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Gillian scowled as she peered around a corner. Twice on her way back to the Slytherin Common Room, the girl was forced to change course to avoid patrolling Prefects, ones that would happily report her for being out past curfew. In all her seven years at Hogwarts, Gillian Hightop had only once been caught on one of her late night outings, and she’d vowed to never let it happen again.
This night, however, looked like it might see the breakage of that vow. Because standing right in the middle of the corridor that Gillian absolutely had to sneak down was one of the Ravenclaw Prefects from her year - Graham Lamorette, an absolute prude of a boy.
Or... perhaps not.
So focused on the fact that her way was blocked, it took Gillian precious moments to realize just what Lamorette was doing with a hand down the front of his pants. Then she had to muffle a snort, because honestly, how exhibitionist could one get? After another minute of watching, Gillian wondered if she might be able to take advantage of this surprise.
She’d first tried seducing her way into a better standing with Professor Lockhart, a couple years before, which unfortunately never went anywhere. Since then, she’d stuck to offering kisses and touches as incentive for boys (and a few girls) to do homework assignments for her and other such favors. Getting a Prefect to look the other way, though, that would be an achievement Gillian Hightop might actually consider bragging to her older sister about.
Mind made up, she straightened her robe and flicked back her hair, then sauntered down the hall towards Lamorette.
He’d clearly been listening for any approaching footsteps, because the boy instantly whipped his hand clear of his trousers and turned to face her. The expression on his face was at first embarrassed, then startled. “M-miss Hightop?”
“Evening, Lamorette,” she purred, never slowing her steps. “I take it you ditched your partner for the evening.”
“April’s not feeling well,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing.
“Which works just fine for you,” Gillian stated, letting her gaze briefly drop to his crotch. Lamorette turned bright red.
“I-I- that is, I only-” He stopped when Gillian gave her best flirtatious giggle.
“Don’t be embarrassed, silly, everybody does it sometimes.” Reaching him, she leaned forward so that their chests nearly touched, and fluttered her eyelashes. “Even girls, you know.”
Lamorette’s jaw worked silently for a moment, as he stared at her. “... you, you’re out after curfew.”
“I am,” she admitted, drifting even closer, so that their noses were separated by only a hair of space. “But I’m glad, or else how would I have known about this?” Gillian slipped a hand down to touch Lamorette through his pants. Thankfully, rather than flinching away, he pressed himself a little more firmly into her hand, breath growing heavier.
“What- what do you want?” Lamorette whispered, breath coming faster.
“You,” she answered simply. “I want to taste you, now. But, it would mean staying out even later past curfew...” Her hand squeezed, and the Prefect whined.
“Bollocks to curfew,” Lamorette panted. He seized her hand with his own, and tugged the two of them into the nearest dusty classroom. As soon as the door was closed and locked, and a quick silencing charm thrown up, Gillian pushed him against the wall for a searing kiss. They both moaned together, tongues twirling, hands gripping, focused solely on each other. Once she’d left him suitably breathless, Gillian let her fingers dip low again, to undo the button and zipper of his trousers. Lamorette shuddered, his own hands clutching at her arse.
“Y-you know what you’re d-doing?” He groaned as she left off their kissing. Smirking, Gillian slowly slid down him, until her face came even with his crotch.
“Of course I do, darling.”
“G-good - so do I.” Confused, Gillian looked up at him, but there was no time to avoid the body-bind.
Stuck in place, she could only mentally rail against the sudden spell, as Lamorette stepped away with a strained laugh. “S-sorry, I know, that’s rather terrible of me - I mean, here you are, ready to offer yourself up in order to get out of trouble, and I have to go and put the brakes on it.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth where Gillian could barely see him. “But I just need a moment to think, you see - I’ve always dreamed about something like this happening to me, a-and I want it to be perfect, alright? Can’t do that if we’re rushing along faster than I can think.”
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Right. Right! None of my usual stuff to work with, so, we’ll improvise. Good thing I’ve got a lot of practice with transfiguration...”
Facing the wall, Gillian could only hear as he started to murmur incantations, the sounds of creaking wood indicating nothing good. Furious, she tried wordlessly summoning her wand to hand, hoping to break the body-bind, but failed repeatedly. There was nothing to do but wait for Lamorette to finish and return to her.
Finally, the boy did so, and he started by vanishing all her outer clothes. Gillian would have screeched at being left in just her lacy underthings if she were able. The only other item Lamorette saved was her wand, which he put in his own pocket.
Gillian felt a growing pit in her stomach. She tried ignoring it in favor of being angry.
“Now the fun begins!” Lamorette cheerfully informed her, slipping four woden cuffs over her hands and feet and shrinking them to fit snugly around wrists and ankles. He then whispered a spell that put pressure on them, the implication of which Gillian did not like in the slightest.
The Prefect ended his body-bind spell, and the cuffs immediately shot away from one another, which resulted in Gillian lying spread-eagled on the floor before she even had a glimmer of a chance to attack him.
“You CREEP!” She shrieked. “I was going to give you a blow-job, not sign myself up for- for- THIS!”
“But this will be so much better!” Lamorette enthused. “Now you’ll get your own pleasure out of it, rather than just showing me a good time.”
“I only wanted to show you a good time to get out of trouble, you pervert!”
Lamorette’s only response to that was to cast Levicorpus. He moved Gillian away from the wall, to the front of the room where the teacher’s desk sat.
Or, where it had sat. The furniture was unrecognizable, re-shaped to look like some sort of curved scaffold. Gillian’s cuffs were hooked to the top and bottom, leaving her body suspended in open air. Lamorette beamed. He set his wand aside, and proceeded to grope every possible inch of her.
Gillian shivered, squirming to try and avoid his wandering fingers, but there was only so much movement she could manage. Lamorette traced the muscles of her back and belly, squeezed and poked and pinched her breasts, slipped his hand inside her knickers in order to explore her entrance. Gillian tried yelling at him, tried screaming for help, but the Prefect never stopped his very thorough examination. He even went so far as to spank her when Gillian started using her filthier language.
“You’ve got a gorgeous body,” Lamorette growled at one point, his erection growing ever more obvious. “I shouldn’t be surprised you use it like you do.” Then he started licking her.
The groping, at least, Gillian had been able to dismiss as pleasurable, but the tingling left behind by Lamorette’s tongue started to make her pant and gasp, heat pooling between her legs. He took his time, too, pressing sloppy kisses to across her collarbone, unhooking her bra in order to bite and suck on her breasts, even lapping at her belly button. When he eventually reached her knickers once again, Gillian couldn’t bring herself to care that they’d grow damp to the touch. Lamorette clearly noticed, and he smiled, tugging and pushing the stretchy cloth as far down as they’d go. Then he stuck his tongue inside her, flicking it around to tease the same sensitive spots his fingers had found before. Gillian whined. She was supposed to be the one who made others fall to pieces, not come undone herself.
Somehow, Lamorette seemed to know when she was getting close to the edge, because he pulled back and straightened up.
“Do you want me inside you, Hightop?” He asked, mimicking her own purr. “Do you want me to push into that tight little slit of yours?”
“Hnn,” she groaned, half needy and half frustrated. “Oh, fuck, yes, just do it!”
“Or do you want me to put a toy inside you, so you’re kept on that edge for hours?” Startled, Gillian met his gaze. “I can, you know. I could leave to finish my rounds, then come back after I’m supposed to have turned in for the night. I bet you’ll be willing to beg then, won’t you?”
“I’ll beg now!” She blurted, desperate not to be left hanging, literally, for Merlin knew how long. “Please, please just finish it now, don’t leave me like this! I want you inside me, I want your big cock inside my tight slit, please!”
Lamorette smiled. “Prove it.” Before Gillian could ask how, he got his wand and gave it a wave, causing the scaffold to start tilting forward. Gillian yelped, but he’d evidently designed the thing to stop nearly perpendicular to its previous position, so that she was suspended at a shallow angle with her head a few feet from the floor. Then Lamorette stood in front of her, his cock standing free. “Give me that blow-job you were planning on before, and maybe I’ll finish inside you.”
Without any other options, Gillian opened her mouth. He slid inside smoothly, one hand fondling his balls while the other stroked her hair. Gillian put all her experience to work, licking his cock and sucking on it, bobbing her head as much as she was able. Lamorette groaned louder every second, jerking his hips a bit to pull in and out. Apparently, he was a lot closer to climaxing than she’d anticipated, because it was only a minute or two at most before he came in her mouth.
Gillian swallowed it all down, and gave him one last lick for good measure. Lamorette staggered back from her, practically collapsing into a nearby chair.
“That,” he panted. “Was fantastic.”
“Told you I knew what I was doing,” Gillian said. “Now get back here and finish what you started!”
She didn’t like the way Lamorette smirked. Nonetheless, he got to his feet, and moved behind the scaffold. Gillian felt him step between her legs, though she couldn’t quite turn her head well enough to see what he was doing.
It was obvious, though, when he slipped something between her folds that was not his cock - too cold, too hard, too thin. “What was that?” She demanded.
“Your wand.” His simple answer took her a moment to comprehend, and by then Lamorette had secured it in place and stepped back. “Tremo.” Instantly, her wand began to vibrate, just enough to make Gillian whine without actually doing anything for her arousal.
The Prefect stepped back into view, looking smug.
“I hate you,” Gillian growled, already shifting to try and get any extra stimulation possible.
“I figured,” Lamorette replied. “But, I already doubted you’d ever offer yourself to me again, so we ought to make the most of the opportunities we’re given, right?” He turned away from her, heading for the door.
“You better fucking come back!”
“Maybe.” He was gone before she could yell a proper threat. Groaning, Gillian let her head fall, to where she could just see the handle of her wand sticking out of herself. She gyrated in her bonds, bounced and shook herself, but nothing worked to tip her into climax. Hanging by her wrists and ankles was beyond uncomfortable, second only to the unsatisfied need that tied her insides into knots. Minutes trickled by, turning into an hour with no results and no Lamorette. Gillian was just starting to think she’d been left for the ghosts to find when the doorknob turned.
Her mouth opened, ready to start spewing all manner of insults, when someone decidedly not the Ravenclaw Prefect stepped through.
“Well, well, well,” Elaine Coolridge said, closing the door behind her. “Graham told me about the set-up he’d left you in, Gilly, but I just had to come see it for myself.”
Gillian felt a new tension coil through her muscles. Coolridge had been something of a friendly acquaintance when they were younger, before Gillian started practicing the art of seduction and used her as a first trial. Predictably, the aftermath hadn’t gone well. Trying to ignore just how much of a nightmare she could potentially find herself in, Gillian appealed to the Hufflepuff’s better nature. “Please, Lainey, you’ve got to get me out of this, I’ll do anything you want!”
The taller girl tilted her head to one side. “Anything?”
“Yes! Anything!”
Slowly, the Hufflepuff Prefect sauntered over, walking all the way around Lamorette’s set-up before coming to a stop right in front of Gillian’s face. “What if I want you to do something, and then I let you out?”
Realizing what Coolridge meant, and also realizing she didn’t exactly have a choice if she wanted to get loose any time soon, the Slytherin reluctantly nodded. Smirking, Coolridge slid down and stepped out of her own skirt and knickers.
“Start licking.”