Cantrips: Volume #2: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain, Page 1Joey W. Hill
Cantrips: Volume #2
Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain
Joey W. Hill
After…Happily Ever After
The Proper Punishment
You’re All Invited…
The Season of Giving
The Yule Gift
Doms And Sisters
Ready for More?
About the Author
Also by Joey W. Hill
After…Happily Ever After
Nature of Desire — Vampire Queen — Knights of the Board Room — Daughters of Arianne
To fans of Joey W. Hill’s work, these series have special significance, because they contain many of her readers’ favorite characters. Because they are her favorites too, Joey doesn’t like saying good-bye at “The End” any more than her readers do. So here for your reading pleasure, at last available in compilation form, are novellas and shorts revisiting these characters. Poignant romantic moments, erotic encounters, holiday celebrations…wherever daily life might take them.
These stories have become a way for Joey to take a breather and simply immerse herself in the pleasure of spending leisure time with past characters. We hope you will enjoy the same experience when reading them!
Cantrips: Volume #2
Copyright © 2016 Joey W. Hill
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover design by W. Scott Hill
SWP Digital & Print Edition publication November 2016
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Story Witch Press, 6823 Neuhoff Lane, Charlotte NC 28269.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Reader discretion is advised.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-942122-53-1
Print ISBN: 978-1-942122-54-8
“Cantrip” has several meanings. What amused me initially, due to my “storywitch” moniker, was that the first one I read was the Scottish source, “A witch’s trick.” But the definition that applies the most to these volumes is “minor magics meant to amuse and entertain.”
My first vignette, a short story written around 2008 revisiting Mac and Violet of Natural Law, was offered to readers who wanted more about these two. I didn’t have an idea for another full-length book for them, but the idea of revisiting them in a short story format was a lot of fun for me, and the readers received it enthusiastically. I enjoyed the breather from deadline pressure and a full-length storyline arc to instead do a slice-of-life moment with favorite characters. So the definition of Cantrips above resonated on multiple levels.
Since we have been repeatedly asked about offering the vignettes in print and ebook compilation volumes, your wish is our command, and these volumes are our answer. Going forward, as long as there is a demand for them, we will release a new volume of vignettes when we have enough to make a book. Volumes 1 & 2 of Cantrips are only the first two of what we hope will be more “vignette volumes.” Currently they represent all vignettes written through 2016.
Now, these vignettes come with several caveats, as follows:
The individual, digital download versions of these stories have always been—and will continue to be—offered for free. Right now they reside at the JWH Connection, a wonderful fan forum run by a handful of very enthusiastic ladies who independently promote and support my work. To find the forum and the vignettes, visit storywitch.com/community for more information.
My readers have told me all of the stories can be enjoyed even if you haven’t read the books, but you may get plot spoilers or miss some emotional nuances between the characters that were developed in their specific book(s). However, when needed, each vignette is prefaced by a short explanation to help you figure out what the vignette is about, and to identify the series/books from which it originated. This will help you seek out these titles if you decide you’d like to read some of them first.
Many of the vignettes were written as serials (a different segment every couple of weeks), and then compiled into one download at the fan forum upon completion. As such, you may notice a little redundancy in these segments as certain concepts are “recapped.” We could have edited that out, but we wanted to keep them essentially as they were written.
They say the best gifts are handmade. As the number of my loyal readers have grown—an amazing and humbling thing—writing these vignettes has turned out to be the best way to say a heartfelt thank you for the insights and wisdom, laughter and smiles, you all have offered to me. You enrich my life greatly, and I thank you for that.
I appreciate all you have done, do, or will do, to support my work! And I hope you enjoy your Cantrips.
The Proper Punishment
A vignette featuring Peter, Dana and Ben from the Knights of the Board Room Series.
Originally posted June 29, 2012 in serial format
Peter and Ben originally appear in the first book of the series, Board Resolution, and reappear throughout the series. Peter and Dana’s full story is told in Book III of the series, Honor Bound. Ben’s full story is told in Book V of the series, Hostile Takeover.
Background: In Afterlife, Book IV of the Knights of the Board Room Series, Dana mentioned a night that Peter and Ben shared her. This is the vignette about that night.
* * *
“Are you scared, Sergeant?”
Dana knew the proper way to respond to that, especially when he spoke to her as a subordinate. “Sir, no sir.”
It didn’t matter that her hands were cold and there was a little quivery thing happening in her stomach. She’d felt the same way on the first day of basic training. Apprehensive, anticipating, telling herself and the drill sergeant she was ready to kick ass, but still freaked out by the unknown. Of course, things had been a little different then. For one thing, she’d had her sight. But Peter knew she wanted this. He knew her.
“You’re lying. I want you scared. So you tell me the truth.”
“Not all terrified.” He cupped her bare ass, fingers slipping between the cheeks and lower to find the slippery heat. “Bad, bad girl. That’s what got you here. Pushing the boundaries, disobeying a direct order. Down on your hands and knees.”
If he’d ordered her just to her knees, she could anticipate having her mouth stretched by his cock, a punishment she never stopped craving, but all fours said he was going for another approach. She was nake
d, still damp and flushed from her bath. She didn’t blush easily, but she’d been cleaned inside and out, Peter as thorough in his methods as a prison cavity search. He was getting her ready, getting her mind in the right state for tonight. Though she didn’t know the exact game plan, she could already sense it was going to be further than they’d ever gone together.
The thought brought more terror, more anticipation. But she was his. His fiancée, his toy. His slave. She trusted in that, in him, like she trusted nothing and no one else.
She went down on hands and knees, following the solid length of his leg. He’d put his foot where he wanted her, her waist pressed below his knee. It was the body language they’d worked out that told her what ground was safe. When they took walks along the gravel road winding through the bayou that surrounded his Baton Rouge home, she didn’t have to take her cane. She could feel the uneven ground on the edge of the road, the gravel under her other foot, his heat close enough to steady her path, keep her straight.
When she’d been recuperating from her injuries, the hospital staff had tried to make her walk outside. She’d been paralyzed by fear, sightless, most of her hearing gone, no anchor to her world. She’d refused, just flat sat down on the ground until they brought a wheelchair and took her back inside. Thinking back on that time, she was ashamed of herself, her weakness. But then Peter brought her here, and he’d made her go out for a walk on his property. Though the panic had closed in, his stable presence, his lightest touch on her shoulder, telling her he was there, helped her beat it down. Her captain held her world stable. He was Atlas. Emotionally and physically, the big bruiser.
The thought gave her a soft smile, even with the nervous coil in her belly. As she reached the floor, she realized his foot was on a metal bar, lying flat on the floor. She felt the length and diameter of it as he adjusted her, so her knees were planted on either side of the bar. They were in the workout room, but this wasn’t a piece of equipment that was usually there. He’d brought in something new, likely hidden it from her until now. Her palms got a little clammier, heart thumping faster.
“There’s a chin rest six inches in front of you. Put that defiant chin of yours there.”
She shuddered when he slapped her ass with an impatient hand. He knew she embraced his hardcore Dominant side, but there was a different air tonight. Something was up. This new piece of equipment, the thorough bath. Before she’d even gotten out of bed this morning, he’d put her service collar on her, a wide strap with a decorative waterfall of chains and a D-ring for tethering. While his St. Christopher medal hung from that D-ring, that was the only sentimental piece. The design couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than what it was—a slave’s collar.
He’d had her sit up on her heels on the bed, her fingers laced behind her head, arms already trembling as he locked the collar in place. When she wore it, she was expected to be in full submissive mode. Following his orders, speaking only when spoken to or if she was given permission to speak. Then he’d pushed her face to the mattress, angling her hind end in the air, and strapped a butt plug into her rear entry. He’d been inserting progressively larger sizes for the past couple weeks, no explanation. Her ass wasn’t his favorite orifice for fucking, but he’d done it several times lately, with a fierce enthusiasm that suggested he was not only preparing that area…but reminding her that every penetration point belonged to him.
It made a girl think…wonder…
He’d fed her breakfast from his hand, ordering her to sit quietly by his foot as he watched football. When he wanted beer, snacks, lunch, he sent her to the kitchen to get them for him. At half time, he’d put a nipple chain on her, one that connected to the collar, and then held her in his lap to toy with the chain, run his cold beer over her nipples. Occasionally he pressed the glass bottle against her hot cunt, making her writhe and gasp, beg for a release he didn’t grant her. Instead, he put her on her knees and had her suck him off, pushing her down hard on him until he came, jetting into the back of her throat.
Then he’d wiped her mouth with a bar napkin, given her buttock another firm slap, and put her at his knee again. After the game, he’d snapped a leash on her and led her into their home office. Placing her in a chair across from him, her legs spread wide and ankles strapped to the frame so he could see her pussy, he worked on some plant reports for the Costa Rica operations. After awhile, saying he was concerned she might be getting bored—totally unconcerned that she was so aroused and sexually frustrated she might internally combust—he rolled a lap desk up to her and made her work on her required lesson plan report for the youth group. He’d tucked her ear phones on her head so she could hear what she was typing on the Braille keyboard, ensure she hadn’t committed any typos.
The man was evil. She was going to need a lot of prayer to banish this from her mind before standing before her group of rambunctious teens.
Okay, he could be ruthless and twisted, but even for him, this was a lot. Something was going to happen tonight. She thought of the things they’d talked about in the past. Over time, he’d really plumbed her mind, made her tell him the deepest, most shameful fantasies she’d ever had, even the one she’d been most hesitant about, not sure how he’d take it. The Knights shared their women in limited, foreplay kind of ways, but not the actual biblical definition of sharing. Not two of them fucking one of their women at the same time. She not only had that fantasy, but she had a definite face for the third member of the party. When she’d finally had the courage to admit it, Peter had merely grunted in a thoughtful kind of way, then asked her more questions. A lot more, so in-depth they caused her to squirm, and that took some doing.
She’d been a sub since she was a teenager, but some things were hard to admit to oneself. The extreme level she craved in her fantasies, her fear that the reality, at best, wouldn’t be anywhere near as good. And even worse, that it could destroy the good she already had.
But Peter had taught her to trust him on certain things. Her captain didn’t merely live up to fantasies—he blew them out of the water. Which was why the prospect of what might happen tonight both thrilled her into near climax and scared her shitless, all at the same time. Of course, not to be crude, but with the thorough bath and careful diet he’d kept her on today, he’d taken care of the latter. An herbal enema, probably provided by Rachel and Jon, had also flushed her out good, because apparently that part of her was going to be drilled in a way it had never been before.
Would Peter be doing those honors…or had he done what she didn’t dare to imagine?
“Focus, Sergeant.” She drew in a sharp breath as a switch landed across her hindquarters, enough to elicit a yelp. If he’d pulled out the switch, he was amping things up. He’d caught that little smile, and he was sending a message. It was time to get down to business—and remind her again of why this was all going down.
“Don’t you forget for a minute this is a punishment. You disobeyed orders, and your gorgeous tits won’t get you out of discipline for that.”
She scowled, even though she kept her expression toward the floor. Yes, she’d disobeyed a direct order, but every once in awhile she had to do that, or the man got way too overbearing. She wasn’t porcelain. But in his mind, she’d really crossed the line this time, which meant he was going to make the punishment fit the crime. She craved punishment, in that love/hate way a sub like her did, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t push out a stubborn bottom lip about it.
The church where she worked was in a rough neighborhood, but she’d grown up in a rough neighborhood. She knew the boys of her teen youth group were being actively courted by the local gangs. So Monday, instead of waiting for Max, the K&A limo driver, to pick her up in the church alcove where she usually met him, she’d left a message with the church secretary that she’d headed down to the corner market and that he should meet her there.
She intended to pick up some fresh tomatoes from the Korean grocer, as well as do some reconnaissance with him about the things he
saw on his street. She hadn’t anticipated making contact with the gang members who hung out there. She might have left it alone, been on her way, but she recognized the voices and knew two of her boys were with them. It didn’t take long to figure out she was overhearing a recruitment meeting. And yes, she’d damn well interrupted it. Threatened to shove her cane up the ass of someone that, according to Max, looked like he did body disposal, but big had never scared her. The idea of her boys, young men whose hardworking single mothers had no time to keep them out of the clutches of those parasites, falling into that life just like her brothers had… hell no. Not while she was breathing.
According to Peter’s interpretation of Max’s report, the thugs were eyeing her like candy thrown in the street when he arrived with the car. Huge exaggeration, she was sure. For fifteen minutes of the day, he hadn’t known exactly where she was and what she was doing, and it had freaked him out. That’s all. She’d told him as much, tartly mentioning there was a fine line between obsessive stalker and protective lover. She wasn’t helpless. There had been yelling, and she’d gotten into it with him, toe to toe, though that had necessitated keeping her chin way up. She couldn’t see him, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to meet the blast of heat coming from those storm gray eyes.
When they fought about things like that, they were Peter and Dana, soon-to-be husband and wife, and they got it ironed out in an equable fashion. But later, when the intimate undercurrent of their relationship, Master and sub, raised its head, there was a different kind of accounting involved. Him emphasizing that he was bound and determined to protect and care for her, and her understanding that was something he needed, as much as she needed the reassurance of it.