"And what the hell is this one saying?" Ivy muttered, rubbing her forehead.

Amy peered over her shoulder, hitting Ivy with the scent of something sweet – peppermint? She breathed in, briefly intoxicated.

For how useful this assistant of mine is … she’s really such a distraction.

And the way she was leaned over, Ivy could see straight down her shirt. Her bra was loose enough that Ivy snuck a peak of something she shouldn’t have been able to … something cute and pink, which had Ivy really wanting to reach out and give a pinch. Knowing Amy, she doubted the slip was an accident.

"Reallocation of funds to the armory, looks like,” Amy said after a moment studying the paper. “From … the scholarship pool. Since it’s not being utilized anymore."

"Do I approve it?"

"Eh," Amy said, straightening out – and with it, her briefly exposed chest, which Ivy missed immediately. "You can pick. This one doesn't matter much."

Ivy rubbed her forehead.

Paperwork. The role of headmaster obviously included that, and not in any small amount. Amy was guiding her – holding her hand, really – because Ivy didn't have the required experience to make smart judgments of that kind. Eventually, she’d be expected to not need so much assistance, to handle her day job on her own. Not for a while, though.

"What else am I expected to do?” Ivy asked. “Day to day, I mean."

"Hm," Amy said. "Not too much. Your role is more of a figurehead. And an arbitrator when sticky situations come up between the student base, or between Ravenwood and other polities. Mistress knows your skills aren't in administration … you just need to be a good actress. And a clever corrupter."

The assurances made her feel better, but not completely. She was still overwhelmed. Stressed. The documents passing her desk, to which she was signing off on, had reminded her this wasn't all fun and games – the decisions she made held weight, affected large swathes of people.

She scribbled her name on the funds reallocation, slid it to the 'outgoing' bin.

"I need a break," Ivy said, pushing away from her desk.

A grin split across Amy's face, and Ivy had to clarify. "Not like that."

Amy pouted.

If we had it her way, we’d never get anything done. And she doesn’t even get anything from a handjob, so why’s she so eager?

"I should practice with Ysulla’s coercion,” Ivy said. “It’s about time. You said you'd let me use it on you?"

Amy rolled her eyes. “How many times do I need to say it? I’m yours to use as you see fit … whenever and however you want.”

Ivy cleared her throat. As if keeping her urges in check wasn't hard enough without constant teasing. "How should we go about it? I'm not sure where to begin. How to use it.”

“Mistress’s gifts should be intuitive. Just listen to what your instincts say.”

Ivy frowned. That seemed unhelpful. But Amy hadn’t let her astray so far, had she?

“Just focus your intent, and command me,” Amy suggested. “But, the more I want to do something, or would normally do it, the easier the command goes through. Kind of like your dreaming manipulation. So anything naughty,” she said with a wink, “isn’t going to be much practice.” She paused, tapped a finger to her lips. “Oh, and the more you forcibly manipulate someone’s mind, the less and less effective your next commands will be. So you don’t want to overdo it. Only tap in when you really need it to count.”

“Permanently?”

“Not permanently – but for a bit. The mind’s a resilient thing; it’ll start building up natural immunities if its played with too much. But it also drains away, given time. Like … alcohol resistance, but faster to build up and break down.”

That made sense, Ivy guessed. She hadn’t planned on overdoing it anyways – remaining under the radar was key here, and botching mind-control seemed a sure way to have the magic-police swarming down on her. Or whatever kind of third-party handled something like that – why Ivy couldn’t act with extreme indiscretion in the first place.

“What should I start with?” Ivy asked.

“Anything,” Amy said. “I don’t think you’ll pick it up first try … it’ll take at least a few commands before it clicks. So just try.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before,” Ivy said, tilting her head. An odd thought raced into her head: “Am I the first person you’ve served? Helped, like this?”

“Besides Mistress, yes.” Amy tapped the side of her head. “I just have a good memory – Mistress briefed me, so I’ve got it all square.”

Ivy wasn’t sure she believed her … but she also didn’t know why Amy would lie. Still, she couldn’t help the little spike of jealousy that dug in, that Ivy might not be her first master – besides Ysulla, who obviously didn’t count. 

Jealous … why would Ivy be jealous? Absurd. But she couldn’t help the frown that snuck over her face, thinking about it. That Amy might have served another person, before her.

A sudden, burning need to know settled into Ivy.

And seeing how she had an ability to practice …

“{Tell me the truth},” Ivy said, leaning her weight into the command in a way hard to describe. “{Besides Ysulla, was there another before me? That you served?}”

Amy shivered, and Ivy could physically see how Ivy’s words gripped her, how Amy’s response was dragged out against her will: “No,” she said stiffly. “Not that I was given to, like I was you.” She shuddered, again, as the seizing-effect released her. “Woah,” she said after orienting herself. “That was crazy strong! What the hell?” She blinked several times, rapidly, and shook her head. “No way. That was your first time?”

A glow snuck into Ivy’s chest, and it was only a quarter because the compliment – more than that, that Amy was hers, truly, and hadn’t had a master prior to her. It shouldn’t have mattered … but it did.

“But, and I feel the need to point this out, not subtle in the remotest, Ivy.” She laughed. “Probably not how you want to go about it if you want to keep your cover. A subtle touch is key.” She hesitated. “But still, why was it so strong?” She paused, and a knowing grin slid across her face, one which set Ivy immediately on edge. “The skills Mistress gives scales on emotion, you know …” she said teasingly. “I guess you really wanted to know if anybody had had their way with me before you … but don’t worry, I promise you that you’re my first ~ ”

Ivy cleared her throat, a flush creeping up her neck. Certainly not her ‘first’ in the way the phrase made it sound … but her first master. And that mattered more, somehow, to Ivy. 

She deflected in the easiest way possible. Continued with their so-called practice.

“{On your knees.}”

Amy eagerly went to her knees; her body didn’t shudder like it had the first time. Down on the floor, Amy rolled her eyes – “I already said naughty stuff would be way too easy.”

“Naughty? That’s hardly naughty by itself.”

“Interpretation matters,” she said. “I mean, ‘on your knees’? In a commanding voice? Of course I’ll follow through instantly, when it’s you asking. You have to make me do something I normally wouldn’t.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Like have you stop teasing me so much?” 

Amy paused. “Hold on now,” she said. “Don’t get any grand ideas.” At the amusement in Ivy’s expression, a panicked look appeared on Amy’s face. “No, no. Taking that away from me would be way too mean, Ivy. You’re so cute when you squirm! It’s so much fun. Seriously … please don’t.”

At the genuine pleading in her voice, Ivy’s thoughts of following through dissipated. However nice being spared from the teasing would be. It was good practice for controlling her urges, anyways.

So … what was something Amy wouldn’t normally do? The ideas that popped into her head were, obviously, somewhat cruel – because the list of ‘things she wouldn’t want to do’ didn’t include many benign options.

“I’ll resist,” Amy said. “So, just something I don’t actively want to do, like get on my knees for you. Since I’m assuming you don’t want to make me do anything mean.”

Ivy paused. For only having known Ivy a day, she was way too good at guessing what Ivy was thinking.

She chewed her lip, coming up with some arbitrary task.

“{Fetch me that book.}”

Amy’s nose wrinkled, and she half-rose from her kneeling position – then shuddered, and sat back down.

“Still laying it on too thick,” Amy said. “Subtler.”

“It didn’t even work,” Ivy protested. “Shouldn’t I put more into it?”

“You can be subtle and strong. It’s two different qualities, I promise.”

Hm. “And I’m only going to get less and less effective as we go on? As you build up immunity?”

“Yep,” Amy said. “But I’m the only one you can practice on, so there’s not much to do about that. Try to put more emotion into it, like your first one … you have to really mean it.”