Teaching Her

TITLE: Teaching Her
AUTHOR: Kohl
EMAIL: kohl_dreamweaver@hotmail.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Millicent Bullstrode/Hermione
SUMMARY: Written for the Roughside Slavefic FQF. Challenge #81:
Hermione is the sex slave of someone unexpected (i.e. Not Ron, Harry,
or Severus). (Selene la Luna)
NOTES: Millicent\'s POV. *word* denotes italics.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, for which they must thank their lucky stars. JK
Rowling is God.


----------------------------------------------------------------------

My next blow lands on her jaw with a crack, knocking her sideways.
She staggers for a second, braces herself with both hands on the
wall, then bulls forward at me. She\'s tired now, and miscalculating.
I easily trip her, and this time she does fall. Before she can
recover herself, I\'ve straddled her back, pinning her down. I press
my palm to the nape of her neck, keeping her in place.

\"Give up?\"

She manages to gasp out a yes, panting heavily. I grind her face
further into the carpet.

\"Wrong answer. What did I tell you? You *never* give up.\" Unable to
resist the temptation, I nip her earlobe, and lick delicately along
the shell. Her gasping has a new note in it now. I sit back. No more
of that. She hasn\'t earned it yet.

\"Ready to go again?\"

She isn\'t, but she says \'yes\' anyway. Good girl. She\'s learning. I
decide to be generous and let her up.

For a minute, we just stand and look at each other. Her face is red
and sore, but her eyes are still bright. I pride myself on this. Most
of my housemates know how to break a girl, over and over, until she
becomes a slave; it takes far more skill to keep her in subjection
whilst keeping her whole. And she is whole, my Hermione. Still the
brilliant star she always was. But she\'s addicted to me.

She takes a different approach this time, not trying to hit me, but
tackling me bodily and pinning my arms to my sides. She hasn\'t the
momentum to knock me over, but she is tenacious, and while I struggle
to free myself her legs tangle with mine as she tries desperately to
trip me. I always find it more difficult to fight when we\'re like
this, her body pressed close against mine, a promise of what is yet
to come. It reminds me of the very first time we met, her unwilling
struggles as I sought to master her. Does she know what she did to me
then? Does she know what it does to me now, knowing that she throws
herself against me willingly? Maybe. I\'m not the only one who knows
how to manipulate. I\'d be sorely disappointed in her if I was.

Finally, I manage to hook a leg around hers and push forward, using
my superior weight to knock her off balance. We drop to the floor
still locked together, and her face contorts for a moment in pain as
she breaks my fall. She doesn\'t cry out; I\'ve taught her that screams
encourage an opponant, and besides, if she lets all her breath out
she\'s more likely to be winded. There are tears in her eyes, but she
doesn\'t let go of me, instead rocking from side to side in an attempt
to roll us over. She has both her legs locked around one of mine,
hampering me. This close, I can smell her sweat and the tang of mint
on her breath, feel her racing heartbeat in her breast, her nipples
pressing up through the thin material of her blouse. Time to stop
playing fair. I fasten my mouth to the side of her neck, sucking
hard. She tries to resist it, and I feel her muscles tense around me
as she fights the mingled pain and pleasure of the sensation, but her
arms spasm just a little and it\'s all I need. I free myself from her
grasp and clamp my hands around her wrists, pinning them to the floor
by her sides.

I push myself up a little, putting more pressure on her, admiring the
purple bruise on her neck as it throbs with her pulse. Her legs are
still locked together, pulling me down so that our stomachs are
flush. I relax, trying to put her off guard, then jerk my knee
sharply upwards. It\'s not the movement she was expecting; it slams
into her crotch, and this time she does scream. I straddle her,
sitting across the top of her thighs to force her legs down. She\'s
biting her lip, trying to control herself again, her eyes squeezed
tightly shut and tears leaking out from under the lids. I lean
forward, pulling her arms up over her head as I do so, and lick them
off. Her eyelashes flutter helplessly against my mouth, oddly tender.
Half a kiss.

I let go of her arms, but she doesn\'t move them.

\"Will you submit to me now?\"

\"Yes, mistress.\"

I backhand her, viciously.

\"Do not call me that. Do not submit. *Fight*.\"

At first I think I may finally have gone to far, but although her
face is still turned sideways, away from me, her hands come up,
groping blindly for my throat. I lean in towards her ear, nearly
choking on the thumbs pressed into my windpipe, seeing stars and
feeling faint as she tries to push me away from her.

\"That\'s my girl.\"

She\'s weakened since I first arrived tonight, and I break her
chokehold without any great difficulty. Holding both her hands away
from me with one of mine, I trail the other down her side, and then
up, over her chest. She whimpers and bucks her hips, trying to shift
me, but I won\'t budge. Leisurely, I knead one of her breasts over her
shirt, feeling the nipple bud against my palm even as she kicks her
legs and drums her heels against the floor in a futile attempt to
dislodge me. Slowly, I unbutton the blouse and pull it open. She
hasn\'t worn a bra. She flushes dark as I study her, and squirms again
as I pinch one of her nipples, hard.

\"Not bad. Not bad at all.\"

She never knows how I\'ll play this scenario. Sometimes hard and fast,
sometimes slow and teasing. All she knows is that she must fight. And
lose.

I let her wrists go, and immediately she begins raining blows on my
face, my chest, anywhere she can reach. I ignore them as best I can,
trying not to flinch as I methodically divest her of her blouse. Then
I grip her shoulders, hard, and turn her over so that she\'s lying on
her stomach. I pull her arms up tight behind her, and tie them with
her discarded shirt. She struggles, trying to keep her wrists apart
and create some slack, but I\'m wise to her - she won\'t get away with
that this time.

I roll her over again, and she winces and arches her back, trying to
keep from lying on her tied hands. I don\'t envy her the pins and
needles she\'s going to get in that position. I straddle her legs
again, sitting just above her knees so that she effectively can\'t
move. Then I catch her eye and hold it as I hike her skirt up with
one hand and reach up underneath it with the other.

I press my palm over her for a minute, simply holding. She\'s wet
already, dampening her ridiculously wholesome white cotton knickers.
Teasingly, I rub my thumb over her clit, and down until it presses
against her entrance. Her eyes, very wide, are still on mine; her
lips are parted. I pull the cotton to one side and touch her
directly, rubbing her hard and fast. I know that\'s not how she likes
it - the gasps that are coming now are as much pain as pleasure, and
her struggles are genuine. So much the better. With my other hand, I
thrust into her with my first two fingers, and she throws her head
back, her eyes screwed close again. I smirk, thinking what people
would say if they could see their precious Head Girl now, and quicken
the pace of my strokes.

When I pinch her clit with one hand and push three fingers into her
with the other, the sudden increase in stimulation is too much for
her, and she comes, screaming my name as she clenches around my
fingers over and over again. When she looks up at me, there\'s fear
written on her face - sometimes I punish her for that. But tonight
I\'m in a generous mood.

\"So, you liked that, did you?\"

I can see the frenzied calculation in her eyes - what answer do I
want? Finally she gasps out \"No!\"

\"That\'s good,\" I say, pulling my skirt up so that she can see I\'ve
gone commando, before moving to sit over her face, \"because you\'re
going to like this even less.\"

END