Black Gratification Part 4

 James relished in the familiar click-clunk of unlocking the door to his home. It was a pleasant feeling returning to the place that was his, particularly after the involuntary journey he had taken. First to a place he had never expected to go and then to a place he had expected to live in the future had his life not taken such a sudden and drastic turn. It wasn't as though he would complain though. Were it not for the subservience he owed Salem it would have been the best thing to ever happen to him. A fantastic opportunity to indulge in his own depravity. Even the trip itself offered up some pleasant distractions that would certainly bear fruit. He had almost laughed at the warm smile An had offered him as they happened to cross paths at the airport. He had been sure to give her his contact details. The woman was already his, her daughters soon to follow.

He wondered, what expression would the girl wear when she realised she had traded one spider's web for another? Would she despair? Accept her lot in life with resigned stoicism? Those were always fun, the girls who did that. Finding their weak points to chip away at that strong façade until they begged for mercy, then begged for more.

Oh, he was getting himself excited! “Silver, drop the baggage in the hall and then get in the bedroom,” he ordered.

“Yes. Master.”

Twenty seconds, just enough time to power on his workstation, check on any outstanding contracts. Nothing pressing. Nothing that couldn't wait for at least half an hour. Perfect. Leaving the system where it was he followed his white-eyed servant into his bedroom, picking her up by the legs and throwing her onto the bed. “Clothes off.”

“Yes.”

There were downsides to this woman being so damaged. There were so many fun things he wanted to do to her beautiful body. He wanted to hear her cries a mix of agony and ecstasy. She would give him none of that. All she could be was an outlet, a willing hole. But if that was all he needed, she was perfect.

Stripped bare before him, he wasted no words on her. Instead her athletic body was bent over the bed as he worked her over, allowing for only enough foreplay to get her pleasantly wet for him. Old habits reared their head as his hand came down heavily on her backside, hard enough to flare her aura. No response, not even a noise of complaint. Disappointing. Expected, but disappointing. Clearly she cared nothing for pleasure or pain. A willing hole she would be, then. Pulling her back onto him he drove himself inside her in a single thrust, her cunt forcefully opened for him as he rutted into her. Hands set on the bed to support herself, her body bounced against him.

James frustration only rose higher at her lack of reaction. Harsh smacks to her buttocks sent her cheeks rippling. A hand snaked under her, pulling her up by her breast, fingers pulling and twisting the nipple. A reaction, if only a small one, a quiet gasp, “Ah,” as he continued to roughly toy with her body. In an instant, Calculation activated. He needed to read her, he could learn more in this heightened state of emotion and sensation.

… She felt it. The twitch of her muscles, the subtle micro-expressions, the unvoiced yelps, he could see them all. She had learned to tolerate a great deal of pain but she was far from inured to it. Silver had merely learned to suppress her reactions. Another symptom of Salem's ham-handed attempt at taming her.

But... It was a crack. Just the slightest crack in her portrayal of the emotionless doll. “You feel this, don't you?” he hissed in her ear. “You hide it. You fear what will happen if you cry out because Salem wanted you compliant.” Suddenly it was worth trying, suddenly she was worth effort. “I don't want you compliant. I want you to feel. I want you to writhe. I want you,” thumb and forefinger closed around her button and squeezed, “to cum.”

Silent. Silent save for the squelching sounds of her cunt, the slapping of his flesh against hers. She withheld her reaction as much as she could but she couldn't hide it completely. Not from him.

“What's your name?”

“Mmy nname is, Silver, Master,” she spoke, the words slurring out just slightly.

“What's your name?”

“My name, is, Silver, Master.”

His hand came down on her backside again. “I'm not Salem, 'Silver',” he reminded her. “I don't want what she wants. What I want is the real you, not some mockery. And so,” he rubbed her clit violently. It was all she could do to keep her muscles from seizing in a powerful orgasm right then. “I'm going to make you feel everything. Trying to hide what my touch does to you? It will only make me work harder. I want to hear every whine, every moan. I want to hear you beg me to stop with one breath only to plead for more in the next. More than anything else, I want you to be honest with me.” Her breaths came faster now, from exertion or so she would wish him to believe. “What's your name?”

“..., My name... Is, Silver, Master.”

In that moment, Moriarty couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or elated. Either way he wore a grin of anticipation. “The hard way it is.”

His contacts could wait a couple more hours.

-(-)-

The great Beacon Academy, the first and debatably the finest huntsman academy in the world. A pristine set of structures, white marble colonnades circling the main thoroughfare and leading towards the main campus. Farther in the distance stood the main spire, the location of the Vale CCT tower. A beacon, a literal beacon of cooperation between the kingdoms.

It was certainly impressive. And to James, entirely meaningless. Especially compared to the woman who stood waiting for him outside the main entrance. “Mister Moriarty,” she greeted. Glynda Goodwitch. Long, flowing, golden blonde hair worn up, save for the accent of a curl off her right side. Focused green eyes hidden behind dainty spectacles. A slight frown on her face not out of any displeasure, merely her resting expression. The picture of a serious and strong-willed woman, unashamed of flaunting her femininity. And the sinful curves of her body could be given no other description than womanly.

The deputy headmistress of the academy. Ozpin was somewhat famously hands off when it came to running the school. If James were to get this woman on his side early, why, the things he would be able to get away with!

“Professor Goodwitch, a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted in return, offering his hand to shake.

“And you as well,” she answered, shaking his hand as she held a clipboard to her side with her other. “I must say it was quite fortunate for such a reputable candidate to appear so soon after Professor Tanner was taken from us.” The words implied suspicion, the tone did not.

“I was looking for, I suppose you could call it a change of pace,” he confided, not entirely falsely. “My previous work grew tiresome. The opening for a new professor in my own field was a fortunate coincidence, if through unfortunate circumstances. You and the rest of the staff have my condolences.”

Her natural frown softened a touch. “Thank you. He and I weren't what I would call close but his absence is felt all the same.” And just as quickly her lips turned back down fully. “I won't deny your qualifications, nor will I pretend we're likely to find someone better. Even so, you will need to prove your sincerity to me before you will be given the position.”

His moustache curled upward as he smiled with closed eyes. “I would expect nothing less.”

“Very good. Please follow me and we can get your interview underway.”

She led him toward the main building, giving him a simple tour as they walked outlining the facilities available both to students and staff. Professors were offered room and board for convenience' sake. It was a boarding school after all and while the students were all adults they were young adults prone to stupidity and with access to heavy armaments. Without a local police presence (and with such a presence being largely ineffective even if they did have one), it was best to have several professional huntsmen and huntresses on site and on call. They were free to keep homes in the city as well of course, but so long as they had employment at the school it was unnecessary.

Open access to the training facilities, the library and local ConneCT system, as well as use of global communications through the CCT with no charge. And of course as a professional huntsman he would have easy access to the job board, even if he wouldn't be able to take many jobs while class was in session.

The impromptu tour dealt with, she led him to her own office. The one word he would use to describe it would be 'neat'. No. Neat was insufficient. It was pristine. Distractingly so. Perfectly symmetrical. Perfectly arranged. Each end of her desk precisely one hundred and fifty centimetres from the wall. Lampshades given just the right shape to have the light evenly cover the entire room. No overlap. No shadows.

“Please take a seat,” she requested, her riding crop swinging to drag one of the four chairs along the wall around to sit in front of her desk. Once again, perfectly positioned to be equidistant between the walls.

The interview was fairly standard to start. A series of questions on his qualifications, first as an expert of law to determine his ability to teach the subject. It was of course not a simple subject when it came to the matter of huntsmen. People who when on a mission were somewhat above the law when it came to doing their jobs, except when they weren't. It was a subject that required a touch of nuance to teach. The law is often the first thing to be dismissed when it comes to matters of survival and saving lives. As such, the role of the procedures professor is to not only to educate on what the law is, but also when it should be ignored for the sake of getting the job done. Following the confirmation of his credentials Glynda asked him to run through the mock lesson on the subject she had provided days before. To prove he not only knew, but could also teach.

Then, once his credentials as a scholar and educator were confirmed, she moved on to the more active and less secure side of his history. His knowledge of law was gained through legitimate means and reputable sources. His status as a huntsman was a complete fabrication. As such he had needed to study the false history Lionheart had provided him, ensuring he had every detail right. The story went he had been apprenticed to a Mistralian huntsman, trained under him until receiving his own huntsman license. Then a couple of years after that his teacher was killed on a mission (convenient, that extinction of huntsmen Lionheart had been facilitating). Following that, James continued to operate as a huntsman on Anima for near a decade.

Thankfully for James, he was quite skilled at deception. Lying was as easy as breathing, even making several old war stories up on the spot. Even with details that would match verifiable events of the time.

“Well,” Glynda said as she rose from her desk, “That should cover your credentials on paper. However, this is a huntsman academy. If you would follow me.”

Moriarty rose from his own seat, walking after her as she pointed her riding crop at his chair and moved it back precisely where it was without looking.

“We of course need to confirm your skill as a huntsman,” she explained as they walked. “There are occasions where you will be called upon to settle disputes between very capable young men and women. There is always the possibility they will refuse to listen without being made to. You will need to prove you will be able to enforce discipline among teenagers capable of slaughtering Grimm. And of course there are the training missions our student teams engage in. As Beacon staff, you would be expected to act as escort for them. You will be their guide, their teacher, and if the situation calls for it, their protector.”

Their path took them down to the active combat training room. A facility designed with training against standardised enemies in mind.

“This will be a mock battle in which you will face waves of enemies while also protecting a team of four students who will be portrayed by AK units.”

“And the enemies?”

“Begin.”

Well if she wanted to do this without warning. Activating his semblance he quickly got to grips with the scenario. Four AK units. Standard armament, set to moderate activity based on speed and range of movement. Four turrets, laser armament. Harmless, intended to simulate damage to 'students'. Twenty drones. No armament. Simulating enemy melee combatants.

Well. Alright then.

One arm went under his jacket and came out with a folded rifle that with a flick of his wrist snapped into its proper shape. Bang! One. Bang! Two. Bang! Three. Bang! Four. And just like that all four turrets deactivated, retreating back into the ceiling.

Drone pattern analysed. Three will attack AK unit 1 in three seconds. AK unit 2 will take out a drone in two seconds. Moriarty stood still, making no move to continue destroying the enemies. Instead he watched as the first AK unit blocked two of the drones with its shield. Only then did he bother to fire on the third that the unit wouldn't get to in time.

AK unit 3 swarmed in four seconds. Six drones would try to take one of the robots down, one that did not have a shield and was not as able to defend itself. Quickly picking out a few of the attackers he swung his rifle like a bat, swatting four out of the air– AK unit 3 will take out two drones in one second. And sure enough, with bladed arms the AK-130 cleaved through one then the other. Perfect.

“Quite impressive,” Glynda praised minutes later as the Aks and drones withdrew to their stations. “Though I wouldn't rate you well on time taken.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, “My role was as you said, protect the students, not defeat the attackers.” The majority of the drones had been taken out by the robots, even if they weren't exactly quick about it.

“And yet you immediately removed the turrets from the flight.”

“Given the skill of the 'students', the turrets would have been too much for them to deal with while also managing the melee attackers. Theoretically I might have been able to act as I did even with the turrets in play, but there is naturally a balancing act to be made between allowing the students to gain experience and letting them get in over their heads.”

“I see,” Glynda nodded, arms folded. “And if this were not a mock exercise? If it were instead a real mission and those AK units real students?”

James hummed in thought, mostly for effect. “I would likely have been less protective. Frankly if a student of this school can be compared to an AK-130 or 135 they should be dismissed, or at the very least not sent on active missions. Further, an AK can't take a hit the same way a student with aura can. Pain is a fantastic teacher, so long as nothing unrecoverable takes place.” Not an observation learned from James' own combat training, but certainly from his hobbies.

“Well then,” Glynda stepped out from behind the control console and extended a hand. “I have to say I wasn't expecting you to grasp our role in training the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses so quickly. But I'm now certain you will make a fantastic addition to this school.”

He took her hand gladly. “Thank you. I shall do my best.”

“Well, now that the formality is over, would you care to get a drink with me? I'm interested to get to know my new colleague in a more comfortable setting.”

“I would be delighted to, Professor.”

“Please, call me Glynda.”

-(-)-

The magic you can manage when you can analyse every curl of a lip, every narrowing of eyes, every twitch, every touch, every breath, every word.

“Ahh!” Glynda moaned sharply as she was slammed through her apartment door. Her hand came up to telekinetically force it shut behind them as James manhandled her. His teeth on her neck got her gasping as she took stumbling steps backward toward her bedroom like James already knew where it was.

He did, of course. Which rooms held the windows, which door would allow for the most floorspace behind them. He wanted getting inside the good witch to take as little time as possible. He couldn't put his finger on why he was so eager for this one. Was it her manner? So cool, so controlled, and he simply wanted to shatter that image? Or was it that she looked so much like the good twin to Salem's evil twin? Or perhaps the better question was, did it matter in the slightest? In this moment, nothing was more important to him than fucking this woman so hard she forgot her own name, much like he spent the last few days with Summer until she remembered hers.

“James, James I–“ her words cut out as she sucked in a breath, James' questing hands sliding under her clothes to slide against bare skin. “Please James, I need you to listen.”

“I'm certainly listening, I assure you.” Her husky moans were quite the pleasant tune.

“No, James, just give me a moment!” she begged, removing her glasses and directing them to her nightstand. With uncovered green eyes she looked up at him, flushed, serious. “James, if we're going to do this, there's something I need from you. I need you to fuck me.”

“Not the words one might expect from a woman like you,” Moriarty observed, taking the opportunity to undress if she insisted on putting a dead stop to their activities.

“And that's why you should know I mean what I say.” The buttons of her skirt popping open one by one. “I have problems. Focusing on what's important can be difficult for me. The best way for me to thoroughly enjoy sex is if I can lose myself in it. Pleasure. Pain. I need it to be intense. Can you do that for me, James?”

“Oh, Glynda,” he cooed, running his knuckles over her cheek with one hand, then tugging on her hair with the other, drawing out a yelp, “You just asked me to do what I'd been planning from the start.” He kissed her, biting her bottom lip, before adding, “I'm going to give you the fucking of your life, at least until next time.”

“Then– Ahh!” Whatever she had to say was far less important than him ripping her blouse and bra open. No more waiting, no more hesitating. If she wanted to be fucked stupid he would give her that and more. And for something like that there was no room for soft beds. Pulling her up he pulled her clothes off in a spin before slamming her up against her bedroom wall. “You–!“

“Brute, beast, bastard,” he suggested, ripping her panties aside to shove a finger in her moistening cunt, “Whatever you want to call me, this is what you asked for.” Lining up, he pressed hard against her lips, spreading her cunt wide for him as he speared her on his cock. As more and more fuckmeat drilled deeper inside her he grabbed two handfuls of her fat tits, using her udders as handholds as he leaned down to latch his teeth on her collarbone.

“Gah!” she grunted, feeling every veiny inch of his gargantuan shaft. The immense delectable pressure as her pussy gave in to him. “So! Ffffucking! Ghhh!” Her words turned into gurgles as he started pumping into her core. Sensation overwhelming sense.

Teeth letting go of her neck, he once again grabbed hold of her long blonde hair, wrapping it around his fist. With a tug, he pulled her up, her back arching as he shoved her forward. Pressed hard against the wall, there was nowhere for her body to go as his cock slammed into her grasping, needy cunt. It had been years. She had needed this. Just a chance to let go of everything, let go of her self-control and just feel. And as her first orgasm was ripped from her and she screamed her delight, she knew she would need it again before long.

She barely realised as he turned her around on his cock. Only as her back hit the wall and her long, shapely legs involuntarily wrapped around his back. “More! More! More!” she begged over and over. He leaned down, catching her engorged nipple between his teeth and squeezed. Again, her cunt clamped down on him, gushing fresh juices onto his fuckstick. Her pussy, her womb violated by this beast in the guise of a gentleman. Her nails clawed at his back, scrabbling for purchase as her body was ravaged.

A flood of warmth surged inside her core, a feeling of satiation she hadn't expected, too lost to see the signs of what was coming. “Mm, my legs are–“ numb, she tried to say. Interrupted by a surprised yell as she was thrown onto the bed. “Whu–“

“No thinking,” was all the explanation Moriarty gave before pulling her legs to dangle off of the bed. Once again he lined himself up. Her cunt was leaking his cum while he aimed just a little higher, pressing his bulbous head against her defenseless sphincter.

“Not there!” she yelped, only to be ignored as James plundered another of her holes. “Nnnnnn!” Her legs dangled as she was pulled up, pulled deeper against his crotch. Her thighs pulled up, it seemed James changed his mind on the position as he lifted her body to rest her against his chest. Her asshole flush against the base of his shaft. Her belly distended from the colossal cock buried in her guts.

Gripping her by her thighs, he began to bounce her. Drool dribbled out of the corner of her mouth as she was overcome by the intense and entirely new sensations. She had never taken it in the ass before. It was dirty! She would never let anyone do this! But she had asked to be fucked until she could no longer think and so any objections died a swift death in the face of all-consuming pleasure. Her tits bounced freely as she was impaled over again over again. Her back door broken in by a man who could give her exactly what she wanted.

And despite it never having been something she had wanted before, she couldn't wait for James to take her like this again.

Looks like things are shaping up to be an interesting year.