Rough Drafts are a messy business…
Don’t worry. I haven’t stopped writing my Ageplay NOR have I stopped plotting out Otherworldly Discipline, Book Two. Everything is as scheduled.
I thought you guys would get a hoot out of this. Remember, for every book I write, I have dozens of other versions of the final product that never saw the light of day, nor are they likely to.
When I was eighteen, although I’d written some Newsie fanfics–I couldn’t help myself, Newsies came out when I was seven so it was very age-appropriate for me to do at the time–I lamented that I would never finish a novel. I worried that I was under some sort of Greek-like hell-sentence where I was doomed to rework the first five chapters of a story over and over again and never see anything finished.
Obviously, I’m fine now. I can finish books okay, it’s just the hard part of my job, that’s all. After I finish a book I tend to spend a couple of weeks trying out new writing methods or a new style, or even a new way of story-telling or a really dramatic plot that I never plan to finish because of complexity, etc.
This is the first chapter of my FIRST rendition of Otherworldly Discipline. There’s actually a chapter two written as well, but to get that, I’m going to need 10 comments from you guys. So if you want more… You need to let me know. I’m trying to test this out so you all don’t get sick of me cluttering up your email boxes with my rough-drafts.
Alright, now to start off: The plot’s different. Otherworldly Discipline was refined away from this:
In this rendition, hundreds of years ago there was a really bloody wizarding war. Ashcroft led one side, and Lachlan ran the other. Lachlan was winning the war, and so Ashcroft sealed the entrance to the Otherworld away from the Earthside, trapping Lachlan and his evil legions on one side, and trapping Ashcroft in the Otherworld. The two realms are separates by a mystical river (called “The Gates”) that both sides are able to enter, but let’s just say neither Lachlan or Ashcroft could completely cross to the opposite sides.
Charlotte’s creation was ordered by Caden (under Caden–that’s what Lachland was originally named before I got a wild hair up my ass to change it) to have two specific servants to come together and boast a child who could break down the gates back into the Otherworld where he can recharge a lot of his powers and let out the Otherworldly creatures on Earthside and continue to try to reclaim power. Caden would just need to have sex with her and temporary have the power to get into the Otherworld.
Her parents got cold-feet after she was born, and instead of letting Caden wait until she was big enough for him to use essentially like a sex-slave, they ran with her and was in hiding all her childhood, moving place to place to keep her hidden. Eventually they were found and killed. Charlotte got away and has been trying to eke out an existence as a nurse while trying to keep herself hidden, happy, and comfortable while she’s trying to hide from Caden.
If she marries Ashcroft, the magical connection would allow her to go into the Otherworld and him to go onto Earthside once more–Ashcroft had created a magic ring that she only has to put on a particular finger of hers for him to have this connection with her. But Charlotte’s hesitant to A) marry him, of course and B) Let Ashcroft out of his cage which would restart the wizarding war… Which would be much more dangerous to people than it was four-hundred years ago when the Earthside wasn’t quite so complicated.
See what I mean? Complicated. 😉 Enjoy… if you dare to delve into my roughest work…
Charlotte fancied herself a horrible witch, but now she was beginning to realize she was also a horrible negotiator. She was cold—she had been standing in river water up to her knees for nearly three hours now, hoping to find someone who’d trade with her.
And the only person; or rather, thing that showed up at all was Moriarty, who’s amused wolf eyes studied her as she shivered.
She was not so amused. She slammed her foot down, causing the river water to splash. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she cried, angry and incredulous.
Moriarty, who loved being the bearer of bad news for his master, grinned, exposing his perfectly white fangs. “Master Ashcroft said if you don’t trade with him, you can’t trade at all,” Moriarty repeated, lowering his head to continue watching her reaction.
Her dark eyebrows nearly knitted together as she glared at him. “Then why did you come at all?” she growled, annoyed.
“I certainly didn’t want to,” Moriarty admitted with a singular, loud laugh. “Master Ashcroft sent me to tell you. He didn’t want you to get blisters on your poor, bare little tootsies while you were out here all day, wondering where everyone was.”
She didn’t seem to care for the sentiment. She wiped away the goose bumps that were developing on her forearms. “You are such a fucking butt-munch, Mutt. Why don’t you go back to your master and ask for a belly rub?” she mocked acidly, hoping to sting him.
She knew Moriarty didn’t like to be referred to as a common mongrel—he was once a very feared werewolf in his day. Even now, at his most-human, he might be scary to the common human with his claws, teeth, and eyes. Still, there was never anything particularly frightening about him as far as Charlotte was concerned. Probably because he dressed like he was on his way to a Northwest coffee bar in his dark fedora hat and matching trench coat.
He just grinned at her as if he was excited by her feistiness. “Hey, I’m not the idiot who tried to steal from him the last time, Sugar Boots,” he reminded with a look of gratification. “You got what you deserved.”
She blushed furiously, realizing that Moriarty—the most annoying creature she had ever come across anywhere—was perfectly aware of her shame. He knew that Ashcroft spanked her two weeks ago… Spanked her like a goddamn five-year-old who stole a cookie from a forbidden jar.
“He charges too high,” she defended, her teeth gritted.
“And I bet he spanks real hard, too…” he mocked. He laughed at her increasingly upset reaction. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under and properly buried already. “I would have done anything to have seen it.”
She swallowed hard, hating the bullying. She wasn’t used to it—she never lived in a place long enough to acquire real friends or any enemies at all, which she realized left her a little thin-skinned. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when she realized that Ashcroft wasn’t quite the friend she thought he was.
Of course, he probably thought the same thing about her by now. She hadn’t realized what a show-stopper stealing from Ashcroft was going to be, or the look she would receive when he had discovered that she stole the Elixer of Polaris without his knowledge. Truth be told, she had already inwardly celebrated getting away with it. But then he shot her that look, and she knew that he’d realized what she’d done, and fear had struck through her body clear to the bone.
Her first notion was to get her ass as far away from him as possible. Ashcroft was a powerful Master Wizard—she didn’t want to see him display his talents. And he was absolutely the most frightening man she had ever met—the left side of his face was very, very badly scarred from some sort of wizarding battle years ago. Almost as if a tiger had attacked him, but was careful not to hurt the right side—that side of him was so frightening that all she did was shake and quiver when she first met him. And then, with his eyes blazing wildly, she feared him anew.
All she had had to do was make it to her bank of the Gates River. The Gates was shallow—only ankle-deep in their regular meeting place. She was nearly frightened enough of him to want to just run across the surface of the water like they do in cartoon movies.
As some as you know, Moriarty wasn’t always part fox; he used to be a werewolf, and was very self-conscious about it.. So even though he’s giving me all sorts of shit about me not finishing my book yet, I just want everyone to know that if I left it like this, the dog-jokes would have never stopped. ;)
But he was fast… Very, very unnaturally fast, and grabbed her wrist from behind. The sudden launch had sent her face-first into the river. She gasped when he jerked her back into standing, now looking like a drenched alley cat.
For a moment, she was certain he looked guilty for her fall. He cursed under his breath as he firmly pulled her over to a boulder that they usually met at. It jutted quite far out of the river, well enough to sit upon. “Damned idiot,” he grumbled, furious.
“Look, Ashcroft, let’s be rational about this…” she begged, not knowing what he planned to do with her but quite certain it was going to be some sort of punishment. Even him searching her body for the stolen vial was going to be a humiliating violation.
Unfortunately for her, Ashcroft had not been in the mood to be ‘rational’. Just as she was trying to wring the water out of her sleeve, Ashcroft unbuttoned and unzipped the front of her pants. He was already completed in the task before she realized that he was stripping her. She grabbed his hands, scrunching her body forward so he wouldn’t see her exposed underwear, but it wasn’t much of a wrestling match. He easily was able to free his hands enough, and when he did, he yanked her pants clear down to her knees, leaving her to only cover her front before she was tossed over his knees.
She cried out wordlessly, trying to push herself back into standing, but he had a good, firm arm around her waist, and had suddenly become aware that Ashcroft was in charge, and she was at his mercy.
And then the spanking had commenced. Ashcroft’s hands she had never really given a thought to before that moment. Now all sorts of opinions about them were flying into her head: big, calloused, firm, hard, and uninvited, but slapping down on her exposed rear end firmly, causing her to completely lose her breath.
Even though her body had been very wet, her mouth and throat had suddenly felt very dry as she screamed, “OWE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?”
He didn’t answer, but she figured it out quick enough. He was spanking her, and he was good at it. She had only seen spankings in mainstream movies when growing up—maybe a couple of swats on the rear-end during Little House on the Prairie. Now she was actually experiencing one, to her indignity. She was shivering and crying at the same time, trying to get a full sentence out, but her brain went numb with all the humiliation. “Please, please!” she begged finally, her throat hurt as her eyes began to swell up with tears. “I’m so sorry!”
“Damn right you’re sorry. You’re gonna be a whole lot sorrier before we’re through here, little girl!” he had muttered back angrily over her cries. “You’re lucky I haven’t taken off my belt and strapped you raw! I give you everything you’ve ever asked for, and you repay me with trickery, falseness, thievery… You stole from me while looking me in the eye!”
She had wondered if him taking off his belt and strapping her raw would feel any different from what he was doing. She didn’t know if her bottom could be in any more pain; she had to be at a sort of threshold. He poor posterior was already throbbing—his hand felt like a dozen bee stings. She made another move to try to scramble off of his knee, but he held her firmly and pinned back her arms to the small of her back, trapping all of her movements. “Please don’t torture me, Ash! I’m sorry. Don’t kill me!”
“I’m giving your naughty hide a good tanning, Girl, one you’ve needed for quite awhile!” he had corrected grimly. His voice was brackish, booming. It was somehow louder than the echoing slap on her poor red flanks or her breathy, frantic sobs. “Next time you steal from me, you’d better her away with it. If I catch you again, you won’t sit down for a year. You hear me, Charlotte?”
She had cried in the affirmative—she heard him loud and clear. But he still spanked her, on and on… She was blind with tears in no time, sobbing like a lost child.
Finally, just when she figured it never would, it ended. As soon as he let her arms go, she used every last ounce of energy left in her and scrambled away from him, pulling her pants up more quickly than she had ever done before, terrified that he would see any more of her skin.
She wiped her eyes against her sleeve just so she could see through the tears, and saw that his hand was extended expectantly, open-palmed.
She had reached quickly into her pocket and pulled out the stolen vial, slapping it into his hand so quickly it was as if she was afraid his hand would bite her. His fingers closed up around the vial and he slowly, gently placed it into the satchel handing on his waist. Unlike her, Ashcroft looked very calm.
“Hopefully we learned something today?” he had said simply like a wearied school teacher.
“I hate you,” she had hissed, her eyes beat red and puffy as she wiped them on her sleeve again.
“Next time we meet,” he began slowly, patiently. “I want you to greet me with a heart-felt apology,” he informed. “This is not optional.”
“I’m never coming to this shithole ever again!” she had declared, loud enough that the whole forest could witness her statement. She had meant it at the time—she couldn’t think very far into the future. Her mind had only been able to think of the swollen pain and heat radiating from her bottom.
His jaw had twitched, but then his lips curled into something that resembled a grin. “You need me a lot more than I need you,” he reminded confidently. “You’ll be back. Hopefully you’ll be a little wiser for ware when you do.” He pushed himself off the stone and trudged past her to his side of the river, leaving her to glare after him, soaked, sore, and insulted.
Now, three whole months later, she was not soaked or looking at all like a well-spanked brat. She held up her head high rolling her eyes to Moriarty. “Can you please go and explain to your master the fact that monopolies are illegal in all civilized countries and cultures, and pretty much only super-villains and the NFL are exempt?”
“He knows already,” Moriarty assured, shrugging. “He watches a LOT of CNN. Besides, we don’t live in a civilized country, Charlotte. Welcome to Otherworld,” he reminded, raising both hands to gesture to everything around him. “The rules here are largely created and enforced by the one-and-only Master Ashcroft, at least in this little plot of land we call home.” He laughed when he saw how angry she was becoming as he lectured her pedantically. “You know this, Sweet Lips. You shouldn’t have pissed him off. Picked up a book a manners or common sense, maybe.”
“Oh, I pissed him off, huh?” she countered, placing her hands firmly on her hips. “He’s the one that beat me, Fido.”
The ‘Fido’ landed—she could see him squint slightly. “He certainly could have beaten you if he’d wanted. Instead, he SPANKED you, which is more befitting for an ungrateful, talent-less whelp like yourself!”
“Oh, I’m an ungrateful whelp?” she snorted. “He’s making me destitute! Pretty soon all I’ll have left to pay him is my first born child!”
“Based on who your parents were,” Moriarty continued in a growl. “You’re lucky he trades with you at all. If you met me first, I would have gladly eaten you without question.”
“Eaten me?” she scoffed. Moriarty was just as likely to eat her as a Golden Retriever was. “You’d be more likely to have humped my leg!”
“One more dog joke, Sweet Cheeks, and I’ll…” he grumbled despite her grinning. She loved getting him upset—he looked likely to blow his lid.
“Or you’ll what? Go and piddle on the rug?” she continued.
He snarled at her.
“Don’t antagonize him,” Ashcroft’s thick, business-like voice said from the tree line. He appeared from the nearby and strolled into the river. “And you,” he said, pointing to Moriarty. “You know better than to talk to a lady that way.”
Moriarty turned his neck and looked down angrily at the ground, looking very chided, but not very sorry.
“Go on now,” Ashcroft said, nodding towards the tree line.
Moriarty’s face scrunched and he kicked the ground as he walked back up onto the bank. “Hopefully you just need the privacy to give her another sound thrashing,” he muttered.
Ashcroft just ignored him and settled his gaze on Charlotte. When Moriarty was out of sight, Ashcroft turned and looked squarely at her. “You know he doesn’t like pet jokes,” he lectured her. “They actually hurt his feelings.”
“That was the point,” she assured, looking as unremorseful as she could manage. “Thanks for telling him all the intimate details, by the way,” she said snidely.
“I barely even mentioned it to him. He has quite the imagination, though. If you don’t want to be spanked, Charlotte, I suggest you never do anything like that again.” He paused in his lecture and narrowed his eyes. “And I haven’t heard your apology yet.”
“That’s because you’re not gonna get one,” she informed. “But I’ll accept yours at anytime, Two-Face.” She delighted in the wince of pain he made when she called him that. He was so self-conscious about his four-hundred year old wound that she wouldn’t be surprised if he had stopped looking in mirrors all that time. She continued, “I hope it follows along the lines of apologizing for completely stepping over your bounds and making yourself a giant ass.”
He seemed incredulous, even shocked, at hearing that. It obviously wasn’t what he expected. Even after four years of trading with Charlotte, meeting with her every week, giving her a thousand lectures, tons of advice, and hundreds of hours of company, he still wasn’t used to the childish way she conducted herself with. He opened his mouth to lecture her, or maybe to threaten—it’s quite uncertain since he obviously thought better of it and calmed himself visibly by taking a deep, frustrated breath. “So you don’t want to trade, then, Brat?”
She ground her teeth together angrily. She HAD to trade—her life was too dangerous and too chaotic NOT to use magic, and she was too horrible of a witch, with no control of her powers, to even try to get on without potions. “No, I want to trade,” she grumbled, kicking the nearly-still water in the stream with her foot.
He raised his eyebrows, looking expectant.
“Are you serious?” she blanched, unable to believe that she actually had to apologize for making him spank her.
“And when you apologize, you will address me as master,” he added aloofly.
She physically refrained from laughing aloud, and knew that he could see it. When his eyes darkened, she stopped thinking it was so funny and felt rather insulted. “I don’t think so, Obi-Wan,” she sneered.
“You will call me master until you agree to marry me,” he directed crisply.
She groaned and put a hand over her eyes. “Oh, geez. Not this again…” He had proposed so many countless times that she wondered if he’d ever stop. He didn’t love her—he did nothing but snap at her and lecture her. Any affection that he showed her was not loving; it was more paternal than anything else.
“Charlotte, you need me as an ally. You need me to protect you,” he reminded firmly. “I’m tired of playing primary-school games with you.”
“You are my ally,” she said, straightening her shoulders, calling his bluff. “Be you a horribly grumpy, know-it-all, abusive ally…”
“I am stuck here in the Otherworld,” he reminded her grimly. “And I will remain here until you put that ring,” he pointed to a ruby ring that twisted intricately around her right hand’s ring finger, “on that finger.” He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger. “I am worthless to you, otherwise.”
She knew this. She could not enter the Otherworld beyond the Gates, and he could not enter the Earthside beyond the Gates, not unless they were married.
She looked at the ring and sighed. She put it on when she was eighteen and stupid and he gave it to her as if it was a had been a regular gift–like a scarf or a gift-card. Little did she know that she had put on an enchanted ring, which also meant she couldn’t get the ring off without the whole finger going. The only way she could get the ring off was if she actually meant to activate it by moving it to her ring finger… Somehow the ring would know her intentions, and it was far too clever to be fooled. She thought it was cute before all this, but since it had become a pain. The ring seemed to always snag on her favorite quilt, and didn’t match all of her outfits, it being adorned by a massive ruby.
“I’m dating someone right now,” she reminded, sounding prouder and prouder about it.
He stared at her blankly, looking exhausted by her games.
“Three months now,” she added sing-songishly. It was her first relationship EVER with ANYONE.
Still, he stared blankly at her.
“I can’t tell—is that look jealousy or… Anger? Or are you wondering if you left the oven on back home or something?” she griped mockingly, although she stepped away from him.
“When you’re afraid, you insult me. I’m trying to figure out where you think that will get you.” His tone was ominous, threatening. He pointed at the river floor in front of his feet. “Come here.”
She looked up and down the river, considering. “No.”
“Girl, you have about three seconds to come here and apologize to me, or you will apologize with a sore bottom. I don’t care if Moriarty hears, and he will, because I will spank you soundly.”
She blushed, surprised by how fast her throat constricted. “You’re a bully, Ashcroft,” she told him.
“One,” was all he said.
She scurried to fill the few feet that separated them, even though she would have far preferred scurrying in the other direction. “I’m sorry I stole from you,” she said quickly in an exasperated sigh.
Her heart quickly started beating. “Please, Ash, don’t,” she begged quietly, swallowing hard.
His lips formed to say ‘three’, and she found herself wringing her hands on the front of his tunic desperately. “Master,” she panted, all the snark leaving her body in a rush, “please forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry..” She began to shiver harder than she was before, as if the closeness of him was making her even more chilled to the bone.
Her shoulders constricted after she’d made his apology, expecting him to laugh at her. She stared at his chest, ashamed at how chicken she was. But he cupped her chin in his rough hand and brought her eyes up to look at him. “If only you could get over my face, you wouldn’t be so frightened of me. And then you’d marry me.” He stroked her cheek soothingly with his thumb.
She felt like grimacing. She knew beauty was only skin deep. Still, even if his left side looked like his right, and he was handsome, she would still be shivering right now. “Your face isn’t the most frightening thing about you, Master Ashcroft,” she assured. “And I’m only twenty two–I’m too young for marriage, in any case.”
“When I was twenty-two I had three human children running around by my ankles,” he reminded her, patting her cheek softly before he dropped his arm.
She couldn’t imagine Ashcroft married to a human girl, having human children, pretending to be a human noble man. Every time he told her that he had been married several times already, her mind seemed to blank from the image.
“Those were different times,” she reminded. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. I can’t even keep a goldfish alive.”
“That’s because you’re still a child,” he reminded her, looking her up and down with a very hard expression. “I should have spanked you a thousand times in the last four years, but I didn’t even think you were mature enough to learn from it. I was wrong.”
She was embarrassed by this, and wished she hadn’t given into the fear of spanking so easily. She feared that him feeling a spanking would help her learn or listen was the beginning of a very ominous new relationship with him. “You’re not my father,” she reminded tersely.
He seemed to boil at the idea. His response became more and more snappish as he carried on, “No. Your father was overly kind to you and negligent. To me, he was overly conniving and wicked. Your parents did their worst with you—they sheltered you and hid you and didn’t teach you what you needed to know to defend yourself. They were fools. They left you in the wake of the storm and didn’t even have the decency to instill respect nor fear into you.”
Aschroft had been in dark moods before, but she had never actually seen him turn moods right in front of her. She had also heard him harangue the memory of her parents before. They were his enemies for centuries, after all… But he had never seemed so bitingly ferocious about it.
“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He locked his jaw with annoyance.
She was bent over his hip a moment later, and wondering how he’d gotten her into that position so easily. He was lighting into her bottom with his firm hand and kept her in place by curling his free arm tightly around her waist. He didn’t explain why he was doing this, except that she was beginning to fear, through her sharp whines and struggles, that spanking her had caused him gratification she normally didn’t allow him to feel.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Master!” she apologized, praying that he wouldn’t pull her pants down. God knows, Moriarty was probably watching from a viewpoint somewhere.
He let her go just as quickly as he had grabbed her. She stumbled backwards, wheeling her arms around, but he caught her before she fell backwards into the water and let her regain her balance. She rubbed at her bottom.
“You will learn to talk civilly to me,” he told her. “And you listen to me, because I know your world better than you do. I want you to stop this foolish, ridiculous, inappropriate façade you share with your current boyfriend. You will relocate. You will change your name again. You will…”
“Inappropriate façade?” she coughed back.
He didn’t look like someone who believed he misspoke.
Tears began to swell up in her eyes. “I love Nathan! He treats me well. I’m happy for once…”
He gruffly took booth of her shoulders in his hand and gave her a firm shake. “Something evil is hanging over you, Charlotte. Caden will come after you; he will never rest. And I cannot protect you. You have to take precautions!”
Charlotte’s face dropped again, and he heard her sniffle. She did not cry easily. It shamed him to be harsh with her, and he tugged her to his body and held her there. He kissed her hair, breathing her in. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re not spoiled, despite the whimsical way you act. Your problem is that you don’t know much happiness,” he admitted tenderly. “And you don’t understand how happy I could make you.”
“I like Nathan,” she said into his chest.
He rubbed her back with his hand. “When I gave you the ring, I hoped that you would come to love me, and put it on when you did. But I see that won’t happen; not that way. You will find yourself in a position you cannot get out of, and you will put it on so I might come rescue you. And I will… But you must keep yourself alive by the time I get there.”
She pulled gently out of his embrace and nodded. “I promise to be safe, Master.” She blushed as she said it—it sounded so odd, but she was rewarded when Ashcroft actually smiled… at least the corners of his mouth went up, which was a lot better than she had done the last four years. Still, she admitted, “But don’t hold your breath for me. I don’t wanna be married.”
He made a sound in his throat—almost a chuckle, as if he thought she was being ridiculous. He pulled a vial out of his satchel and put it into her hands. It was the elixir of Polaris she had stolen from him.
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “How much…” she began, put he put his hand up and silenced her.
“I was thinking after our last meeting that our relationship is very, very flawed. We are not on equal grounds. You are a young little witchling, and I am a Master Wizard. It is my duty and privilege to protect and guide you as long as you submit to me, whether you are my wife or not. It is my honor to provide gifts for you—not make trade after trade like some common merchant farmer.”
She looked down at the vial with confusion. “I should have let you spank me earlier,” she suddenly laughed, amazed that she didn’t have to trade the last of the gold she was able to scrounge together and buy with her measly paycheck.
“It’s not your position to let me do anything,” he informed sternly.
She wanted to protest that, but she was quite interested in riding this gravy-train for a couple of stops, at least. “Whatever you say, Master.”
“Your address of me needs to sound a little more comfortable on your tongue,” he chided, but she could tell he was happier with her than not. He pinched her cheek and turned to leave to his side of the bank. He turned his head just enough to call back. “I’ll see you in one week for the full moon. This is not optional.”
“Nothing’s EVER optional with you, Ash,” she snorted, turning to head up the river, though she didn’t walk very quickly. She had never been so late for a date with Nathan before, but she needed a little while to shake off the mix of emotions from her encounter. “Weird,” she muttered to herself, and put the vial into her pocket.
–So concludes Otherworldly Discipline, Version One, Draft One Written April 08, 2011. Remember to comment if you actually do want a second chapter. 😉