CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Getting out of bed is an effort the following morning. How Darkwood even got me back here is a mystery, but I seem to be clean, albeit naked.
My ankles, knees, and ribs protest as I walk, but there are no surprises there. That damn rack of his got close to pulling me apart. I stretch out my joints in the hope that will help, but all it seems to do is open up new areas of pain.
I hold up my wrists, but they’re no longer bloody from the bonds—only a lingering ring of pink around each. That’s almost certainly Darkwood using some kind of healing spell to at least have me looking somewhat presentable today.
But there’s one area of particular concern. I reach down between my legs just to check it’s still there and not obliterated completely by the Professor’s monster of a cock.
The lips of my pussy are swollen and tender, yes, but I’ll live.
For all this discomfort, though, there is only one way to describe how I feel.
Amazing.
Fucking amazing.
Because I’ve lost it, and it wasn’t some buck-toothed drunk from a bar or cauliflower-head college kid running his mouth, but a real man, dominating and taking me to places I thought impossible.
And it’s just the start, I tell myself, fresh anticipation already growing where Damien was inside me only hours ago.
I can still feel him there, the phantom fill of his cock.
Is that possible? Is it even a thing? Has he ruined me for an average man?
Not that I think I could be with anyone else after experiencing what I have with the Professor. It would all seem so…vanilla. Which is fine. Vanilla was always my least-favorite flavor. Brownie Batter Core all the way, baby.
If I close my eyes, it’s like he’s already fucking me again, plunging into me over and over until I can barely breathe.
And still you barely know a thing about him.
That may be true, but if our language is fucking, that’s fine by me.
I shower, the bathroom jam-packed, and still I can’t wipe the smile off my face. It’s not a toothy grin by any means. It’s just a proper, honest smile of a woman who’s been truly satisfied. I’ve had my brains fucked out for the very first time and it was wonderful and word-shattering…even if I was strapped to a medieval torture device and actively being ripped limb from limb.
I’m toweling off back in my room when there’s a knock on my door.
“It’s us,” comes Lily’s voice.
“Who?” I query, playing along.
“Dumb and fucking dumber. Let us in.”
I wrap myself in the towel and pad over to the door, pulling it wide. Lily and Ava spill inside.
Lily goes to say something, but stops, lifting up a finger. “Wait, wait, wait…”
“What?” I ask, doing my best to sound natural.
Lily cocks an eyebrow, looking me over. She looks to Ava, who’s in a surprisingly plum shade of purple today, with matching eyeliner. “Ava, what do you see?”
“Hmm,” Ava hums, casting an inquisitive gaze over at me. “A rather different Ana. Her melancholy is gone, for one, and there’s an air of excitement about her that certainly wasn’t there yesterday, no?”
“Quite,” Lily says, hands going behind her back as she paces around me. “I’m a little cruder than my brainiac stick-up-her-ass friend here, so I’ll speak my mind and simply say, you got laid, didn’t you?
And once more it’s like I’m made of glass, not that I’ve ever been good at keeping a poker face. When I was a kid, Gran gave up asking me if I took cookies from the cookie jar and just let me go wild.
Lily I’m probably okay confiding in, but I’m still not sure about Ava. She might be brilliant, possibly even a proper friend in time, but we’re still getting to know one another, whereas Lily reminds me of, well, Sab.
Who you still haven’t messaged.
I shrug. “Who knows.”
“Oh, don’t play dumb, girl,” says Lily, continuing to pace. “You’re glowing, which means you’re either pregnant or you’ve been dicked so hard you’ve been reincarnated. So come on, give us the scoop. You know we’re short on anything juicy around here.”
“But was it pain or pleasure you were seeking?” asks Ava cryptically, eyes moving to the rings around my wrist, dropping further to the light bruising around my ankles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we have a sadomasochist on our hands.”
“Which is perfectly fine,” says Lily, putting her hands up, “like I said, we don’t judge here. For example, Ava here likes it in the ass.”
Ava cuts her a look of irritation.
“What?” laughs Lily, stopping behind me. “We’re all sharing here, aren’t we, Ana?”
I’ve never liked talking openly about my private affairs. Even with Sabrina I was always careful not to overshare. But Lily seems to be forcing the issue.
“My lips are sealed,” I tell them.
Lily looks to the general vicinity of my pussy. “I doubt that, but okay, when you are ready to spill, we’re here. That’s all.”
“That’s why you guys came?” I ask them. “To interrogate me? What are you, hallway monitors?”
“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” says Lily.
“Forgotten what?”
“Your gown, for the ball? I’m not sure a bath towel is going to cut it, sorry, which means we’re going shopping.”
I look to Ava, who only nods.
“Show her the plastic,” Ava says to Lily, who reaches into her pants pocket and holds up a credit card.
“Did I mention my family is like fucking loaded? Like, techy, stoke-your-fireplace-with-fresh-bills loaded?”
“It’s true,” Ava admits.
“Yes, yes, great, great,” Lily goes on, moving back to stand in front of me, “so you get dressed, we’ll wait outside, and then the three of us will take a little stroll through the Woods of Eternal Suffering.”
“The what?” I laugh.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” says Lily, “unless you’re gang-raped by the wood elves with their twiggy little cocks, but hey, win some, lose some.”
Which I think is a joke.
Ava’s just staring at me, either trying to gauge my reaction or cursing my immortal soul.
It’s the weekend. I should probably stay in and rest (read: recover), but I can’t fault their enthusiasm, so I nod. “Sure. Give me five.”
*
Outside, it’s about as bright as it gets here. A certain sense of contentment comes over me because, hey, I’m finally getting outside the castle walls.
I never expected to be changed so fundamentally by this place. I know Darkwood has been a big, very sexual part of that, but just being surrounded by magic is something extraordinary. I’m walking down the hallway and someone’s yapping about fucking up Mentis Silentium, or that very particular, sulfurous smell that comes after fire spells.
You don’t get any of that in New York. Even in the confines of Gran’s apartment, magic was somewhat limited, kept on a leash. Not here.
But Sabrina is still there and still has no idea what happened to me.
I turn to Lily as we make our way through the extensive gardens that feature at the back of the castle. “Hey, I don’t suppose there’s some way to get a message out to someone back home, is there?”
She gives me a funny look. “Like, inais?” She shakes her head. “Even if you wanted to, this place is warded up to all hell. The only thing getting in is that plane and,” she makes a jabbing motion at her neck, “you remember how much fun that was, right?”
“They really do that to everyone who comes here?” I ask.
Lily nods in confirmation. “The first time. I guess they don’t want anyone freaking out because ‘Yo, can we drug you?’ and they’re real serious about keeping the location of this place secret, though we theorize this whole island—did I mention that?—is in some kind of external sub-dimension. Plus the whole needle-in-the-neck thing has a certain cloak-and-dagger feel to it. Society folks lap up that theatrical shit.”
I’m still trying to place this all as the forest looms right out of the pages of a fairytale. “So you get the needle when you go back?”
Lily laughs. “Fuck no. They use magic for that, which tends not to leave you feeling like you’ve spent the night being fucked by the Knicks when you wake up.”
“Oh, and there’s really no way to contact home?”
Ava speaks. “If you get murdered, they might send a nice letter, but to answer your question, no. No mail, no email, no internet, no Wi-Fi—Lumina is an information black hole.”
So there goes that idea.
Lily breathes in as we reach the forest and cute little path that meanders right into the piney heart of it. “Mmm, you getting that?”
“What?” I ask.
“Freedom. Come on.”
It’s cooler in the forest, perfectly straight trees reaching to the sky and the path turning almost dead straight right through the middle of it.
It’s too quiet for my liking, the forest itself deadening and dampening any kind of sound. I decide to make small talk. “Do you have family, back home?” I ask Lily, knowing she’s the more likely of the two to actually give a detailed answer.
“Family?” she scoffs. “You mean my three prick brothers? They’re all sitting around on their asses watching porn and jerking off over Andrew Tate while they wait to take over the family business.”
“And what’s that?”
“Oh, actual porn, though with a magic, dark kind of kink to it. You wouldn’t believe how many Society folk are freaks between the sheets.”
I can, actually. “But you don’t…”
“Perform?” she almost chokes. “Fuck. No. We’ve got warehouses and studios for that, plenty of performers willing to get down for whatever crumbs we throw their way.”
“And your parents are good with this?”
She scoffs again. “Children of Aquarius and all that. They’d fuck all day long when I was a kid, and we had thin walls, let me tell you. Even now they star in, like, half the films—masked, naturally.”
“Naturally,” I nod, kind of laughing. “It’s pretty funny.”
“Not when they drag you to the studio for an ‘education’ and the bin you just threw your sandwich into is full of used enema kits and smells like a midnight screening of Star Wars.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Lily laughs along. “I suppose saying it aloud makes my fam sound totally fucked, but it’s nothing on Ava’s. Right, Ava?”
Ava looks to her, eyes weaponized.
“Oh, come on,” says Lily, “we’re all friends. I’m sure Ana would love to know why you’re the Academy black sheep.”
“I doubt it,” Ava says.
“Please,” I tell her. “I’m sadly short of an interesting backstory.”
Ava gives a huff and folds her arms in front of herself, a bird squawking through the canopy above. “You might say the family name is tainted.”
“How so, Ava?” Lily presses, which earns her another Glare of Death.
“There were members of my family that had connections to the Umbral Brotherhood.”
“Really?’ I blurt this out not because I’m shocked, but because I’m genuinely interested.”
“My mother and father, to be precise, who were not making pornos,” a glance to Lily, “but rather running around the English countryside involving themselves in all manner of criminal enterprises.”
“Such as?’ Lily teases.
Another huff. “The transportation of certain magical artifacts that may or may not have gone missing from various historical institutions.”
“Sounds badass,” I offer.
“Not when the only way you could see your parents growing up was behind bars and the aunt you were forced to live with was awfully fond of corporal punishment.”
“Which is why Ava loves it in the ass so much,” Lily adds.
Ava gives her the finger. “But I suppose this infamy worked in my favor, because I’m here, aren’t I?” She looks to me. “And you, Ana, since we’re sharing and all.”
I shrug. “There’s not much to tell. You already know about my grandmother, my shitty life in New York. I didn’t tell you I was attending an art school, did I?
“Art school?” Ava says. “How quaint.”
“You’re arty?” Lily asks.
I give a short laugh. “Apparently not, but it seemed kind of romantic, I guess. I thought I could fumble my way to a semblance of creativity, find my inner voice, but what do you know, I don’t have one.
“What’s worse is that my grandmother mortgaged her apartment to send me to said art school. She told me she had the money already, so imagine my surprise when default notices started showing up in the mail after she died.”
“Shit,” says Lily.
I nod. “Yeah.”
I expect a flood of follow-up questions, but both of them remain quiet, the conversation returning to more menial matters as we work through the forest.
A half hour later, we come to a crossroad, a crude wooden sign reading ‘Adams’ pointing to the left.
“What’s to the right?” I ask.
They both laugh.
“You don’t want to know,” trills Ava.
Five minutes later we arrive at the village of Adams, which for all intents and purposes looks like it was pulled right off an English country postcard. There’s a main street filled with quaint stone buildings and a low-lying mist that seems to give the impression the village is floating.
I thought carriages were obsolete, but no. One’s right there being pulled by two dirt-brown horses, their clip-clopping audible over the noise of ambient chatter from fellow students who have also made the journey out today.
We walk along the main street, and I’m struck by how relaxed everyone is. No one’s striding along the sidewalk checking their watch or shouting at their cell. Instead, three men who I presume to be locals are gathered around a light pole, chuckling lightly over village gossip.
That said, it also seems like the kind of place where someone might paint a scarlet letter on your forehead and drown you in the nearest body of water.
We pass a shop simply named Antiques, or so says the calligraphic sign out front. A cuckoo clock catches my eye, a light brown rocking chair a bit further back that is a dead ringer for Gran’s—probably sold off now with the rest of her belongings.
“What about a new ’do?” asks Lily, nudging me in the ribs in the direction of a shop simply titled Hair.
“I really hope that is a salon and not a shop that sells actual hair.”
“No, it’s a salon,” says Ava casually, “though I wouldn’t expect any styles from this century. Adams is a bit backwards like that, and I mean it in the very best way.”
“Classy,” I commend with a smile.
“Adams is so damn nice,” Lily speaks her mind, Ava nodding in agreement beside her. “Nothing much happens around here. Ever. I’m already considering retiring here. In like a million years from now when I’m rich and famous and definitely not involved in the family biz.”
“Good call,” I laugh.
“And bingo,” Lily says. “We have arrived.”
Excitement builds as I take in front of the store titled Dress. Five super fucking creepy mannequins are outfitted in vintage gowns facing the street.
I turn to Lily before we enter. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely,” she confirms with a nod. “Like I said, every witch has to have at least one spectacular ball gown, wouldn’t you say?”
I wouldn’t, no, but I’m not about to turn down the offer. “Well, I thank you then,” I tell her, offering up another abomination of a curtsey.
Lily thumbs at Ava. “Thank us, actually, because Corpse Bride here is paying half.”
Ava gives a sour look but doesn’t protest, instead stepping past us and opening the door to the store, a bell chiming overhead.
The shopkeeper, a plump, elderly woman with a knitting-circle smile, brings me gown after gown to try on in the singular changing room.
But it’s nice being the center of attention for once. These dresses aren’t Dior, but they’re incredible in their own, eccentric way.
Lily’s not afraid to voice her opinions—rather vocally—Ava a touch more subtle.
In the end, I settle on a navy, sleeveless number with a side slit and silk white gloves.
Lily insists I do not look at the price tag but judging the look of surprise on Ava’s face when the register (another relic) is rung up, it can’t have been cheap.
“It’s going to be boner central with you in that thing at the ball. Makes you totally fuckable. I mean, I’d go there,” says Lily, which I’m pretty sure is a joke.
“It does…suit you,” Ava smiles, and yeah, I’m talking an actual lip-curling smile.
For all her inherent doom and gloom, she might be starting to grow on me.
Lily insists we hit a tavern on the edge of town. It sits right at the end of the main street in whitewashed stucco, the swinging sign above the door reading, wait for it, Tavern.
It’s got the same vintage, mothy smell to it inside as the dress store. We find a table near the entrance with a window looking down the street.
Ava goes off to order at the bar.
“Someone looks pleased,” Lily says, watching me from the other side of the table.
It’s true. I’m sitting here with that rare combination of relaxation and joy flowing through me. For once, I’m not the one waiting tables, not wondering where my next meal is coming from or where I’m going to sleep. For once, things seem headed in the right direction—the Professor and his desires aside.
“It’s all a bit different to the Big Apple.”
“New York, New York,” Lily smiles.
“Yeah, it’s nice in spring when everything’s in bloom, but this kind of peace and quiet? Forget about it.”
“Can’t be any worse than Aldershot,” says Ava. “I think it’s been a regular feature in Britain’s Top 10 Crappiest Towns for almost a decade running.”
“Promise not to judge when I mention where I’m from,” Lily says, raising her hand like a schoolgirl as the waiter leaves the drinks on our table.
“Do tell,” I smile.
“Hollywood, California.”
I snort in amusement. “Figures.”
She gives me a look of amusement before picking up her wine and clinking her glass to mine. “A toast, ladies. To a kickass ball...and a good, solid dicking.”
Our glasses clink together. I sip some of the wine and let it wash over my tongue, noting how surprisingly fruity it is, before looking up and finding Cassandra and her friend approaching the table.
Fuck me.
Now?
“I thought I smelled a rat,” she says, looking at me.
The cringe…Christ on a bike.
But okay. We can do this.
“Really?” I pitch my voice higher in mock interest. “Because I thought I smelled a skank.”
“You…”
“Cass, no!” Her friend shouts and grabs her by the wrist, just as she’s about to pounce on me.
“Oh, let her at it already,” I tell the friend—a strangely mousy individual who’s the human personification of a head of garlic. “I’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”
“You’re lucky,” Cassandra mumbles, her friend continuing to pull her back.
“Am I?”
But the friend manages to turn her and get her out the door before any more bullshit tumbles out of her mouth.
I look to the others. “What is that bitch’s problem with me, seriously? It’s not like I spat in her food or fucked her boyfriend.”
I consider that for a moment, that Cassandra had something going on with Darkwood, but no, she doesn’t seem like his type.
“Being a bitch is just her MO,” Lily informs me, her tone dropping in volume and nerve. “Don’t take it personally. She likes to assert her dominance to all the newbies. I’m sure she’ll forget about you when someone fresh joins the Academy.”
“She was like this to you guys when you arrived?” I ask Lily, shifting my gaze over to Ava. “And you?”
Ava nods.
“But I told her to fuck right off,” Lily goes on, “and Ava, well, Ava is Ava, so Cassandra kind of moved along after a while. Though I will say she seems to have taken a special interest in you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Great.”
Ava leans forward, the wine glass between her hands. “We’re all fledgling witches here—some of us are bound to be stronger than others. I just thought it would be juvenile of me to let Cassandra drag me into her silly games, considering where we are. The knowledge contained in this Academy…” She whistles. “There are better things to focus on. The library, for example, only houses some of the rarest and most ancient books in all Magic.” She directs her attention to me. “If you’re looking for answers, you are in the right place. And as for Cassandra? She can get royally fucked.”
Lily gives an audible gasp at that, raising her glass. “Yes! Let us drink to that.”
Several glasses of wine later we head back through the forest tipsy and a touch juvenile. I carry the bag with the dress in it, pausing every so often to admire the navy fabric peeking out the top.
It’s almost dark by the time we make it back to the Academy, Lily commenting on her ‘pea-sized bladder’ and running off towards the bathrooms, Ava smiling cordially and telling me what an enjoyable day she had, though I think it’s the wine talking. Come tomorrow she’ll be back her typical cast-in-stone self.
The hallways are quiet. Everyone’s out of the castle either in the village or wherever the right of that sign leads to—probably a giant orgy.
I fish in my pocket, my fingertips making contact with the cold metal of my key. But I hear something.
It’s moaning.
Loud. Passionate. Full of passion.
It’s not entirely different to the noises coming out of my mouth less than twenty-four hours ago.
At first, the desire to be alone in my room seems to prevail. I want to try on the gown again and look at myself in the mirror. Super childish, I know, but fucking sue me.
But I find myself pocketing my key and creeping down the hallway hunting for the source of these sounds, because fuck me, someone is having the absolute time of their life.
I keep going, finding it hard to pinpoint exactly where the sound is coming from.
I start off to the right, an image flashing through my mind. It’s the underwear poster boy, standing against the wall. Leo Wraithwood was the only person to see me that night Damien kicked me out of his quarters—naked, of course. Light is washing upon that particular spot right now. A glance to the left is enough to reveal its source. His door has been cracked open. The gap between the pane and the doorframe can’t be more than an inch or two, but it’s enough.
I draw near, the sounds of pleasure growing. I stop half a pace from the door and lean forward. Inside, I see two figures illuminated by a row of candles on the beside table, their side to me. Those long legs, that silver-blonde hair, those small, yet oddly perky breasts…
Cassandra?
I look closer.
And Leo?
There’s no mistaking it.
She’s bent over the bed, her palms clutching the white sheet below. Leo’s pumps forward, her plump ass cheeks wobbling in retaliation. Her mouth is open wide, Leo holding onto her hips and staring at her bubble butt.
“Harder, already,” she whines, rocking back to meet his thrusts.
That greedy bitch, I think, ordering him around.
A minor twitch between my legs brings an awkward smile to my face, because it’s kind of comical but also sort of exciting in a weird way?
I’m not a peeping Tom. I’ve never even considered sitting down to watch porn, but for some reason I find myself enjoying the show.
Leo bends towards Cassandra, wrapping his arms around her chest from behind, her nipples disappearing in his palms. Throwing her head back, she bangs the back of it against his shoulder, his sharp groans overshadowed by her erratic moaning. Born for porn, you might say. Perhaps Lily’s parents could put her to use.
Rub your clit.
A rich, male voice startles me. I take a few furtive glances right and left, but can’t seem to locate its owner.
I said touch yourself, my pet.
Darkwood.
He’s in my head.
And he’s watching—watching me watching them.
I don’t know how, and I have no idea where he’s hiding, but he can see everything in this hallway—including me watching Cassandra and Leo. What’s more, he asking me to, what? Masturbate? Here?
There’s another voice in my head, my own, telling me to laugh this off, to just turn and walk away, but his voice is stronger.
Before I know what I’m doing I’ve pressed my bent forearm to the wall, my free hand sliding down past the waistband of my pants and into the hot space beyond.
Leo’s working her good now. His ass cheeks clamp together with each thrust, Cassandra’s entire body thrown forward each time he pounds into her.
Yes, that’s it.
The ball of my palm makes contact with my skin as I slide my hand down to my crotch.
As I watch them, I’m jealous. The tips of my fingers nudge my clit, the shock of it running up my wrist. I hold in a sigh as Leo bites down on her shoulder. Cassandra lets out a growl, throwing her arm back. She cups his buttock and digs her nails into his flesh, urging him on.
Give it to her, I think. Fuck her worthless hole.
Leo groans harder in response, continuing to piston into her. My fingers draw slow circles around my clit, my knees bending as I grip the doorframe.
I can’t do this, touch myself out in the open.
More, comes the voice.
Cassandra groans again and I start to think she’s faking it. Leo didn’t exactly strike me as an attentive lover when I first met him. He barely knew what to say to a woman let along wring this kind of pleasure from one, not how Cassandra’s carrying on.
“That’s it. Just like that,” she moans, Leo leaning back.
My fingers work faster, the longest disappearing into my pussy.
Looking at them sideways like this, I can only see part of his manhood. Half his shaft and his balls come into view as he pulls back, disappearing just as quickly.
I press harder against my clit, my ass cheeks beginning to clench and my breathing becoming rapid.
What the fuck is happening?
Cassandra whips her head around, her hair following in a milky wash. She looks up at Leo, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. Their gazes lock, forcing my hand.
Tremors start in my calves and thighs.
No. Not here. Not like this.
Yes, comes the Professor’s voice, brimming with authority.
The shame comes thick and fast, but I can’t stop.
I quicken my pace, concentrating solely on my clit with three joined fingers. I rock my pelvis forward, my thigh muscles flexing faster.
A pained cry announces the arrival of Cassandra’s orgasm, and this is very real.
She jerks and flaps, gives another cry as Leo rocks forward, hand on the back of her head. He gives a grunt and shifts back. But it’s when he pulls out, his cock wet in hand, that my own climax hits with such severity I wonder if I might drop dead.
I rip my hand off the wall and use it to cover my mouth. I bite down on my index finger, juices flooding my core. My pelvis shakes under the effects of my climax, Leo’s firing ribbon after ribbon of hot cum over Cassandra’s fat ass.
The shame returns tenfold.
I take a step to the side and yank my hand out of my crotch, quick-walking as best I can to my quarters with the crotch of my pants wet and pussy continuing to pulse.
Darkwood’s voice does not come again, but the thought of him stroking himself to me, me stroking to them…this whole damn circle.
It’s fucked up.
I am fucked up.
So why then, back in the safety of my room, can’t I seem to stop smiling?