The Whipping Girl Chapter 4 up!

Wow, thanks for the birthday wishes!!! Also the review are very nice too. I am taking my first crack at REALLY writing Lucius, he is such a bastard, so hopefully Chapter 3 will be lovely.


Enjoy.







Hermione sat on the bed that looked like it belonged it a dated romance novel. It was king sized and had green silk covers and a half a dozen pillows in varying designs. It must be annoying to have so many pillows to remove and replace. Oh right, the Elf probably does that. How typical.

Hermione searched through the drawers and found a half-empty pack of Muggle Cuban cigars, and a box of matches. On the top of the dresser sat a silver tray with a bottle of the finest firewhiskey and two glasses. Malfoy certainly enjoyed his vices, but that was no surprise.

Hermione popped one of the cigars and cut the tip. Her father use to smoke cigars, probably still did, somewhere in Australia. Hermione lit the match and drew the smoke into her mouth, savoring the taste before exhaling. She poured herself a glass of the whiskey and walked to the French doors that opened to the balcony.

She was not a fool anymore. She knew the Muggle story of the Whipping Boy. She was to be kept in the lap of luxury and for everyone of Draco’s failings, she would be abused. Why not take advantage of luxury since she was guaranteed the pain. Hermione pushed open the balcony and leaned over the railing, taking another puff. She blew the smoke inside the glass of firewhiskey and drank it down. It burned as it made its path through her throat, but she began to feel better.

“No, don’t jump!” Draco’s voice rang out from the bedroom and he suddenly grabbed her arm, pulling her back from the edge. His hands burned into her flesh and she flicked her eyes upwards at him in cold amusement. Draco looked at the cigar and the glass of firewhiskey and he sighed.

He dropped her arms as if she was on fire and took a step back from her. “I didn’t know you smoked,” Draco muttered running a hand through his hair absently.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” pointed out Hermione. Her voice sounded husky from the whiskey and he felt his cock get hard just hearing that roughness in her voice. Hermione took another drag off the cigar and offered it to Draco.

He took the cigar from her and puffed expertly on it. His eyes became half-mast with lazy appreciation as he studied her covertly. She had really transformed into a beautiful woman.

“So, you let my father buy you? I never thought that you were so cheap, Granger,” questioned Draco, as he put a distance between them, concealing his erection.

“I didn’t. The Warden from Azkaban gave me to him,” Hermione said quietly, her eyes widen slightly as she recalls the three years spent there.

“Azkaban? With the other Mudblood captives? You look fine, you don’t look bad at all,” sputtered Draco, clearly shocked.

“You didn’t see me earlier; I wager you wouldn’t have recognized me. I am surprised your father did,” responded Hermione, with a cool shake of her head.

“Was it bad?” Draco wanted to snatch back the concern that seeped into his voice, but Hermione glanced at him suspiciously. She probably thought he was being sadistic.

“Well, I didn’t catch any diseases, if that is what you mean,” Hermione frowned. “Although I will admit, being fucked by multiple partners twelve times a day tends to wear on the hardiest of dispositions,” murmured Hermione sarcastically.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione sighed, and cursed her moment of self-pity that caused that outburst. She turned away from Draco and stared up at the night sky.

Draco tried to imagine all the bastards doing those things to the vibrant, know-it-all girl he once knew, but could not imagine. Hermione did not look like a know-it-all Gryffindor now, she just looked tired. As though life had beat the stuffing out of her and nothing bothered her anymore. Draco could not rescue her if she was already lost. It broke something painfully inside him to see her like this. He could only guess that insanity caused his next move.

Draco grabbed her wrist and whirled her around to press against him, his mouth descended tenderly upon her lips and she gasped in shock at his slow, torturous sweet exploration of her mouth. He was treating her like a girl, not a whore.

His tongue teased at her own, begging entrance and she opened her mouth, more out of shock then anything else. His eyes were slammed shut, and she could feel his breath mingling with her own, fresh and clean. So unlike the monsters that raped her for the last three years.

Her knees buckled and she felt her stomach drop painfully in excitement. Draco’s arms tightened around her and they seemed to promise that he would never let her go. How many hours had she fantasized in that hellhole that he would rescue her? It was beyond foolish, but she was entitled to her dreams.

The urge to cry struck raw at her; the painful sweetness of his mouth was hurting her worse then if he had raped her. Why was he being so gentle? Why couldn’t he hurt her? She did not need hope; she did not want to care! Draco tasted a salty substance catch on his tongue and his eyes opened in shock.

Hermione’s eyes were brimming with tears, and they were steadily dripping off her face. Draco’s eyes widened and he wiped the offending liquid from her cheeks with his thumb tenderly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Hermione,” Draco uttered softly, his gray eyes stormy.

Hermione gasped, as she struggled to breath against the crushing anguish in her chest. Draco was staring at her bewildered by her actions, his cold gray eyes filled with concern. Hermione exhaled slowly and she stared hard across at him.

“You are playing with me, Draco. It is not very nice. Let’s just fuck and get it over with if that is what you want,” snarled Hermione, and pushed herself back from the balcony.

She strode towards him and she ripped off the dress robes that clung to her naked body beneath. The silky material fell to the floor and Draco felt a weakness in his knees now. Hermione Granger was bucked naked, her body soft and supple. Her curves teased at his senses, the inviting cleft between legs glistened from her arousal.

“No, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” whispered Draco, after finally finding his voice.

“Is it because you remembered I am a whore?” Hermione recoiled from him in shocked pain and she pushed past him into the bedroom, suddenly ashamed by her nakedness.

Draco grabbed her, panicked by her sudden pained expression and pulled her close to him. “No, you could never be a whore to me, Mione’. You were my first, and I will never forget that,” Draco gently stroked her cheek and Hermione cursed the sudden burn of her throat closing up.

Hermione could not look him in the face, shame seemed to flush her skin and Draco could feel heat radiating off her soft white skin. Draco took a deep breath. He could smell the distinct female scent of Hermione, tickling under his nose. Hermione could feel her heart pound heavily as Draco closed the distance between them.

“I looked for you,” whispered Draco against her bowed head. His hot breath tickled against her neck sending a pulse of pleasure between her legs. “I tried to find you, to save you from Voldemort.” Hermione gasped; shocked by the pain his words caused her.

“You helped them, without Dumbledore we never stood a chance,” Hermione’s words came out fast almost broken sounding. She was having difficulty breathing as Draco held her encircled in his arms, his lips pressed into her hair. “You are a Deatheater Draco, why would you look for me,” whimpered Hermione, her eyes closed.

“Because I did not want you hurt, Mione,” Draco teased at the side of her throat with his nose, and Hermione sighed softly with pleasure at his gentle caress. His words melted her cold reserve and broke down her defenses.

“Draco, please,” whimpered Hermione, her heart fluttered and she trembled in his arms.

Draco dipped low and kissed her lips softly. He moved on to rain tiny kisses on the pulse of her neck, her eyebrow, her nose, her cheekbones, before he settled on her collarbone. Hermione arched her toes and pressed against him. Draco groaned and gathered closer to him, his arm swung behind her knees and he lifted her into his arms. Hermione held him about the neck as he carried her gently to the bed.

Draco laid her out on the bed, his hands moving to caress her feet first. His fingers knead into her arch and her heel of both feet, while Hermione lay back onto the pillows, her hair spilling about in a glorious array. Hermione drew up her legs, and Draco crawled further on the bed, kissing her ankle, worshiping her calves, knees and thighs.

Hermione gasped and cried out as his hands suddenly gripped her knees and spread her wide to his view. He felt rock hard as he stared at her perfect pink folds, her tiny nub glistened with her juices. Her belly curved slightly, leading up to her ribcage and the glorious breasts that he recalled from his youth.

“You are a goddess, Mione,” Draco whispered hoarsely as his long slender fingers trailed up to pull on a soft pink nipple that was puckered and she sobbed with pleasure from his teasing. He leaned down and buried his face inside her warmth, his tongue lapped at her exquisite folds, hungrily licking and sucking at her clit. Her clear juices ran down her slit, coating her hot pink hole and Draco, dove his tongue inside.

She tasted sweet and clean, and he could feel her heart beat a tattoo against his mouth as he devoured her. Hermione arched and gasped, her response was beautiful, she looked wild with need when he finally raised his head, his eyes dark with passion and need. She looked, just as he remembered, but edgier, hungrier, as though he was her lifeline at this exact moment, and that perhaps maybe she would die without him.

That look broke through all his resolve and he slid off his pants, his hand moving down to stroke at his cock, pumping in from the base, already it glistened at the tip, almost as though it was calling to its mate. That inviting wet center sang to him and he rose up to climb on top of her, pressing his cock between her legs, the head pressed through gently, and Hermione could feel her sheath opening up and stretch to accommodate his girth.

She clasped his back and pulled his beautiful mouth down on her own. Her tongue delving inside to match the rhythm of his cock pumping inside her moist pussy. Draco groaned against her mouth, feeling the heat rise and he felt as though they were a match burning on both ends, coming to the middle to explode.

Every pitch and thrust of her hips, Draco drove down to thrust harder and faster inside. Hermione began to beg and whimper against his mouth and he responded with a harder thrust until she broke over him in orgasm. Hermione dug in her nails and howled in pleasure as he continued to thrust inside as she came under him.

Draco pistoned inside her, he could feel her walls soaking his cock, clenching tightly and he knew he was not going to last. He panted and bucked up rapidly, tearing through her, as he claimed and marked her neck. He jerked up inside her, his silver eyes molten with frantic lust, as he finally exploded inside of her womb.

Draco moaned softly as he finished, Hermione covered his mouth, her tongue lashing against his own as she felt his cum dripping from her pussy, soaking them both as they clutched each other in a sweaty, but tender embrace. Draco finally rolled off her and Hermione closed her eyes as he drew up a sheet over them. Hermione felt years rolling off her as Draco’s embrace replaced the worst of her memories. Draco was quiet as he rolled over on his side, facing her.

“Thank you,” Draco murmured quietly, his eyes riveted on her face.

“For what? A shag?” Hermione gave a pained laugh. “It’s my job.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and he actually looked angry for a moment. “You cum for all the guys that you shag?” he demanded.

Hermione shrugged noncommittally back at him, trying desperately to reassemble her armor.

Draco sat up, his beautiful face mottled with rage, “I am not a job. You can fuck me or not. However, do not ever cheapen it. NOT with me,” Draco shook her shoulders suddenly.

Hermione tensed. “It has to be a job Draco. It can never be any more then that for me. Don’t you understand? I do not know what you thought was happening but I am a slave. Your father will probably be fucking by sundown tomorrow. You just got first crack, remember? It was nice having someone I actually like being with for a change. That is it. Now, you should leave, a Malfoy would never sleep with a servant, how beneath you,” whispered Hermione coldly.

Draco felt the truth of her words and they fell on his shoulders like a tone of bricks. What happened to staying detached? If he tried to push his father into releasing Hermione, then he would ask things of him. Deatheater things that would prevent him from helping the Order take down Voldemort.

If Hermione could hold out, maybe he could have both. He longed to promise that his filthy father would never touch her but he could not guarantee anything. The pain from the thought of that was agonizing. Draco stood up from the bed suddenly.

Hermione rolled over away from him, her eyes closed and a tear trickled down her face, as Draco fisted his hands and slammed out the door naked.



“It’s not real, it’s not real... it’s not real,” whispered Hermione, as she drew up her knees, shivering in the lonely bed.









TBC


Did I say angst? Oh yes, since it’s my 30th birthday Sunday, I know a lot about angst. Ugh.


Please read and review. I am feeling a strong muse on this one.


Toodles.

Reirei.