Sweet Troubled Soul Part One
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
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10,267
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4
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
10,267
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Sweet Troubled Soul
Title: Sweet Troubled Soul (1/3)
Author:
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: PWP…pure smut.
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, Femdom, CBT, BDSM, Anal, Oral, and probably some others I cannot remember how to abbreviate.
Summary: Hermione has won the latest round of “Who is the Superior Libertine,” and she is collecting her reward from her competitor…Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes: Okay…this is my first try at Femdom flavored fiction, so don’t hate me too much. I should warn readers that if you are uncomfortable with Femdom play, the so-called ‘bend over boyfriend’ scenario…you will not want to read this fic. AND, I have been urged to continue this a bit...yes, your wish is my command... The title (which I finally decided upon) is the title of an awesome song by one of my favorite bands...Stellastarr*. Otherwise, enjoy, and remember positive crit is warmly welcomed!
NOTE!!! Part Two is a HG/SS fic, and can be found under that category! Cheers!
Sweet Troubled Soul
She kept glancing over her shoulder, noting the light of a new day’s sun beginning to creep across the marble floor and closer to her toes curled into the sheep skin rug at the side of the bed. The sunlight would eventually illuminate the bed, and the body that laid with its back to her, across the bed with only a rumpled white sheet covering the lower half a male form.
She kept glancing over her shoulder just to see his shoulders shift as he breathed deeply in his sleep and the rippling of muscles under scarred skin. Those scars were a hideous reminder of a time she could only hope to forget…and she felt a bit bitter that he would not claim remember those times at all. In her internal dialogues she would whisper: “Oh, how wonderful to be mad.”
She glanced away and leaned forward so that her bare backside was barely resting upon the edge of the plush mattress. Reaching for the brown wrapped cigarillo resting in the notch of a dirty glass ashtray, she magicked the end lit without taking up her wand and soon she could no longer smell the scent of sex, only a mixture of tobacco and cloves. She knew that his keen nose would wake him, but she did not care too much. Inhaling the smooth smoke, she exhaled through her nose in two bluish streams of scented aroma. She wanted a shower, a bite of something substantial, and then a long sleep in bed, alone.
“Put that bloody thing out, Granger,” he growled, shifting slightly so that his body was poised facedown, silver hair falling across the pillows like liquid platinum. She glanced back at him with a scowl and quickly snubbed the crooked filtered cigarillo out. It was clear that the alcohol he had consumed had worn off and his general foul mood had returned upon his waking.
“Are you staying the day?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow pressed against his face.
It was a question he always asked the morning after…
“No,” she said softly, somewhat annoyed that her need for a bit of a morning nicotine pick-me-up had ruined the peaceful silence of his sleeping. Now that he was awake, she could no longer admire how he slept…in sleep, Draco Malfoy was like a fallen angel of light and purity. Awake, however, the madness, the darkness and all the things that made Draco Malfoy, bastard extraordinaire, was blindingly visible.
Everyone hated Draco Malfoy, everyone being his family, his business associates, and old schoolmates, past lovers and freed house elves. However, when anyone asked Hermione Granger what she thought of Draco Malfoy, the only reply a person would receive would be an indifferent shrug. When pressed, Hermione Granger would admit to Draco’s brilliant madness, business savvy, and to only a few of those truly curious, his sexual prowess.
Publicly, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were business rivals. Privately, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were rivals of another sort. In business, it did not matter one bit who had made the better profit or if the Muggles bought or sold their shares. But privately, they played a game in which the “winner” meant “superior” and for some reason or another, Hermione Granger had never given up proving that she, a Muggle-born witch, was superior in wit, competence and power to a Pureblooded wizard…perhaps the most prolific Pureblood in Britain, Draco Malfoy.
The games varied, but the theme was the same. Who could woo, and bed the most prolific, the most scandalous, the richest, or the best loved figure in Wizarding Britain. Points were awarded for various displays and acts, and in the end, whoever won the game was allowed a reward from the one who had lost.
This was the third time Hermione had won.
The game had gone thus: Hermione was to bed Percy Weasley, the youngest Chief Warlock in Wizengamot history. Draco Malfoy was to work on wooing Percy’s wife of ten years, the devout and the “far more clever than she looks” Penelope Weasley nee Clearwater. In a game of flirtation, insinuation, flattery and wanton displays of sexual need, Hermione won by a landslide by bedding a very amorous Percy, finding herself a bit overwhelmed by his passionate lovemaking. It was apparent that fidelity meant chastity to Penelope Weasley. Hermione was delighted by Percy’s sudden turn from self-restraint to debauchery. Passion suited Percy and Hermione wondered if she had to let liaisons with Percy Weasley become a fond memory…like a few others she had had to tempt into promiscuity for her own gains.
Her reward: Bedding Draco Malfoy in a manner in which she desired. Humiliating Draco Malfoy had always been her goal, but the night before was the first time she had allowed herself to dare humiliate him sexually. Of the past two times of winning at Draco Malfoy’s games, Hermione had asked for only material rewards, the first being the buyout of an Australian wholesaler of rare herbs, which was Malfoy’s main foothold in the south. The second reward had been access to the Malfoy archives, a compendium of Dark texts that had escaped the scrutiny of the Ministry before and during the War.
It had been after an evening with Percy Weasley that Hermione named her terms, if Draco should lose. Just before pushing Percy Weasley to betray his wife, Hermione came to the conclusion that even though she was winning this round of the game, she had had just about every prolific male in Wizarding society, bar Severus Snape who constituted scandal, and Draco Malfoy…the most eligible and most handsome bachelor in society. Granted, Hermione had many plans and ideas for the now reclusive Severus Snape, she wanted to have a taste of her rival for the sake of satiating her curiosity. It was no secret among the ladies, young and old, or Wizarding Britain that Draco Malfoy was far more talented in attracting the eye than his father…and supposedly was far more endowed in the arts of love making than Lucius Malfoy could have ever dreamed to be… And so, Hermione wanted to know…and finally prove to her rival that she was to be respected, feared and loved by even the Pureblooded sensibilities of a man who was not her superior and perhaps her equal.
Hermione and Draco’s continuing game of “one upping” the other lent to many nights spent in each other’s company…whether at the Manor in Wiltshire or at Hermione’s lavish townhouse in London. The companionship that had developed had also lent to subtle insinuations, blatant flirting, as well as many witty retorts and well phrased insults. But it was those conversations, glances, and playful touches as they lounged about their respective homes that had perhaps fueled a mutual regard. They had agreed never to fall in love with any of their conquests and most important of all: each other.
Draco, as far as Hermione knew, had won the hidden heart of Ginny Weasley (soon to be Potter), Luna Lovegood (much to the surprise of Hermione and apparent disgust of Malfoy), Katie Bell-Flint (far too easy, it seemed), and Cho Chang. There were a handful of others that were challenge at all, all now embittered by Draco’s lack of care or interest. Hermione had only lost money when all was said and done, and her modesty. She had become wanton…and proud.
And now she finally had undeniable power over Draco Malfoy…
Finding her wand among a tangle of clothing, Hermione cast a quick cleansing charm over her skin and hair, standing before the large window in Draco’s bedroom, the sun now beating down on her golden skin. With a sigh and another flick of her wand, she donned her clothing, quickly mending the rip up the side of her dress and forgoing the torn stockings, vanishing them quickly. Glancing over her shoulder once more, Hermione found Draco watching her, the sheet sliding over his thigh as he lay on his back, his jutting morning erection pointing toward her like a beckoning finger.
“What?” she asked lazily, slowly looking away and about the marble floor for her shoes.
“Why the rush?” he asked in return, his voice husky and enticing.
“It is Saturday morning, and I have work to look over, a house to manage, a summer solstice gala to oversee and much more that I really don’t want to think about right now…” she rattled off.
“Your assistants are doing that, Granger. Come back to bed.”
Hermione stood very still. She never would have imagined Draco, of all people, to ask her to come back to bed…
“It is daybreak, Malfoy,” she sighed, tucking her wand under her arm to pull her hair back from her face and up into a makeshift knot.
When her male companion did not reply, Hermione glanced over her shoulder again, her eyes suddenly riveted on the scene of a supine Draco Malfoy stroking himself while using his other hand to beckon her with a wagging finger.
Scenes of the night before flitted through Hermione’s brain and before she could consciously react, she felt her thighs begin to rub together and the dampness of her center begin to be the foremost sensation in her mind. She turned to face him and the massive platform that Draco Malfoy called a bed, which was swathed in white and ivory sheets and pillows. Plain crates served as side tables, oddly misplaced in a room with a titanic bed, jade marble floors, cream velvet papered walls and large windows that overlooked the brown-green roll of heath and plain of Wiltshire outside. And only the night before the room had been bathed in the light of dozens of floating candles, adding to the warm ambience of sex, sweat and the slap of skin against skin. They had collapsed, drunk and exhausted, and now as Draco smirked, quirking his pale lips, Hermione felt her knees begin to tremble.
Hermione sighed and tried to arrange her face to appear disinterested, but she stumbled toward the bed as if Imperio’d. Slowly she moved to kneel at the foot of the bed, far enough away so that Malfoy could not touch her, but close enough that Hermione could see the tiny beads of sweat gathering just at Malfoy’s brow.
“Is there something you needed, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice impassive, and bored, but her center aching as she watched the velvety skin of his shaft roll over the glans and then back down again, giving Hermione a small peek at the pearl drop of pre-cum glinting on the reddish head of his cock.
“I hate to ask a favor, Granger…” he breathed, his voice deep, “because we both know that if I ask a favor then you’ll feel obliged to do the same…and then a vicious cycle would…start,” Draco panted, his lips trembling slightly as his grip tightened. “But you’re the only one who can assist me at the moment…”
Hermione smirked. “It looks as though you have a firm handle on the situation, Malfoy.”
His eyes flashed in mirth, but no laugh passed his haughty lips, only a low and frustrated moan.
“Granger…”
“Yes, Malfoy?” she asked, her mouth dry as she watched the muscles in his stomach tighten.
“Pull the skirt of that dress up a bit…” he breathed, his body stiffening, his eyes threatening to slam shut.
Hermione nearly groaned at the sight of him, and suddenly sub vocalized a spell, which made Draco Malfoy grunt and nearly yell. His hands were forced off his jutting cock and bound by invisible fetters above his head. Draco’s eyes flashed in the early morning sunlight and he writhed upon the sheets, his legs stiffening and pale, hairless chest heaving. Hermione found herself grinning maliciously, moving to crawl the distance between where she had been sitting and where Draco lay exposed. She crawled up his legs to kneel just at his knees.
“I thought we had agreed to no magic, Granger, besides a contraception spell?” Draco snarled, quickly breaking free from the spell that bound him. However, before he could consider either throwing Hermione off his legs or deriding her verbally, she lifted the short skirt of her little black dress thus rendering Draco Malfoy still as if struck by a Pertrificus Totalus.
A moment passed and Hermione could not help but feel a surge of power course through her body, heightening her own arousal. Slowly, breaking through Hermione’s spell, Draco’s hands moved down his body, his left hand taking hold of his straining cock and his right running across his left nipple. Tongue snaking out to wet his lips, Hermione could take no more, her blood demanding that she act.
With a gentle slap, Hermione took Draco’s prick in her hand, her small hand just fitting about the girth. A groan passed from his mouth and she began stroking him, wrist moving just the way she had seen his move, applying steady pressure as she rolled his skin over the head of his cock.
“Yes…very good…” he moaned, his pale lashes fluttering downwards so that his silvery eyes shut tight, his brow furrowing.
Hermione frowned and halted her ministrations, her hand tight around the base of his thick cock. It did not take a moment that Draco’s silver eyes were upon her again, questioning.
“Look at me, Malfoy,” she muttered, her own eyes narrowing.
His eyes were liquid mercury…swirling with something akin to emotion, but what emotion that was, Hermione did not know. All she did know was that by forcing him to watch her masturbate him, Draco Malfoy could not block her out and perhaps replace her visage with one more pleasing to his mind and body. No, it would be she that would make him beg her to impale herself upon him, it would be she that he would call out for, it would be she that left him spent and quivering with sated exhaustion.
He tensed and Hermione felt his cock jerk in her hand, she did not want him to lose control yet…
Tongue swiping slightly swollen lips, Hermione leaned forward so that her damp lips rubbed the sticky pre-cum about the head of his cock, making him groan and grip her shoulders as if to pull her closer or to push her away. Opening her lips, her tongue darted out to taste him, her eyes watching his face contort at the simplest of actions.
“Granger…” he groaned as her mouth descended around his straining cock, engulfing him in a warm, wet cavern of suction and pulsating tongue… She swallowed at his flesh, the pre-cum slightly bitter, his skin salty. Moving her tongue and suckling, Hermione could feel the subtle movements and twitches of Draco’s cock pulsating in her mouth. The sound of his pleasure was gasoline on her already smoldering arousal. And when his moans turned into throaty whines, she felt his hands pushing at her shoulders, pushing her back so that his cock left her mouth with a slight pop.
Draco was panting, his hands quivering as they fell to his straining member, taking it in hand. Hermione smirked, leaning forward so that her hands fell to either side of Draco’s shoulders, holding herself above him. He gazed up at her face, her hair falling about her like a curtain of caramel.
“Think you’re so bad…Granger?” Draco breathed, recovering himself enough to reach upward and wipe a bit more of his pre-cum over her pouty lips.
Hermione chuckled, taking Draco forefinger between her teeth and applying a bit of pressure so that he winced.
“I am,” she whispered after releasing his fine boned digit. “Let me show you…”
A silvery eyebrow cocked at the haughty words and the shimmer of fire in amber eyes. Hermione sat back on Draco’s knees, pulling her dress up over her body, throwing the mass of fabric back to where it had lain when she had awoke…on the floor. Throwing back her head, Hermione moved her hips forward, still cased in a pair of sheer black underwear, until her pubis was just below Draco’s sac.
Again, Draco found his hands forced above his head, the twinkle of fire in Hermione’s eye a sign of her magic…strong, refined, and if another test, unbreakable. Draco swallowed thickly, his chest jutting upward. Hermione hummed deep in her throat, running her hands down Draco’s chest, nails biting into his sides leaving pink trails behind.
“Let me show you, my dear Mr. Malfoy…” she whispered, her left hand moving to grasp the base of her lover’s cock and her right to grasp his sac. With a rough squeeze, Draco groaned, his face contorting.
“B-bitch!” he stuttered, struggling against his invisible fetters.
Hermione grinned, releasing his cock, and with a speed that frightened Draco Malfoy to the very core, he was slapped roughly across the face. He was seeing spots before his eyes, his nose crammed against his right forearm from the force of the strike.
“That was not very nice, Mr. Malfoy…or very wise…” Hermione grit out.
Draco hissed, his eyes burning into Hermione’s. But the most humiliating thing, the thing that had not went unnoticed from the siren sitting upon his thighs, was the violent twitch of his cock. He could not be any harder, and although he could taste just a bit of blood in his mouth, he said nothing in retort.
Hermione smirked, taking Draco’s prick in her hand again, grasping the base with painful pressure. “Oh the things I would love to do to you, Mr. Malfoy…” she breathed, moving her hand up and down his engorged cock, her own sex soaking through the sheer fabric and dampening Draco’s sac.
Draco swallowed roughly, his mouth open so that he panted. “And…and what sort of things would you like to do, Granger?”
She stopped stroking for a moment and met his eyes. “Would you like to find out?”
Draco hesitated. He could always have his way with the witch later, claiming it was fair play… It was had always been the ‘eye for an eye’ credo between the two of them. Not to mention that Draco had an idea that Hermione Granger had a bit of know-how when it came to dominating men…and he had never indulged in letting any woman dominate him…he could not think of any women who had enough courage to approach him in that way…no one besides Hermione Granger.
“Show me,” he said thickly, his intonation tinged with what Hermione interpreted as a dare…
Oh yes…Draco Malfoy was daring her to take the upper hand, daring her to show him that she could reduce him into a quivering mass of sex and cum…
“You asked for it, Mr. Malfoy, do not forget that…”
Draco opened his mouth to answer, but found himself being pulled to his feet and off the bed. His hands were suddenly free, and only a second of thought to escaping crossed his mind. Hermione, on the other hand, retrieved her wand and began transfiguring the room, charming the drapes shut, transforming the bed into what Draco recognized as a wooden X-cross…a Saint Andrew’s cross, if he remembered correctly. He had remembered auctioning off his father’s version of the torture device several years ago, after cleaning out the Malfoy Manor dungeons. He knew how it could be used, but as Hermione moved quickly, conjuring a table laden with coils of rope, crops, whips and other devices that Draco did not want to think about penetrating his body, he began to feel his apprehension grow.
“Accio…” Hermione hissed, and Draco found himself sliding magically across the room and closer to the wooden cross.
“Granger, this is…” he muttered as his arms and legs were shackled to the device and his body opened to whatever designs the woman might have. When Draco studied Hermione, he found himself still wanting to touch her…to have her touch him…
So he stood, his taut and bare body exposed to his rival and lover, waiting to be touched.
“One word, and I will stop…you asked for this, but I will stop if you say ‘niffler,’ and I will Obliviate this encounter from your mind,” Hermione said quietly, moving so close to Draco, her body bare except for the damp sheer knickers, that he could feel her heat against his skin. “Do you understand?”
The room was darkened by the drapes over the windows, but still, in the gray light, he could see Hermione’s fiery eyes. He nodded his understanding and leaned out from the rough wood against his back, but as Hermione stepped back, her bare feet making no sound against the marble floor, Draco watched as she moved her wand with a cutting gesture through the air.
With a gasp, the cross that bound Draco moved…and he was laying atop the X-cross now floating in the air horizontally, he could not avoid pressing his skin against the rough grain of the wood now.
Above his body, candles appeared and lit, making Draco narrow his eyes slightly, and turn his head to look at the woman who had him at her mercy. She was breathing roughly, not out of exertion, but out of desire. When she noticed Draco’s cool gaze upon her, she smiled, genuinely smiled.
“Are you surprised, Mr. Malfoy?”
“Why do you keep calling me that, Granger?” he breathed, testing his physical restraints, finding them secure and not too comfortable.
“It is your name…isn’t it?”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“And I don’t like you well enough to call you by your first name, besides, you always call me Granger…”
Draco’s eyes widened as with one hand Hermione gathered a coil of rope, hemp by the looks of it and dyed a color that did not lose its significance on Draco…Gryffindor red. Stretched out the coil on her hand, Hermione waved her wand over the scarlet cord, and Draco could not help but repress a shudder as the rope seemed to take on a life of its own, moving on its own volition like a snake and uncoiling from Hermione’s hand.
“What are you…” Draco began as the rope slithered toward him atop the floating X-cross. He said nothing, holding his breath as the rope reared upwards between his legs, the braided tip of the rope curling like the head of a cobra to look at him.
Hermione stepped closer to Draco’s exposed side. Her eyes were shimmering and she grinned as the rope moved with lightning speed and Draco groaned his surprise as the rope wrapped around the base of his balls, constricting his comfort, but not pinching or cutting off circulation entirely. He was panting as the length of rope moved under the cross and wrapped about his chest.
“This rigging is designed to hurt you if you should struggle too much, Mr. Malfoy. The rope about your chest is cinched so that if your body should flail or you arch too much from the cross, the slack between your chest and your balls with tighten, thus pulling your balls uncomfortably…keep that in mind, Mr. Malfoy…” Hermione said calmly, her hand moving over his chest with ghostly caresses. The cross floated as high as her hips, and Draco caught the sight of dampness leaking from between her legs and down the insides of her thighs.
Draco tested his new bondage by breathing deeply and arching so that his shoulders came up off the cross. He winced…the rope wrapped around his balls moving slightly so that his sac was stretched. It would not do to have rope burn around his dangly bits, he thought. He let his head fall back between the crossing arms and sighed shallowly. He knew his cock was throbbing and standing upright like an entity of its own. And now Granger was moving back to the table she had cleverly conjured…what had he gotten himself into?
When Hermione returned, stepping into the halo of candlelight over the X-cross, Draco tensed his body and held his breath. He was expecting to be caned, whipped even, but when Hermione stepped in between his legs, gazing at his painfully erect penis, he did not expect the woman to take his cock into her mouth. He shouted at the initial sensation, the hot cavern of Hermione Granger’s mouth opening to take his entire length. He wanted to cum, he wanted loose from his bonds, and he wanted to punish the witch for denying him the power to take control of the situation.
Hermione pulled away, a string of saliva stretching from the tip of his cock to her lips. She hummed her pleasure, her eyes hooded and her breath hitching slightly. Draco opened his mouth to speak, almost to say the word to stop this torture, but he could not make a sound. Pushing her long, luxurious hair over one bare shoulder, Hermione muttered a spell that caused Draco to gasp…his insides tingling, and then Hermione took him into her mouth again.
It was almost too much, and Draco found himself arching and panting automatically…the rope pulling his balls to send little waves of pleasurable pain up his spine to his brain. He could not think of the anatomical reactions clearly, but it was a new experience.
Then, beyond the suction of Hermione Granger’s gorgeous mouth, the tugging on his balls, Draco felt another sensation, alien and slightly alarming…
He moaned as he felt a cool, wet digit swirl around the edges of his ass, the light caress making him jerk. He could just feel a gloved hand under his aching sac, and he could just feel the cool slather of lube on the underside of his ass cheeks. Her small hand was massaging his perineum, the underside of his sac and then the tight pucker of his ass. He could not speak, could not protest as he felt the digit push inwards and into his passage.
“Grang…” he started, but could not finish as the sensation of pressure gave way to more ripples of pleasure.
Hermione pulled her mouth away with a large gasp. She was positively drunk with what she was doing, her gloved forefinger halfway down to the second knuckle in Draco Malfoy’s luscious ass and his body powerless to stop it. His head was resting against his upper arm instead of falling between the cross arms, his long silvery hair hanging almost to the floor. His muscular chest was rippling, the rope tightening and loosening, tugging at his balls which was slightly red from the motion. She had made sure that he would not truly be hurt…Merlin forbid she damage the Malfoy heir making equipment…
Adding a second slick finger, Hermione grasped his erection and tugged slightly, eliciting a strangled groan from the patrician throat of the most eligible Pureblood in all of Britain. She could feel her body react to Draco’s voice and as she began thrusting her fingers in and out of his ass, not too deeply, not to hard, but increasing speed with every pant that came from his body.
He was not protesting, and as Hermione pushed a little deeper, stretching his ass and nudging a spot that caused Draco to arch violently. The prostate… His cock twitched, so engorged and so painfully hard that Draco’s mouth was moving to beg the witch to suck him off.
She began massaging his prostate, alternating curling her fingers and thrusting just past it and deeper inside. Hermione was literally dripping, but could not stop to pull off her underwear just yet. The power to reduce Draco Malfoy to her ‘bitch’ was far too distracting.
She wanted to fuck his ass until he came all over himself. She wanted to hear him whimper, hear him beg…and the thought of what she could have him do made her pull her latex gloved hand out of his ass. Draco whined at the loss, and Hermione smirked.
“Damnit, Granger, where are you going?” Draco snarled as Hermione walked away from the bottom of the X-cross stripping off a glove and throwing into the shadows of the room. She could not wipe the smile from her face as she moved back to the table, snatching up two items, glancing at the shivering, pale body of Draco Malfoy. He was sweating, his cock beginning to flag from lack of attention. Hermione mentally reminded herself that the next time Draco Malfoy’s cock would be used, it would be to get her off…
Returning to the bottom of the cross, Draco raised his head to look at his partner, trying to see what she had had in her arms when she walked back to him. What he could not see as Hermione knelt on the floor and out Draco’s line of sight was that she had brought a bottle of lube and a toy to keep her Mr. Malfoy amused. It was her turn to be pleasured, now wasn’t it?
Draco’s voice rang out in the deepest of moans as he felt something penetrate his body deeply, slick and cool. In the still mostly coherent portion of his brain, Draco was cursing Hermione for daring to use some toy in his ass, but those thoughts were quickly rendered invalid when a switch was hit and waves of vibrations impacted his prostate and rippled up his body.
“F-fuck…” he grunted.
Hermione was satisfied with the small vibrating plug and the twitching in Draco’s thighs. She moved slowly around the cross, noting that Draco’s eyes were shut tightly and his mouth gaped, taking in deep breaths, the baritone of his voice coming through in his exhales. He could not look more exquisite in her eyes.
“How does it feel, Mr. Malfoy? Is climax just within reach or is it not close enough?” Hermione whispered lustily, bending closer to Draco’s ear, noticing that his bound hands were clenching and unclenching. She could tell he was close, but she was not going to ignore her aching need any longer. “Well? Tell me Mr. Malfoy, are you close?”
Draco’s eyes opened, but he could not speak. A pressure was building at the base of his spine, a hot liquid fire, and it was smoldering. He wanted to cum before his body exploded. His whole body was shuddering, and as he turned his head toward Hermione, he muttered a strangled curse, straining at his bonds to touch her, to complete the circuit, to climax.
Hermione cocked her head and smirked, “Do you want to touch me?” she asked, crossing her arms just under her breasts. Her nipples were hardened and she was barely keeping herself from muttering the spell to release the glorious pale man bound before her. As she waited, her mind was begging him to say yes…he wanted to touch her.
“Gods…Granger…yes…” he panted, sweat pouring down his face, his lips quivering.
Hermione smiled, barring her teeth like a feral she-beast. Draco shut his silver eyes as he felt the frame under his body lower to the floor, and waited for the bonds to be loosened…and waited…and waited.
He felt as if his head were going to implode and when he opened his eyes, there was a sensation of weight upon his hips. Hermione knelt over him, grasping his cock and positioning it at her entrance, the sheer knickers gone.
“Do you want me?” she gasped, gazing down at the man who had at times been the bane of her existence.
“Y-yessss,” Draco choked, straining and finding that the noose about balls was loosened and he could strain all he liked without damage. But as he moved more, the vibrations from his ass seemed to increase, rendering him incapable of coherent thought or motive.
With his assent, Hermione sank down, impaling herself swiftly and deeply. Draco hissed, the sudden engulfing of his sensitive cock making his hips jerk automatically. Hermione sighed, slapping her palms down on his pecs causing him to wince.
“Mmmm, you’re so big, Mr. Malfoy…” Hermione breathed, rising up slowly and slamming back down. Her fingers dug into Draco’s chest, nails digging into skin, breaking the porcelain perfection and causing blood to ooze. Riding his prick, she moaned at every stroke, at every furrowing of Draco’s pale brow, every open mouthed, silent scream…all combined, Hermione froze as her body clinched around the hardened rod inside her body. She screamed her release, deep and throaty…she could feel Draco’s climax, so forceful, so strong that it almost hurt…
Draco, on the other hand, passed out and the sensation of his release.
Sensory overload was what he would attribute it to, as well as the fact Hermione Granger was one sadistic bitch…
When he came to, he was in bed, the plug removed from his ass, the reminder of the bounds around his wrists and ankles evident by the deep bruising, and the scratches on his chest clotted over and angry red. He also noticed that he was alone, the only trace of Hermione Granger being the snubbed out cigarillo in the ashtray by the bed, the scent of the fragrant smoke still filling the air.
Draco wiped hair from his face and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. If it had not been for the marks, he could almost convince himself that his humiliation could have been a very bad dream…
The stakes had been raised, Granger had gotten her way, but Draco could not deny that he had asked for it…he remembered uttering the words, daring her to do her worst…
Yeah, the stakes had been raised and Granger would soon learn what it would be to humiliate a Malfoy, albeit in the privacy of his own bedroom…
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TBC...
This is not primarily a DM/HG fic, so keep that in mind in the following chapters. Cheers!
Read and Review!
Author:
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: PWP…pure smut.
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, Femdom, CBT, BDSM, Anal, Oral, and probably some others I cannot remember how to abbreviate.
Summary: Hermione has won the latest round of “Who is the Superior Libertine,” and she is collecting her reward from her competitor…Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes: Okay…this is my first try at Femdom flavored fiction, so don’t hate me too much. I should warn readers that if you are uncomfortable with Femdom play, the so-called ‘bend over boyfriend’ scenario…you will not want to read this fic. AND, I have been urged to continue this a bit...yes, your wish is my command... The title (which I finally decided upon) is the title of an awesome song by one of my favorite bands...Stellastarr*. Otherwise, enjoy, and remember positive crit is warmly welcomed!
NOTE!!! Part Two is a HG/SS fic, and can be found under that category! Cheers!
Sweet Troubled Soul
She kept glancing over her shoulder, noting the light of a new day’s sun beginning to creep across the marble floor and closer to her toes curled into the sheep skin rug at the side of the bed. The sunlight would eventually illuminate the bed, and the body that laid with its back to her, across the bed with only a rumpled white sheet covering the lower half a male form.
She kept glancing over her shoulder just to see his shoulders shift as he breathed deeply in his sleep and the rippling of muscles under scarred skin. Those scars were a hideous reminder of a time she could only hope to forget…and she felt a bit bitter that he would not claim remember those times at all. In her internal dialogues she would whisper: “Oh, how wonderful to be mad.”
She glanced away and leaned forward so that her bare backside was barely resting upon the edge of the plush mattress. Reaching for the brown wrapped cigarillo resting in the notch of a dirty glass ashtray, she magicked the end lit without taking up her wand and soon she could no longer smell the scent of sex, only a mixture of tobacco and cloves. She knew that his keen nose would wake him, but she did not care too much. Inhaling the smooth smoke, she exhaled through her nose in two bluish streams of scented aroma. She wanted a shower, a bite of something substantial, and then a long sleep in bed, alone.
“Put that bloody thing out, Granger,” he growled, shifting slightly so that his body was poised facedown, silver hair falling across the pillows like liquid platinum. She glanced back at him with a scowl and quickly snubbed the crooked filtered cigarillo out. It was clear that the alcohol he had consumed had worn off and his general foul mood had returned upon his waking.
“Are you staying the day?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow pressed against his face.
It was a question he always asked the morning after…
“No,” she said softly, somewhat annoyed that her need for a bit of a morning nicotine pick-me-up had ruined the peaceful silence of his sleeping. Now that he was awake, she could no longer admire how he slept…in sleep, Draco Malfoy was like a fallen angel of light and purity. Awake, however, the madness, the darkness and all the things that made Draco Malfoy, bastard extraordinaire, was blindingly visible.
Everyone hated Draco Malfoy, everyone being his family, his business associates, and old schoolmates, past lovers and freed house elves. However, when anyone asked Hermione Granger what she thought of Draco Malfoy, the only reply a person would receive would be an indifferent shrug. When pressed, Hermione Granger would admit to Draco’s brilliant madness, business savvy, and to only a few of those truly curious, his sexual prowess.
Publicly, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were business rivals. Privately, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were rivals of another sort. In business, it did not matter one bit who had made the better profit or if the Muggles bought or sold their shares. But privately, they played a game in which the “winner” meant “superior” and for some reason or another, Hermione Granger had never given up proving that she, a Muggle-born witch, was superior in wit, competence and power to a Pureblooded wizard…perhaps the most prolific Pureblood in Britain, Draco Malfoy.
The games varied, but the theme was the same. Who could woo, and bed the most prolific, the most scandalous, the richest, or the best loved figure in Wizarding Britain. Points were awarded for various displays and acts, and in the end, whoever won the game was allowed a reward from the one who had lost.
This was the third time Hermione had won.
The game had gone thus: Hermione was to bed Percy Weasley, the youngest Chief Warlock in Wizengamot history. Draco Malfoy was to work on wooing Percy’s wife of ten years, the devout and the “far more clever than she looks” Penelope Weasley nee Clearwater. In a game of flirtation, insinuation, flattery and wanton displays of sexual need, Hermione won by a landslide by bedding a very amorous Percy, finding herself a bit overwhelmed by his passionate lovemaking. It was apparent that fidelity meant chastity to Penelope Weasley. Hermione was delighted by Percy’s sudden turn from self-restraint to debauchery. Passion suited Percy and Hermione wondered if she had to let liaisons with Percy Weasley become a fond memory…like a few others she had had to tempt into promiscuity for her own gains.
Her reward: Bedding Draco Malfoy in a manner in which she desired. Humiliating Draco Malfoy had always been her goal, but the night before was the first time she had allowed herself to dare humiliate him sexually. Of the past two times of winning at Draco Malfoy’s games, Hermione had asked for only material rewards, the first being the buyout of an Australian wholesaler of rare herbs, which was Malfoy’s main foothold in the south. The second reward had been access to the Malfoy archives, a compendium of Dark texts that had escaped the scrutiny of the Ministry before and during the War.
It had been after an evening with Percy Weasley that Hermione named her terms, if Draco should lose. Just before pushing Percy Weasley to betray his wife, Hermione came to the conclusion that even though she was winning this round of the game, she had had just about every prolific male in Wizarding society, bar Severus Snape who constituted scandal, and Draco Malfoy…the most eligible and most handsome bachelor in society. Granted, Hermione had many plans and ideas for the now reclusive Severus Snape, she wanted to have a taste of her rival for the sake of satiating her curiosity. It was no secret among the ladies, young and old, or Wizarding Britain that Draco Malfoy was far more talented in attracting the eye than his father…and supposedly was far more endowed in the arts of love making than Lucius Malfoy could have ever dreamed to be… And so, Hermione wanted to know…and finally prove to her rival that she was to be respected, feared and loved by even the Pureblooded sensibilities of a man who was not her superior and perhaps her equal.
Hermione and Draco’s continuing game of “one upping” the other lent to many nights spent in each other’s company…whether at the Manor in Wiltshire or at Hermione’s lavish townhouse in London. The companionship that had developed had also lent to subtle insinuations, blatant flirting, as well as many witty retorts and well phrased insults. But it was those conversations, glances, and playful touches as they lounged about their respective homes that had perhaps fueled a mutual regard. They had agreed never to fall in love with any of their conquests and most important of all: each other.
Draco, as far as Hermione knew, had won the hidden heart of Ginny Weasley (soon to be Potter), Luna Lovegood (much to the surprise of Hermione and apparent disgust of Malfoy), Katie Bell-Flint (far too easy, it seemed), and Cho Chang. There were a handful of others that were challenge at all, all now embittered by Draco’s lack of care or interest. Hermione had only lost money when all was said and done, and her modesty. She had become wanton…and proud.
And now she finally had undeniable power over Draco Malfoy…
Finding her wand among a tangle of clothing, Hermione cast a quick cleansing charm over her skin and hair, standing before the large window in Draco’s bedroom, the sun now beating down on her golden skin. With a sigh and another flick of her wand, she donned her clothing, quickly mending the rip up the side of her dress and forgoing the torn stockings, vanishing them quickly. Glancing over her shoulder once more, Hermione found Draco watching her, the sheet sliding over his thigh as he lay on his back, his jutting morning erection pointing toward her like a beckoning finger.
“What?” she asked lazily, slowly looking away and about the marble floor for her shoes.
“Why the rush?” he asked in return, his voice husky and enticing.
“It is Saturday morning, and I have work to look over, a house to manage, a summer solstice gala to oversee and much more that I really don’t want to think about right now…” she rattled off.
“Your assistants are doing that, Granger. Come back to bed.”
Hermione stood very still. She never would have imagined Draco, of all people, to ask her to come back to bed…
“It is daybreak, Malfoy,” she sighed, tucking her wand under her arm to pull her hair back from her face and up into a makeshift knot.
When her male companion did not reply, Hermione glanced over her shoulder again, her eyes suddenly riveted on the scene of a supine Draco Malfoy stroking himself while using his other hand to beckon her with a wagging finger.
Scenes of the night before flitted through Hermione’s brain and before she could consciously react, she felt her thighs begin to rub together and the dampness of her center begin to be the foremost sensation in her mind. She turned to face him and the massive platform that Draco Malfoy called a bed, which was swathed in white and ivory sheets and pillows. Plain crates served as side tables, oddly misplaced in a room with a titanic bed, jade marble floors, cream velvet papered walls and large windows that overlooked the brown-green roll of heath and plain of Wiltshire outside. And only the night before the room had been bathed in the light of dozens of floating candles, adding to the warm ambience of sex, sweat and the slap of skin against skin. They had collapsed, drunk and exhausted, and now as Draco smirked, quirking his pale lips, Hermione felt her knees begin to tremble.
Hermione sighed and tried to arrange her face to appear disinterested, but she stumbled toward the bed as if Imperio’d. Slowly she moved to kneel at the foot of the bed, far enough away so that Malfoy could not touch her, but close enough that Hermione could see the tiny beads of sweat gathering just at Malfoy’s brow.
“Is there something you needed, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice impassive, and bored, but her center aching as she watched the velvety skin of his shaft roll over the glans and then back down again, giving Hermione a small peek at the pearl drop of pre-cum glinting on the reddish head of his cock.
“I hate to ask a favor, Granger…” he breathed, his voice deep, “because we both know that if I ask a favor then you’ll feel obliged to do the same…and then a vicious cycle would…start,” Draco panted, his lips trembling slightly as his grip tightened. “But you’re the only one who can assist me at the moment…”
Hermione smirked. “It looks as though you have a firm handle on the situation, Malfoy.”
His eyes flashed in mirth, but no laugh passed his haughty lips, only a low and frustrated moan.
“Granger…”
“Yes, Malfoy?” she asked, her mouth dry as she watched the muscles in his stomach tighten.
“Pull the skirt of that dress up a bit…” he breathed, his body stiffening, his eyes threatening to slam shut.
Hermione nearly groaned at the sight of him, and suddenly sub vocalized a spell, which made Draco Malfoy grunt and nearly yell. His hands were forced off his jutting cock and bound by invisible fetters above his head. Draco’s eyes flashed in the early morning sunlight and he writhed upon the sheets, his legs stiffening and pale, hairless chest heaving. Hermione found herself grinning maliciously, moving to crawl the distance between where she had been sitting and where Draco lay exposed. She crawled up his legs to kneel just at his knees.
“I thought we had agreed to no magic, Granger, besides a contraception spell?” Draco snarled, quickly breaking free from the spell that bound him. However, before he could consider either throwing Hermione off his legs or deriding her verbally, she lifted the short skirt of her little black dress thus rendering Draco Malfoy still as if struck by a Pertrificus Totalus.
A moment passed and Hermione could not help but feel a surge of power course through her body, heightening her own arousal. Slowly, breaking through Hermione’s spell, Draco’s hands moved down his body, his left hand taking hold of his straining cock and his right running across his left nipple. Tongue snaking out to wet his lips, Hermione could take no more, her blood demanding that she act.
With a gentle slap, Hermione took Draco’s prick in her hand, her small hand just fitting about the girth. A groan passed from his mouth and she began stroking him, wrist moving just the way she had seen his move, applying steady pressure as she rolled his skin over the head of his cock.
“Yes…very good…” he moaned, his pale lashes fluttering downwards so that his silvery eyes shut tight, his brow furrowing.
Hermione frowned and halted her ministrations, her hand tight around the base of his thick cock. It did not take a moment that Draco’s silver eyes were upon her again, questioning.
“Look at me, Malfoy,” she muttered, her own eyes narrowing.
His eyes were liquid mercury…swirling with something akin to emotion, but what emotion that was, Hermione did not know. All she did know was that by forcing him to watch her masturbate him, Draco Malfoy could not block her out and perhaps replace her visage with one more pleasing to his mind and body. No, it would be she that would make him beg her to impale herself upon him, it would be she that he would call out for, it would be she that left him spent and quivering with sated exhaustion.
He tensed and Hermione felt his cock jerk in her hand, she did not want him to lose control yet…
Tongue swiping slightly swollen lips, Hermione leaned forward so that her damp lips rubbed the sticky pre-cum about the head of his cock, making him groan and grip her shoulders as if to pull her closer or to push her away. Opening her lips, her tongue darted out to taste him, her eyes watching his face contort at the simplest of actions.
“Granger…” he groaned as her mouth descended around his straining cock, engulfing him in a warm, wet cavern of suction and pulsating tongue… She swallowed at his flesh, the pre-cum slightly bitter, his skin salty. Moving her tongue and suckling, Hermione could feel the subtle movements and twitches of Draco’s cock pulsating in her mouth. The sound of his pleasure was gasoline on her already smoldering arousal. And when his moans turned into throaty whines, she felt his hands pushing at her shoulders, pushing her back so that his cock left her mouth with a slight pop.
Draco was panting, his hands quivering as they fell to his straining member, taking it in hand. Hermione smirked, leaning forward so that her hands fell to either side of Draco’s shoulders, holding herself above him. He gazed up at her face, her hair falling about her like a curtain of caramel.
“Think you’re so bad…Granger?” Draco breathed, recovering himself enough to reach upward and wipe a bit more of his pre-cum over her pouty lips.
Hermione chuckled, taking Draco forefinger between her teeth and applying a bit of pressure so that he winced.
“I am,” she whispered after releasing his fine boned digit. “Let me show you…”
A silvery eyebrow cocked at the haughty words and the shimmer of fire in amber eyes. Hermione sat back on Draco’s knees, pulling her dress up over her body, throwing the mass of fabric back to where it had lain when she had awoke…on the floor. Throwing back her head, Hermione moved her hips forward, still cased in a pair of sheer black underwear, until her pubis was just below Draco’s sac.
Again, Draco found his hands forced above his head, the twinkle of fire in Hermione’s eye a sign of her magic…strong, refined, and if another test, unbreakable. Draco swallowed thickly, his chest jutting upward. Hermione hummed deep in her throat, running her hands down Draco’s chest, nails biting into his sides leaving pink trails behind.
“Let me show you, my dear Mr. Malfoy…” she whispered, her left hand moving to grasp the base of her lover’s cock and her right to grasp his sac. With a rough squeeze, Draco groaned, his face contorting.
“B-bitch!” he stuttered, struggling against his invisible fetters.
Hermione grinned, releasing his cock, and with a speed that frightened Draco Malfoy to the very core, he was slapped roughly across the face. He was seeing spots before his eyes, his nose crammed against his right forearm from the force of the strike.
“That was not very nice, Mr. Malfoy…or very wise…” Hermione grit out.
Draco hissed, his eyes burning into Hermione’s. But the most humiliating thing, the thing that had not went unnoticed from the siren sitting upon his thighs, was the violent twitch of his cock. He could not be any harder, and although he could taste just a bit of blood in his mouth, he said nothing in retort.
Hermione smirked, taking Draco’s prick in her hand again, grasping the base with painful pressure. “Oh the things I would love to do to you, Mr. Malfoy…” she breathed, moving her hand up and down his engorged cock, her own sex soaking through the sheer fabric and dampening Draco’s sac.
Draco swallowed roughly, his mouth open so that he panted. “And…and what sort of things would you like to do, Granger?”
She stopped stroking for a moment and met his eyes. “Would you like to find out?”
Draco hesitated. He could always have his way with the witch later, claiming it was fair play… It was had always been the ‘eye for an eye’ credo between the two of them. Not to mention that Draco had an idea that Hermione Granger had a bit of know-how when it came to dominating men…and he had never indulged in letting any woman dominate him…he could not think of any women who had enough courage to approach him in that way…no one besides Hermione Granger.
“Show me,” he said thickly, his intonation tinged with what Hermione interpreted as a dare…
Oh yes…Draco Malfoy was daring her to take the upper hand, daring her to show him that she could reduce him into a quivering mass of sex and cum…
“You asked for it, Mr. Malfoy, do not forget that…”
Draco opened his mouth to answer, but found himself being pulled to his feet and off the bed. His hands were suddenly free, and only a second of thought to escaping crossed his mind. Hermione, on the other hand, retrieved her wand and began transfiguring the room, charming the drapes shut, transforming the bed into what Draco recognized as a wooden X-cross…a Saint Andrew’s cross, if he remembered correctly. He had remembered auctioning off his father’s version of the torture device several years ago, after cleaning out the Malfoy Manor dungeons. He knew how it could be used, but as Hermione moved quickly, conjuring a table laden with coils of rope, crops, whips and other devices that Draco did not want to think about penetrating his body, he began to feel his apprehension grow.
“Accio…” Hermione hissed, and Draco found himself sliding magically across the room and closer to the wooden cross.
“Granger, this is…” he muttered as his arms and legs were shackled to the device and his body opened to whatever designs the woman might have. When Draco studied Hermione, he found himself still wanting to touch her…to have her touch him…
So he stood, his taut and bare body exposed to his rival and lover, waiting to be touched.
“One word, and I will stop…you asked for this, but I will stop if you say ‘niffler,’ and I will Obliviate this encounter from your mind,” Hermione said quietly, moving so close to Draco, her body bare except for the damp sheer knickers, that he could feel her heat against his skin. “Do you understand?”
The room was darkened by the drapes over the windows, but still, in the gray light, he could see Hermione’s fiery eyes. He nodded his understanding and leaned out from the rough wood against his back, but as Hermione stepped back, her bare feet making no sound against the marble floor, Draco watched as she moved her wand with a cutting gesture through the air.
With a gasp, the cross that bound Draco moved…and he was laying atop the X-cross now floating in the air horizontally, he could not avoid pressing his skin against the rough grain of the wood now.
Above his body, candles appeared and lit, making Draco narrow his eyes slightly, and turn his head to look at the woman who had him at her mercy. She was breathing roughly, not out of exertion, but out of desire. When she noticed Draco’s cool gaze upon her, she smiled, genuinely smiled.
“Are you surprised, Mr. Malfoy?”
“Why do you keep calling me that, Granger?” he breathed, testing his physical restraints, finding them secure and not too comfortable.
“It is your name…isn’t it?”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“And I don’t like you well enough to call you by your first name, besides, you always call me Granger…”
Draco’s eyes widened as with one hand Hermione gathered a coil of rope, hemp by the looks of it and dyed a color that did not lose its significance on Draco…Gryffindor red. Stretched out the coil on her hand, Hermione waved her wand over the scarlet cord, and Draco could not help but repress a shudder as the rope seemed to take on a life of its own, moving on its own volition like a snake and uncoiling from Hermione’s hand.
“What are you…” Draco began as the rope slithered toward him atop the floating X-cross. He said nothing, holding his breath as the rope reared upwards between his legs, the braided tip of the rope curling like the head of a cobra to look at him.
Hermione stepped closer to Draco’s exposed side. Her eyes were shimmering and she grinned as the rope moved with lightning speed and Draco groaned his surprise as the rope wrapped around the base of his balls, constricting his comfort, but not pinching or cutting off circulation entirely. He was panting as the length of rope moved under the cross and wrapped about his chest.
“This rigging is designed to hurt you if you should struggle too much, Mr. Malfoy. The rope about your chest is cinched so that if your body should flail or you arch too much from the cross, the slack between your chest and your balls with tighten, thus pulling your balls uncomfortably…keep that in mind, Mr. Malfoy…” Hermione said calmly, her hand moving over his chest with ghostly caresses. The cross floated as high as her hips, and Draco caught the sight of dampness leaking from between her legs and down the insides of her thighs.
Draco tested his new bondage by breathing deeply and arching so that his shoulders came up off the cross. He winced…the rope wrapped around his balls moving slightly so that his sac was stretched. It would not do to have rope burn around his dangly bits, he thought. He let his head fall back between the crossing arms and sighed shallowly. He knew his cock was throbbing and standing upright like an entity of its own. And now Granger was moving back to the table she had cleverly conjured…what had he gotten himself into?
When Hermione returned, stepping into the halo of candlelight over the X-cross, Draco tensed his body and held his breath. He was expecting to be caned, whipped even, but when Hermione stepped in between his legs, gazing at his painfully erect penis, he did not expect the woman to take his cock into her mouth. He shouted at the initial sensation, the hot cavern of Hermione Granger’s mouth opening to take his entire length. He wanted to cum, he wanted loose from his bonds, and he wanted to punish the witch for denying him the power to take control of the situation.
Hermione pulled away, a string of saliva stretching from the tip of his cock to her lips. She hummed her pleasure, her eyes hooded and her breath hitching slightly. Draco opened his mouth to speak, almost to say the word to stop this torture, but he could not make a sound. Pushing her long, luxurious hair over one bare shoulder, Hermione muttered a spell that caused Draco to gasp…his insides tingling, and then Hermione took him into her mouth again.
It was almost too much, and Draco found himself arching and panting automatically…the rope pulling his balls to send little waves of pleasurable pain up his spine to his brain. He could not think of the anatomical reactions clearly, but it was a new experience.
Then, beyond the suction of Hermione Granger’s gorgeous mouth, the tugging on his balls, Draco felt another sensation, alien and slightly alarming…
He moaned as he felt a cool, wet digit swirl around the edges of his ass, the light caress making him jerk. He could just feel a gloved hand under his aching sac, and he could just feel the cool slather of lube on the underside of his ass cheeks. Her small hand was massaging his perineum, the underside of his sac and then the tight pucker of his ass. He could not speak, could not protest as he felt the digit push inwards and into his passage.
“Grang…” he started, but could not finish as the sensation of pressure gave way to more ripples of pleasure.
Hermione pulled her mouth away with a large gasp. She was positively drunk with what she was doing, her gloved forefinger halfway down to the second knuckle in Draco Malfoy’s luscious ass and his body powerless to stop it. His head was resting against his upper arm instead of falling between the cross arms, his long silvery hair hanging almost to the floor. His muscular chest was rippling, the rope tightening and loosening, tugging at his balls which was slightly red from the motion. She had made sure that he would not truly be hurt…Merlin forbid she damage the Malfoy heir making equipment…
Adding a second slick finger, Hermione grasped his erection and tugged slightly, eliciting a strangled groan from the patrician throat of the most eligible Pureblood in all of Britain. She could feel her body react to Draco’s voice and as she began thrusting her fingers in and out of his ass, not too deeply, not to hard, but increasing speed with every pant that came from his body.
He was not protesting, and as Hermione pushed a little deeper, stretching his ass and nudging a spot that caused Draco to arch violently. The prostate… His cock twitched, so engorged and so painfully hard that Draco’s mouth was moving to beg the witch to suck him off.
She began massaging his prostate, alternating curling her fingers and thrusting just past it and deeper inside. Hermione was literally dripping, but could not stop to pull off her underwear just yet. The power to reduce Draco Malfoy to her ‘bitch’ was far too distracting.
She wanted to fuck his ass until he came all over himself. She wanted to hear him whimper, hear him beg…and the thought of what she could have him do made her pull her latex gloved hand out of his ass. Draco whined at the loss, and Hermione smirked.
“Damnit, Granger, where are you going?” Draco snarled as Hermione walked away from the bottom of the X-cross stripping off a glove and throwing into the shadows of the room. She could not wipe the smile from her face as she moved back to the table, snatching up two items, glancing at the shivering, pale body of Draco Malfoy. He was sweating, his cock beginning to flag from lack of attention. Hermione mentally reminded herself that the next time Draco Malfoy’s cock would be used, it would be to get her off…
Returning to the bottom of the cross, Draco raised his head to look at his partner, trying to see what she had had in her arms when she walked back to him. What he could not see as Hermione knelt on the floor and out Draco’s line of sight was that she had brought a bottle of lube and a toy to keep her Mr. Malfoy amused. It was her turn to be pleasured, now wasn’t it?
Draco’s voice rang out in the deepest of moans as he felt something penetrate his body deeply, slick and cool. In the still mostly coherent portion of his brain, Draco was cursing Hermione for daring to use some toy in his ass, but those thoughts were quickly rendered invalid when a switch was hit and waves of vibrations impacted his prostate and rippled up his body.
“F-fuck…” he grunted.
Hermione was satisfied with the small vibrating plug and the twitching in Draco’s thighs. She moved slowly around the cross, noting that Draco’s eyes were shut tightly and his mouth gaped, taking in deep breaths, the baritone of his voice coming through in his exhales. He could not look more exquisite in her eyes.
“How does it feel, Mr. Malfoy? Is climax just within reach or is it not close enough?” Hermione whispered lustily, bending closer to Draco’s ear, noticing that his bound hands were clenching and unclenching. She could tell he was close, but she was not going to ignore her aching need any longer. “Well? Tell me Mr. Malfoy, are you close?”
Draco’s eyes opened, but he could not speak. A pressure was building at the base of his spine, a hot liquid fire, and it was smoldering. He wanted to cum before his body exploded. His whole body was shuddering, and as he turned his head toward Hermione, he muttered a strangled curse, straining at his bonds to touch her, to complete the circuit, to climax.
Hermione cocked her head and smirked, “Do you want to touch me?” she asked, crossing her arms just under her breasts. Her nipples were hardened and she was barely keeping herself from muttering the spell to release the glorious pale man bound before her. As she waited, her mind was begging him to say yes…he wanted to touch her.
“Gods…Granger…yes…” he panted, sweat pouring down his face, his lips quivering.
Hermione smiled, barring her teeth like a feral she-beast. Draco shut his silver eyes as he felt the frame under his body lower to the floor, and waited for the bonds to be loosened…and waited…and waited.
He felt as if his head were going to implode and when he opened his eyes, there was a sensation of weight upon his hips. Hermione knelt over him, grasping his cock and positioning it at her entrance, the sheer knickers gone.
“Do you want me?” she gasped, gazing down at the man who had at times been the bane of her existence.
“Y-yessss,” Draco choked, straining and finding that the noose about balls was loosened and he could strain all he liked without damage. But as he moved more, the vibrations from his ass seemed to increase, rendering him incapable of coherent thought or motive.
With his assent, Hermione sank down, impaling herself swiftly and deeply. Draco hissed, the sudden engulfing of his sensitive cock making his hips jerk automatically. Hermione sighed, slapping her palms down on his pecs causing him to wince.
“Mmmm, you’re so big, Mr. Malfoy…” Hermione breathed, rising up slowly and slamming back down. Her fingers dug into Draco’s chest, nails digging into skin, breaking the porcelain perfection and causing blood to ooze. Riding his prick, she moaned at every stroke, at every furrowing of Draco’s pale brow, every open mouthed, silent scream…all combined, Hermione froze as her body clinched around the hardened rod inside her body. She screamed her release, deep and throaty…she could feel Draco’s climax, so forceful, so strong that it almost hurt…
Draco, on the other hand, passed out and the sensation of his release.
Sensory overload was what he would attribute it to, as well as the fact Hermione Granger was one sadistic bitch…
When he came to, he was in bed, the plug removed from his ass, the reminder of the bounds around his wrists and ankles evident by the deep bruising, and the scratches on his chest clotted over and angry red. He also noticed that he was alone, the only trace of Hermione Granger being the snubbed out cigarillo in the ashtray by the bed, the scent of the fragrant smoke still filling the air.
Draco wiped hair from his face and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. If it had not been for the marks, he could almost convince himself that his humiliation could have been a very bad dream…
The stakes had been raised, Granger had gotten her way, but Draco could not deny that he had asked for it…he remembered uttering the words, daring her to do her worst…
Yeah, the stakes had been raised and Granger would soon learn what it would be to humiliate a Malfoy, albeit in the privacy of his own bedroom…
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TBC...
This is not primarily a DM/HG fic, so keep that in mind in the following chapters. Cheers!
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