She kicked her black heels off, leaving them by the door for later. She walked through the narrow foyer placing her keys in a bowl on the side table. Veronica caught a glimpse of her tall curvy body in the ornate floor-to-ceiling mirror hanging in the entryway. She let one of her long, athletic legs escape from the side of her dark grey midi dress and whistled. She turned her ample butt left then right, marveling at the curves of her body. She threw her heavy long, black braid behind her and then entered the adjoining sitting room. The days light bowed onto the floor at her feet through yellow and green stained-glass windows that faced West, the warmth kissing her feet. She lifted the needle on her antique gramophone, chose a groove, and placed it on the vinyl. She made a small, almost sad smile as Rachmaninoff began to play quietly, the sounds from the shop below receding completely, cutting that world off for now.

She slid the heavy, wooden pocket doors that led to the parlor open and poured a drink from the bar inside. Whiskey, one ice cube. After a taste, she added a splash of water to the tumbler. The parlor's thick curtains were drawn closed, the only light came from the doorway behind her. Veronica relished the darkness, it helped her to concentrate. "You cannot do everything without some illumination to work with," she heard her Master say in the back of her head.

Veronica moved across the room and sat her drink down on a small antique table. She switched a lamp on, illuminating her sitting area and the beautiful wooden and leather chair that sat next to it. The chair had served Veronica for centuries and was one of the few items she had been able to evacuate from Constantinople when the Ottoman's invaded. It was a unique magical item that had belonged to her Master. Evil, some might call it (she would vehemently disagree). It was one of her real treasures and after today's events, she was looking forward to using it. She had decisions to make, and the chair was precisely the tool she needed to make them.

She lifted her dress and pulled her intricate, black laced panties, garter belts, and sheer stockings down to her ankles. As she began to sit, from between her legs, she heard a high pitched, terrified shriek, "Oh for fuck's sake, what in the fuck is this!?"

A mortal would have fled in terror, but Veronica was used to it, though she would prefer they didn't scream when she was trying to relax. Rolling her eyes, Veronica turned around to see Mitchell, glaring up at her. He was a douche bag pedophile that she had sent to the Neverlands (similar to Purgatory but more like Hell), not more than a week ago. Oh, how he had cried and pleaded as she physically forced him into the dark wagon that would deliver him. Mitchell's face had materialized in the leather seat of the chair the moment she began to sit, leaving his faceless body defenseless in that sinister place. "Oh," Veronica said, a pout forming on her full lips, "You thought you were done with me, sweetie?"

"Fuck you," Mitchell spat, abject terror in his eyes.

"We'll see,” Veronica shrugged, smirking. "Since you're new to this, consider this lesson number one," she said, turning and placing her curvaceous bottom directly on his face. Mitchell attempted to speak, but the words were muffled by Veronica's pussy and ass flesh being pressed deliberately against his mouth. Victoria moved her bottom back and forth for a moment to get comfortable, lit a cigarette, and sat back to think.

She thought of her apprentice and wondered if it was smart to leave her attending the shop alone so soon. To be safe, she cast a magical ward that would alert her to any unusual (well, more significant than usual) activity downstairs. Piano Concerto No.2 in C minor began playing in the sitting room, the music wafting quietly into the parlor. Veronica took a sip from her tumbler, ice clacking, deep in thought. She couldn't wait until her apprentice had fully grown into her powers; it was lonely at the top, and Samantha would be the perfect partner. Attractive, bright and lately… distracted. Was she pushing the young girl too hard, she wondered? She was outpacing the other students in her comprehension and her studies, greedy for any information regarding the arcane. No, she decided. To give Samantha less work than the other students would only add strife to the classroom. Mitchell's face squirmed, his tongue working frantically under her in an attempt to catch a breath. Veronica flicked her cigarette into the ashtray, drew from it and blew the smoke down, between her legs. After a moment his tongue flailed more frantically, making Veronica feel giddy. She wasn't worried about killing him, he was already dead. He didn't know that though, hence his amusing struggle for breath. Half smirking, she returned to her thoughts. Her apprentices' abilities impressed Veronica often but this past month had been rough. Letting that ancient alien artifact leave the store… That disaster was narrowly averted, the valuable tool returned to the "off-limits" area at the back of the shop with the other dangerous items. All memories had been returned to their original minds… Veronica hoped. And the fucking nonsense with the dragon this morning... after being warned! Veronica pursed her lips and slightly shook her head. Really, the girl was lucky to have her head atop her shoulders still.

Veronica sighed and remembered her own studies, almost eight millennia ago. The perils never seemed so dire when she was learning the dark arts. Perhaps Veronica didn't realize the dangers? Simpler times, she thought, assuring herself, knowing full well that her own Master would scowl and disagree. Veronica made herself change the subject and instead daydreamed about Samantha's sweet face, her beautiful hair and the natural, earthly way her skin smelled. She cared deeply for the girl. Veronica smiled, recalling the sound Samantha's sweet voice made when climaxing. Veronica felt desire welling up from deep in her core as she began to get turned on.

Mitchell, desperate for oxygen (so he thought) dug with his teeth and was able to grab a large mouthful of Veronica's ass flesh, right next to her taint. Veronica's eyes momentarily turned to a molten gold color at the surprise. She moaned with pleasure, the pain exciting her, a small drop of juice leaking out of her vagina onto Mitchell's chin, "Oh, excellent idea, Mitchy boy, just what I needed.", she cooed darkly, setting her cigarette on the side of the ashtray. She closed her eyes and began recanting a short spell…

In the Neverlands, Mitchell's nude, filthy body had stopped walking (not that he had anywhere to go) when Veronica had sat on her thinking chair. His head stuck, looking straight up, face missing right behind his ears. Anyone looking at him would have seen the insides of his head as he stood there, his hands clawing at where his face should have been, trying to free himself. Moments after she whispered her spell, a drove of pissed fire ants came up from the ground around Mitchell's feet. They moved up his legs, tickling and biting his flesh angrily. His body squirmed and leaped helplessly. A group of headless schoolchildren skipping by stopped to marvel at the frantic jig. They pointed and laughed and made jokes in one of the strange, backward sounding languages that are spoken in the Neverlands. Some of them leaped about, mimicking his dance, blood squirting excitedly from their severed necks. To Veronica's delight, two of them began throwing rocks at Mitchell.

Back in the parlor, Veronica could feel Mitchell's face contorting and crying helplessly under the full weight of her body. "Better than any vibrator.", she murmured, sitting back and closing her eyes, thoroughly enjoying the way Mitchell's agony played out on her flesh. Veronica raised a hand to the top of her dress, flopping one of her large breasts out. She squeezed, and then pulled it away from her body, two thin lines of milk arching gracefully away from her nipple. Fluids from her cunt soaked away from her, into the seat, pooling around Mitchell's squirming flesh. She began riding the movements of his face, thinking of her sweet Samantha. Classical music mingled wonderfully with Mitchell's muffled, panicked cries, creating a brand-new composition that drove Veronica mad with happiness. Ants furiously bit welts all over Mitchell. One of the school children even started exploring his asshole with a sharp stick, making the other children squeal with glee. His fear sent pleasant shivers through Veronica's body. Her untouched cigarette, mostly ash now, smoked on the table next to her. She thought of Samantha's deep blue eyes and how they lovingly looked at her even when Veronica was dominating as her Mistress. Veronica's thoughts flashed to the terrified look that would fill Samantha's eyes when she was in a dangerous situation, which made her grunt in ecstasy. She leaned forward, putting her full weight onto her clit, driving it into Mitchell's slimy face. One voluptuous tit swayed beautifully, drops of milk escaping onto the floor between her feet. She gripped both arms of the chair, grinding down hard, eyes closed tight. Veronica's pussy contracted and pulsed on Mitchell's face. (he screamed and screamed) She held her breath and clenched her teeth as she climaxed, shaking her head back and forth, strands of hair falling into her face. She reveled in the sensation as the waves rode through her body, making her quiver visibly. Exhausted, she slumped back in the chair, sweating and full of bliss.

After a few minutes, as her breathing slowed, eyes still closed, a wicked smile crossed her lips. Veronica called the ants off, thanking them, Mitchell's macabre dance slowed, his body a festering mess. She shooed the children away in a kind manner (they heeded her request and ran off a short distance, hovering nearby, plotting among themselves). As the pain slightly subsided, Mitchell's body, a disaster, kind of slumped in defeat. White welts, surrounded by an angry red color, covered his body, blood trickled slowly down his legs from between his ass cheeks. Veronica tucked her breast back into her dress, adjusting it and pulled the strap into place on her shoulder. The seat of the chair became fluid and began to lower away from her body. It formed a bowl under her before hardening again, Mitchell's face at the bottom. Veronica checked to make sure there was toilet paper within arm's reach. Mitchell, free to breathe for the first time since being summoned to the chair, heaved, frantically gulping air into his lungs. He felt a glimmer of hope, maybe this was almost over? Veronica was giddy at the hurt and tired sounds coming from under her ass. Mitch quietly began to whisper, "I'm sorry," repeatedly. She smirked, stamped out her old cigarette, and lit a fresh one, letting it dangle from her lips. She took a sip of whiskey and then let her bladder go. Hot piss splashed forcefully off of Mitchell's face in the bowl under her. She sighed in relief. Mitchell, unprepared, coughed and gagged as he breathed the urine into his airway. In the Neverlands, he began to dance his jig again, flailing and clawing to cover his nonexistent face. One of the children lobbed a hefty petrified skull from a distance, hitting him squarely in the chest, making him howl in pain. The other children jumped and cheered at their comrade's accuracy. Once her stream slowed, Victoria gave a small grunt as she farted, "Oop, incoming!" she giggled.

Her asshole slowly expanded as a nice sized turd started to peek. She imagined what it must look like from Mitchell's point of view and chuckled. He smelled it before he saw it, and realizing what was happening, huffed and then screamed, horrified. Veronica took another sip of whiskey, savoring the taste, and continued to enjoy her smoke, letting the excrement take its time to leave her body. She decided that maybe Samantha wasn't having unnecessary issues at all. At least nothing Veronica could help with. Perhaps her apprentice needed to learn the lessons that came from the situations that Samantha found herself in. Seriously, she told herself, at the end of the day, all any instructor can do is point the way. It's up to the student to choose a direction, she thought as a nice thick turd fell out of her and plunked wetly onto Mitchell's face. He retched loudly and wept, making Veronica smile evilly. Satisfied, she sank back into contemplative thought.

After a time, everything in the parlor became silent, rousing her from her deep thoughts. Veronica's legs screamed from falling asleep, "Did I doze off?" she muttered.

Mitchell, quiet, had either passed out or was in shock. Veronica could hear the record in the hall, still spinning, making a repetitive scratching sound as the needle skipped. She wiped, twice, tossing the paper into the hole. She got up, legs punishing her as the blood resumed its circulation. Veronica turned to wash her hands in the basin that had formed at the top of the chair. Drying her hands, she leered down at Mitchell in the commode below. He squinted up at her, submissively, eyes burning with ammonia. His face was covered in Veronica's piss and bodily fluids. A wet piece of toilet paper covered one eye and a considerable turd lay next to his left ear. Veronica scolded, "Before you are summoned again, I suggest you find some fucking manners," she angrily spat.

"If you can scrape some together, perhaps I'll let you lick me clean, and you can do some good by saving a tree," she said.

He gulped once and pleaded, "Please, I don't understand."

Veronica shrugged, uncaring, "Shouldn't have fucked kids, asshole.", she said, shaking her head in disgust.

Mitchell's face relaxed into a look of realization. "Compared to their torment, you got it easy bud.", she finished.

His facial expression changed to despair as the hole closed, effectively flushing Veronica's waste into the Neverlands. The chair bottom, spotless, became a comfy seat again. Veronica sat, crossing one leg over the other. She resumed her cigarette, drink, and thoughts.

In the Neverlands, Mitchell stood in place, in shock, covered in excrement and wounds, regretting his life decisions to the fullest extent that his idiot mind would allow. "Shouldn't have fucked kids." Veronica's voice echoed in his thoughts.

He weakly shuffled away, head down, nowhere to go. The headless children followed behind him, bleeding, taunting... reminding. They laughed and howled wildly in that backward language that Mitchell couldn't understand. Some parodied his earlier dance, some continued to throw rocks, others flipped birds, but most importantly, all had a blast.

Except for Mitchell.

Fuck that guy.