid-thigh and the sleeves covered her fingers quite well. She was still in pajamas, but who cared? She could get a loan from someone, somewhere, surely. Maybe the hotel she’d met Moriarty at still had her purse?

It was worth a try. Once she found the Earthside, at least. She’d never been in the Otherworld before, although she’d certainly heard enough about it. Hopefully the entrance was nearby, or she’d find someone or some town that knew where the entrance was.

Either way, she had to go. She was too miserable to say at the tower.

She’d been crying for so long because of physical pain, she’d forgotten how much rejection stung. She’d been rejected all her life. But she thought Moriarty was different. After all, he had treated her differently. He had treated her like a queen. And then, as soon as there was a close and tender moment between them, zoom! He ran out of the room as quickly as he possibly could.

He didn’t want her. He didn’t want a relationship. Why did she think any differently? She was just a charity case for the fix-it man.

She didn’t want just to have a meaningless fling with him. She liked him. A lot. He’d taken care of her, he’d gone through hell with her—he’d done more for her in the last month than anybody had in her whole life put together. But now she had to release him for his own good. She wouldn’t make him feel like the bad-guy for declining what he simply didn’t have a taste for. He didn’t want her. He just wanted his freedom, too.

Although she wasn’t too happy about giving him his freedom. She was visibly seething; grumbling as she trudged and stomped through the thick, cold snow. She couldn’t help being angry, although she didn’t think Moriarty deserved it, she still felt so stung—stung to the core. And being angry was better than crying.

She trudged down a road blazed by a snowy fence line and a foot and animal prints that swept lines back and forth, seeming to lead to a village somewhere.  The sun was quickly setting, which wasn’t convenient. She knew it meant that if there was a village, she’d better find it soon, because it was going to get dark, and she didn’t see any streetlights around. Once the sun was down, the lights were out.

She trudged more quickly in Moriarty’s large, leather shoes that went up to
where
her coat ended. They looked far, far better on him.

She came up on the slope and looked down the long road. There was a village there alright. About five miles away. Lanterns were getting turned on out in the distance. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she hissed. Her luck sucked.

She heard the snow behind her crunch and turned, somehow expecting to see Moriarty, realizing that there was still certainly a strong part of her that hoped he chased after her.

Instead, she saw the most horrifying things she’d ever seen outside of a horror movie—a half of a dozen pale
faced, hooded men with bright red eyes, sunken in, dark and wide, taking up most of their faces. Their mouths were full of razor-sharp teeth.