CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
We continue going through the library late into the night but don’t seem to come up with any actionable ideas apart from a couple of interesting, albeit complex, spells. Nothing else surfaces on this Mortis character either.
Someone flags the idea of setting a trap. I’m not sure about the others, but I’m not especially keen on being bait given my last run-in with the rogue shadows.
Tired, frustrated, we call it and head back to our respective rooms, Leo again insinuating I should join him and me again telling him to fuck off—politely, of course.
I’m not surprised to find another card waiting on my bed when I return to my room, but it still sends a tingly delight pulsing through me. Darkwood has summoned me again. Sleep, it seems, will have to wait.
It’s already past midnight, past his appointed hour, but surely he’s anticipated this.
After what happened earlier with Lily, I’m extra cautious making my way to the Professor’s chambers, but the shadows that appear now are natural. There is nothing out of the ordinary on the walls or on the floor, other than my own, thin silhouette.
No murderers either, which is welcome.
I can still feel that pressure on my throat, though…the way my eyes wanted to pop clear of my head.
The iron-banded door creaks open. The Professor waves me in, black coat billowing behind him.
The door closes.
He sees the marks around my throat. “Tell me what happened last night.”
I thought he knew everything that went on in this castle, but apparently not. I do enjoy his concern, though.
“Like I said, rogue shadows attacked us.”
“Us?”
“Myself, Lily Evergreen.”
“I see.”
“And you successfully warded off the attack?”
I see the glint in his eyes, that tinge of excitement in the tone of his voice.
It all falls into place.
Yes, he fucking sent them.
He was testing me.
This was all part of his plan to show me how much my powers have grown. But what if it had gone sideways? What if I couldn’t fight them off?
You’d be like Stephanie or Dale—a bloody sack of flesh on the floor.
“Yes, risky indeed,” the Professor nods, reading my mind, “but yet here you are, relatively unscathed.”
“And the Charms classroom?”
He breathes in. “Now that, that was not my doing.”
I should protest. I should scream and shout and threaten to go to the Headmistress, because those things, his little shadow wenches? They almost killed us.
But I don’t, because when I’m around him, I’m powerless.
Naught under his gaze.
"Are you ready to begin, my pet?" And that voice. Fuck me. Silk and gravel and grit and everything that spells danger.
I swallow hard and nod.
The humid air clings to my skin as I descend the hidden stairs behind him. My heart pounds with each step, anticipation and nerves tangling into a tight knot in my stomach. The desire to confront him and the desire to bite his muscled chest war within me.
That is Damien—contradiction incarnate.
He waits at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against a stone archway. His eyes rake over me, a predatory gleam following.
He stalks toward me, circling like the wolf he is. My breath hitches when he stops behind me, his broad chest nearly touching my back.
"You were late tonight, little lamb.”
I almost start blabbing about our excursion to the library before biting my tongue.
“As you should well know by now, I don't tolerate tardiness. There will have to be consequences." His breath feathers across my neck, a whimper escaping my lips.
God. What's he going to do to me?
The possibilities race through my mind, each one more twisted and diabolical than the last.
"Look at me, Ana."
I lift my gaze to his, barely suppressing a moan at the raw desire darkening his eyes.
"You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?" His fingers trail down my cheek in a feather-light caress.
"Yes, sir," I breathe. “I’m sorry, sir.”
"I think it's time for your punishment. Take my hands. We’re going on an excursion tonight.
I reach out and take his hands. The moment I do, there’s a heated pulse of energy, a sound like toaster popping, and we’re no longer in the Professor’s chambers.
We’re in a garden.
A thick mist clings to towering vines and colorful blossoms, the air heavy with the scent of exotic flowers.
The Professor starts walking ahead of me, hands behind his back.
“With Hawthorn’s help, I’ve created this space—for pleasure, and purpose. The plants here are dangerous, deadly even.” He gestures to various plants as we walk. “Hemlock, oleander, white snakeroot, lily of the valley, and my personal favorite, Atropa belladonna, otherwise known as nightshade.” His fingers dance around the purplish-black berries. “Rapid heartbeat, dilated pupils, hallucinations, respiratory failure. Nasty stuff, really, but in the right doses…”
We emerge from the garden into a small room not unlike the chambers we’ve already spent so many lessons in.
My pulse races. I'm alone with Darkwood again, in a place no one will find us. Vulnerable. At his mercy.
And part of me thrills at the thought.
But that’s just it.
We’re not alone.
Cassandra stands in the corner of the room, still. I almost didn’t see her at first, jumping back in fright.
I recover from the initial shock, tugging the peacoat tighter around myself.
“Professor?”
Cassandra doesn’t move. She is fixed there, watching. Perfectly still, like some life-size doll. Worse, she’s completely naked, her breasts slighter than I remember, her sex covered in a light smattering of blonde pubis I recall Leo’s cock plunging into.
“Ah, yes,” the Professor smiles, moving over to where she is standing and circling around her as if appreciating a statue, “I thought Cassandra might join us tonight, to observe, but don’t worry, she’s completely petrified.”
“Petrified?”
“Quite.” The Professor’s hand whips up, slapping her hard in the face, but Cassandra barely shifts, even as red begins to bloom on her cheek—even as a sole tear cuts down her face.
“She’s been troublesome, this one, I hear. Mocking you.”
I know Damien has a protective streak, but this is going too far.
“Perhaps you should let her go,” I offer, knowing I’m overstepping, but this seems too cruel even for the Professor.
“No,” the Professor says, standing before her, hands behind his back, “she is going to watch our lesson tonight, every detail, and then she will say not a word about it lest she wish to remain this way permanently, perhaps sent to the shadows for good. And her cruelty towards you, her pettiness? That will also stop because I know secrets about our dear Ms. Thornwood here.” His finger glides over her lips and jealousy stabs at me, hot and fierce. “I know how she dreams about us, her and me, how she strums herself at night thinking about me taking her…fucking her face, her ass. But this is as close as you will get,” he tells her, brushing the tear from her cheek.
He claps his hands together, spinning to face me. “Now, we begin.”
I look to Cassandra. There is no emotion on her face, but I know she’s terrified. Still, what am I supposed to do?
The Professor stops before a large wooden table and pulls me flush against him, desire burning in his eyes.
"Do you know why I've brought you here, Ana?"
I swallow, acutely aware of the hard length of him pressed against my lower belly. "No, sir."
"I'm going to teach you the pleasure of anal sex." He removes my coat as he says it, my cheeks blooming knowing Cassandra is being forced to watch.
My eyes widen, but my mouth stays shut. I am thrown into a sea of confusion, which must amuse him, somehow, because his lips curl into a smirk. "Don't look so shocked, my pet. A witch of your talents needs to explore all aspects of pleasure, and it's my duty as your teacher to guide you."
"I—yes, sir." The words tumble from my lips before I can think, my body already tingling with anticipation.
I mean, I know the mechanics, but… It always seemed to dirty, so completely porny. But not for Darkwood, it seems.
Anticipation? No. Not really. More like a mix of curiosity and fear. My ass is taboo. Forbidden. Nothing is allowed in, or so I’ve been told.
"Good girl. Now bend over the table and spread your legs."
I hesitate only a second before complying, pulse racing as I brace my hands on the table and bare my buttocks.
I’m conscious of Cassandra watching, forced to take in every filthy act that is to follow.
Cool air kisses my exposed flesh, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Waiting.
The first touch of a finger against my anus sends a jolt through me. "Relax," he murmurs, massaging the puckered ring of muscle. His finger is wet with something, a salve of some sort. The friction is gentle and not too demanding. He’s just teasing me. Testing.
I take a deep breath and force my body to unwind. Other digits dip lower, gliding through my wetness before returning to my rear entrance. I hiss in response and bite my lower lip, my butt cheeks clenching. No one has dared go near this part of my body before. I’m not even sure if I’m comfortable with this.
Slowly, gently, he works a fingertip inside.
Fuck.
My face burns with embarrassment.
A gasp escapes my lips at the strange sensation. Not entirely unpleasant, but foreign.
"That's it," he croons, sliding his finger in and out in a steady rhythm, the ring of muscle beginning to relax, inviting him in.
I can’t believe how focused he is—how thorough. His moves are extremely gentle and careful. And just like that, I feel…pampered. Cared for. He’s not going to hurt me. I would bet everything I have on that. Having relaxed a little more, my taboo hole welcomes him back in. More than half of his finger is sliding slowly into me and out.
"Just relax and enjoy. Can you see, Cassandra?” he says, laughing lightly. “See how I finger her ass. Do you wish it was yours?”
Heat blooms where he touches, radiating outward. I rock back onto his finger with a moan, wanting more but unsure of what exactly.
He chuckles, the sound dark and pleased. "Patience."
A tingle races across my skin as he withdraws his finger and replaces it with something hard and firm.
My eyes fly open. I whip around to see the gnarled tip of his wand there.
“What are you doing?”
"This will enhance the experience," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "Relax and trust me. You do want to ascend to the next trial, do you not?”
I nod, pulse thrumming.
What exactly does he have planned here?
A soft whisper leaves his lips, the spell nothing I know.
A buzz of energy fills me as he finishes the incantation and gently presses the wand past the tight ring of my backside. The vibration intensifies, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward from that single point of contact as the wand sits there an inch into my virgin ass.
I gasp, clenching around its ligneous body. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, this mix of magic and physical sensation. Every nerve in my body seems attuned to that steady thrum inside me.
Cassandra watches. She has no choice.
Darkwood draws the wand out slightly before pushing it back in, setting up a rhythm that has me rocking onto my tiptoes, sucking more air into my lungs as he explores my ass. These strokes offer more than just attention. There’s some dark naughtiness in the act, a feeling that I’m doing something very, very wrong. Perhaps that’s why it feels so fucking good.
"Professor," I moan, part of me wanting this exquisite torture to end, another wanting it to continue and amplify.
"I've got you, little lamb," he murmurs, his free hand gliding up my back in a soothing caress. "Just feel."
The tension breaks in a rush of ecstasy, the tight tunnel of my ass clamping down on the wand as if it wants to devour it whole. A broken moan leaves my lips.
To be subjected to this, in front of a fellow student—a horrible student, but a peer, all the same.
It’s so embarrassing. Mortifying, really.
A surge of possessiveness fills the Professor’s gaze. "This is only the beginning, my pet. There are trials to come with pleasures you never dreamed possible."
The wand leaves my ass, sliding out with ease.
I look at Cassandra, her cheeks wet and skin clammy. She hasn’t moved an inch.
I hear clothes falling to the floor, the Professor undressing behind me.
I suck in a sharp breath as Darkwood separates my cheeks and positions the head of his cock against my entrance. The salve and wand may have stretched and prepared me, but he's still large. Accommodating him will not be an easy task.
"Breathe, Ana." His hands slide down to grip my hips, holding me in place. "Relax and let me in."
I do as he says, forcing my muscles to loosen. He pushes forward in increments, pausing whenever I tense up. There's a burn of discomfort, but also a thread of pleasure winding through it.
He’s about to fuck you in the ass, I tell myself. Like the dirty slut you are. Like the dirty slut you’ve always been.
God, I feel so nasty, but I don’t want him to stop.
He takes his time, savoring it.
And Cassandra watches.
With a low groan, he seats himself halfway inside me. We stand there unmoving for several moments, joined as intimately as two people can be. I've never felt so filled or claimed. It's both thrilling and frightening.
The shadows pull and twist, the power rising once more. They love this, feed on it.
He bends towards me, his heat washing over my back.
"You're doing beautifully," he says, dropping a kiss on my shoulder. "Are you ready for all of it?"
I give a jerky nod, unable to form words. He draws back and then sinks deep, setting up a measured rhythm.
Fucking hell.
But the discomfort fades the more I’m stretched out, replaced by a hot ache centered around where we're joined.
I moan as he finds a sensitive spot inside me, stars beginning to gather behind my eyelids. He angles his hips to hit that same spot again and again. The tension starts building once more, pleasure rippling out from my core. Wave after wave sweeps me away into a turbulent sea of delight as my body becomes accustomed the size of his cock.
This is a different kind of sensation than when he last took me.
It’s deeper.
Thicker.
Cloying at my insides.
"That's it," he rasps, fingers digging into my hips. "Take everything I'm giving you, witchling."
He drives into me with force now, our flesh coming together with a lewd slapping sound each time he crashes against my ass. His balls swing against my pussy like battering ram, their weight becoming more obvious with each stroke. But there's no pain. There’s not even a hint of discomfort or burn now. There’s just bliss. The bliss of having his entire shaft where no one has ever been before.
He's done it—claimed every hole I have.
I rock back to meet his thrusts, chasing the implosion of sensation that remains out of reach.
And still Cassandra is locked there in the corner, eyes wide and glassy.
"Please," I sob, so close to tumbling over the edge. "Professor, I need..."
He wraps an arm around my waist and presses deeper. "You may come only when I allow it."
My thighs twitch, the sensation too much.
“Please,” I beg again.
“No.”
Oh, God. I can’t hold back.
He fucks me harder, the entire length of his cock buried deep into my ass.
“Please,” I whimper, tears in my eyes, my legs shaking.
“Now,” he says.
His command undoes me. I shatter around him, light and sensation exploding through my body. He follows soon after with a guttural groan, warmth flooding the depths of my ass as he rams forward and kicks me hard against the table.
He falls on my back, panting for breath.
A profound lassitude seeps into my bones, my mind blissfully empty of everything except the feel of him behind and inside me. Even poor Cassandra is forgotten.
His cock slides free, the weight of it slapping wetly against his leg.
I come back to myself slowly, awareness returning in fragments. The earthy scent of the garden. Mist clinging to my skin. The Professor's arm draped over my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back.
A flush creeps over my face as the memory of what just happened filters through my mind. I can't believe I let him do that. Take me in such a primal, intimate way. And yet...a secret part of me thrills at how far we've come, hungering for more.
As if sensing my thoughts, Darkwood stirs behind me. His hand slides down to cup the mound between my legs, fingers probing the entrance to my sex. I gasp, torn between mortification and longing.
"You took everything I gave you," he rasps in my ear. "And still crave more?"
He turns. “Did you hear that, Cassandra? Our little lamb wants more.”
There’s no reply.
I know I should refuse him, put an end to this madness, because that’s what it is, but I can't seem to form the words. All I can do is spread my thighs in silent invitation.
He chuckles, a dark and dangerous sound. "What a greedy little witchling you are. Wait here. Do not move.”
I hear him pad away, a tap running. Is he cleaning himself? Rehydrating? But I dare not move.
He paces back, footfalls soft.
He flips me over and in one swift movement he's pushed us towards the garden, falling on top of me, pinning me to the dirt. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, still sensitive from our earlier joining. But the discomfort quickly fades, replaced by a deep throb of need.
"Please," I whimper, rocking my hips up to meet his. I'm shocked at my own wantonness, but I can't help it. I need this, need him. "Take me again."
From her position I know Cassandra can still see us, see the way his thick cock sits in the messy triangle formed between us.
A predatory gleam enters his eyes. "As you wish."
The kiss that follows is bruising, swallowing my moans as he drives into me. There's no tenderness now, only a rough, primal claiming. But it's everything I crave, this loss of control, of self.
I wonder what Cassandra must be thinking watching us. Is she scared? Curious?
Excited? my head questions.
I rake my nails down his back and wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Harder. We move together in a frenzied rhythm, chasing oblivion, shifting in the dirt.
The pleasure crests high, blotting out everything but this moment. This man. The shadows pull around me, a noose, and I release around him with a broken cry.
Darkwood follows soon after with a hoarse shout.
We collapse together. Evidence of our passion trickles down the crack of my ass to the dirt below, and a wicked sort of joy unfurls within me. I've been well and truly claimed now—every orifice.
His.
There’s power in having a third party here, a silent observer. From her position Cassandra could no doubt see the way the Professor’s cock sluiced into me, watching helplessly as my cunt sucked it in with ease.
My eyes flutter open to find the Professor gazing down at me, something unreadable in his expression.
"You continue to surprise me," he murmurs. His fingers trail down my cheek in an unexpectedly tender gesture.
Heat floods my face. I glance away, suddenly self-conscious under the intensity of his scrutiny. "I—I'm not usually like this."
A wry smile tugs at his lips. "No? I find that difficult to believe." His hand slides down to grip my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. "I’m afraid you were made for this, Ana. For me. In more ways than you know."
His words ignite a dangerous warmth inside me, along with a flicker of unease. I open my mouth, unsure of how to respond, but he silences me with a searing kiss.
By the time he pulls away, I've forgotten what I wanted to say. Heavy sleep presses at my consciousness. My eyelids droop.
The last thing I feel before drifting off is Damien gathering me close, his breath stirring my hair. "Sleep now, little lamb."
A contented sigh escapes me. Why? But I'm too sated and drowsy to ponder it for long.
Shadows flicker in my mind—writhing, twisting shadows shot through with scarlet light. But the images fade into the darkness, and I surrender myself to sleep, the last thing I see Cassandra remaining fixed in the corner of the room, lips barely parted, a wet patch on the ground between her legs that looks like an inky Rorschach test.
*
I wake alone, disoriented and bleary-eyed. The cloying scent of sex and orchids in the air is gone, but the dull ache between my legs, in my ass, remains.
I’m back in my room.
I look to the corner, but there is no Cassandra there, no Professor waiting on the edge of my bed to soothe and comfort me.
Mortification floods me as scattered memories of our encounter flash through my mind. I bury my face in my hands with a groan, hot shame flaming across my cheeks.
What was I thinking? No, I clearly wasn't thinking at all. I allowed myself to get completely carried away under the influence of lust and magic and...whatever else that was.
The shadows. I rub my eyes, trying to recall the strange, writhing shadows I glimpsed before passing out. But the memory eludes me, shrouded in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion.
The power inside me? It has grown. Multiplied. There’s no doubting it.
When I finally drag myself out of bed, I notice a slip of parchment on the floor. I pick it up with trembling fingers, dread pooling deep in my stomach.
My dear Ana,
You were exquisite tonight, as I knew you would be. Do not feel ashamed for embracing your desires. They are a gift, meant to be explored.
You will join me for dinner this evening.
Yours,
D.D.