Different Worlds

Chapter 11

Hello! Hope you are still enjoying this fic. As you've noticed, Emma and Regina are beginning to see each other in a new light. Now, because I know there will be backlash, let me explain a few things...

* Emma is 16—in the Dark Ages, this age (even younger) was considered adult. So if there is some content that you find disturbing, please take note of the fact that this is a different time period.

* "Regina keeps going light, then dark, light, then dark!" Yes, yes, I know. Our beloved Queen is going to have a difficult time dealing with her emotions toward young Emma.

*Excuse my grammar mistakes. I have read through my past chapters and I physically cringe at the mistakes I find. For shame!

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I follow Emma inside, swinging the whip in my hand back and forth. "Stand over by the fireplace," I instruct, pointing with my whip.

Emma does so without complaint and I admire the way her muscles flex as she walks. Running around the woods certainly was beneficiary. A shiver of desire runs through me and I have to close my eyes to clear my head. This is about teaching Emma a lesson. She will learn nothing if I give into my own desires.

I make my way over, raking my eyes down her body. "Arms up."

Emma gives me a confused look as she puts her arms in position as if she's starting a game of patty-cake. I roll my eyes and tsk. "Above your head."

As soon as the girl's arms are in position, vines creep down from the ceiling and wrap themselves around her wrists to hold her in place. Emma grits her teeth as she is forced to stretch and balance on the balls of her feet.

I circle around her, grinning at my work. A lacquered fingernail reaches out to trail along her abdomen underneath her silk blue nightgown before moving up her spine. An involuntary shiver runs through her and her golden waves of hair flow down her back as she moves her head slightly to try and see what I have planned.

"You will stand here until I say." I make my way over to my bookcase where I choose one that I know Emma will enjoy. "The Seeing Stone." I smile fondly at the memory of a young Emma with out of control curls and a bright smile immersing herself in this book for hours. "Do you remember this one?"

Emma glares at me, refusing to answer. I most admit, this punishment is rather harsh, though not unbearable, for a girl her age. I'm sure she had much practice in the Sherwood Forest as she learned to hunt and ambush. I just love watching the girl squirm every time I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

I begin to read aloud from the book, finding myself quickly being drawn in. The heat from the stoked fireplace makes me slightly drowsy as I lounge across my red silk chaise and flip the page to the next chapter.

"Ad nauseam bullshit," Emma says loud and clear. I shut the book, taking care to keep my finger on the page so I don't lose my place. The cover is a bit worn with age, but the primary colors show brightly against the soft binding. "Are some quotes coming to mind?" I quip, knowing full well what she said.

"I've read that book so many times I can recite it with my eyes closed. Can't you at least choose something a little more classical? Like Shakespeare?" Emma shifts and stretches, groaning slightly as her muscles must be starting to ache.

"I'm quite enjoying this, and this is supposed to be your punishment. So hush, will you?" I flip open the page once more and begin reading aloud again.

Emma is quiet after my comment, but I hear little gasps and hums coming from her as I pause in-between paragraphs and sentences at surprising twists and turns. No wonder she never heard me when I was speaking to her while her nose was stuck in this book. Perhaps if Mother had let me read more in my free time rather than forcing me to socialize with royals and attend dress fittings, I may have become more like Emma, whose eyes hold wonder and defiance with every new situation she is placed in.