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She can’t help scraping her foot over a tile as she waits, leaning against the wall in the hallway to Olruggio’s tower. He’d gotten home only minutes ago and Master Qifrey had already sent her to wait for him, even though she was certain it would be at least half an hour before he made his presence known.
‘He ought to have just put me in a corner.’ She can’t help but think, grumbling under her breath. At least if it was labelled as a timeout she could rage against it in her mind properly, ignoring the purpose. Portraying it as waiting makes the feeling hit differently, curling her stomach in the same way the word ‘naughty’ does, too uncomfortable to get angry with. She still tries though, sinking to sit on the floor and crossing her arms over her chest.
Really, she’d been waiting since that morning to pay her dues, left sitting on the feeling all day since those words had left Master Qifrey’s mouth.
“Agott! I’m very surprised by you, you’re to go to your room and wait until Olruggio is home.”
She’d spent all of lunch and the entire afternoon sprawled over her bed, trying not to get lost in the same thoughts that rubbed her mind raw now. Trying and failing to do a bit of studying while she worked her way through the anger and indignation in her chest, until it had burned out and left her feeling off-put and hollow.
Having Coco here had, so far, been nothing but a fucking curse. First there’d been that rumour about an unknowing being allowed to keep the secret, and the next day Master Qifrey had shown up with the absolute muppet of a girl, tiny and awkward and speaking so roughly the way all unknowing did. To add insult to injury she’d been forced to concede to sharing her room with the girl almost immediately, and been inconvenienced a dozen times in a dozen ways just that first day.
And beyond all of that, Master Qifrey had immediately left again, leaving her alone with only Tetia, Richeh, the girl, and Olruggio. (Who was far too engaged in whatever job he was finishing to pay them much attention anyways, even if he had conceded to Coco’s presence nearly immediately.)
So, she’d done the only thing she could think to do, sending the girl off to the first test with a poor explanation and only the required tools. She’d expected the girl to come back a failure, to leave her atelier and concede her room back to her. For Master Qifrey to acknowledge how stupid taking her in had been, with no magical knowledge to speak of, less educated than even a toddler in the Great Hall. For this whole awful situation to come to an end as quickly as it had begun and return her life to normal.
Maybe Master Qifrey would even praise her, for taking matters into her own hands and opening his eyes to the problems. A thank you or a head pat or if she was particularly lucky a hug where he ignored her dishonest commands for him to stop and release her.
Agott, as it appeared, was particularly unlucky. Not only had Coco somehow come back successful, the flower clutched in her hands in all its glory, and mud caked to her clothes; only cementing her place in the atelier further. Now she was an apprentice, and Master Qifrey had chided Agott for sending her to begin with.
It was everything she had wanted to avoid, and now she was going to be punished. She hadn’t even done anything wrong, really. All apprentices had to take the first test to even don their robes, and she had given her the tools she needed, even loaned her the only pair of soarshoes she had made. It wasn’t like it was an unfair expectation, if she wanted to learn magic with the rest of them, they had all passed it years ago.
The door to the tower clicks open finally, what feels like ages into her mental spiral, pulling her attention over almost immediately. The man is leaned against the door frame, cloak and hat nowhere to be seen, and feet bare against the stones. His hair is slightly damp like he's just washed in but hasn’t bothered to dry it fully, and he scratches his side absently for a moment as he considers her.
“Y’cause some kinda trouble today?”
Ugh, so Qifrey hadn’t even told him. Which meant he was expecting her to confess. Like she’d done something wrong.
“No, of course not.” She tries, meeting his eyes challengingly even with the lie on her tongue, as though he would ever believe she would be lingering in the hallway for any other reason. She wasn’t particularly fond of being anywhere near a tower she wasn’t even allowed in any other time, and she didn’t make it much of a habit to ask him for advice.
He huffs out something resembling a laugh, shaking his head. “Sure, come in before ya freeze, far too cold out here.”
She considers refusing for a moment. If she’s going to be in trouble so unfairly she ought to make him fight her on it, or go through the effort of throwing her over a shoulder and carrying her. The thought of being hauled like that is uncomfortable enough for her to change her mind though, dragging herself to her feet begrudgingly and marching past him into the space. The stones lighting up under her feet just manages to annoy her more, as they announce every step she takes so clearly.
Olruggio follows her slower, closing the door softly behind him and grabbing a set of rings out of a bowl to dry his hair the rest of the way. He turns them on her for a moment too, no water to dissipate but the warmth rushes over her anyways. Only when he determined her adequately warm does the come to the realisation she’d been shivering. She chooses not to consider it further.
He waves her over to the couch after he’s put them away, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders once she’s sat and finding room to lounge out beside her.
“So, ya did somethin’ for Qifrey to send ya over. Wanna tell me, or should I be guessin’?”
Agott pulls the blanket closer around herself, looking down at her lap and trying to bite back the fresh wave of anger in her ribcage. She can’t help but hate how casual he manages to be about the question, giving her room to answer and explain herself how her family never had. Making her feel safe and understood even in a situation he had every right to just haul her over his knee without a single question at all; but neither Olruggio or Master Qifrey had ever been that way towards her.
If she tried to argue answering, he really would start guessing too, absurd things just meant to annoy her into admitting whatever it really was. He’d done it before, she knew better than to test him on it. This whole thing would be over faster, easier, if she just told him. That didn’t stop it from pissing her off anyways.
“It’s that Coco girl! She hadn’t taken the test, she didn’t have the right to be here without it!”
He nods like he understands, crossing one leg over the other. “So y’tried to get Qifrey to send her then?”
She’d probably be in less trouble if she had.
“I sent her myself, I know how a window-way works.”
His eyes widen immediately, pushing himself to sit so fast he almost tumbles off the couch entirely, looking at her like she’s grown a second head. “You sent her to the Dadah range? Is she okay?”
Of course that’s what he’d be worried about, never mind the girl doesn’t even belong here. What would it matter if she wasn’t? It was another unknowing removed from the secret they were sworn to protect! Why was this so hard for everyone to understand?
“She’s fine. She passed the test and everything, everyone’s been praising her all day, like she isn’t eleven already.”
When she meets Olruggio’s eyes they’ve gone stern, the way he looks at Master Qifrey before the man is sitting awkwardly at dinner, far more stern that she can recall him ever looking at her before. It douses the anger in her like water on a fire, something akin to fear arcing through her before his eyes soften a bit in understanding. Reaching out to set a hand on her shoulder gently, a reminder that he isn’t like that, that only soothes her a fraction.
“Agott, that wasn’t yer call to make. She’s Qifrey’s apprentice, not yours, ya aren’t qualified to do somethin’ like that.”
Her words come out weaker now, as the anger fails to reignite itself but the distinctly ‘unfair’ feeling still makes itself known. “Why’s it matter? He would have sent her soon enough.”
“Ya don’t know that. She’s startin’ from less than you ‘n the others did, wouldn’t be very fair t’ send her in completely blind. Not t’ mention it ain’t testin’ season, he’d’ve been within his rights t’ wait a few months on principle. The range’s dangerous this time o’ year.”
His hand stays gentle on her shoulder as he says it, eyes soft but tone distinctly lecturing already. She turns away at the last bit, cheeks feeling a bit hot at them. She hadn’t known that, or what season the test typically took place in. Why would she? She’d only ever seen the floating islands once during her own test, and it hadn’t seemed overly dangerous then.
Still, her temper would never let her concede so easily, and it didn’t change the fact Coco was Unknowing, as everyone seemed content to forget. “Then she shouldn’t be here. She had no right to call herself an apprentice yet, so she didn’t belong in an atelier.”
He sighs, letting go of her shoulder to lean back again and rub his beard. Tone reeking of disappointment when he speaks again, but voice level. “Still not yer choice, kid. Yer master decided t’ take her in ‘spite it, ya ‘ought to listen to him. I can’t change yer opinion on her bein’ here, but puttin’ someone in danger’s not okay. Ya aren’t gonna pass yer own tests like that, mind ya part o’ a witches job is protectin’ others. If’n older witch’d done what ya did, it’d be ground for losin’ their cap, yer lucky all yer gettin’ is sent for a tanning.”
The word just rub at her worse, and she wraps her fingers tighter around the blanket, knuckles going white under the tension. “Letting an Unknown learn about sigils and not erasing their memory is also grounds for losing a cap. Perhaps Master Qifrey should’ve lost his.”
Olruggio’s hand is in front of her faster than she can react, heart skipping over a beat in her chest as he takes her chin gently. Breath caught in her throat as she’s turned to face his eyes again, stern and analysing.
“Yer gettin’ real close to a level o’ disrespect towards yer master that I gotta do somethin’ about. Watch yer words.”
The next breath out of her throat is barely more than a wheeze as she fights her heart to calm down, but she gets her mouth around words again relatively quickly. “I’m just being factual.”
The wrong response clearly as he drops his hand, sighing towards the ceiling. “Alright Agott, let’s get this over ‘fore ya dig yourself deeper.” Shit.
She considers another foolish decision, running away before he can grab her and finding somewhere to hide until they’re too concerned to spank her. It wouldn’t work though, a good enough spell could find her in no time, and Master Qifrey is a good witch; if Olruggio didn’t just follow her down himself. She’d just get herself in more trouble, so she forces herself to stay. Wincing a bit when his hand wraps around her arm carefully, tugging her up to her feet in front of him.
It’s impossible not to feel tiny like this, when his hands settle over her hips to keep her in place, his eyes looking up at her where she can’t avoid them at all. Even with frustration still desperately trying to override the anxiety, she can’t do anything but freeze there, throat feeling too-narrow and chest tense.
“I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He says first, gentle and patient. “Not anythin’ worse ‘n I’ve given ya before. Yer in trouble, but I still care ‘bout ya, and ‘m not gonna tan ya beyond reason.”
She can only nod hesitantly, trying to trust his words. He’s never given her any reason to believe otherwise, but that doesn’t completely erase the possibility that he’s lying. That the moment she lets her guard down he’ll reveal he’s actually just like them; maybe worse if he’s willing to let pact-breaking slide. She tries to tell herself that’s an unfair thought though, he’s never bruised her or beaten her or called her cruel names, she’s spent a few years already learning to trust him with her safety. She can trust him here, that even if it doesn’t feel deserved he won’t beat her for it.
“Okay…”
“I’m not spankin’ ya for disagreein’ with Qifrey, I do more’n enough o’ that myself. But I am gonna spank ya for puttin’ another kid in danger, and bein’ disrespectful about the whole thing. Make sense?”
She swallows thickly, shifting between the balls of her feet lightly. She can’t really argue it when he puts it that way, and as brave as she is, even she isn’t dumb enough to earn herself extra just for the thrill of it. She had put Coco in danger, if he was to be believed about the seasons, and she certainly wasn’t feeling very respectful towards anyone. “Makes sense.”
“Good.” He takes the blanket from around her shoulders gently, folding it over the couch and scooting himself onto the middle cushion. Trusting her to stay where he’s left her while he rearranges the pillows so she has room for her legs and something to hold onto. The same as he’s done every time they’ve been here, like her comfort actually means something to him. She tries to remind herself that it does.
He takes her arm again when he’s satisfied with his work, leading her to his side and over his thigh. It’s uncomfortable at first, and both of them do a fair bit of shuffling before things feel right. Tucked right over the edge of his thigh, with her legs on the couch behind her and two pillows pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. It’s not what she would call particularly comfortable, but it’s familiar enough and it isn’t truly uncomfortable either; yet.
She feels her dress lift, folded over her back carefully before his hand presses over it, but her leggings stay in place. Still a solid layer of protection, a reassurance in its own that he isn’t completely pissed with her.
“Alright, yer gettin’ a warm-up with m’ hand, then yer gettin’ the brush. Sounds fair?”
No, no it doesn’t. She’s only ever met his hairbrush a few times in her time at the atelier, and her memories of it were far from fond in nature. It’s not a belt at least, the sound of the leather is still something that creeps into her dreams at times, not the sheer terror that comes with that thought; but it sounds awful nonetheless.
His hand pats against her bum when she takes too long to answer, a light hum in his throat. “Agott?”
She swallows again at the sound of her name, shaking her head lightly. “No.”
“What part ain’t soundin’ fair then?”
She opens her mouth immediately, to defend her case or scorn the hairbrush, but finds her tongue empty of words when she tries. She had broken a major rule, putting someone in danger without good reason, however unfair it feels to be held accountable for it. He isn’t giving her worse than she’s been given, true to his word in the implement at least, and he’s giving her a warm-up. But still.
“I don’t want the brush… please.”
She can hear the way he has to bite back a laugh for a moment before getting his voice out in something mildly composed. “Nah, don’t think many people’d be eager for it. But it’s what you’ve earned, so I’m ‘fraid that’s what yer gettin’.”
She can’t help but whine with the response, pressing her face into the pillow before her to muffle it. She wasn’t getting out of this one then, she’d just have to swallow the indignation and bear it out, and begrudge Olruggio and Master Qifrey for it later.
“Fine…” As muffled as her voice is in the cotton, he still hears her, nodding to himself and patting her a few times firmly.
“Alright, we’ll get this over with ‘n you can make yer apologies ‘fore dinner.”
The first smack comes down before she can bother to reply, pulling a yelp from her even though it doesn’t hurt much. The impact is enough of a shock on its own, her cheeks flushing as she buries herself further into the plush pillows. He sets up a slow rhythm, letting each swat linger and twinge before he lays down another, slowly stoking up the skin like he’s tenderising a delicate meat.
Still, it builds faster than she’d expect it or like it to, until the skin of her ass is tingly and sensitive, and the light smacks start to feel harder than they sound. Until she can’t help but wiggle, dancing her hips from one side to the other like that will save her from his aim. Then he’s working down her thighs in the same manner, pulling little gasps and yelps from her with each swat until every inch feels much the same. She’s certain if she were to look she’d be pink already, and she knows by the time she looks at the damage in the bathroom mirror later they’ll be well into red, the marks lingering for a few hours after the affair.
He stops to peel her leggings down to her knees, only the thin cotton of her undergarment still covering her, and she shivers at the feeling of air over the already tender area. He’s quiet still as he starts on a second going-over, letting her steep in the humiliation of the situation, the feeling of naughtiness curling in her stomach.
She lets out a long whine into the pillow when he starts on her thighs again, drumming her toes against the couch. It was starting to feel pretty tender, for something that had been labelled the warm up, each smack leaving a tingling kind of sting in its wake. The thought of the brush, knowing it really did make this look like nothing, just made her whine harder. She didn’t deserve this, she really didn’t.
Finally he stopped, resting his hand over her bum for a long moment to let her breathe, but it was hard to do that when she knew what was coming next. Breaths nervous and choppy in her throat as she clung to the pillow.
“Right, you ready kid?”
She wants to say no, that she’ll never be ready for that damned implement. More than that, she wants to kick and thrash and throw a tantrum at the situation, make a nuisance of herself so that Olruggio has to suffer the same as her. Neither is a good option though, either she’ll be given longer to ‘prepare’ and drive herself down a spiral of anxiety, or she’ll get in more trouble for having a fit.
“Ready…”
His hand pats her almost reassuringly a few times before he leans over, shifting them both for a moment as he reaches for the side table before settling back. Agott resists the urge to look back and make herself more nervous with the sight of it, burying her face further into the pillows instead and kicking her feet a few times to make her upset known. The feeling of it being rested against her, solid and hard, gets a few more kicks and a whine.
“No matter what yer feelin’s on someone are,” Olruggio starts, snapping the first swat of the brush down like a crack of thunder and waiting for her loud yelp before continuing. “It is never acceptable t’ hurt ‘em, directly or not. That ain’t what witches stand fer. Ya understand?”
“I-OW! I didn’t know it was OWWW dangerous!” She pleads, kicking her feet with each heavy swat seared into her skin. It’s so much worse than she remembers, somehow, and she’s certain it’ll leave bruises behind feeling like this. (Nevermind that it never had before.)
“Ya didn’t know it wasn’t either, did ya? That’s why yer not qualified t’ be makin’ those kinds’a decisions, ya got a lot o’ studyin’ left t’ do before that.” He lectures, continuing to snap the brush down, making his opinion on her defense perfectly clear.
The sting makes arguing it harder, her brain stumbling over itself to try to come up with something that isn’t there. She doesn’t want to admit he’s right, that she hadn’t done the first bit of research past her own test a few years ago on what she was sending Coco into. It didn’t matter, the annoying brat had deserved it, and she’d been just fine!
The brush catches her thigh and she yowls with it, tears starting to prick her eyes now as she shakes her head. “Stop! No more!”
He catches her hand before she can even throw it back, pausing to tuck it to her back carefully and then snapping the brush against her thighs again all the same. “Nah, it ain’t yer choice when this ends either. Coco didn’ have the chance t’ back out o’ the test either, aye? Ya put her in that position regardless o’ her safety or the rules, ‘n now this is the position yer in.”
He’s really hammering in this dangerous thing, isn’t he? She wails through a quick flurry of swats to her sit-spots, kicking in earnest now as the first tears start to spill over, hot where they trail over her cheeks. Not as hot as her bum is becoming though, a searing ache that she’s starting to think will never feel the same again. “Noooo!”
He ignores her cry, moving back down to her thighs and speaking over her in stern tones. “I can’t make ya care ‘bout her, or anyone else if that’s how ya wanna be, but I will make sure this doesn’t happen again. Ya try sabotagin’ one o’ yer sister apprentices again, or puttin’ someone in danger like that ‘gain, then yer gonna find yerself a very sorry little witch.”
She chokes on a sob at the words, digging her nails into the pillow and trying to hide the wetness of her cheeks. He’s right, she’ll never do this again, right or not. Coco might’ve deserved it, she wasn’t letting go of that any time soon, but it wasn’t worth having the skin of her rear end cooked off like this. She was never going to sit normally again, all because she had taken matters into her own hands, the only one in the atelier who seemed interested in protecting the pact they all had to live by.
“I’m sorry!” She tries, voice wet and desperate as he sets into her sit spots again, pulling yelps and sobs from her with every swat. “I- OWwwww! I’m sorry, please!”
“I’m glad t’ hear it, we’re nearly there now.” He soothes, voice a bit softer even as the brush continues to land in the same painful cadence as before, peppering further down her thighs. Covering any last patches of skin that hadn’t flushed as bright as the rest, until the whole area was the same even red tone and hot to the touch.
She’s crying in earnest by the time he stops, limp over his knees and shaking with the weight of her cries. The end of the spanking is a relief, her bum still aching and burning with the fire he had stoked in it, but settling into something more manageable now; but it leaves her feeling dizzy and distant, lost in her cries. Whatever he says next is lost to her, and for several minutes after, until he sobs start to slow and she stops shaking quite as hard.
Her breath hitches around another loud sob anyway as he moves her, helping her push her leggings off the rest of the way and curl up in his lap. A blanket around her shoulders, and his thighs carefully spread to keep as much weight off the inflamed skin as possible. Tucking her to his chest to finish crying, the scruff of his beard itchy against her scalp but comforting.
“There ya go, all done now. Yer alright, just keep breathin’.” She does her best to keep up with what he’s saying, to let the soothing words mean something. To let his reassurances of how well she’d taken it, and how good he knew she could be, cool the last flickers of anger in her chest like a balm. It’s over, and she isn’t going to mess with Coco again, she values her skin far too much. She’ll just have to ignore her, and avoid putting herself in this position again, so she can keep basking in the warm praise of her Master and Watchful Eye instead of drowning in the feeling of having been naughty.
“There there, we’ll get ya some cream here’n a minute, yer forgiven.”
She glances up at him at the words, sniffling around the thick feeling in her throat. “Do I still have to apologise?”
“Aye, yer still gonna, but it can wait ‘til you’ve calmed down ‘n eaten, let’s focus on that first.”