Chapter 2: Pepper turn
The stone corridors of Scarlet Witch Academy held a deeper quiet after classes ended, a silence that felt deliberate, like a held breath. Pepper’s shoes—simple black flats—made no sound on the polished granite. Her heart, however, was a frantic drum against her ribs.
It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the last time with Mommy. The anticipation was a live wire under her skin, humming in time with her pulse. She couldn’t wait to be in her arms again, to feel that specific, absolute focus that erased everything else—the deadlines, the studies, the world beyond the velvet-draped windows.
The antechamber to Headmistress Wanda’s office was empty save for Mirajane Strauss, who was watering a lush, trailing philodendron. She turned, her smile sweet and knowing. “Pepper. You’re ready for your special time with Mommy Wanda.” She set the copper watering can down. “She’s almost done with Jasmine Wallace. Do you need any help going into the prep room? Or help choosing an outfit?”
Pepper shook her head, the motion sending her auburn hair swinging. “I can go and get ready. I want the experience to feel more personal.”
Mirajane’s nod was understanding, almost reverent. “Of course.”
The prep room was a small, luxuriously appointed closet adjacent to the main office. Soft, indirect lighting glowed from behind frosted panels. A long mirror, framed in dark walnut, reflected the curated selection. Pepper’s fingers trailed over the options: silk, lace, fine wool. She ignored the more overt pieces, the black bodysuit, the sheer leggings. Her eyes landed on a dress of deep, oceanic blue. It was simple in cut, but the fabric was liquid, draping where it should, clinging where it would. She knew it was revealing. The neckline plunged; the back was almost nonexistent. It was perfect.
She took her time. Applied a bold, crimson lipstick with a steady hand. Brushed her hair until it fell in a smooth, scented wave. A touch of perfume at her wrists, her throat. The dress whispered over her skin, cool and slippery. She looked at her reflection—the defined line of her jaw set, her abs a faint suggestion under the thin material, her eyes wide and dark. She smiled. It felt less like getting dressed and more like preparing an offering.
Just as she finished, the main office door opened. Jasmine Wallace stepped out.
Jasmine looked… renewed. Her skin glowed, her muscles loose and languid. That pure, good-sex afterglow radiated from her like a soft heat. She met Pepper’s gaze, her own eyes hazy and content. “Pepper. Next?” A slow, blissful smile spread across her face. “That’s good. You deserve it. I just got done with my two-hour session. Have fun.” She stretched, a cat-like motion that spoke of thorough satisfaction. “How long ago… I think I’ll take my shower in the after-care spa room.”
“Enjoy,” Pepper murmured, the words sticking in her dry throat. The exchange was so mundane, so casually intimate. It bypassed her nerves entirely and went straight to her core, stoking the low, eager fire there.
She didn’t knock. The door was already ajar.
Headmistress Wanda’s office was exactly as the legends described, yet no description could capture the feel of it. The obsidian panels drank the light, the holographic scrolls on the walls flickering with silent, ancient women. The air thrummed with a barely-audible frequency that vibrated in Pepper’s teeth. And there, behind the massive black crystal desk that seemed to hold captured starlight in its depths, was Mommy Wanda.
She was naked.
She sat with the regal ease of a queen on a throne of shadows, her body a study of powerful curves and lean muscle. Late twenties, but her presence was ageless. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. She wasn’t posing; she was simply existing, as unselfconscious as a force of nature. The chaotic, beautiful magic that supposedly swam in her veins felt palpable here, a static charge that lifted the fine hairs on Pepper’s arms.
Wanda’s eyes, a fathomless green, locked onto Pepper. She didn’t smile. She assessed.
“Come here, my girl.”
Pepper walked forward, the blue dress feeling suddenly like the only thing in the universe. She stopped before the desk. The crystal surface didn’t show her reflection; it showed shifting, ghostly impressions of other women’s faces, a silent choir of the previously chosen.
Wanda stood. She moved around the desk with a predator’s grace, nothing hurried. She didn’t speak. She simply reached out and took Pepper’s hand. Her skin was furnace-warm, her grip firm and sure. With her other hand, she pressed a nearly invisible seam in the obsidian wall. A section pivoted inward without a sound, revealing a doorway into warm, dim light.
Wanda led her through, the secret door sighing shut behind them.
The room was small, dominated by a large, low bed heaped with pillows and throws in shades of charcoal and crimson. The air was scented with sandalwood and ozone. This was the space rumored about in hushed, envious tones. The bed Wanda used to please the teachers and students. During class, sometimes. After. Sometimes before school even started. It wasn’t a malicious secret. It was a sacrament.
Wanda turned Pepper to face her. Her gaze was overwhelming, a total absorption that made Pepper feel both utterly seen and completely dissolved.
“Two weeks is too long,” Wanda murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated in Pepper’s bones. Her thumbs stroked the backs of Pepper’s hands. “I felt your absence. Your need prickles in the air of my school. It’s distracting.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Wanda’s hand came up to cup Pepper’s cheek. “Be present.”
Then she leaned in and kissed her, and the last coherent thought in Pepper’s mind—something about the new biology teacher, Evelyn, and her confused, pretty face in the classroom—dissolved into pure sensation. Wanda’s mouth was demanding, experienced, a claim staked. Pepper surrendered to it, her body melting forward as Wanda’s arms encircled her, one hand slipping to the zipper at the back of the blue dress.
The fabric pooled at Pepper’s feet like shed seawater. Wanda broke the kiss, her eyes roaming over Pepper’s exposed skin, the toned stomach, the quick rise and fall of her chest.
“Good,” Wanda breathed, the word both praise and permission. “My loyal girl. My proof.”
She guided Pepper backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed. A gentle push. Pepper sank into the impossible softness, the pillows embracing her. Wanda stood over her for a breathtaking moment, a goddess of this hidden world, before joining her, her warm skin covering Pepper’s, her mouth finding her neck, her hands already beginning their meticulous, devastating work of unraveling the last two weeks of waiting, thread by exquisite thread.