He clicked his tongue chidingly as she walked to the corner he pointed to, trying to tug her panties back up. “Naughty girls don’t get to wear clothes in the corner, Alice. Take them off, now.”
She wheeled around, her eyes wide and her lips parted. He lifted his eyebrows. “Come, come, or it’s back over my knee.”
Chewing on her cheek, she unhooked the back of her dress and let it drop in a puddle around the floor, exposing her lingerie. It was complicated and lovely. She hoped that would be enough, but when she turned to go back into the corner with it on, she felt him right behind her, where he smacked her firmly on the bottom. “I said no clothes, Alice. You promised to be a good girl, didn’t you?”
She nodded timidly.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then take them off.”
She pulled off her lingerie slowly; mostly because she didn’t want to be fully nude, and somewhat because she knew that would arouse him. Perhaps, if she was very, very lucky, she could get him in the throes before he had sex with her. Was it possible? After all, he was already quite erect…
When she took off the last shred of lingerie, she looked up at him with a theatrical pout. He pointed to the corner, and again she could tell he was stifling a smile. She scampered over and stuck her nose towards the corner as she was instructed, putting her red bottom on display for him.
She heard him sit down and heard his whiskey glass hitting the table, which means he was drinking while watching her—as if she wasn’t really there, as if she was a video.
Finally, after five very long minutes he said, “Alright, come out of the corner, Alice,” he allowed. When she turned around, he patted on his knee. “Now, girls who want to be good little wives get to come and sit on my lap,” he invited.
She faltered, digging her toe into the carpet. “But… My bottom hurts,” she whined.
“Good. Sit on my lap,” he ordered, much more firmly. She obeyed him immediately, and came to him and stood in front of his knees. He reached over and pulled her onto his trousers and skillfully hooked his arm around her and brought her to his lap so he could look her in the eye. He spread her legs and grabbed a hold of her sex, moving his thumb circularly around her clit.
It felt alien to be so naked on someone that was fully dressed, and she sat stiffly, even though her eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure. “You look absolutely sexy when you’re embarrassed,” he told her, and moved to kiss her neck with his mouth. “And you should be. You should feel how wet you are after you’ve been such a naughty little girl.”
She stifled a moan, but then he kissed her mouth. It was so deep—his tongue warred sensually against hers. It made her nipples tender, and then hard, and he reached around with his free arm to grab at one of them, pinching one of her nipples roughly. He ground his erection against her bottom.
“Hmm. Do you want my cock, little girl?”
She swallowed, hoping he didn’t hear her gulp. “Can… Can I use my mouth first?” she implored. He certainly didn’t need any help with arousal, and if she used her mouth, that could easily enough get him in the throes.
“Patience, my dear,” he purred. “You will have me in your mouth and your bottom before the end of the night, how does that sound? Do you like a hard cock up your bottom?”
“I…I, uh…” Her face flushed. She tried not to betray the horror she felt at the concept. “Um…”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had one?” he chuckled. “I’ll pay extra to be the first.” He breathed her deeply, and then pulled up her body to grab at her bottom until she was straddling him while facing him. “Oh, I can feel the heat from your spanking. Is it still tender?” he asked her.
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye, lest he could see how horrified she was.
“Free me, My Dear,” he breathed.
Damn. Still, she couldn’t give up now. He was close. Maybe this would go fast…
Her hands were trembling violently as she fiddled to get his belt off. He came in and helped her slightly, and then unfastened his own button and zipper on his trousers before he grabbed her hands and laid them on his member—hot, thick, pulsing, and big. He could have gone out hunting with it, she was sure—he could use that thing as a weapon. She stopped breathing when she saw it.
He didn’t notice. Probably because he was so heavy lidded and too drunk to see that she was horrified. He put his hands on her hips and positioned her over him. She had to grab onto the back of the chair to get over the head of his member. He flicked it back and forth in her wetness, then looked up at her, as if he couldn’t wait to see her expression when he impaled her upon his member.
She felt the smooth skin of his cock’s head at the entrance of her, but hesitated moving at all in the direction he wanted her to go. She was wondering if it was too late to go back, or…
It was. With an upward thrust of his hips while keeping her firmly in place, he pushed the length of him up into her with one violent thrust.
She stifled a scream, but she couldn’t stifle her, “Oh! Owe…” before tears welled up in her eyes and she had to fight them back. “Owe,” she cried, and gave a sob, putting her hand over her eyes. She felt the man’s body still completely under her, and then his cock began to powerfully pulse inside of her, making her whimper and gasp, but she didn’t move. She looked up at him and saw his face—looking like he had been completely stunned.
He had cum in her. His ‘throes’ were past. She had lost her virginity to some stranger for nothing. Her bottom lip quivered and she began to sob.
* * *
It was officially the worst day ever. First—Moriarty got blamed for stealing a girl’s virginity. Next—he actually did it.
It wasn’t the first virgin he’d deflowered in his day. There were a couple of centuries in his life where he was certainly known as the ‘despoiler of young women’. But he’d always known those were virgins! He just didn’t slam his cock into them like a bull out of a gate. They had been properly prepared—and he had been more properly prepared.
Now he’d come deep inside of her within the first thrust. He had no idea it was going to be so tight! Worst yet, the girl was crying.
Being inside of a crying girl was definitely a new sensation. He didn’t like it. All of the years where he’d seduced women out of bars and taverns, he’d never had a situation close to this. Now, the first time in a century he paid for company, and she’s a blushing virgin.
He didn’t know what to do at first—how to even begin to start comforting her. Especially because he was angry at himself and at her agency, as if they had fooled him on purpose.
Not knowing what else to do, he leaned over and brushed her hair back over her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Shh, shh!” he cooed. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea… I…” He stood her up and then carried her in his arms towards the bed. “Damn it,” he hissed. “Why’s a girl like you working for an escort service? Don’t you know it’s for sluts? That’s the point!” He looked up at the ceiling, too frustrated to do a complete eye roll.
He marched into the bathroom, and quickly rinsed himself off before he brought back a moist, hot towel into the main room, where the girl had rolled into the fetal position.
“What did you expect would happen?” he huffed, but sat next to her and nursed her knees apart, wiping off the small traces of blood and his own seed from the insides of her thighs. She cried a little less as the warm towel rubbed soothingly against her skin. She had to be aching.
“See, if you just told me you were a virgin, I would have been gentle with you,” he told her, and then pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking down with her. He tugged up a blanket to put it over her body. Frustrated anew, he began to mutter, “Actually, I wouldn’t have been gentle. I would have called your father, or whoever your guardian is, to have him take you back home by your ear! I knew you were too sweet when I looked at you, I was just hoping it was your sexy façade!” He listened to her continue to hiccup cries and he groaned bef
ore he stood up and marched over to the phone. “All hell. I’m doing that right now, though it might get me horsewhipped. I don’t know who you had to dupe to—”
She sat up and wiped her eyes on her arm. “There’s nobody to call,” she cried miserably. “I don’t have any family—my mother was all I had, and she’d dead. I have to do this…”
“You have to.” His tone couldn’t have been more dubious or flat. “Explain.”
“I actually… don’t want to explain,” she admitted, grabbing one of the bed pillows and hugging it in front of her breasts, even though a blanket covered her mostly already. “You’re a stranger.”
“I know,” he replied, accusingly.
“It’s… I…” She shook her head, her looking away from him as if she was lying. He knew the look. “If I don’t do this and come home, horrible things would happen. I can’t go home empty handed.”
He glanced through her, wondering what her angle was. What she was lying to him about. He gazed at her arms—there were no bruises, no broken veins, no puncture wounds. Her eyes weren’t dilated, and he was certain that she wasn’t used to drinking. She looked healthy with skin that was practically glowing. So, she couldn’t be jonesing for some respite to an addiction.
And he was certain that she wasn’t beaten—he had seen her entire body, and there wasn’t a single bruise or scratch upon it. She didn’t even look like the casual runaway rebel. There were no tattoos on her body. Her nails weren’t even painted, her ears weren’t even pierced.
“I find your explanation deplorable,” he finally told her.
“I should go,” she said after looking at him like some sort of frightened animal for a long moment. She tried to scoot off of the bed.
“No, you don’t.” Moriarty pointed a firm finger towards the center of the bed. “You’re still on the clock. And I want the truth rather than more sex.” He was too curious now not to know.
“I told you, I’m being forced. I have to do this,” she told him pleadingly, rubbing the dried tears off of her face.
“There has to be a way not to do this. A safe house for high-end prostitutes you could go to, or something.” He waved his hand carelessly.
She shook her head. “No…” She began to chew her nails. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Somebody had to be my first. And if it wasn’t you, it would have just been whoever they sent me to later this evening.”
“In an ideal world, for a cute little girl, your first and last would be with the same man,” he lectured. After gazing at her a little more, he sighed. “And they were going to send you out again? After… After this? After losing your damned virginity? That’s monstrous!”
She nodded and then hung her head at his concerned look. “Well, I thought I could maybe just pleasure you… with… you know, my mouth, and then you’d be done and I could go… And maybe I could do it for the next man, too… And go on like that for awhile. But if not—”
“Have you ever even taken a man into your mouth?” he asked flatly.
Her expression turned oh-so-sad and she slowly shook her head again.
He swore, clenched his fist, and then pressed his fist to his mouth, looking at her helplessly.
She was gorgeous. Absolutely, unbelievably fall out of a magazine gorgeous. She had golden skin, long waist length hair that was so blond that it was nearly white. Her waist was so slender, her bottom so amazingly firm and heart-shaped. He thought he’d finally gotten lucky when she was the one who knocked on the door. He felt like he had nearly dropped his drink when he looked at her; she was simply too beautiful to be real. She hadn’t a blemish on her whole body. She was everything he could have wanted.
But now he had gotten more than he wanted. He didn’t want her cherry, but he had gotten it anyway, and he didn’t like this guilt that came as a supplement. And more than anything, he didn’t like the concern he now felt.
Why was he beginning to feel this concern, anyway? This new emotion was annoying.
And now there was just disgust at her situation, even though he knew he didn’t understand it. He wasn’t getting the full story, obviously, but he knew she had been a virgin when she walked into the room. And he was horrified to think that if he had taken her mouth, he would have been the first there, too.
And now he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want just some other man to be the first, either. He didn’t want anyone in her mouth at all! What sort of hell had Earthside become?
She began to try to slink off the bed again. “Can I go?”
“No,” he replied very quickly, very certain. No, she could not just go. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He was going to fix this, fix her, if he had to. He had to make this feeling of concern go away. She came towards the edge of the bed and stood up, anyway. “No,” he ordered firmly, pointing to her. “You stay. I’ll pay for the rest of the night.”
“But…” her cheeks flushed, her eyes darted around as if the idea was horrifying. “But I’m hourly.”
“I don’t care,” he assured. And he didn’t. Ashcroft gave him a very decent salary. “Stay. Stay and rest or… eat banana splits or whatever you girls do anymore. But don’t go back to your home or the agency this evening. I don’t want you losing anything else tonight.”
She looked at the door and then looked at him. “You’ll… just keep me here? All night?”
He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s what I’m saying, yes.” He walked back towards the phone. “I don’t know how this… Rescuing girls from prostitution thing is supposed to work. It’s been a long, long time since I saw Pretty Woman. Are you hungry?” He certainly was. He was always hungry when he was angry.
She bit her lip and, after looking like she was considering whether she was or not, she nodded. He picked up the phone and dialed. As it rang, he turned back to her and raised his eyebrow dubiously. “You ARE legal, correct?” he asked again, slower. The question was very important.
She smirked bashfully. “Yes. I promise.”
Chapter Eight
Alice, her stomach full with a large menu full of appetizers and finger foods, began to feel like she was in quite a predicament, since the only reason she was hanging around this long was she thought she might be able to get a second go at pollinating Moriarty. But after the last couple of hours, she found that she didn’t want to pollinate him.
She’d never stop feeling guilty about it, because there was no doubt—he didn’t deserve pollination.
Yes, he drank too much, smoked cigars right in front of the plaque on the desk that said, ‘no smoking’ and obviously ordered up prostitutes now and again when he was feeling particularly kinky. But he wasn’t married, he wasn’t being unfaithful. And he was extremely generous: he even got the concierge to find and bring up a pair of cute striped pajamas for her, saying that she’d teased him enough for one evening and that she might as well get comfortable.
Most men would have loved deflowering a virgin, thinking it a prize. This man thought it was the greatest shame to part someone of their innocence, especially if they obviously didn’t want their innocence lost, like she didn’t.
As he sat on the bed next to her, stretching his legs out over the covers as he tapped something into a smart phone, he stopped what he was doing to pour himself yet another drink. He had run out of whiskey by now, and poured himself cordial, which she thought was out of fashion for mortal men under the age of seventy.
“How have you been drinking since morning and not gotten sick yet?” she asked, looking him over.
“Practice, practice, practice,” was his response as he saluted her with the glass. He looked up from the smart phone he was reading, sneering at the television. “How can you watch cooking on television and eat at the same time? Isn’t that quite redundant?”
She shrugged, licking her fingers. “I’m obsessed with cooking,” she divulged.
“Then why don’t you… just go to school and become a cook? A chef? Wouldn’t that be ideal?”
“I’m not allowed to become a chef,” she replied.
His eyebrows narrowed and he slammed his smart phone onto his desk with frustration. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no reason you couldn’t. Nobody can keep you from doing the things you want. This is the twenty-first century, as my young employer keeps reminding me, and a young lady like yourself has no reason to not pursue her dreams.”
“It’s complicated,” she sighed. How could she tell him that even on a full stomach she still hungered? Even as she was drinking wine or water, she would still thirst? How could he possibly understand that her hive had addicted her to the Queen’s nectar since before she was even born? That the addiction was passed down even from her mother? That there was nothing she could do but obey her queen so that she might get another drink of it?
“I certainly hope it’s complicated! Bloody complicated! You know, I nearly wish you were illegal so I could call child protective services to save you, to put you somewhere, so I don’t have to worry.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not your problem,” she told him crisply. “Just… Just drop it, alright? Nothing can be done, this is my work now. There are no alternatives. I wish there were, but there aren’t. This is life.”
“I wish you’d give me one excuse for why you don’t just… get married off somewhere or something. That’s an alternative. Join a church and meet a nice boy there,” he advised aloofly. “Let him take care of you, have a bunch of pretty babies and cook all you’d like. Many men would love to have such as you.”
It was almost cute how frustrated he was. But then, this man was ‘a fixer’. She’d heard about them on morning TV—men who think that they could simply fix everything. But he couldn’t fix her. She was a possession of her hive—a worker. A collector, now. And there was nothing to be done. No solution in sight. “That’s not very feminist of you,” she finally said, grinning, trying to lecture him. “I thought we were talking about the twenty-first century? Why don’t you give it a try, hm?”
Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson Page 14
