"Again," The Wizard snapped. "You both took lessons with Madame Morrible; why?"
"She asked me to take private lessons with her because she could sense my natural talent, and I invited Elph—The Wicked Witch, because I thought it would give her an outlet for—"
He'd noticed her mistake and, without looking up from the paper in front of him, snapped his fingers and held out his hand. With a sigh, Glinda reached down and unhooked her stocking from her garter belt and slid it down her leg. She handed it to him, and instead of adding it to the growing pile of her things on his desk, he absently stroked it while he glanced at the dossier in front of him. She'd gotten her copy that morning, along with a handwritten note: People asking questions— keep your story straight. She'd glanced at it, the fictionalized version of her time at school, her time with Elphie, but she'd quickly gotten distracted by other things. Besides, it depressed her remembering the person she'd been back then.
But then he'd summoned her to his room to quiz her on the official story, and when he realized she hadn't read any of it, he demanded one article of clothing per wrong answer, starting with her dress, until she was down to her panties, bra, garter belt, and one stocking.
"You were roommates, how'd that happen?"
She shrank back into her chair and rubbed her arms, hoping he'd take pity on her and let her have her sweater back, but knowing perfectly well he wouldn't. "I'd never seen The Wicked Witch before. But when she forced herself onto the campus, I offered to be her roommate because her poor sister just seemed so scared of her. So I wanted to protect her."
"Good." He continued playing with her stocking, winding it around his hand. "Roommates, huh? Gosh, that must've been…a lot of fun."
She bristled at his insinuating tone. "Don't talk about her like that."
"Baby, just because I want her dead doesn't mean I can't imagine how she looked with her head between your thighs."
Glinda stood up as calmly as she could, considering how her blood was boiling. She grabbed her dress, letting her jewelry and shoes clatter to the floor, and stalked towards the door.
"Don't." There was a note of warning in his voice, but she ignored it. No one could say a thing like that to Glinda Upland and get away with it, Wizard of Oz or not. As she reached the doorknob, there was a click behind her from one of the buttons on his desk. Her stomach dropped and sure enough, try as she might, she couldn't open the door. She turned to demand that he unlock it, but he was already on her. He slammed his hand next to her head, pinning her against the door.
"Don't you ever walk away from me like that again."
She knew what she would do if she was smart. She'd cry prettily and apologize, say she was tired and beg his forgiveness. But she wasn't feeling smart; she was furious and ready to take it out on him, no matter the cost. She shoved his chest with the heel of her palm. It was the first time she'd really touched someone in The Emerald City; the only human contact she'd had for the last few weeks were clammy handshakes and stiff, formal dances. Hitting him like that felt real and raw, and she was proud of herself for fighting back. Her satisfaction at the shock on his face didn't last long, though. Furious, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing so hard she knew he'd leave a bruise. He pressed his body against hers, radiating an uncomfortable heat against her bare skin and thin, silky underwear.
"I could destroy you." He held her wrists in one hand and grasped her neck in the other, squeezing the sides just hard enough to feel dangerous. "Any time I wanted; you're mine."
"Let go of me," she gasped, still too angry to beg. "You let go of me this instant! You have no right to treat me like—"
He squeezed her neck harder. "I'm afraid I do, actually. I can do anything I want with you. I could force you; is that what you want, Baby?" His voice settled into that slow, lazy drawl that still got to her. In spite of herself, she felt desire pool in her low belly. " You, uh, you wouldn't be cheating on your precious boyfriend; you'd still be such a good little girl. And you know, I'm, uh, prepared to be magnanimous: if you tell me to stop and I think you really mean it, then I just might let you go. How's that sound"
"You're disgusting," she gasped weakly. "I hate you."
He smirked and deftly turned her around so that her back was pressed up against his chest.
"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but living in a country where every single woman is willing to fuck you" he tugged down her bra cups and fondled her breasts, roughly tweaking her nipples "it can be a little, uh, what's the word? Kinda loses its thrill. Kinda makes you want a girl who fights back a little." She flailed around, trying to get him to let go of her, but he was far too strong. He held her in place effortlessly and kept pinching and groping her while she squealed and groaned, the sensation becoming unbearable.
Finally, he dragged her to the bed as she kicked uselessly, her feet barely skimming the ground. He twisted his fingers through her hair and pushed her down so that she was bent over the side of the bed. She turned her head to the side and gasped for air, the wind knocked out of her. He leaned in close, tightening his grip close to her scalp until tears came to her eyes. "You know, you, uh, haven't told me to stop yet," he whispered.
She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. "I know."
He stood back up and with his other hand, he yanked her panties down as far as her garter belt would allow and pressed a finger against her cunt.
"Gosh, is that really all it takes to get you wet?"
She whimpered, her body taut with anticipation as he stroked her a little, slipping his finger, wet with her slick, against her clit just enough to make her wetter. He unzipped his pants and she braced herself against the bed, gripping the top sheet in her hands as he slid into her.
"Oh!" She couldn't help but yelp a little. He was big, completely filling her sopping, needy cunt. He pumped in and out her. The friction of his cock inside her and her raw nipples rubbing against the bed, not to mention his tight grip on her hair—she couldn't help it if she was groaning obscenely. Desperate for some release, she adjusted her stance so that her clit hit up against the edge of the mattress with every jolting thrust of his hips. She felt herself clench around him, but she was well past the point of caring whether he knew how aroused she was.
Finally, with one last vicious tug on her hair, he came inside her. He pulled out slowly, and let go of her hair, running his finger down her spine. If she hadn't been gripping so hard on the bed, she would have sunk to the floor, her knees were so weak.
"Clean yourself off."
She nodded and walked to his ornate bathroom, grateful for a moment of privacy. She took off the rest of her clothes, unable to look at herself in the mirror for once. She stepped into the shower and frantically scrubbed at herself. What he was done was disgusting …He's old enough to be your…He's actively trying to have your best friend hunted down and…Fiyero is the man you love and you just… Glinda took a deep breath and tried to silence the thoughts pecking at her head. It wasn't her fault, he had forced her. He said so himself. She was blameless, as always.
Wrapped in a fluffy, green towel, she opened the door to his room, and he was sitting at his desk again.
He gestured to the bed."Lie down." There was less of a warning in his tone than before, but it was undoubtably a command.
"What?"
He rolled his eyes. "I am far too old for a second round at the moment, but your room's kinda far away, and, uh, I don't mean to flatter myself, but you're probably a little sore. So you should lie down for a bit. Got you some ice."
"Right, thank you, Your Ozness."
He returned to his work, and she let the towel fall to the floor before lying down on top of the sheets, pressing the bag of ice against her aching cunt. After a few minutes, she threw out the ice and slipped under the covers, letting the exhaustion overtake her.