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It’s a chilly Wednesday afternoon when Mildred Hubble gets expelled.
It’s the fourth time this term - the second this month - and given the frequency of the expulsions and the equal frequency of her being reinstated, a process has been implemented by which it needs to be signed off by the Headmistress, Deputy Headmistress and Head Girl. This means that Mildred will not be unfairly kicked out of Cackle’s by Agatha Cackle impersonating her sister, Miss Hardbroom losing her temper or both events occurring simultaneously.
Ada already knows, while she and Esmerelda are having a nice cup of tea and waiting for the enchantment to wear off the Potions classroom doors thus releasing both first years and Deputy Headmistress, that this won’t be be “the last, the absolute last time we are having this conversation, Ada”, no matter what Hecate says. It never is, and at this point she’s finding it a rather useful barometer of exactly how tightly wound the other woman is getting. Lately she’s been frazzled and snappish, even with Ada and it should be no surprise that the worst witch in the school has borne the brunt of it - again. The Headmistress wonders if it would be unethical to bribe one of the other girls to make a calamitous mistake now and again, just to give poor Mildred a break.
By the time they’re each on their fourth cup and having a rather pleasant, animated conversation about some minor point of magical anthropology, Hecate storms in with a face like thunder. She isn’t dishevelled, because Hecate Hardbroom doesn’t do dishevelled, but Ada can see how she’s fraying around the edges.
She pats Esmerelda on the shoulder. “Run along, my dear. No one is getting expelled today.”
The other woman manages to suppress her strangled cry of frustration until they are alone but barely.
Ada just sips her tea and waits for Hecate to drift over to her usual place, standing ramrod straight by her desk and ignoring the perfectly good chair in front of her. Instead the younger witch doesn’t move, just stands in the middle of the floor, clenching her long, slim fingers into fists.
“I should have seen it before.”
“As I have said repeatedly, Ada, Mildred Hubble is the most undisciplined, chaotic witch this school has ever - ”
“I mean that I should have seen how stressed you are.”
This isn’t Hecate playing up deliberately the way she sometimes does, disagreeing with Ada in front of the girls because she knows it’s going to end with her bent over the Headmistress’ desk, spanked until that perfect backside is as pink as Ada’s cardigans. This is Hecate run ragged, only upright because of the Wide Awake Potion she thinks Ada doesn’t know she’s been brewing.
To her credit, Hecate doesn’t try and argue. Her lips pinch together imperceptibly and her eyes flutter closed for the slightest fraction of a moment, but it’s enough.
Ada nods, her suspicions confirmed. She’ll never say it, but her redoubtable Potions mistress and Deputy head is exhausted and needs looking after, although she’ll never ask for it. Not without considerable prompting, anyway.
“Come down here once the girls are settled after lights out.”
She braces herself for the pushback and it comes right on schedule.
“I have marking to do, I - ”
Ada cuts her off. “It wasn’t a request, Hecate.”
She waits for the implication to settle in her lover’s mind.
Hecate gulps visibly. “Yes, Headmistress,” she rasps.
Ada smiles sunnily. “Good girl. Dismissed.”
If Hecate is less steady on her feet than normal as she leaves, well - who can blame her?
It’s 9pm on the dot when the Deputy Head of Cackle’s Academy presents herself at her employer’s door.
Ada waits a fraction of a second longer than she has to before summoning Hecate in. She’s conjured a bed - soft, downy and made with Egyptian cotton sheets of an obscenely high thread count - in place of the table and chairs in front of the fire.
Hecate’s eyes flicker to the room’s new addition but her gaze is back on Ada, steady and obedient with a warmth and gratitude most would overlook. She steps up and kisses Hecate hard, bruisingly. She nips the other woman’s lower lip, teases her tongue possessively against the other woman’s teeth and flutters her fingers to remove one very inconvenient item of clothing.
Without those ridiculous shoes, the younger woman is barely two inches taller, stumbling against Ada and clutching at her cardigan to remain upright. It gives Ada a delightful expanse of long neck to nibble on, and Hecate’s breathing is ragged when they pull apart. Her normally pale skin is flushed and her eyes are completely dark, like Morgana when she sees a mouse.
“Do you need me on my knees, Headmistress?” she murmurs. “I know I stepped out of line today. It won’t happen again.”
Damn the woman. Her voice is low, rich and seductive, and Ada is almost tempted to give in. She knows what Hecate wants, but she also knows what Hecate needs.
“I haven’t been looking after you, have I? You’re all sharp edges again.” She runs her hands down Hecate’s sides, and feels the other woman tremble against her hands. “Literally and metaphorically, it seems.”
She guides her to the chair and pushes her down. It’s only then that Hecate notices the spread of cakes and biscuits and other sweet treats and her eyes widen.
Ada bites into a profiterole with sensual delight and she shivers with pleasure at the greedy look the other woman is giving her. For someone as self-denying as her Deputy Headmistress, the woman does like to watch other people indulging in their earthly delights.
She pushes an empty plate across the desk, but Hecate grimaces. “I can’t,” she whispers apologetically.
Ada won’t push. Hecate eats what is put before her at mealtimes, but that’s a comparatively recent development and even then only at Ada’s insistence. She doesn’t snack, and certainly doesn’t know the pleasure of devouring an entire plate of petits fours in one sitting.
Instead, she swipes her finger through the cream in her pastry and holds it out.
“Lick, Hecate.”
The dark-haired woman leans over obediently and takes Ada’s finger in her mouth, sucking the cream off. Her eyes widen as she tastes what lies beneath the sugar - the remnants of her lover’s enthusiastic self-pleasure before she arrived.
Hecate cleans Ada’s finger completely before pulling back, tongue darting out again to capture a fragment of sugar from her top lip where it clings to lipstick Ada is determined will be smudged very soon.
“Good girl,” she murmurs, eyes locked on Hecate’s.
Impossible to mistake the shudder that her words provoke, the flash of neediness in dark eyes.
Ada strokes Hecate’s hair, pulling out each pin slowly and untwisting the silken mass from its tight bun until it frames her face in a wavy black cloud.
“Beautiful,” she whispers. Hecate blushes and scowls, looking away in embarrassment. Ada snaps her fingers. “I want you to look at me when I’m paying you a compliment, Hecate. Did you hear what I said?”
Hecate nods reluctantly. “Yes, Headmistress.”
“And?”
She gnaws her lower lip, eyes fixed on the table in front of her. “Youcalledmebeautiful,” she mumbles.
“I did. And you are, my sweet girl. Why don’t you show me? Show me everything, darling.”
Hecate stands and waves her hand as her dress melts away, only to reappear folded neatly on the chair. She stands in front of the desk in a filmy black bra and knickers, lacy suspender belt holding stockings up and framing those beautiful strong thighs.
Ada raises an eyebrow. “I said everything, Hecate.” She says a quick prayer to every god and goddess she believes in (and quite a few she doesn’t), when Hecate Hardbroom is standing in the middle of her study, gloriously, scandalously naked.
Her fingers tingle with the desire to touch every exquisitely bared inch, but instead she just looks.
Beneath the heavy black dresses, the other woman could have been sculpted out of marble, presumably by a sculptor who thanked the muses every day for their job. Smooth, pale skin that begs to be stroked and spanked and soothed, with only the tangle of dark curls between her legs and rosy, biteable nipples for colour.
“Oh my darling. Just look at you. You’re exquisite.”
She moves to her lover, taking a moment to squeeze that magnificent arse - chants should be written about Hecate Hardbroom’s backside - and pulling her close. Hecate is lost in the touch, over sensitised and almost overwhelmed, murmuring against Ada’s hair I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.
The words clutch at Ada’s heart, and not for the first time she vows that if she ever meets the person responsible for Hecate Hardbroom’s deep-seated conviction that she isn’t more than good enough just as she is, she’ll break more than just the Witches’ Code. Hecate knows Ada loves her. She’s demonstrative as a lover - all spontaneous gifts and stolen kisses. But tonight, while she’s irritable and tense, Hecate needs to know that her Headmistress is proud of her.
Ada takes a moment to drink it all in - the pale body spread out across grey sheets, the smell of sex. All that power, all that cleverness - all for me.
She pushes Hecate down onto the bed and straddles her, grazing her teeth across taut, defined abdominal muscles.
“So strong," she purrs. Part of the pleasure in this is in knowing that Hecate could easily overpower her, with physical strength or magic. Is in knowing that the power she holds over the other woman is even stronger.
She spreads Hecate’s legs gently, one hand tangling in the dark curls clinging wetly to Hecate’s flushed skin. She places a slow, tender kiss against Hecate’s core, and allows herself a long, languorous lick deep inside. It takes a lot for Hecate to come undone like this and she’s still too tense from earlier to really let go without Ada coaxing her through it. Pausing to flicker her tongue across Hecate’s aching clit, she withdraws far enough to start kissing down one toned thigh and sliding her hand up the other.
One fingertip presses lightly against Hecate’s entrance.
“Yes?”
Hecate’s eyes flutter shut and she sighs happily. “Yes, Headmistress…”
“Ask for what you want, Hecate,” Ada warns gently.
She wriggles, blushes, bites her lip, does everything she can to put off talking. “Put…put your finger inside me, Headmistress. Inside…” she breaks off, trembling with need and shame. “Inside my - my - cunt.”
Perhaps it’s a cruel streak of hers, something latent inside her akin to Agatha’s active malice, but Ada lives for the moment when Hecate has to confess her desires, all stammering and blushing and embarrassed. She doubts Hecate will ever move past it, and she’s secretly glad that she can draw it out.
That’s not the game tonight, though. There’ll be plenty of time in the future to have Hecate on her knees, her voice shaking and her eyes shining bright with unshed tears as she pushes past all her primness and reserve to beg her Headmistress to bind her wrists and fuck her facedown on the floor.
No, tonight is about reminding her precious girl that you can catch just as many flies with honey as you can with vinegar (technically, her rational inner voice points out, jolting her out of the scene for a moment, you can catch the most flies when you have a ex-frog on staff). She knows that Hecate thinks Ada’s too easy on the girls, it’s time she was reminded that gentle isn’t the same as weak, that a silk rope binds just as effectively as chains.
That Ada is here because she wants to be, not because Hecate has transgressed in some way.
One finger slides into her wet, clinging heat and Hecate whines.
“You feel wonderful,” Ada praises. “So ready for me, you good girl. So willing.” She caresses Hecate’s clit with her thumb. “Can you take another one of my fingers, darling?”
“Oh, please.”
Two fingers slide in, crook at just the right angle to have Hecate breathing heavily and arching her hips.
A third, and a happy gasp. “Clever girl,” Ada chuckles. “You can see where this is going, can’t you?”
She pulls her fingers out, sticky and wet from Hecate’s eager cunt, and tucks her little finger in before pushing, burying her fingers up to the knuckle while her thumb stays pressed still and firm against Hecate’s pulsing clit.
“Is that alright, sweetheart?”
Hecate whimpers in assent, but this isn't one of those nights where she pushes her Deputy Headmistress past her limits and Ada wants to be sure.
“You don’t need to prove yourself, darling. This is about your pleasure.”
“It’s good,” Hecate gasps. “So good, Headmistress."
It’s all the permission Ada needs to curl her thumb in. “There. Good girl, Hecate. Such a good girl, taking my whole hand like this. Perfect.”
Hecate can’t manage more than a ragged moan, but she’s smiling, beatific and proud. Her pleasure has pleased her Headmistress, and it’s like they have an erotic feedback loop - the prouder Ada is, the more aroused Hecate gets and the prouder she makes her lover.
Ada flicks her thumb hard against that spot deep inside Hecate and is rewarded by a raw, wild cry of pleasure that echoes in her own cunt. Anyone can command respect, but to have it given freely, joyfully - that’s power. Reducing Miss Hardbroom - no, not reducing. Uplifting. Transforming her - to a state of sheer pleasure, a primal, needy mess of a woman given over entirely to her physical needs is the most erotic, sensual thing Ada has ever experienced, and she croons endearments as she works Hecate with her hand, tugging her closer and closer to the precipice of her climax with words like wonderful brilliant capable strong whatever would I do without you?
“Come for me, my good girl. All over my fingers. Come for your Headmistress, Hecate.”
Hecate’s cunt spasms around her fingers and then Ada is cradling her gently through the aftershocks, stroking all her lovely long hair with her clean hand and telling her how well she did.
A quick transference spell and they’re in Ada’s private quarters, in front of a bathtub full of sweetly scented bubbles and rose petals. The only light is from the candles and a warm glow of firelight from the bedroom. Ada sinks into the hot water gratefully.
Hecate hovers uncertainly on shaky legs until she’s beckoned.
“In here, now,” Ada growls.
She washes her girl gently, careful not to press too hard against sensitive flesh, pressing kisses into the crook of her neck until a comparatively recovered Hecate flips their positions with a predatory plea in her eye and Ada finds her Deputy Headmistress pressed up against her, their breasts crushed against each other and Hecate’s hand snaking its way between Ada’s thighs.
It only takes her moments to orgasm, primed by Hecate and her delicious, obscene surrender, and only a little longer to come a second time when they’ve dried off and are lying tangled in the sheets with Hecate’s sharp tongue put to good use for a change.
They’re dozing off, limpid and drowsy, when Hecate’s voice sounds in the darkness.
“I still think we should expel Mildred.”
Ada sighs. She may be talented in multiple areas, but she supposes it was too much to hope that she could work miracles.