Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson (27 page)

She jumped back, trying to struggle away from him, slapping his hand. “Let go of me!”

“You’re getting a spanking already for your blatant, dangerous disobedience,” he assured firmly. “And if you don’t start talking, you’re going to get another for lying to me.”

“I’m not lying! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she hissed, but it was quite apparent that she was nervous.

“Not telling me is as good as lying, young lady. Tell me what happened to you. What made you—”

Suddenly he was thrown
violently
against the wall. It was so sudden, and so jarring, that they both just stared at each other.

There’s no way she would dare to use a protective spell on him, was there? One he’d never even taught her. It seemed like the air in the room struck against his body like a fist, taking him completely off guard. It knocked the wind out of him, and he huffed as she stared at him.

He thought that she had done it as a mistake—something done in the heat of the moment, but when he stood up straight again and took a step toward her, she put up her hand. “Don’t,” she told him. “You can’t spank me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you making ultimatums to me, little girl?” he asked with a snarl, incredulous that she’d dare threaten him.

“I’m better than you are,” she reminded warningly. “I’m not making ultimatums, I’m just stating fact. I don’t want to hurt you, Ashcroft.” She was shaking, as well she should. He was sure that he did not look very happy, because he wasn’t. He was doing his best not to lash out
at
her.

Simply put, this
was
n’t the first apprentice that he had had a power
struggle with. He was so careful about his use of magic, that more than one wizard had thought he simply wasn’t powerful, that only hype surrounded him. But she WAS the first apprentice that had challenged him that he didn’t want to wipe the floor with.

But damn it, did he want to dominate the living hell out of her! She was in for one rude awakening. He began to roll up his sleeves. “You are going to wish you never played this game with me,” he promised.

She swallowed, hard. “Ditto.” She tried to look confident, but really, she appeared
skittish
, as if she was already wishing she’d never started this game but now had to save face.

“Do I need to give you a demonstration as to who’s the head of this relationship?” he asked, trying to clarify. “Because if you’re just willing to concede that it’s me, all you’ll get is a spanking, and then we’ll just move on.”

“I don’t want a spanking, Ash. I was just making friends with Alice,” she complained, not putting her hand down.

“I understand, honey. But I don’t want you to get overconfident in defying me and doing whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it. It’s a dangerous attitude, and I won’t tolerate it. And as for what happened to you—Charlotte, what have I
done
not to earn your confidence?”

“Nothing happened,” Charlotte replied stubbornly. “I’m just smart.”

“Charlotte, put down your hand,” he finally ordered, pointing at the ground. “Stop threatening me. This is quickly getting out of hand.”

“No, if I put down my hand, you’ll just come and spank me,” she rationalized.

“I’m about to do it anyway,” he told her firmly, exhausted with her theatrical-level of defiance.

“Go for it,” she dared with a look of resolve on her face.

He sighed. “So be it.” He lifted up his hand, shining a glittery light into her eyes, which seemed to startle her into throwing another wind
spell at him, which he easily blocked now that he was expecting it, and stepped forward to her and merely touched her, lightly on the hand.

Her eyes widened and her hands dropped to her sides and then stayed there, unable to even move except to clench her skirt in frustration.

He frowned. “That was a little too easy,” he admitted. “You know what you did there? You made a poor spell choice. Now—maybe if you sent an electricity spell at me, that would have
held
me up long enough for you to cast a second. You and I could have fenced for a
while with spells like that. Hopefully you learned something from this little encounter, because you’re not going to forget it.”

“Ashcroft,” she hissed as he pulled her into the air, levitating from the ground. “Ashcroft, don’t!” She kicked her feet back and forth helplessly. Ashcroft opened the door, letting the spell hold her in place. He knew she couldn’t be too uncomfortable, but she was certainly realizing her situation as one she didn’t care for. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice cracking with dread.

“Illustrate the importance of not fighting your future
husband with magic,” he replied crisply. “Supposedly my mother had to be taught the same lesson by my father, and she learned it extremely well. You should learn it just as well—since you’re just so smart.” He hated shoving the words back into her face, but he wanted to make it clear that he didn’t buy it at all. He spun his fingers around and levitated her into the corner. “Take this corner
time to think about how you can avoid this in the future,” he instructed, and then shut the door to make his way down to the kitchen.

He was beginning to think that somehow she’d learned a dark
magic spell of some sort that brought her unnatural learning abilities, or something similar. He didn’t know where, or how, but her knowledge did have supernatural written all over it. Ashcroft had the knowledge of millions of spells, and he couldn’t think of a single one that could do what had been done with her. It had to have been dark—dark spells were the only ones he’d steered clear from.

He walked into the kitchens and walked straight up to Naomi. “Do you know where I might find some ginger?”

Naomi rolled her eyes even as all the other servants were scattering away from Ashcroft, as afraid of him as they ever were. “This is for a punishment, isn’t it?” she sighed. “You men are becoming more perverted by the day.”

“It helps drive
a more severe
lesson home,” Ashcroft assured, unembarrassed. “Though, I applaud your knowledge on the matter.”

He was hoping that Naomi would blush at that, since Ashcroft had never seen her embarrassed, but instead all he got was an even
tighter
lipped look. “She’s only nineteen,” Naomi reminded reproachfully. “She’s a little too young for that, don’t you think?” 

“Charlotte is the one who set the barn on fire. On purpose,” Ashcroft informed, disclosing the rest. “Not maliciously, but definitely consciously.”

Naomi’s face tightened. She had lost a whole morning of work, surely, because of that whole thing. She was very tight
knit with all the workers that were at risk putting it out, as well. “In the middle of the pantry, third shelf from the bottom, you’ll find a whole mess of it,” Naomi instructed. “And over there is a good solid birch. Teaches a good lesson, that does; never had to use it on the same girl more than twice.”

Ashcroft grinned wryly and bowed. “Thank you. I believe I will give it a try myself, see if I can get the same effect.”

*
*
*

Ashcroft tested the birch on the side of his thigh and realized that he was excited about spanking her. He still couldn’t believe that she had thrown him against the wall, that she had sucker
punched him. That had never happened before; he had never been off his guard around the wrong person before, and he didn’t think the wrong person would be Charlotte
—
the bouncy, young, playful, excitable girl he’d come to love. 

He was still so angry he could barely see straight. He stood outside of her chambers and breathed, trying to calm down. He didn’t want to spank her while angry. Not with his hand nor the birch, although she did need him to be thorough, He had to be stern with her, but not vengeful. Right now she was just too immature for the magic she was wielding, and it was his duty to mold her into someone responsible. She certainly wasn’t going to mold herself.

He was going to have to make his point thoroughly, theatrically… Although he hated being theatrical, it always seemed to work with the younger folk in making a point.

Finally, he allowed himself to step into the room, noting that Charlotte was exactly where he left her, still levitating in the corner. “Have you had time to realize why you’re about to be punished?” he asked her, thinking what he was about to do was so obvious that he didn’t need to scold her as well.

“You’re punishing me
for
being good!” she cried miserably. “
For
being NICE.”

He sighed. No, she still needed to be scolded.

He pulled out a chair and put the birch and the ginger to the side of it. “No, I’m not,” he assured. “I’m glad things worked out for Alice. But you went about it in the wrong way. I’d have preferred it if you’d told me your idea—in detail— and asked for an escort in there, as well as Moriarty’s permission, before feeling you had to burn the barn down so you could go behind our backs just to prove something. I’m sorry that I made you feel you had to do that, but if you can just believe it, I’m actually more understanding when someone gives me more of an argument than, ‘
Ash
—like don’t be a total jerk. Let me totally try stuff.’ Next time, when you’re arguing with me about a rule or order, try to use your words.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” she told him stuffily, as if she was scolding her to hurt her feelings, or maybe his impression of her had done so.

“I’m sorry, too,” he told her sincerely. “Because if that’s all I was going to punish for, I’d have given you maybe a couple of licks with my belt and some swats with my hand. Now, I’m really going to have to make a point with y—.”

“Ash, I—” she began, and he heard her fear in her voice. He ignored her tone and snapped his fingers. He heard her suck air through her teeth as surely she felt a sudden snap of pain cross her flanks. “Oh-h!” she sobbed, hanging her head down.

He swallowed and continued with resolve.  He spun her around to look at him, and with a motion he forced her to hold her arms over her head. The forced animation made her grunt as she tried to fight back to force, but she made no headway. Her hands entwined behind her hair, and she stared at him with glassy eyes.

“I thought you should look at me while I’m speaking to you about this. Because it’s something you need to know. I am in charge. I am stronger and faster than you are, and I am the better wizard. I am so looking forward to marrying you, my sweet one. But I’m not under any delusions that we will never have a disagreement, and I refuse to be sucker
punched every time that we do.

“So I will go out of my way here to make you feel uncomfortable because I want you to never even consider using magic on me again. This is not a can of worms you want to open. I will promise to protect you from all others, that I will protect you and love you through all, but I need you to obey and respect me in return.”

“P-please, Ashcroft,” she whimpered. “Do you have to take it so seriously?”

“There’s nothing not to be taken seriously, I’m afraid,” he replied crisply. He pinched his fingers at the air and found her eyes widened. He was undoing her dress. He hated doing it—these spells were so menial, that the race of wizard he learned it from commonly misused it as children.

One hook at a time, he unhooked the laces of her dress until it slid onto the floor. He saw her try to struggle again, if just to save herself from the humiliation of being undressed this way. But it did her no good. He snapped and unlaced everything piece by piece; her shoes, her camisole, her garters, her panties, her stockings, her shoes, until the only scrap of clothing she had left was the ribbon that had been entwined into her braid that morning.

“How can you use parlor tricks on me?” she sulked.

“To assure you that respect in an Archivist does not go amiss,” he explained and floated her to him. “Especially one twelve hundred years old. If you feel embarrassed at any point, remember how embarrassed you tried to make me feel when you tried to make me submit to you.”

“Hypocrite!” she decreed with a poisonous tone as he was taking her over his knee. Her body was wrapped snuggly through magic. Her hands remained at her sides and even her thighs remained as still as stone, though her bottom still squirmed about as she was upended and settled just over his knee.

And then he began to smack her bottom with just his hand, realizing that the ginger and the birch remained to his side and she was already screeching within a moment. He had it in mind that he would well
redden her before he introduced her to the sting of ginger.

Although with every SWAP! SWAP! SWAP! and the scream followed after, he couldn’t help think that the bottom heating underneath his palm hadn’t even had his finger in it yet. She was a virgin—it was easy to believe that she had never had anything foreign up her bottom at all. He had been of mind to keep her introduction to such pleasures at bay until after they were married. There was something especially enticing about the idea of taking his young wife’s bottom, the blush in her cheeks, the whine in the back of her throat as she was dominated entirely by the technique.