Chapter 10: Mistress's Morning Summons
The knock wasn’t gentle. It was three sharp, percussive raps that vibrated the solid mahogany door and shot straight into Cedric’s skull. He jolted awake on the floor, the wool blanket scratching his cheek, his body a chorus of specific aches. The luxurious rug beneath him, the scent of jasmine and sex still thick in the air, the profound silence of deep sleep shattered.Samantha groaned from the bed above, a muffled sound of profound annoyance. “Go the fuck away,” she slurred into her pillow.
A familiar, syrup-thick voice, laced with impish amusement, answered from the corridor.“Rise and shine, pet. Training waits for no man, especially not one who’s spent the night as a human rug. Up.Now.”
Cedric’s heart stuttered.Vexia. His mind, clogged with the residue of submission and sleep, scrambled to catch up. He pushed himself up, his muscles protesting, the memories of the bath, the fireplace, the floor, crystallizing into a sharp, shameful clarity.His clothes were in a damp heap by the bathroom door. He stumbled towards them, his lanky frame pale in the dawn light filtering through the heavy curtains.“Leave. Now. I need sleep,” Samantha commanded, her voice clearer now, edged with a dismissal that brooked no argument, even for the interloper beyond the door.
“As you wish, Miss Hinkley. Just collecting my property.” Vexia’s reply was smoothly diplomatic, but carried a steel thread of possessiveness.
Cedric yanked on his trousers, his fingers fumbling with the button.He didn’t bother with his shirt, just clutched it in one hand. He shot a glance at the bed. Samantha had buried herself completely under the duvet, a mountain of navy silk with no interest in a farewell.She was done with him. The finality of it was as potent as any command.He opened the door.
Vexia leaned against the opposite wall of the opulent hallway, one tiny, booted foot crossed over the other. She was wearing a severe, impeccably tailored dress of charcoal grey, her crimson skin a vivid contrast against the somber stone. Her amber eyes took him in slowly, from his bare feet and rumpled trousers to the sleep-tousled hair and the vivid, purpling love-bite on the side of his neck. Her gaze lingered on the red marks left by Samantha’s nails on his chest and shoulders. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her lips, revealing her sharp little canines.“Tsk. You’ve been busy,” she stated, her voice a dry whisper.“And conspicuously unavailable. Come.” She pushed off the wall and turned, her prehensile tail giving a single, impatient flick behind her like a metronome set to a rapid tempo.Cedric followed without a word. He closed Samantha’s door softly, the solid click feeling like the sealing of a tomb on that particular chapter of the night. The hallway was cold compared to the overheated bedroom, and he shrugged on his wrinkled shirt as he hurried after Vexia’s retreating form. Her small, confident stride forced him into an awkward half-jog to keep up.
“Did you sleep well?On the floor, I assume?” she asked without looking back, her tone conversational.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Comfortable?”
He hesitated. “Adequate, Mistress.”
She chuckled, a low, rasping sound.“Good. A little physical discomfort is excellent for the memory. It helps lessons stick.” They descended a sweeping staircase, moving from the residential towers towards the older, more utilitarian training annexes of Lachrim Arcanum. The morning air in the central atrium was crisp, smelling of ozone and damp stone. “Tell me, did she make you beg?”
Cedric’s ears burned.“Mistress?”
“To fuck her. Did you have to ask nicely?Grovel for it?”
The words from the rug echoed in his head. Please, Samantha, please fuck me, please let me in… He stared at the back of Vexia’s horned head. “Yes.”
Vexia nodded, as if confirming a hypothesis.“And you came inside her.Of course you did.No control. Just a leaky faucet of a boy.” They passed through an arched gateway into a walled courtyard reserved for private channeling. It was a bleak, circular space of swept flagstones, etched with containment runes that glowed a dull blue in the overcast morning light. “She’s useful, that one.A blunt instrument.Excellent for testing the tensile strength of your spine. Which, it seems, remains satisfactorily malleable.”
Cedric said nothing. He stood in the center of the circle, shivering slightly, waiting.Vexia turned to face him, her hands on her hips. She examined his muscles, squeezing his thighs and biceps. “I need you weak willed and strong backed. We're continuing your physical training. Plank position. Now.” she ordered, pointing tonthe floor of the hallway.
Cedric dropped to the cold stone floor without hesitation, his body arranging itself into a rigid plank. The flagstones bit into his forearms, a familiar discomfort that anchored him in the present. Vexia circled him slowly, the click of her boots echoing in the vaulted space.“Hold it.Breathe. Let the weakness in your muscles remind you of the strength in your obedience.”
A pair of polished leather shoes entered his downward field of vision, stopping a few feet away. “By the Seven Pillars, Thornwood, is this a new low?” The voice was lilting, amused, and utterly condescending. Cedric knew it belonged to Elias Vance, a third-year specializing in dimensional theory and casual cruelty.“Taking morning orders from your familiar now? I’ve heard of being pussy-whipped, but this is just pathetic.”
Cedric’s arms trembled. Heat flooded his face, a blush of shame so intense he felt it in his scalp. He kept his eyes locked on the gritty stone between his hands, wishing it would swallow him whole. Vexia’s small boots stepped into view beside Elias’s.“Oh, he’s absolutely pathetic,” Vexia agreed, her tone light and conversational. “A quivering, leaky little reed of a boy. But he’s my quivering reed.” Her voice hardened, gaining a serrated edge. “So why don’t you mind the business that actually requires a brain, and leave the pet training to the professionals, hmm?”
Elias snorted, but took a half-step back.“Whatever. Enjoy your… calisthenics.” His footsteps receded, leaving a ringing silence.
Vexia watched him go, her smirk returning. She turned back to Cedric, who was sweating now from the combined effort of holding the plank and enduring the humiliation.“See?Useless noise.Now, push-up position. I want to see if all that time on your knees has built any functional strength.”
Cedric shifted, his palms flat on the floor, his body a straight line from head to heels. Before he could begin, Vexia leapt with surprising grace. She settled lightly on his lower back, her weight a sudden, focused pressure that made his core muscles shriek in protest. She was heavier than she looked, dense and solid.“Begin,” she said, as casually as someone ordering tea.
He lowered himself, the strain immense.His arms burned, his shoulders screamed. He pushed back up.One. The memory of the first morning, weeks ago, flashed in his mind—collapsing after three, his face in the dirt while she berated him.He pushed again.Two. The ache in his arms merged with the deeper soreness from the night before, a full-body testament to his service.Three. He focused on the sound of her breathing, on the faint smell of her leather boots.Four. His form wavered, his back sagging for a second before he locked it tight under her weight.Five.A grunt escaped his clenched teeth. He felt her shift, adjusting her seat.Six. He pushed to the top, arms trembling violently, and held.“Down,” Vexia commanded.He lowered himself slowly, fighting the urge to collapse. “And up.” With a final, ragged exhale, he completed the sixth repetition and held the top position, quivering.She patted his shoulder blade.“Good boy. Down you go.” Cedric lowered his knees to the floor, completely spent, sucking in great lungfuls of the damp air.Vexia slid off his back and stood in front of him. Her cunning amber eyes appraised him.“Six.That’s twice as many as your first morning. Progress.” She crouched, bringing her face level with his.“You’ll make a decent servant, yet. Now, get up. We have actual magic to practice, and you’re due in Transmutation in an hour. But first, I have a present for you... more for me, really. But I won't ruin the surprise.” She rose and turned, already walking toward his apartment where the fruits of her labor wait.
She led him through a service corridor, their footsteps echoing off stone until they reached the spartan door of his own dorm room.It smelled of dust and cheap linens, a stark contrast to Samantha’s perfumed sanctuary. Vexia pushed it open and gestured inside.“Kneel in the center of the room. Where I can see you.”
Cedric obeyed, his knees pressing into the thin, scratchy carpet.The morning’s exertions had left a deep ache in his thighs and shoulders. He kept his eyes lowered, watching her boots as she moved to his small, cluttered desk. She opened a drawer he never used and pulled out a long, slender box of polished obsidian. “I’ve been working on this. A little project to solve our… allocation problem.”
She opened the box.Nestled inside on a bed of black velvet was a collar. It was made of a dull, brushed silvery metal, seamless and cold-looking. Tiny, intricate runes were etched along its inner curve, glowing with a soft, sullen red light. A simple, heavy-looking O-ring was fixed at the front. “This,” Vexia said, lifting it from the box with a reverent touch, “is an improvement. For both of us.”
She held it up before his eyes.The runes seemed to pulse slowly, like a sleeping heartbeat.“Your main issue is waste. You leak mana like a sieve—every stray emotion, every moment of fear or arousal, it just bleeds out into the atmosphere.Untapped. Unclaimed.” She let the collar twist slowly, catching the weak room light.“This seals it.Locks your mana internally.No more waste. Every spark you generate stays bottled up, ripe for harvesting.”
Cedric stared at the thing. A cold knot tightened in his gut. “I… won’t be able to use magic?”
“Not while it’s active,” Vexia said, her tone matter-of-fact, as if explaining a basic appliance.“I can toggle that function for practice sessions.But day-to-day? Correct.You’ll be magically inert. A null field.” She leaned closer, her amber eyes fixed on his.“Which means you will be utterly, completely reliant on my power for protection. On my will. You’ll understand your place in every conceivable way.”
She let the implication hang in the dusty air.Cedric’s mouth was dry. The memory of Elias’s sneering face in the courtyard flashed before him. Without magic, he wouldn’t just be weak; he’d be a target.Prey.He swallowed. “And the other functions, Mistress?”
A sharp, predatory smile touched her lips.She tapped a particular rune near the O-ring. “This one administers corrective feedback.A zap. Nothing debilitating, but exceedingly… persuasive.” Her smile widened. “I think you’ll find it encourages exemplary behavior.” She then ran a fingertip along the outer band.“And the final function is declarative. The runes are a recognized sigil of binding.Anyone who sees it will know. You are not a student with a familiar.You are property.My property.”
She held the collar out to him. “Present your neck.”
A tremor ran through him. This was different from the physical submission, different even from the degrading acts with Samantha.This was permanent.Visible. He hesitated for one fractured second, his mind screaming silent, formless protests.Then he bowed his head forward, exposing his neck. The mousy brown hair at his nape felt suddenly vulnerable.The metal was shockingly cold against his skin. Vexia fastened it at the back with a soft, final click that seemed to resonate in his bones.There was no latch he could see; it was seamless now. A perfect, unbroken circle.A weight settled into him, not just physical, but deep in his core. A sensation of closing, of sealing shut. The ever-present low-grade hum of his own magical energy—a sensation he’d lived with since childhood—was just gone. The silence inside his own skull was deafening.Vexia tilted his chin up with a finger. She examined her handiwork, her gaze satisfied.“Perfect. It suits you.” She tapped the O-ring lightly, making it chime against the metal.“This is for a leash. For when I require one.”
Cedric’s hands, resting on his thighs, felt clumsy and empty.He felt stripped. More than naked.The collar was cool and heavy, a constant pressure on his larynx. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Stand up,” she commanded. He rose, his movements feeling hollow, unmoored from the energy that usually fueled them.“You have Transmutation in forty minutes. You will go, and you will pay attention.You will not speak unless called upon. You will feel the eyes on this.” She flicked the collar with a sharp nail. A tiny, painful spark jumped from the metal to her fingertip, and he flinched.“Good.It’s working. Now, come here.”
She walked to the narrow, dirt-specked window overlooking a training yard. She pointed.“See that third-year by the elemental dummy? The one with the green cloak.”
Cedric looked.The student was practicing precise water-form techniques, a whip of liquid snapping from his hand. “Yes, Mistress.”
“He’s strong.Arrogant. He’s also the one who tripped you in the refectory last week and called you a ‘walking accident.’” Vexia’s tail wrapped possessively around Cedric’s leg. “If he, or anyone like him, approaches you now… what will you do?”
Cedric watched the student’s confident, powerful movements.A knot of old fear twisted in his stomach. But beneath the fear, now encased in cold metal, was a new and terrifying emptiness.He had nothing. No spark to call upon.No defense.He was an open wound in a world of sharp edges. “I… I would have no recourse, Mistress.”
“Exactly.” Vexia’s voice was a pleased purr in his ear.“You are helpless.You are reliant. Your safety, your dignity, your very continuation here, depends entirely on my favor. On my willingness to protect what’s mine.” She let that sink in, watching the color drain from his face. “It’s a cleaner arrangement. No ambiguity.”
She turned from the window and smoothed the front of her dress.“Go to your class.I have business elsewhere.Remember the feeling. Let it guide you.” She walked to the door, her small frame casting a long shadow in the morning light.She paused on the threshold, not looking back. “The first time you attempt to remove it, or tamper with the runes, the corrective function will activate at full power. I’ll know. And I will not be merciful.”
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.Cedric stood alone in the silent room.The absence within him was a void. He raised a hand, trembling, towards the collar.He didn’t touch it. He let his fingers hover just above the etched metal, feeling the strange, dead space that surrounded it. He was a locked vault.He walked to the smudged mirror above his washbasin.
The reflection was a stranger.The silvery band gleamed dully against his skin, stark and industrial. The O-ring was a blunt, functional declaration. The love-bite from Samantha was a fading purple shadow beneath it, a temporary mark already being overwritten by a permanent one.He was marked.Owned. The wide, anxious hazel eyes that stared back knew it with a certainty that sank into his marrow.He gathered his books for Transmutation, movements automatic. The weight around his neck was already becoming familiar, a new center of gravity. As he left his room, the empty silence inside him followed, a companion more absolute than any demon.