Once Upon A Wolf: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 1)

by Scarlett Snow

  “When I was six years old, my dad, Ali—who was a thief, I’ll admit—ran afoul of a Genie when he was on a job.” He looks up at me and does air quotes. “‘A job,’ you know?”

  I’m surprised. “He was trying to rob a Genie?”

  “More likely the Genie’s master.” He sighs. “The Genie came to our house and grabbed me and my dad, and he…”

  He trails off and I see dark shadows in his eyes.

  “He kept my dad, but after a while, he got bored with me and threw me out. He still has my dad.”

  I feel terrible for him and though he doesn’t know it, I understand what it feels like to have your loved ones taken from you.

  Aladdin continues, his tone slightly louder but sombre. “I thought the Genie might have been at Nevermore, so I was going to look there and that’s where I met the Penny Royal Pack. But then I heard that he’s the familiar of a princess named Aaliyah.”

  That name is a new one to me. “Who’s Aaliyah?”

  “She’s one of the princesses here, but I honestly don’t know which one. I think she’s in disguise.” He looks up at me hopefully. “And that’s where you come in. I need you to help me find her.”

  I ponder it for a moment. It’s not like it’ll be a hard since disguises are made of enchantments and that’s my jam. I can see through most disguises without too much effort at all. I might also be able to use a Genie, if I can get his lamp away from her.

  I nod at him. “Okay.” An impish thought occurs to me, and I decide to push him to see how far he’ll go. “So…you know I’m Darkblood, right?”

  He laughs. “At this point, everybody knows that!”

  “And do you know how Darkbloods seal our deals?”

  Aladdin starts to look nervous. “No…”

  “We fuck.”

  I knew the look on his face would be priceless. He looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue.

  “You… f-fu…?” he squeaks out, his face turning scarlet.

  “We fuck,” I repeat. “Hard. Do you think you’re up to the task?”

  My mind gets flooded with images of me saying these exact words to Lockwood while Broin stands behind me, stroking my body. I have to shake my head to get rid of the thought.

  That came out of nowhere.

  Aladdin gives me a queasy smile. “Uh… okay. Except I… uh… Well, I haven’t…”

  My mouth drops open. “You haven’t? Not ever?” He shakes his head. “How old are you?”

  He blushes deeper, the tinge now purple. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “In Draoich, it’s rare to find anybody over fourteen who’s a virgin.”

  He’s offended and embarrassed. “Well, I’m—I’m not from Draoich,” he blurts out, choking on the words.

  “Obviously.”

  “I’m from Wysteria. Things are different in the mountains.”

  I struggle not to giggle at him. Honestly, I have no intention of fucking Aladdin. He’s already clearly and very hopelessly in love with Beauty.

  “Then what do you propose we do?”

  He looks around, checking to see if we’re alone. In the shack. Really, now? “What about a kiss?”

  “If you even say the words true love, rest assured I will throat punch you.”

  “No, I just… kissing is good. I can do that. We can seal it that way?”

  I don’t answer him immediately; he’s too much fun to mess with.

  Instead I cross the distance between us, reach out slowly and touch his face. “No.”

  “No? What do you mean no?” The horrified look on his face is priceless.

  I chuckle, then take the matter seriously. While we don’t need to fuck non-Satanists in order to seal a deal, there does need to be some kind of physical contact. A handshake, a high five, a kiss on the cheek or lips. That sort of thing. I’m very tempted to kiss Aladdin the Satanic way, but I don’t want to scare him.

  I kneel in front of him, my face just inches from his. His eyes are wide and fixed on my own. I can hear his heart beating in his chest, frantic and terrified and it’s a beautiful sound to me.

  Leaning forward, I bring my lips to his mouth, hover there for a moment…teasing him, torturing him…then I peck him on the cheek. When I pull back, Aladdin is holding his breath, his shoulders tensed and his face an unnatural shade of plum.

  I straighten off the floor, dusting my hands on my skirt. “Now that’s out of the way, it’s time to seal the deal.”

  “B-but you just said—”

  “What, that? I was just playing with you. To actually seal this we’ll need a headless chicken, two pregnant goats, a ram’s testicle and the blood of a virgin. I don’t suppose you have those ingredients to hand, do you?”

  Aladdin looks at me as if I’ve just grown an extra head. “You’re not all there, are you?”

  Walking out of the shack door, I grin over my shoulder at him. “No, but don’t worry, if I was this deal would never have been made. See you on the flipside, baby.”

  Later that night, with the waxing moon high in the inky-black sky, I get ready for my rendezvous with Lockwood. I take one last look in the bathroom mirror. My complexion is glowing, visible to other witches like me, because our powers are stronger at the Witching Hour. As is customary at this time of night, I’m wearing my velvet crimson cloak, draped over my naked body.

  Thankfully, Alice is asleep. Her light snores make me smile as I head for the door, wondering where Sirena is. I haven’t seen her since dinner.

  Broin caws at me from the windowsill, and I look over my shoulder at him.

  —What’s wrong?—

  —Be careful,— he warns.

  —This is part of the Dark Lord’s plan, remember?—

  His head twitches to the side. —Yes, but we still don’t know if we can trust this Lockwood fully.—

  Touched by his concern, I go over and press a kiss to his little head.

  —It’s Witching Hour. I’ll be okay.— Stroking the length of his back, I suggest, —Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure he won’t notice you watching through the window and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the view. What do you say, Daddy?—

  He shakes his head and ruffles his feathers. I know he doesn’t want me to go, yet he understands why I must. I need this, not just because Lucifer ordered me to, but because the Dark Witch within me craves to be in pain whenever she can. Broin isn’t able to give me that as often as I need it without my roommates getting suspicious. I don’t want the girls to find out my familiar is also a man. I adore them more than I thought I would, but I’m not sure how they’ll react. The thought of losing Broin…

  —Go have fun, Little Red, but be wary.—

  —Aren’t I always?— I smile and lift my hood over my head. —Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything under control… I think.—

  —You’d better.—

  He lowers his beak and watches me leave the room.

  I gently close the door and look around the hallway. It’s empty and I don’t see Mrs. Thornhart prowling around. Just to be on the safe side, I cast a glamour anyway and just manage to stifle my sneeze.

  I gingerly climb down the stairs into the common room. My feet root to the spot when I find Sirena curled up on the balcony. Her face is pressed against the misted glass and tear stains mark her cheek. I almost want to remove the veil and and ask whose ass I need to kick, but then someone comes down from the boy’s dormitories and calls out her name.

  “Sirena, baby. I’m sorry.”

  It’s Erik. Ew.

  A quick glance at the clock reminds me that Witching Hour is in exactly ten minutes. I’m already running late. I leave the common room, making a mental note to find her at breakfast. If I find out Erik has hurt her again, a bitch will die.

  The following hallway is also empty. The lanterns flicker as I walk by and I climb down the stairs and head toward the Great Hall. I hold my breath as I creep by the entrance, catching a glimpse of Mrs. Thornhart talking to Quasi. S
he turns her head toward the door, ever so slightly and I swear it’s like she saw me. I scurry down the hallway, hoping to Satan I’m not being followed.

  I climb the tower stairs leading to his office, my stomach fluttering with nervous excitement. I think about how cruel Lockwood’s voice had been, how calculating his touch, how beautifully villainous he was when he punished me. My body tingles from the memory, my ass still raw from his cane. At that moment, he wasn’t my headmaster; he was a man intent on taking his revenge out on my body and I loved every second of it. I know he loved it too. The jizz he’d shot onto my ass was concrete evidence.

  By the time I reach his door, Lockwood is already waiting on me. I gulp and stare up at his body swallowing up the doorway. He looks positively enraged, which sends a thrill of excitement through me. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without his robes or suit coat. His white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, strains as he folds his arms and glares at me.

  “You’re late, witch.”

  Not Redera or Miss Hemlock.

  Witch.

  He narrows his eyes into cutting slits and a chill runs down my spine. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “What was that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up, ducking underneath loose strands of hair. “I’m sure you can do better than that, girl.”

  My cheeks flare and I gaze up at him. He must want me to call him Daddy or Master. Since Broin is already my Daddy and always will be, I choose the latter. “I’m sorry for being late, Master Lockwood.”

  Headmaster and student, Master and slave. Such a perfect turn of events.

  Lockwood nods his head. “Get in.”

  Stepping back but still holding the door, he watches me slide by his familiar and into the room. The furniture is all the same except where his desk is. A wooden cross stands in front of it. The piece of equipment is the length of my body and draped over the side is a cat’o’nine tails.

  My heart rate spirals, banging against my ribcage like wild pistons. It’s been nearly three months since I’ve felt the kiss of that particular whip. His Excellency flagellated me at the last Satanalia. I touch the side of my neck, where the scars crown my skin. He had once whipped parts of me so severely that no magic or spell could heal. It was his gift to me for my sixteenth birthday.

  “Do you like the look of that, girl?” Lockwood whispers in my ear.

  “Yes,” I breathe out, shuddering at his words.

  His seizes my throat from behind, his grip capturing me like a vice. Brushing my hair over one shoulder, he slides his palm down my body and around my front. A gust of cool air caresses my skin as he pulls my cloak to the side and exposes my pussy. His fingers glide over my lower lips, teasing me.

  “Already wet and I haven’t even started. Does the thought of being whipped by your headmaster make you quiver, witch?”

  I hold my breath, nodding my reply.

  “You really are a Darkblood,” he scoffs, pulling his fingers back. “Get on that cross. And don’t keep me waiting.”

  Tentatively, I approach and face the wooden frame, waiting for him to strap me down.

  “Uh-uh.” He clicks his tongue. “The other way. Your tits and cunt are mine tonight. I want to see them.”

  I turn around, gently press my back to the wood and watch him. He’s picking something off his desk. When he turns back around, he’s holding a riding crop and his face is completely wiped clean of emotion. I can’t tell at all what he’s thinking.

  That actually excites me more than the crop.

  He prowls over to me with slow, confident strides, snaking the implement through his fingers. Wrapping a strong hand around my waist, he places the crop between his teeth and lifts me up effortlessly. He secures my hands and feet in iron shackles nailed to each of the legs, then removes the crop from his mouth and takes a step back.

  I’m completely splayed before him.

  A mere object for him to use and fill as he sees fit.

  He already knows this, going by the grin playing on his lips.

  He walks around the cross, scrutinizing me closely. After a quick once over, he then pivots on his heel and retrieves another object from his desk. He returns with a throng of metal clips, each attached to a thin gold chain. There’s at least twenty of them. Twenty clips to inflict pain on my body.

  Tonight is going to be one heaven of a night.

  Slowly opening one of the clips, he slides me a glance. “You wanted to feel pain. You wanted me to take control of your slut body. You wanted me to treat you like the fucktoy you are.”

  None of these are questions, but I nod anyway. “Yes, S…Master,” I correct my sloppiness. “I do. So, so much.”

  His eyes darken and he snaps the clip shut. “You’ll speak when I say you can, witch.” Closing the distance between us, he reaches up and unfastens my cloak. The material slips away and puddles at my feet, allowing the air and moonlight to soak my body. “You’re under my control now and you’re going to obey every single order I give you. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Lockwood clamps one clip on my left nipple. I gasp at the unexpected sharpness. He only chuckles. The next clip isn’t as sore because I know what’s coming so I can anticipate it. What I don’t anticipate is Lockwood placing the clips in a line across my breasts, then in another from my throat down to my stomach, forming the God of Light’s unholy cross.

  I have Lucifer’s mark on my back and his enemy’s on my front.

  This will not go down well with him.

  Stepping back, Lockwood sweeps his eyes over my body, drinking everything in. My blood gushes into my breasts until they’re nothing but two swollen mounds. He pulls the chain at my navel. It’s connected to all of the clips and the downward pressure forces them to tighten and pull. The pain is instant and I hiss through clenched teeth, my eyes stinging.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen, witch,” Lockwood starts, leisurely rolling up his sleeves one by one, his eyes riveted on my face. “You’re going to repeat everything I say, witch, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly as you’re told. Do you understand?”

  The tattoos covering his forearms catch my attention. I knew he had them but I never expected so many. I follow the faint outlines through his shirt and now that I’m properly looking for them, it seems as if they’re covering every inch of his body. That is, where his suit can’t hide.

  He yanks the chain again and I yelp. “I asked you a question. You’d do well to answer.”

  “Yes, Master. I…I understand.”

  He widens his eyes at my hesitation and disrespectful tone of voice. This time he doesn’t just pull the chain, he twists the clip on my nipple until I let out a scream. “Sorry, what was that?”

  “Aargh!” I arch my back as much as I can against the cross. “I understand, Master. I’ll obey you.”

  He smiles and lightly slaps my cheek. “Good girl.” Swiping the crop against his palm, he orders calmly, “Now, repeat after me. I renounce Satan and all his works.”

  My eyes bulge in their sockets. Is he insane? I can’t do that. I already failed at trying to do that and look what happened. I bite my tongue, refusing but also unable to answer. My silence receives a sharp flick of his crop.

  The leather tongue sails over my breast, jolting every clip, and the pain is sensational. It spreads through my body in vicious waves the more and faster he strikes, flooding my pussy, igniting every inch of desire coursing through my veins.

  “Say it, witch.”

  Another swipe. I yank at my bonds, suppressing my whimpers.

  “I renounce Satan.” Swipe. “You are no longer my master.”

  Does he not understand? I can’t abandon my god again.

  “Say.” Swipe. “It.” Swipe.

  I can’t. I can’t!

  Lockwood’s pace is increasing, the pressure on my body breaking skin.

  I don’t ask him to stop. Pain is all I know. It’s all I want.

  And right now, he’s
the one I want to give it to me.

  Droplets of sweat trickle down his forehead, his chest heaving with exertion. “How could you possibly want all this pain?” His voice is quiet, losing that sinister edge.

  I peek at him through my lashes, my body trembling and bleeding on the cross. “I need this pain as much as you crave to give it, Master. It’s in your blood, every last droplet of it, just like it’s in mine. We’re both the same; You’re only just now acknowledging it.”

  His nostrils flare, his countenance shifting from curious to enraged in a split second. With one ruthless yank, he rips the clips off my body, the pain searing every cell in my body.

  He grabs the cat o’ nine and snaps it in front of me. “You want pain, witch? Here it fucking is.”

  Something inside him cracks.

  Breaks.

  Unleashes.

  And he flogs me with an irrepressible fury.

  His hatred and lust transmits through his whip into my flesh, his powerful, heaving body nothing more than pure and utter contained strength that could bend me in half.

  Strike after strike, my skin breaks and bleeds under the cruelty of his whip. The pain robs me of my vision and I close my eyes, biting my lips to suppress the screams. Blood spurts onto my tongue, the sharp tang polluting my senses. I’m just flesh and bone on this cross now, here for him to mold as he wishes. He could kill me if he wanted to and I’d probably let him because this pain, sweet, glorious pain, is the best sensation in the world.

  A light spreads through my veins, basking me in a beautiful, blinding warmth. Moments of purity. Glimmers of goodness. They’re so beautiful that I start to cry, wishing the warmth would never end, never leave me in the dark again. Is this what Redera felt? Whole, pure and untainted without having to suffer? Without having to be punished by His Excellency in his Red Dungeon?

  Lockwood throws the whip on the floor. I can’t lift my head to look at him. All I can hear is his rapid pants and his hands unshackling me. I collapse into his arms, a pile of shredded flesh. My magic is already healing me, though it will take time to complete the task. Until then, I’ll savor every painful welt and cut seared into my body. This is exactly what I wanted. Needed. Craved.