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Chapter Text

Hermione had become a successful lawyer and then Wizengamot member in the ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts.

She had secured wages for House Elves, rights for Werewolves, and more land for the Centaurs.

Now she had turned her sights on a newly-emerging ‘endangered creature’; the former death eaters, the first of whom were now being released from Azkaban after serving their ten-year sentences.

The inner circle had mostly died in the Battle, but there were twenty or so who had been somewhat more junior in the ranks and had now done their time.

Hermione had been volunteered for the role of probation officer, and the Wizengamot, in a surprisingly unified vote, had agreed immediately that she should have it.

Accordingly, she found herself sitting in her pleasant new office in Leeds - the Ministry was following the general edict of moving government offices North, and this had the added bonus of not having the ex-death eaters visiting the main Ministry of Magic premises - waiting for her first appointment of the day to come through the floo.

Azkaban had become significantly more humane since the end of the war - another of the initiatives she had spearheaded - with no more dementors, and a generally much less mediaeval attitude, so she was hopeful that her charges would be healthy and perhaps even a little rehabilitated, rather than the ruined skeleton of a man that she recalled Sirius being.

At 9:03 precisely, the floo burst into flame to reveal the imposing figure of Thorfinn Rowle.

Ten years in Azkaban had done nothing to dampen his viking good looks, his wild mane of long blond hair caught back by a braid, and the tip of his beard adorned with another braid.

Hermione put on a brave smile, and stood to greet him, holding out a hand for him to shake.

“Mr Rowle! Lovely to meet you, I’m Hermione Granger.”

His polite smile became predatory as he took her hand, using it to pull her against him and deftly relieving her of her wand.

“Oh, I know who you are, pet,” he growled in her ear. “Imperio!”

~~~
Hermione had never been good at throwing off the Imperius curse. For all she was strong-willed and feisty, her brain just really liked to follow rules and be praised, and the Imperius gave her a floaty sense of pleasure that only increased as she did as she was told.

“Take off your robe, and undo your top three buttons,” Rowle told her.

She dimly recognised the floo flaring twice more, and the flash of a camera somewhere in the room as two more men joined them, but she eagerly began stripping off her clothes.

She hung her robes on the back of her chair, then obediently undid the top three buttons of her prim white blouse, revealing her minimal cleavage encased in a pretty red silk bra. She always had pretty underwear, not that anyone really saw it these days, but she enjoyed the thrill of wearing sexy underwear just for herself, under her straight-laced and professional outerwear.

Rowle leered at her, enjoying the view. “Drink this,” he ordered.

She happily downed the potion he handed her, gasping in surprise as her boobs began to ache, ballooning steadily from their usual B cup to a solid D and spilling out of the cups of her bra.

“Take off your shoes, tights and skirt,” he commanded.

She quickly shimmied out of the garments, leaving her legs bare and revealing the matching red silk knickers.

One of the other men - Thoros Nott, her brain told her, dimly - handed her a much shorter skirt, some sheer black stockings, and a pair of very high stiletto heels.

“Put them on,” Rowle encouraged.

By the time they were done dressing her like a doll, she looked like a stripper’s take on a businesswoman. Her large breasts spilled out of her bra and were fully visible thanks to her half-undone blouse, which was straining around her chest. Her skirt barely covered her ass, and the stockings ended a good two inches below her skirt, making it appear even shorter.

They posed her with Rowle, cuddling up to him and smiling coquettishly, taking photos all the while.

Then Rowle ordered her to remove her knickers and beg him to fuck her.

Hermione tried to resist, she really did, but then her knickers were on the floor and someone - was that Draco Malfoy? - had bent to pick them up and sniff them greedily.

“Please fuck me,” she asked, mechanically.

“Oh you can do better than that, pet,” Rowle chided. “Beg me properly, or it’ll be much worse for you.”

The threat of punishment immediately quashed the minimal mental resistance she had mustered.

“Please fuck me, sir,” she begged, her voice eager and needy.

“That’s better,” Rowle crooned.

He pulled out his cock, and Hermione’s eyes widened at his size. “Come and kiss it, pet, and get it nice and wet.”

She dropped to her knees, licking her lips hesitantly as she eyed his enormous girth, pressing a kiss to the bulbous head. She saw the camera flash again, but her worry at what exactly might be done with such a picture was swallowed by her more immediate concerns as she obediently opened her mouth and began to tentatively lick the length of his shaft.

“That's it, all the way down your throat,” he encouraged her.

The Imperius left her no choice; she opened her mouth as wide as she could until her jaw ached, and leaned in.

He filled her mouth immediately, and within moments she was unable to breathe, but the hazy confidence of the curse kept her there, stilling her panic as she forced him past the back of her throat and into her windpipe until her nose was buried in the blond curls at the base of his cock.

Tears ran down her cheeks involuntarily as her throat spasmed around him, desperate for air, her body twitching with reflexive attempts to breathe, but she simply sat there, calmly choking herself on him as Nott’s camera flashed again.

After a minute, he told her to sit back, and she slumped to the floor, gasping for air.

“Tell me how much you're enjoying this, pet. Use your pretty words,” Rowle goaded her as he lifted her easily, bending her over her desk and flipping up the ridiculously short skirt to expose her ass.

“I'm enjoying it so much, sir!” She gasped, her raw throat making her tone low and sultry. “I love being your little bitch and being forced to suck your cock like a whore! I love that you control me completely. You make my pussy so wet!”

Malfoy appeared in front of her on the other side of the desk, palming his cock before thrusting it into her passively open mouth.

He fucked her face as if it were her cunt, making no allowance for her breathing.

His cock acted as a gag, stopping her from screaming as Rowle suddenly pushed into her pussy from behind, stretching her beyond belief.

The pain finally gave her the power to break through the Imperius, but it was far too late.

She squirmed against the desk, hitting out randomly with her arms, but Rowle immediately caught her wrists, pinning them behind her as Malfoy laughed.

She felt like she was being split in two, fuller than she ever had been before, utterly helpless between the blond viking forcing himself into her cunt and Malfoy using her throat, his hands clutching her hair to hold her in place.

Just when she thought she could bear it no longer, they both pulled out, and Rowle flipped her over to lay with her back on the desk.

She had no air to scream, just gasping between wrenching sobs as she lay there.

Rowle pushed her ankles up into the air and Malfoy pulled them down towards him, almost folding her in half as her head lolled off the edge of the desk. Ropes bound her wrists to her ankles, and then to the corners of the desk, splaying her painfully wide open.

Someone vanished her clothes, letting her large new tits spill out, and Malfoy eagerly groped them, pinching her nipples until she screamed.

The camera flashed over and over, but she could only see the light of it as Malfoy’s cock was shoved back in her mouth, her head hanging backwards so he could thrust straight down her throat. He wrapped one hand around her neck, and she could feel the way his cock distended her trachea as he used her.

Then there was something wet being smeared across her cunt, and immediately it was on fire. A sense of overwhelming need to be fucked rocketed through her, and she felt her bruised cunt fluttering and clenching on air, as if somehow, amidst all this, she was nearing an orgasm!

She couldn't think, there were too many sensations racking her body, but she did feel pathetically grateful as Rowle’s huge cock began to pound into her again, his fingers swirling against her needy and swollen clit.

Draco suddenly stilled, pulsing in her throat as he groaned, and she tasted salt, realising he had cum in her mouth.

She gasped for air as he pulled out, and Rowle reached over the desk, grabbing her hair and yanking her head up so she could see the way his cock split her cunt.

“If you want to cum, pet, you'll have to beg for it. Cum without permission and you'll regret it.”

She stared at him, horribly torn. Her body was so close, she wanted this orgasm. She could tell it was going to be amazing. But to beg her rapist?

Rowle’s fingers swept across her clit again as he pushed in to the hilt, and Malfoy had begun to play with her tits again, rolling her sensitive nipples between his fingers and thumbs in a way that brought a genuine whimper from her mouth.

“I… want to cum,” she whispered, at last.

Malfoy laughed delightedly behind her. “I always knew you were a slut at heart, Granger,” he taunted her.

Rowle ignored him. “Say please, pet. I know you're so close. You just want to be a good girl for me, don't you? You've been so good for us already.”

Hermione wasn't prepared for the rush of desire that accompanied the words “good girl”, and knew she had only moments before she came anyway.

“Please!” she gasped. “Please can I cum?”

Rowle grinned, victorious. “Of course you can, pet,” he agreed.

She fell apart at his words, the most intense orgasm of her life ripping through her, fluid squirting from her cunt to mingle with Rowle's cum, which her orgasm has milked from him.

Rowle and Malfoy moved out of the way, presumably to clean up, while Nott leaned over her with his camera, taking closeups of her sodden cunt and peaked nipples.

“Perfect,” he murmured, admiring the view. “You are going to be a wonderful asset, my dear.”

Hermione couldn't speak, her throat was raw and she felt boneless and full of horror and desire.

When they were done, Rowle untied her and the three men left the way they had come - taking with them her wand, and every scrap of clothing she had.

Shivering, naked, and filthy, she had no choice but to floo home immediately.

She collapsed into a hot bath, scrubbing away the evidence of their assault. Her cunt was still tingling, she assumed because of the potion they had smeared on her, and she made use of her favourite rabbit vibrator to relieve the desire. She couldn't help but remember the intense stretch of Rowle's cock as he bottomed out inside her, and the meagre girth of the vibe felt rather disappointing.

Telling herself it was just because she was still stretched out, she quickly called in sick to work, her rasping voice from being viciously face fucked making her sound convincingly ill, and decided to have a much-needed nap.

Chapter Text

She woke the following morning to an owl tapping on her window, and sleepily reached for her wand to let it in.

The absence of the slim length of vinewood sent a jolt of panic through her and she sat up, the previous day’s events rushing back to her.

Her pussy was wet and aching, and she could feel how aroused she was again. She supposed she must have had good dreams.

She walked stiffly to the window to let in the owl, her hips feeling bruised from the rough treatment she had endured.

Returning to her bed with the small parcel, she opened it carefully, wary of anything dangerous as she didn’t have her wand to check it.

Inside was a pot of bruise balm, a small butt plug with a green gem in its base, a tube of anal lube, a small envelope, and a note.

Good morning, my dear

I hope you aren’t feeling too sore after Thorfinn and Draco’s bit of fun yesterday.
I enclose a bruise balm that I believe is particularly suited to intimate areas, in the hopes that it will make your day more pleasant.
As I am sure you are aware, I am in possession of your wand, and also of a number of photographs of yourself in rather compromising positions with your clients.
I would like for you to join me at Nott Manor for the afternoon, to discuss this.
I have included an anal plug which I expect you to wear for the occasion. Should you not choose to do this, it will be done for you on your arrival, and I suspect it will be more comfortable for you to do it yourself.
There are lubrication charms which you may wish to employ in the future, but as you are currently wandless I have included a physical lubricant.
You will not require any underwear for this meeting, and you may not wear any tights or trousers which cover your crotch.
A skirt and blouse will do nicely.
Should you fail to follow this request, you will spend the meeting naked, which may lead to more attention from the others present than you would prefer.
I look forward to seeing you at noon,

Yours sincerely,

Thoros Nott.

Hermione read the letter through three times, in increasing horror. She felt hot and flustered at being so directly ordered around and in such a sexual manner, but her pussy was throbbing with arousal and leaving wet spots on the bed.

She opened the envelope which had been included in the packet, and gasped in shock.

It contained three photographs.

The first showed her, in an absurdly slutty parody of her usually demure work outfit, cuddling up to Rowle and clearly flirting with him. He looked slightly uncomfortable, and the picture was obviously taken in her work office. Anyone seeing this would immediately conclude that she had been attempting to seduce her clients!

The second showed her on her knees, body twitching and eyes bright as she choked herself apparently willingly on a huge cock, the owner of which was out of shot.

The third showed her splayed across her desk, her cunt fluttering and gaping and shiny with arousal, the gleaming brass nameplate ‘Hermione Granger, Wizengamot Counsel' clearly visible just below her quivering arse.

As she watched the photograph, a string of cum dripped from her cunt, splashing across the word ‘Wizengamot’.

She whimpered in horror, knowing these were just a handful of the hundreds of damning pictures that had been taken of her, acting like a whore, literally in her office and with her clients.

If this got out, everything she had worked for would be utterly ruined. She had no choice.

She stared at the closeup of her cunt, the heave of her breasts visible in the background of the shot, her clit standing out pink and hard, betraying her arousal and the intensity of the orgasm she had just had in that picture.

Feeling disgusted with herself even as she did it, she reached for her vibrator and sank it into her needy pussy, pumping it into herself as she rubbed her clit with her other hand, the picture resting on the bed beside her as she came.

It still wasn't satisfying, and she felt horny again almost immediately.

Groaning, she picked up the butt plug and turned it over in her hands. Nott was right, she would rather put it in herself with lube than have Malfoy shove it up her arse once she arrived.

~~~

She exited the floo into the spacious hallway of Nott Manor at five minutes to noon, clad as requested in just a blouse and skirt.

Her newly enlarged breasts, which had not shrunk at all since the potion she had been given yesterday, made her usually demure blouse uncomfortably tight, and the neckline which had previously been sensible and professional now revealed a lot of cleavage. Her nipples, pebbled in the cold January air, were clearly visible, and sensitive as they rubbed against the cotton.

Her skirt was knee length - she didn’t own any that weren’t - but without underwear it felt much shorter. Forbidden from wearing tights and not owning any stockings, she had elected to wear knee-length socks to keep her legs as warm as possible, which made her feel like some kind of slutty schoolgirl. It occurred to her that if this was to continue, she would have to get a whole new wardrobe, but she crushed that thought firmly from her mind. She was here to negotiate, she would perhaps have to perform some kind of sexual favours, but then they would let her go.

She pressed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the continued throbs of arousal which had not really stopped ever since Rowle had put that potion on her yesterday, before he had fucked her, and then took a deep breath to prevent the whimper elicited by the way clenching her thighs made the plug move in her arse.

A moment later, a house elf - clothed, she was pleased to see (unlike herself, said her traitorous mind) - appeared in the room.

“Master’s pet has arrived!” he chirped. “Pet follows Droopy.”

Hermione baulked at being referred to as a pet by a house elf, but followed him anyway.

She was taken to a library, which ordinarily would have filled her with awe and excitement, but now just make her feel more ashamed, as if the books she held in such reverence would bear witness to her humiliation.

There were a lot of men in the library, seated in a loose circle on leather couches and arm chairs, all looking perfectly at ease. She realised immediately that she recognised all of them; they were the 19 newly-released death eaters who were now supposed to be her clients. Every one of them was there, from Malfoy and Goyle, whom she had known at Hogwarts, all the way up to Dolohov, who had cursed her in the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, and Rookwood, who Harry had impersonated when they’d broken into the Ministry while hunting Horcruxes.
Rowle smirked at her from where he sat, the bulge in his pants obvious, and she fought not to whimper with fear and desire.

Thoros Nott, apparently the architect of this whole situation, beckoned her forward into the middle of the room.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted her, a lecherous twinkle in his eye that reminded her disturbingly of Dumbledore. He held out his hand for her to shake, and she stepped forward to take it, reminding herself that she was here to negotiate.

“I can see you obeyed instructions regarding not wearing a bra,” he commented lightly. “Would you be so kind as to lift your skirt, so we can ensure you have also kept your delightful little cunt available?”

The coarse words sounded shocking in his cultured tones, and she blinked at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Now, please, my dear, or I shall have to send you round to everyone in the room to check personally.”

She hastily hitched up her skirt, exposing herself to the room.

Thoros smiled gently. “Good girl. And the plug?”

She obediently lifted the back of her skirt, revealing the green gem winking between her cheeks. There were whoops and cheers from the gathered men, and she hastily dropped her skirt again to retain some measure of dignity.

“Excellent!” Thoros clapped his hands. “I believe this is going very well indeed. Now, please go and sit down, and I will explain how this is going to work.”

Hermione looked around the room. There were no remaining seats.

“Over here, love!” called a man - Rodolphus Lestrange - beckoning her towards him. She moved towards him without thinking, and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down into his lap. One hand began groping her boobs, while the other slipped between her thighs, and she squeaked in distress.

No-one responded, all of them looking to Thoros, who had begun speaking. Rodolphus’ hands kept her pinned tightly to his chest as he continued to molest her, and she had no choice but to put up with it or miss what Thoros was saying, which was probably important.

“Thorfinn, Draco and I succeeded in tempting our sweet little pet here, as you can see, and ensuring her obedience. She will be available at all times to fulfil your desires, and I have set up a scheduler so you need only put your name and location, and she will come to you.
“She will be given time to sleep, and of course to fulfil her duties as our ‘probation officer’ - I will be working with her to ensure that we are all rehabilitated in record time.”

There was a wry chuckle around the room. Hermione whimpered as Rodolphus pushed a third finger into her sodden cunt, pinching her nipple tightly.

“Thorfinn will be in charge of our pet’s training and punishment, so if there is any aspect of her service you feel is insufficient, please inform him and he will ensure it is corrected. Draco informs us that she is quite intelligent, so I am sure she will pick up her lessons without any trouble.

“I will provide you all with a list of her rules, and if she breaks any of them, you are to report her to Thorfinn for punishment. These will include her not wearing underwear at any time, unless you specifically request it, and she is not allowed to say no to you or refuse to do anything.

“Thorfinn will also be our pet’s advocate; we don’t want to completely break her, because we need her healthy to report to the Wizengamot and so that we can use her for many years to come. This means that if she has any concerns regarding your treatment of her, or if any of you do anything to damage her permanently, Thorfinn will be having a word with you privately. Similarly, if you do anything to reveal her new role as our pet to anyone who is not in this room, that could ruin this for all of us, and get us all sent back to Azkaban. Anyone who reveals her will be dealt with harshly.”

There was a rumble of fear among the men; evidently, a ‘word’ from Thorfinn Rowle was not something anyone took lightly, and nor was the threat of Azkaban.

“Now, Augustus has created a special potion for us, which will bind our pet’s pleasure and keep her… compliant. We will complete the ritual now.”

Rodolphus stood, manhandling her to the bench in the centre of the room, and forced her down onto it. It was purpose-made, she quickly realised, with a padded leather top and straps to hold down her arms and legs at either side which were quickly and tightly bound into place.

Her skirt was flipped up, exposing her dripping cunt and plugged arse to the room, and someone forced a ring-shaped gag into her mouth, preventing her from protesting or biting while they fucked her face.

Rookwood stood up, holding up a large bottle of glistening red potion, and began to explain. “The potion must be smeared all over her holes, before you fuck them, and once you ejaculate the cum will be the final ingredient in the potion, binding her pleasure to you.

“Each of you must cum in her ass and in her mouth, applying the potion before you begin each time. Then, once all of us here have taken both her ass and mouth, which can be done two at a time, we will each take a turn fucking her cunt. Again you must cum inside her, but this time you must maintain eye contact with her as you fuck her, and instruct her to orgasm as you are cumming yourself. The magic will force her orgasm, binding her pleasure to you. Once all of us here have completed all three holes, I will complete the final steps of the ritual, and her pleasure will be permanently bound to us.

“That means that she will not be able to achieve orgasms on her own or with anyone else, those of us in this room will be the only ones able to get her off.

“At the same time, her body will be constantly aroused and needy, and if she goes more than about six hours without a cock inside one of her holes, she will be desperate with desire and literally aching with the need to be filled.”

Thoros took over again, holding up a normal single-dose potion vial.

“I have provided arousal potions for each of you so you will be able to get hard again straight away so we can complete this ritual as expediently as possible, though of course with 19 of us and three holes each to fill, this is going to take a few hours!

“First, however, our little pet is an anal virgin! Accordingly I thought we could draw lots for who gets the prize of her first backdoor entry.”

Hermione's head was swimming with horror and panic. 19 men. Three holes. She was to take, effectively, 57 cocks in quick succession, and to be forced to cum for them, and then only they would ever be able to get her off again! And she would be permanently horny and desperate. And someone was going to fuck her ass! No-one had ever taken her there, though Ron had begged to. They were all going to fuck her ass. 19 men were going to fuck her ass. Including Rowle, who had nearly torn her pussy yesterday, let alone her ass!

She forced her panic down, gasping deep breaths around the ring gag, as Nott called out the name of the man who was to fuck her ass first, while they all watched.

“Walden Macnair!”

She pictured the hulking, hooded figure, carrying the axe which had been intended to execute Buckbeak, and shuddered.

Large hands groped her butt, squeezing and lifting her cheeks.

Someone yanked the green butt plug from her ass, and she yelped at the horrifyingly personal and intimate sensation of emptiness that was left in its place.

A cold, tingling spell rushed through her back passage, which she assumed must be the cleaning and lubricating spell she had seen noted in a magical sex book once, but never felt the need to try.

Thick fingers pried her cheeks apart, baring her most private area to the whole room, and began to massage that burning potion Rowle had used on her yesterday all over her anus, pushing inside and coating every part of her thickly until her ass was on fire.

The blunt head of a cock nudged at her entrance, and she found herself horribly glad that she had had the experience of putting the plug up there herself, so she was at least just a tiny bit aware of what to expect. That in some tiny way, she had taken her own anal virginity. Not Macnair.

Unfortunately the cock forcing its way into her unprepared ass was much bigger, and much longer than the plug, and didn't taper down but just kept stretching her, what felt like wider and wider until she half wondered if he was pushing a traffic cone inside her.

Finally, agonisingly, he stopped. She could feel his hips wedged against her butt, and realised he must be fully inside her.

Someone was screaming, and she only realised it was her when she sucked in a huge breath, a sob really, and the sound stopped for a moment.

Then he pulled back out and thrust right back in again, beginning to fuck her in earnest, and to her absolute horror and despair, she felt arousal and desire pooling in her belly, swelling her clit and turning her screams to disturbingly erotic moans.

“She likes it!” she heard Malfoy crow, triumphantly amidst a chorus of cat calls. “I knew a filthy mudblood would be a butt slut, it just makes sense.”

She felt Macnair’s rhythm stutter, and then the hot gush deep inside her bowels as he came.

There was barely a moment's pause before another round of burning potion was being applied to her ass, and an unknown cock was forced roughly inside her.

Macnair had stretched her well, and it didn't hurt quite so much the second time. She couldn't decide if she was grateful for the lack of pain, or disgusted at her own apparent accommodation, but she didn't have time to think about it as Malfoy was pouring burning, oddly sweet potion into her mouth and pushing his fingers through the gag to coat her tongue and palate with the sticky liquid.

He wiped his fingers in her hair before casually shoving his cock into her throat.

After that she stopped thinking about shame and arousal and just tried to think, relax and breathe whenever she could.

The taste of cinnamon burned in her nose, her mouth, everywhere, an awful parody of something that should be cosy and christmassy.

The first orgasm snuck up on her, but she knew they had noticed when someone, presumably the owner of the cock currently balls deep in her arse, whooped with delight.

“She just came! The little slut just had an orgasm!”

This seemed to excite them even more, and she felt them redoubling their efforts, egging each other on.

“She's clenching so hard, little slut! Desperate for it.”

“She's barely even gagging! It's like she was made to swallow a cock.”

“Look at the way she's moving! She loves this!”

Her screams were drowned as another man grabbed her hair, yanking her head to the angle he preferred and filling her mouth again, the ever present sticky cinnamon making her gag.

She wasn't sure exactly when her clothes had been vanished or ripped from her, but certainly they were no longer there, providing what tiny amount of modesty they had been. She couldn't bring herself to care; they were already using her in the most intimate ways possible.

Cum and cinnamon dripped down her thighs as cock after cock split open her abused arse, each man's cum providing the next man's lube, with the dreaded burning cinnamon potion providing an agonising counterpoint to the orgasms her body somehow brought her to, over and over. Her cunt, so far untouched, felt swollen with arousal and she knew she was dripping.

Finally they had all used her mouth and her arse, and she had a moment's reprieve as they unstrapped her from the bench to turn her over, so they could make eye contact while they fucked her cunt. The perverse version of intimacy sent a thrill of disgust through her.

They tied her down on her back, her legs spread wide and her arms stretched above her head, her head itself restrained by a spell to prevent her from looking away.

She was horrified by how much she was longing for someone to finally fill her aching cunt.

Dolohov was first.

“State your name, and hers, and that you claim her pleasure,” Thoros’ voice came from behind her somewhere.

Dolohov eyed her a little dubiously.

“I, Antonin Dolohov, claim you, Hermione Granger. Your pleasure is mine,” he stated, clearly.

Hermione whimpered softly, at the reality of the fact that this was happening, but also at the faint Russian accent in his voice. It reminded her of Viktor, and she felt yet another rush of arousal.

Dolohov approached her without preamble, spreading the burning potion over her sodden cunt and making her moan loudly before pushing his cock inside her needy cunt and bottoming out in a single stroke, grinning as gasped and whimpered wantonly. He had already used her mouth and arse, and her body welcomed him like a lover as he began to thrust into her.

“You are a little slut for me, da?” He asked her.

She actually had to fight the urge to answer, stubbornly staying silent, but Dolohov didn't seem to mind.

He fucked her hard and fast, without any effort to think of her pleasure, but it didn't matter anyway. His blue eyes stared into her brown ones, and she was helpless to look away.

When he told her to orgasm, as she felt him stutter and release inside her, she fell immediately into oblivion, screaming her own release to the coarse laughter and jibes of the rest of the room.

He pulled out with a smile, keeping eye contact with her until he had stepped out of her limited view.

She moaned softly as her next Master approached.

“My name is Corban Yaxley, and I claim your pleasure, Hermione Granger.” She didn’t like the nasty sneer in his voice as he said her name.

He took his time applying the paste, ensuring he had thoroughly coated all of her folds and around her clit as well as deep into her cunt, seeming to enjoy the way she cried out as it burned her.

When he thrust into her it didn't hurt, she was so wet already and his smaller size didn't stretch her painfully, but he seemed to be aware of that, grabbing her breasts and pinching her nipples cruelly as he fucked her.

“I'm going to enjoy torturing these tits,” he told her, keeping eye contact as he twisted her nipples hard. She glared at him, but he just laughed.

“Come for me, slut.”

And she did, coming just as hard as she had a moment ago, if not even harder, as Yaxley too filled her with his cum.

He grinned at her as he walked away, pausing to wipe his hands in her hair as tears ran down her cheeks.

“My name is Evan Rosier. Hermione Granger, I claim your pleasure.”

Rosier’s voice was low and slow, and in another setting she might have found it soothing, but for now it just made her cry harder.

He smeared the potion onto her in a perfunctory way, then entered her slowly, keeping his thumb on her clit.

She whimpered as he held her gaze, drawing small circles around her clit. His eyes were intense, dark brown like her own.

“I will have you beg for me, Hermione Granger,” he told her quietly, his rich tones making her name sound like something special and expensive.

He fucked her slowly, toying with her, not letting her fall over the edge, keeping his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that took her breath away.

“Ask for your orgasm, pet,” he ordered her gently.

She wasn't sure, afterwards, whether it was the magic of the ritual or the intensity of the sex, but she felt the words spilling out of her mouth, clumsy around her gag.

“Please may I cum?”

“Cum for me, Hermione!” he told her, thrusting into her one more time as his fingers gently pinched her clit and his own orgasm pulsed into her.

She shouted her release, chest heaving and eyes bright, and he smiled at her.

“Until next time, sweet girl.”

She watched him walk away, disgusted at herself. What if she really was made for this? She certainly seemed to be enjoying it. But no, it was the ritual. This awful potion, binding her to them. It wasn't her choice.

She wasn't given time to think about it too much.

“My name is Rodolphus Lestrange, and I claim your pleasure, Hermione Granger.”

Her eyes widened as she met the crazed black stare of the man who had been married to Bellatrix.

He smeared the potion onto her cunt, and then wiped the rest across her body, scratching her with his fingernails and almost sniggering at the marks he left on her skin.

“This body will become anything I like,” he told her, as he pushed his cock into her. “Maybe I'll make you a man!” He laughed, his tone manic, and she saw the truth in his eyes that he would much prefer a man.

Still, the arousal potion did its job, and he fucked her readily enough.

“No squishy tits and curvy hips,” he murmured, groping her breasts as if trying to squash them flat. “Polyjuice will give you nice tight abs and muscular pecs and a big hard cock for me to play with.”

He was muttering under his breath and she didn't think anyone else would have caught it.

“Cum then, girl,” he told her, as he finally came inside her.

She had not been so aroused this time, rather disturbed by his ramblings, but still she gasped as an orgasm washed over her from nowhere.

She whimpered pitifully as the next man stepped up to claim her, painfully aware that there were still so many to go.

“I am Walden Macnair…
“I am Augustus Rookwood…
“I am Adrian Pucey…
…Avery… Mulciber… Selwyn… Travers… Jugson… Greengrass… Parkinson…

The names blurred into each other, their eyes boring into hers even as their cocks thrust into her aching cunt, claiming her over and over.

Each one forced her to cum again, until she was shaking as she lay there, tied down with five men still to come.

“My name is Thorfinn Rowle. I claim your pleasure, Hermione Granger.”

Her eyes met his, and she found herself caught in a blue that spoke of the sea, endless and exciting, but also dangerous. She hadn't really looked at him as he'd taken her yesterday, but now she couldn't have looked away even if she hadn't been forced to hold his gaze.

His fingers were gentle as he applied the potion, but his huge cock still stretched her somehow despite the fourteen other men she had just taken.

He fucked like he knew what he was doing, she thought, comparing him to the rather sloppy and perfunctory efforts of, say, Travers or Parkinson.

Rushes of pleasure and genuine desire filled her as he touched her body, despite her internal disgust at her own reactions.

When he ordered her to cum, she was not surprised by the overwhelming rush of delicious, toe-curling pleasure that swept through her.

“I'm Gregory Goyle and I'm claiming your pleasure, Hermione Granger,” came the gruff voice of the next man.

She would almost have laughed if she wasn't so horrified. Goyle? Really? She was going to be fucked by Goyle?

Clumsy fingers made her cunt burn again, and then a thick, short cock was pushing into her very inexpertly. She wondered if he was maybe even a virgin, although he had already fucked her ass and mouth, she supposed.

His hands clutched unimaginatively at her breasts, and he grinned stupidly at her as he thrust in and out.

“At school you talked a lot,” he said. “I don't want you to talk.”

She stared at him, vaguely insulted, but didn't speak.

He smiled in satisfaction.

“Cum now.”

The aching feeling of an unearned orgasm being pulled from her trembling muscles flooded through her again, and she felt a fresh flow of tears on her cheeks.

Greg had already stepped away from her, to be replaced by Marcus Flint.

She recognised his cruel smile, a sense of horror welling up inside her as she flashed back to second year, the day that Malfoy had called her a mudblood for the first time, and Ron had thrown up slugs.

Flint had looked at her then like she was scum, no better than the slugs on the quidditch pitch. Now he was looking at her like she was a piece of meat.

She couldn't hold back her tears as he coated her throbbing cunt in cinnamon before pressing himself inside, her slick, overused hole providing no resistance to his cock.

“Filthy little mudblood,” he murmured to her, the tone something she would expect from a lover but the words cutting deep. “You should be grateful to be honoured like this, with so much pureblood attention.”

“Cum for me, mudblood bitch,” he demanded, and she cried as she did, trembling and gasping.

Draco Malfoy himself took his place, his silver eyes locking onto hers immediately.

She couldn't place his expression; somewhere between anticipation and disgust as he declared himself and claimed her pleasure - the first time she'd ever heard him say her first name.

He stayed uncharacteristically quiet as he fucked her, just staring into her eyes as if he were counting her tears.

He clearly wasn't too turned off, however, as he came quickly, quietly demanding that she also cum.

The final man to take her was Thoros Nott.

His fingers were thorough but not unkind as he spread the final dose of potion around and into her hole.

His eyes, a dark green, watched her as he entered her, as if she were a piece of art.

“I won't be taking you often, my dear,” he told her softly. “I prefer to enjoy the beauty of a woman in other ways. I do enjoy the way you are completely given over to this ritual, however.”

He caressed her body, as if memorising her curves, seeming to delight in the way her breasts stood out from her chest, her nipples peaking atop them.

“Cum for me, my dear,” he instructed, and she did, weeping and moaning wantonly as the final rush of pleasure swept through her tired body.

He cleaned himself up before releasing her bonds, allowing her to stretch the soreness out of her hips and shoulders, then pulled her carefully to her feet.

“Stand here, with your arms out and your legs apart,” he told her.

She did as she was told, knowing that if she wouldn't make it a step before they caught her, if she tried to run. She wasn't even sure she could walk, anyway.

Rookwood stepped forward, and began to trace patterns on her skin with his wand. Silvery lines glowed for a moment everywhere he went before sinking into her skin without trace, leaving a pleasurable tingle. If she had wanted to move before, now she did not, transfixed by the power of the enchantment.

He focused around her erogenous zones; her breasts, especially her nipples, the insides of her thighs, her butt, her spine, the back of her neck, her ears, her throat.

He traced her lips, pushing his wand into her mouth, still held open by the gag, and drawing a pattern on her tongue right to the back of her throat, delicately circling her oesophagus and sliding down her trachea until she was sure he would reach her stomach before withdrawing.

He kept tracing lines, down her sternum and over her belly, outlining her mons and the edge of each of her labia, swirling around her clit several times before dipping deep into her cunt until she could feel him nudging her cervix.

Across her bruised perineum and around her gaping sphincter, then deep into her ass as well, the ten-inch wand caressing a tingling path along the inner walls of her rectum until it was so deep that his fingers were delving into her ruined hole.

Finally he withdrew, finishing his complex pattern by tracing the length of her legs and carefully covering each of her feet with such a tight and quickly-drawn maze of lines that her whole sole glowed.

He finally removed the wand from her skin, standing fully again to draw one final line, this time circling her throat in silver that did not fade away.

He stepped back, sweat visible on his brow and his breathing ragged.

“Hermione Granger, we bind you now, body within, body without, soul within, sole without, we claim you.”

The silver about her neck coalesced into a simple, delicate necklace chain, resting against her skin with surprising weight.

She lifted a hand to it, almost unconsciously.

It was a single loop, with no clasp or ornament, and she knew it would not break or be possible to remove. She was collared, like a pet.

Rookwood turned to Macnair. “Do you have the rings?”

She thought for a wild moment that he meant wedding rings, but instead the rings Macnair passed to him were unmistakably designed for piercings.

Rowle stepped from the circle of men to stand behind her, easily pinning her arms behind her and kicking her legs wide so she had no way to move.

Rookwood was almost clinical as he took hold of her left breast, rolling the nipple quickly and expertly to a stiff peak and holding the ring against it.

He held the tip of his wand to the ring, and chanted, “terebrare”.

She screamed as the ring pierced through her sensitive flesh, sending a pulse of agony through her chest, but then the ring was sealing itself together into an unbroken loop and immediately healing the piercing, and it fated to a dull throb.

Rookwood calmly repeated the procedure on her right breast, smiling slightly as she screamed again.

Finally, he held up the third ring for her to see, waiting for her to realise where it was going to go.

Her breath caught as she put it together, and she met his eyes in horror. He grinned sadistically, dropping to one knee in a mocking parody.

“With this ring, we thee claim,” he pronounced mockingly. “With your body, you honour us, all that you have, you give to us, and all that you are you share with us.”

He pulled back the hood of her clit with his thumb, teasing the oversensitised bud beneath with the tip of his finger, clearly delighting in the audible moans the action drew from Hermione.

Then he carefully placed the ring, nestling it against her hood, and performed the spell.

Her scream was more of a sob this time, a crashing realisation that she was never getting out of this mess.

Her clit throbbed as the ring settled into place, and Rookwood tugged on it, twisting it so that it rubbed against her clit and made her whimper.

“Perfect,” he murmured, before stepping back and taking his place on the couch once again.

Rowle released her, and undid her gag, letting her finally close her mouth, then also stepped away.

Chapter Text

She stood all alone, crying, in the centre of the room.

Thoros beckoned her towards him.

“Magnificent, my dear,” he told her, apparently sincerely. “You will be a most precious asset to us, I am sure. Your performance this afternoon has been quite a revelation, and something I am sure we will all remember for many years to come.

“I will send a copy of your new scheduler to you later, and of course your new rules, and I have taken the liberty of organising direct floo access between your home and the homes of all of your Masters.

“But for now, please do go and recover yourself. I will have a house elf take you home.”

He snapped his fingers, and the same house elf who had called her a pet earlier appeared, giving her naked form a rather lecherous look.

“Droopy, take our little pet home, please.”

A moment later, she was standing in her living room, Droopy beside her.

“Thank you, Droopy,” she said politely. No matter what else happened, she would not be rude to the poor elf.

Droopy smiled slyly at her.

“Little pet is the reason Droopy must wear clothes and take moneys from wizards. Droopy knows that Little pet used to be called Missy Hermione, and Missy Hermione is a wicked witch who takes away house elves dignity. Droopy is pleased to see Master Nott take away Missy Hermione's dignity. Droopy watches Little pet be used by wizards for hours and hours! Droopy thinks Little pet should say thank you to Droopy properly.”

The elf palmed his cock, which Hermione was horrified to see was evidently erect beneath the elf's trousers.

“No! Go away, Droopy!” she shouted, horrified and disgusted.

Droopy laughed. “Little pet is owned by Droopy’s Master and must do what she is told. Droopy is a free elf who does not have to do what witches and wizards say any more because of bad Missy Hermione. Droopy outranks Little pet.”

The elf snapped his fingers, and Hermione's eyes widened as she was forced to her knees.

“Say please to suck Droopy's cock,” the elf ordered.

“No, Droopy, I don't want to!” she objected, trying desperately to turn her face away.

“Bad Missy Hermione wants elfs and wizards to be equal,” said Droopy, sternly. “Little pet sucks nineteen wizard cocks today but will not suck Droopy's cock? Missy Hermione is even more bad than Droopy thought.”

Hermione felt tears of desperation in her eyes. “No, I do want you to be equal! But I didn't want to suck any of their cocks. They made me.”

Droopy shrugged. “Droopy can make you.”

He snapped his fingers again, and Hermione froze, her mouth slightly open.

The elf pulled out his cock, fisting it a few times before nudging the head between her lips, but before he could start to fuck her, the floo flared.

She felt her heart sink. This might be the lowest moment of her life, and she did not want any witnesses.

Rowle strode into the room, stopping short as he saw her frozen body, and the elf about to force his cock into her mouth.

He looked furious as he bodily ripped the elf awake from her and marched straight back to the floor, leaving Hermione frozen in place.

Less than a minute later he had returned, holding Hermione's wand in his hand.

He released her from the bodybind, and pulled her into his arms.

“The elf will be dealt with, and I have brought you your wand. You might be a muggleborn but you are still a witch, and you need a way to defend yourself. I will stay here tonight. After this afternoon, you will need some aftercare.”

Hermione just sobbed limply against him. The last shreds of pride she had maintained after surviving the ritual had been brutally ripped away by the elf. She felt oddly safe with Rowle, probably because of the binding ritual but regardless she would take all the safety she could get right now.

She let him carry her to the bathroom and sank willingly into the hot water for the second day in a row.

When he also stripped off and joined her in the tub, she did not protest.

He was a big man in every way, reminding her of a viking with his blond, braided hair and beard, and she saw now that he had several tattoos on his arms, chest and back.

He pulled her over to him so she nestled between his legs, leaving back against his chest, and began to gently but firmly scrub the sweat and cum and other grime from her skin with a washcloth.

Her skin tingled where Rookwood had traced his wand over her body every time his fingers touched the same places, and it didn't take long before she was pleasurably aroused all over again, arching into his touch as he cleaned her breasts and thighs.

“What do you know about the BDSM lifestyle, Hermione?” he asked her quietly, as he washed her legs.

His voice was low and soft, but still emanated power, and she felt it rumble through his chest where she lay against him.

“Not very much,” she confessed. “I have read a few romance novels where they used rope or handcuffs, or spanking sometimes, and it does turn me on, but I've never had the time or the opportunity to explore any further.”

He didn't speak again until he was washing between her legs, using his fingers because even the soft cloth was too rough for her sensitive skin after being fucked so many times.

“Tell me about the other men you've been with. Before all this. I know you are not in a relationship right now, but you weren't a virgin yesterday.”

She wasn't quite sure why she answered honestly, but she did.

“I lost my virginity to Viktor Krum when I was 15, after the second task of the Triwizard Tournament when I was chosen as the one he would miss the most. He was 17 but I don't think I was his first. He was very sweet, and he did try to make me cum but I was too tense and I couldn't quite get there, so I faked it and he looked so pleased with himself. We had sex a few times, but then he went back to Bulgaria and I never really saw him after that and it fizzled out. He did make me cum a once, but mostly I faked it because we would be in the broomshed or an alcove behind a portrait and I was uncomfortable and scared someone would find us.

“After Viktor I dated Ron Weasley for a bit after… after the battle. He was very insecure about not being my first, and if I didn't fake an orgasm almost immediately he would sulk about not being as good as Krum and go off in a huff. He ended up cheating on me with Lavender Brown.

“I went on a few dates with Neville Longbottom when we were both 21, but he'd only recently broken up with Hannah so it never really got anywhere beyond some light touching.

“I had a surprisingly good one night stand with Percy Weasley a few years ago, that's the only time I ever came more than once from penetrative sex, but he wasn't interested in actually dating. We hooked up again once more a couple of months later, and then he started dating Audrey not long after that and they got married last year.

“Other than that… Harry and I hooked up once, when we were drunk, but we don't talk about it.”

Rowle gently sat her forward, and began massaging her favourite magical curl shampoo into her hair.

“So when was the last time you had sex, before yesterday?”

Hermione thought back. “I guess… three years ago? With Percy. But it's not like I don't… keep myself satisfied. I have toys.”

She felt more than heard his soft laugh. “How often do you fuck your sweet little cunt with those toys, Hermione?” he asked, his voice rumbling in her ear deliciously.

She blushed. Somehow, despite everything. “Uh… two or three times a week?” she hedged, her voice squeaking with embarrassment.

He washed the soap from her hair with jets of fresh warm water from his wand, then pulled her back down against his chest.

“Accio Hermione's toys,” he called.

The box flew from her drawer, landing on the counter beside the bath.

“Introduce me to the… men in your life,” he commanded softly, one hand cupping her breast and toying gently with it, tugging lightly on her new nipple ring in a way that sent pulses of pleasure through straight to her cunt.

He tipped the box a little, displaying its contents.

Hermione reached forward shyly, pulling the first dildo from the box. Six inches long, made of bright pink rubber and very realistic, it was one of her favourites to seat inside herself while she played with her clit, adding that extra fullness.

She held it up, displaying it to Rowle, and explained how she liked to use it. He made no comment, so she put it on the side of the bath and took out the next, a classic black rabbit vibrator.

“This one is the quickest. It vibrates…” she paused to press the button, feeling it buzz to life in her hand. “It's called a rabbit. The ears tease my clit while the rest goes inside me.”

He took it from her without a word, motioning for her to continue as he pressed the buzzing head of the vibrator against her nipple ring.

She squealed at the sensation and he laughed.

“Keep going,” he encouraged her.

Trying to ignore the buzzing pleasure in her nipples, she picked up the next toy, a bullet vibrator.

This he took from her as well, applying it to her other nipple.

Next were her ben wa balls, a pair of weighted balls connected by a string, which she could sit inside herself and moved around as she walked, gently fucking her. She wore them sometimes at home on the weekends, teasing herself throughout the day before a delicious ‘self care’ session along with a bottle of wine in the evening.

Rowle seemed intrigued by these and took them from her, testing the weight in his hands.

The rest of the box held toys she didn't use as much - a much larger dildo 10 inches long and almost as girthy as Rowle, bought as a joke for a hen do, which she used on occasion when she was feeling really horny; an unused butt play set complete with two plugs, and a small string of anal beads, still in its packet; and a plug-in Hitachi wand which she had found too powerful and also couldn't plug in easily in her magical house.

By the time she had finished explaining, she felt almost ready to cum just from the vibrators on her nipples, whining and moaning as she spoke.

Finally she put the last toy back in the box, and he switched off the vibes, leaving her tingling and gasping, right on the edge.

“Oh, no, please!” she gasped. “I was so close!”

He turned her round to face him, so she was kneeling between his legs in the tub.

“Firstly, pet, I would like you to address me as Sir or Master Thorfinn when you beg me or speak to me directly,” he requested, his tone gentle but his eyes steely.

“Secondly, I would like you always to beg permission to orgasm.

“And thirdly, you wouldn't be able to cum from the nipple stimulation alone anyway. Your pleasure has been bound, remember? The only way you will ever cum again is with one of your Masters’ cocks in one of your holes.”

He reached between her legs, tugging gently on the ring that now pierced her clit hood, and pulling a moan from her lips.

“You, or I, or anyone else could tease your little clit, or your lovely tits, or even fuck your holes with toys all day and all night, and you would be right on the very edge and screaming and begging to cum, but you wouldn't be able to until one of us put our cock inside you.

“So, Hermione, ask me nicely and I'll be happy to help you cum. But if I don't think you've asked me nicely enough…” he let the sentence hang; there was no need to finish the threat.

“Please Master Thorfinn! Please may your pet cum on your cock?” she begged immediately. She felt desperate; after being taken so utterly with complete disregard to her own pleasure all afternoon, doing it willingly now felt almost cathartic.

Thorfinn’s slow smile washed over his face, activating dimples she hadn't known he had.

“Of course you may, sweetheart. Turn around, and spread your cheeks for me.”

She did as she was bidden, turning carefully around and resting her face and chest against the edge of the bath, reaching behind to spread her cheeks for him.

The cold tingle of the prep spell washed through her, followed by a lubrication charm, and then she felt the now familiar pressure of a blunt cock head entering her arse.

Her orgasm, which had only been held off by the magic of the ritual, was immediate as he bottomed out inside her, and she screamed out her pleasure, clenching around him.

He let her enjoy it for a moment before starting to move, taking her briskly but not unkindly as he sought his own release.

A few moments later, though, she was begging again.

“Please Master Thorfinn! I need to cum!”

“Wait til I say you can, pet,” he told her. He picked up his pace, moving his hands to her tits and pulling hard on her rings, giving her a little pain to help her hold off the orgasm.

“Please, Master Thorfinn, please!” She begged desperately, arching into his hands as her ass fluttered around him.

“Not yet, pet. I own your pleasure, and you will not take it without permission, or I will have to punish you,” he warned her gently.

She moaned needily, and he delivered a short smack to her butt in warning.

Her answering whimper was enough to send him over the edge, and he grunted as he filled her ass with his cum.

“Now you may cum, pet,” he told her.

She immediately fell apart, shaking and clenching and gasping his name.

“Thank you Master Thorfinn!”

He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him as he kissed her forehead.

“That's my good girl, Hermione.”

He felt her shiver with desire. She definitely had a praise kink.

He cleaned them both up with fresh water, and then lifted her out of the tub, drying her with a charm.

Then he pulled a butt plug from the pocket of the robes he'd been wearing.

“This is a prep plug. It will keep you clean, stretched open and lubricated at all times, to make the anal easier for you, at least to begin with. It will be part of your rules to wear this at all times unless one of your masters tells you to remove it. It won't be necessary to remove it for the bathroom or to wash, as the cleaning enchantment will take care of that.”

He held it out to her. “Would you like to insert it, or shall I?”

She looked at the plug dubiously. It was bigger than the one they'd made her wear earlier that day - was it really still the same day? - but looked more comfortably shaped at the base than the large green gem had been.

“Could you do it, please, Master Thorfinn?” she asked shyly.

Thorfinn nodded. “Of course, Hermione, thank you for asking so nicely. You're such a good girl for me.”

He grinned as his words sent a blush across her cheeks.

“Bend over, then.”

She was still gaping from his cock, and he was able to ease the plug into her with minimal resistance.

She whimpered softly as he seated it inside her, tapping the base to make sure it was secure.

“You look so pretty with a plug in your arse,” he told her. “Now, we're going to have some food, and then it's time for you to get some rest. Thoros will have sent over your scheduler by now and I'm sure you have a full day tomorrow.”

He passed her her dressing gown, and led her into the lounge. Sure enough, there was a smart black dragonhide magischeduler sitting on the coffee table.

She dropped down onto the sofa, wincing as the plug shifted inside her, and picked it up.

Thorfinn went to the fireplace, ordering takeout from the Leaky Cauldron.

Two plates zoomed from the floo in protective bubbles a moment later, landing neatly on the table, and he put a galleon into one of the bubbles before sending it back through.

Hermione watched in slight surprise - it had never occurred to her that the Leaky Cauldron would offer takeout, she always just went to the muggle Chinese place down the street. However, the pie and mash looked delicious, and she realised as her stomach rumbled loudly that she was in fact starving.

She picked up her wand, which was lying on the coffee table where Thorfinn had put it earlier, feeling herself relax a little as the familiar magic warmed her, and summoned cutlery from the kitchen, handing a set to Thorfinn before tucking in.

She flipped open the scheduler with one hand as she ate, and gasped.

Each page had the hours of the day listed down the left-hand side, with space to fill in her activities on the right.

Two hours every morning were highlighted blue for work, with Thoros’ name next to it in neat print. Once a week on Thursdays she had the Wizengamot session in the afternoons, highlighted pink, and somehow someone must have got hold of her normal scheduler, probably when they'd been in her office yesterday, because drinks with Harry and Ron were in their usual Friday night slot too, along with a few other personal appointments, which were in orange. From 11pm until 7am daily was blanked out for sleep.

The blank spaces, all of the rest of her time, were filling up before her eyes with green highlighting, different names and locations in a variety of handwriting adding the details.

A note in red pen at the bottom of the page noted that none of her Masters was allowed to claim more than one hour per day with her unless they were taking her for the whole weekend, in which case they could only have one weekend a month, and could not have her during the week on that week.

She tuned the note out; the details of it were irrelevant as she wasn't going to get a say anyway.

Thorfinn reached over and firmly closed the book, setting it to one side.

“Eat, pet. Think about that in the morning. For now you need to rest and recover.”

She looked at him in despair, all of the cosy warmth of the bath and her recent orgasms gone in the cold realisation, all over again, of her situation.

“How can I eat and relax and sleep when I'm going to be raped again tomorrow?” she demanded.

“It's not rape, pet,” he told her soothingly. “None of them is going to force you to do anything. The ritual will make sure you're begging for it!”

She stared at him, wondering if he genuinely believed that.

“Eat your dinner,” he said again, in a sterner tone.

She picked up her fork, mechanically eating another bite of steak pie. It really was very good.

“Can't you feel how your pussy flutters and gets wet at the thought of being stretched around your Master's cock?” he continued softly, as she ate. “The plug is filling you up, but it's not enough, is it? Have you noticed the way you're licking that fork every time you put it into your mouth? You want this, Hermione. It might take you a few days to realise just how much but I promise you that you do.”

As he named the parts of her body, she felt them tingle, and shifted a little on the sofa as she realised distantly that yes, she was getting aroused again, already.

Thorfinn had cleared his plate, so he sent it back through the floo to the Leaky and pulled her onto his lap.

He spread her legs and began to toy gently with her clit and he continued to chat casually about how she only needed to listen to her body, and she would realise that none of this was a bad thing.

She felt herself getting wetter and wetter, whimpering and squirming on his lap, but he refused to touch anywhere else or to change his rhythm or anything. Every time she moved in a way that changed anything, he would withdraw his hand and stop touching her entirely, and if she spoke he would interrupt and tell her to keep eating her dinner.

She tried desperately to sit still throughout the rest of the meal, hoping that if she was a good girl he would give her more than just the torturously light brushes of his fingers against her clit.

When she finally finished her plate, he murmured, “What a good girl you are, Hermione! You learn so quickly. You are going to be a pleasure to train, I can tell.”

She almost glowed with the praise, quivering as she fought to stay still under his continued ministrations.

“Would you like my cock for dessert, sweetheart?” He asked her.

“Yes please, Master Thorfinn!” She agreed eagerly, knowing she would need a cock to have the orgasm he’d been teasing her up to.

“On your knees then, pet, and I want you to do all the work. I'm not going to fuck your face or guide you, you need to work out how to give a good blow job. You are only allowed to orgasm once I have cum down your throat, do you understand?”

“Yes Master Thorfinn,” she agreed, dropping to her knees.

Thorfinn sat back, smiling as he watched her eagerly pull his cock out of his trousers. When she got in her head she got quickly stressed, but given a little domination and turned on a bit and she was perfect.

She clearly didn't have a lot of experience with blow jobs, and she was struggling a bit with his size, but he was confident she could take him now just as she had earlier and the day before. It would take her a while to learn to conquer her reflexive urges to breathe and gag, but if anyone had the willpower to do that, it was Hermione Granger.

He could tell that just having his cock in her mouth had her near to orgasm after the edging he'd given her throughout dinner, so that was something else she would have to fight.

She wrapped her small hands around the base of his cock, opening her mouth as wide as she could to accommodate him. She immediately gagged as he hit the back of her throat, but four hours of being face-fucked that afternoon had obviously taught her that it wouldn't kill her, and she persevered in swallowing him down.

She managed to take a good six inches of him on the first try, which he was impressed with, but she still had three more to go. Changing tack, she began to lick the length of his shaft, teasing him with her tongue, swirling it around the head and sucking on him like a lollipop.

He smiled down at her, enjoying her ‘dessert’, and felt the familiar tug in his balls. She was doing well.

She took a deep breath and tried again to take him all, gagging and stuttering as she forced him into her throat. Six inches, then seven!

“Good girl, Hermione!” He encouraged her.

It was too much for her. With his cock in her throat and the words of praise in her ears, she shuddered as she came hard, squirting all over the floor.

He immediately pulled her off him, looking stern. “What did I say, Hermione?”

“Not to cum before you did,” she whispered, shamefaced.

“You will call me Sir or Master when you speak to me,” he told her, his voice deadly soft.

“Master!” she cried. “Sorry, Master!”

“I am going to fuck your face to claim my orgasm, Hermione, and then I'm going to spank you.”

He grabbed a fistful of her wild curls, forcing her mouth back onto his cock. Her throat contracted around him as she tried to adjust but he didn't give her a chance, fucking her throat hard and rough until he came a few moments later.

He pulled out as he came, letting his cum splash across her face.

“Swallow it all,” he told her. “Wipe it off your face and lick your fingers. I won't have you wasting a drop of my cum.”

She tearfully obeyed, scooping the salty liquid into her mouth and swallowing it down.

“Thank you, Master Thorfinn,” she whispered, her voice rough from the abuse of her throat.

“Good girl for remembering to thank me,” he acknowledged her, and she brightened a little.

“Now, I know that you didn't mean to cum. It was an accident, wasn't it, sweetheart?”

She nodded sadly.

“And you want to be a good girl for me, don't you?”

“Yes, Master Thorfinn,” she agreed, more eagerly.

“I want you to be a good girl too, Hermione, but that means when you're a bad girl, even by accident, I have to punish you, so you can quickly learn how to be good. Do you understand, pet?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, Master Thorfinn. Please punish me so I can be a good girl?”

Thorfinn had to fight not to smile. “I will, sweet girl. Bend over my lap.”

She slipped off her dressing gown, positioning herself as he'd said, naked across his thighs. The plug winked in her ass.

“Have you ever been spanked before?” He asked her.

“No sir,” she replied quietly.

“I won't give you too many then, this first time, pet. I'm going to spank your bottom with my hand eight times, and you are going to count them and thank me for each one, and then ask for the next one when you are ready. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Thorfinn.”

He ran his palm over her cheeks, kneading and squeezing them, then brought his open hand down on her left buttock with a loud smack.

She cried out, but quickly controlled herself. “One, thank you Master Thorfinn!”

She took a breath as he stroked his hand over the red print on her arse.

“Please may I have another?”

He quickly complied, landing a matching handprint on her right buttock.

“Two, thank you Master Thorfinn! Please may I have another?”

He continued alternating between her cheeks, admiring the building colour. He could see her cunt glistening with arousal, and suspected the movement of the plug in her ass was turning her on.

“Six, thank you Master Thorfinn,” she gasped, moaning as he palmed her glowing cheeks.

“Please may I have another?”

He put a little more power behind the seventh strike, and she groaned softly. “Seven, thank you Master Thorfinn,” she whimpered, her breathing ragged. “May I have another please?”

He delivered the final blow across both cheeks, enjoying her desperate moan as the plug was shaken in her ass, and the edge of his hand caught the lips of her dripping cunt.

“Eight, thank you Master Thorfinn,” she finished her count, making no move to leave his lap as he continued to stroke and knead her reddened ass.

“Good girl, Hermione,” he praised her. He could feel the little wiggle of joy she made as he said the words, and smiled.

He helped her up off his lap, and she pouted a little as he let go of her.

“Time for bed. Go and get ready, and I will see you in your room. Don't forget, from now on you will sleep naked, so don't bother with any pyjamas.”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured as she left the room. He could tell she wanted to cum again by the way she rubbed her thighs together as she walked, but she was clearly too shy to ask.

He was already in her bed by the time she came out of the bathroom, breath minty fresh and hair tamed into luxuriant curls. She got in beside him, naked but for her plug, and he smiled at her.

“Because of the ritual, you will require a cock in one of your holes at least once every six hours, or you will start to ache with need. As a good night's sleep is eight hours, it will be best for you to sleep with one of your Masters every night, so that you can be fucked immediately before sleeping and immediately when you wake up. Your Master may also be kind enough to fuck you in the night too,” he informed her.

“However, I enjoy using my submissives as a cock warmer. This means I will sleep with my cock inside you all night. If you cum in your sleep then that's fine, as I know you can't control that especially while you're so new to this. The plus side for you is that you should feel satisfied and content all night, and won't wake up desperately needy.”

As he spoke he manoeuvred her into position, lying on her side with her back towards him so he was spooning her. He gently guided his cock, semi-hard, into her cunt, then drew her back against himself and cast a charm to prevent them from separating during the night.

Satisfied, he turned out the light, and settled down to sleep.

Hermione lay cuddled in her Master's arms, her cunt comfortably full of his cock and her ass slightly less comfortably full of the plug, her buttocks still tingling from her spanking and her body overall aroused and ready for sex, yet again, but there was no way she could masturbate without alerting Master Thorfinn to what she was doing, and he clearly wasn't going to fuck her.

She supposed she was going to have to get used to being this aroused all the time, if she was going to be a good girl for her new Masters.

The thought sent pleasurable thrills through her, and she found herself reliving the intense orgasms she had had that day, Master Thorfinn’s words - “Good Girl, Hermione,” echoing in her head as she drifted happily off to sleep.

Chapter Text

She awoke the following morning to the delicious ache of her Master's full, thick length inside her, his arms wrapped around her as he nuzzled her sleepily. One of his hands rested on her mons, holding her hips in place for him, while the other had a handful of her breasts. She felt very turned on, if a little upset at how little say she seemed to have about that.

A shrill alarm was going off in the next room, but she couldn't get up or reach her wand to do anything about it.

A moment later, Master Thorfinn woke up too, muttering darkly about alarms as he came to.

He seemed pleased to find her in his arms, thrusting gently inside her just to hear her moan before reaching for his wand and summoning the offending alarm - her scheduler, which was glowing blue.

He tapped it with his wand and it stopped beeping, instead saying, “Hermione Granger, first meeting of the day with Gregory Goyle, in 14 minutes.”

Hermione tensed, her arousal quickly disappearing as the thought of the day ahead suddenly hit her.

“You're mine still for ten minutes,” her Master announced.

He didn't bother pulling out as he rolled over on top of her, tugging her knees upwards so she was on all fours beneath him, then began to ease out of her before slamming back in.

One hand found her clit, and he strummed it gently, making her whine needily.

“You can cum when you're ready, pet.”

Despite her fear of the day ahead, and the rather overused feeling in her cunt, her orgasm built quickly and she came hard, pulling him over the edge with her as he ploughed her into the mattress.

“There's my good girl,” he praised her.

She glowed at his words, even as she winced at the loss of him as he pulled out of her. After spending all night impaled on his large cock, she felt empty and sore without him.

He saw her wince, and smiled as he sat up, rolling her over to look at him.

“Accio Hermione's toys.”

The box of her toys flew back from the bathroom, and he picked up the ben wa balls.

“I want these inside you all day, unless someone tells you to remove them,” he told her. “I'll put a note in the scheduler so everyone knows you're wearing them.”

“All day?” she asked breathlessly, as he slipped the balls into her cunt, one at a time.

“All day,” he confirmed. “They'll keep you nice and wet and ready for us, and make it easier for you, too.”

“Now, you've got seven minutes until you're due at Goyle’s house. Better hurry.”

She leapt from the bed in horror, summoning clothes from her wardrobe as she went.

Thorfinn snatched the underwear from the air as it flew towards her.

“I'm going to assume that was just force of habit in your panic, pet,” he said, dangerously.

“Oh - yes, sorry,” she agreed, hastily buttoning her blouse without the bra.

“Your rules are in your scheduler, and you have a free hour after you're done at Goyle's, so I want you to come back here and we're going to go through them. I'm going to stay here and check your wardrobe for approved outfits, and see if any of the others can be modified.”

She agreed quickly as she pulled on her skirt, gasping as the movement made the balls inside her shift deliciously. She had to clench to hold them in, which intensified the sensation.

Thorfinn put the scheduler in her bag, handing it to her as she cast a breath freshening charm on her mouth and pushed her feet into her shoes.

“I'll see you in an hour, pet,” he told her with a smile, as she stepped through the floo.

~~~

She was a bit surprised that Goyle was the first one to sign up to use her, but she quickly realised that it was because he hadn't made any elaborate plans.

He was still in bed when she arrived, spilling out of the fireplace directly into his bedroom.

“Good morning,” she said, uncertainly, as she stood in front of the gate, brushing soot from her clothes.

Goyle grunted, pulling back his blankets to reveal his morning wood tenting his pyjama trousers.

“Less talking, more sucking,” he responded.

He seemed proud of the little quip, and she wondered idly if he'd spent time thinking about it.

She walked slowly to the bed, kneeling awkwardly in her pencil skirt, and put a tentative hand on his cock.

He groaned in pleasure, thrusting lightly into her palm, and pulled down his trousers for her.

His cock, which made up for its slightly under average length by being thick and heavy, sprang free. She stared at it, struck that this was the first time she was doing this genuinely willingly. She wasn't tied down or gagged or imperiused. She had just flooed into Gregory Goyle's bedroom, and willingly got on her knees to suck his cock. And her pussy, still clenching deliciously around the balls Master Thorfinn had inserted, seemed quite excited about the idea.

She opened her mouth tentatively, and licked the head of his cock, tasting the salty musk of his skin.

He moaned appreciatively, thrusting forward a little, impatient to have his whole cock in her mouth.

She sucked on him like a lollipop, flattening her tongue against the underside of the head and bobbing her head a little to simulate thrusting. She didn't really know how to do this, although she had a feeling she was going to get a crash course in technique over the next few days.

Goyle didn't seem to mind though. He grunted and moaned softly throughout, apparently enjoying himself, and when she finally took his full five inches to the back of her throat, he put his hand on the back of her head and groaned in satisfaction as he came down her throat.

She swallowed carefully, just grateful not to be gagging on him, and pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop.

He nodded to her as he tucked himself back into his pyjamas and pulled the blankets back over himself.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

And with that, he rolled over and she was dismissed.

Her cunt was tingling, but with no stimulation and without the ritual or potion keeping her on the edge she wasn't even close to cumming, and besides, his cock wasn't inside her any more.

She stood up and walked back to the fireplace, feeling like she might cry.

Master Thorfinn was waiting for her, though he seemed surprised to see her so soon. He was busy throwing her clothes into piles - a large pile that she suspected were going to be thrown out, a smaller pile that presumably could be altered, and a very small pile that he had deemed acceptable.

Trying not to dwell on that, she sat down on the sofa, pulling the throw around her shoulders to cover herself a bit.

“Back so soon, pet?” Master Thorfinn asked.

She nodded miserably. “He just wanted a blow job and then he went back to sleep. He didn't touch me at all. I feel like a cheap whore.”

Master Thorfinn sat down beside her and pulled her onto his lap, facing him.

“No no no, pet. You're not cheap. You're a very, very expensive toy, exclusively bound to the richest wizards in Britain. You are a rare jewel.”

“But I don't want to be a toy,” she sniffed, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks.

He held her close, letting her cry. “That's ok, pet. It's still new to you. You'll learn. You're such a clever girl, I know you're going to love learning all the new things we have to teach you, and being our good girl.”

Her skirt had ridden up as he'd pulled her onto his lap, the tight pencil cut forced right up to her hips to allow her to straddle his thighs.

He slipped a hand between their bodies, toying gently with the ring in her clit hood as he spoke.

“Greg didn't let you cum, did he pet?” he asked, knowingly, as she quickly and unconsciously began to rub up against his finger, her body begging for release despite cumming on his cock only half an hour before.

“No sir,” she admitted, sniffing quietly.

“You are a greedy little thing,” he said, fondly. “The potion is still in your system, so you'll need to cum more for a while. You may suck my cock if you need to cum now.”

A small part of her wanted to refuse, to step away from him and make them leave her alone, but the way her piercing was rubbing so perfectly against her clit was making her desperate with need.

“Yes please, Master Thorfinn.”

She dropped to her knees, hastily pulling his cock from his pants, and he laughed at her eagerness.

“Make sure I cum first, pet,” he warned her, “or I'll have to spank you again, and it won't be so pleasant this time.”

She managed somehow to make him cum before she shattered into her own orgasm, suspecting his arousal at her own eagerness played a large part in how quickly she was able to get him off. She knew it had been far from an expert blow job.

“There's a good girl,” he praised her as she released him, eyes shining and cheeks pink. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Soon I'll teach you how to deep throat me properly, but for now I love to watch your earnest little face as you try your very best for me.”

She blushed with the praise, wiggling her shoulders happily as she looked up at him.

“Now, pet, we need to go through your rules. I want you naked for this, so you always remember your place.”

The sense of shame and embarrassment flooded back over her as she stripped, kneeling down on a cushion beside him while he sat, fully clothed on her sofa.

The rules were written out in a neat, if calligraphic hand in her scheduler, with key words underlined in red. Some part of her appreciated the organisation; she hoped it meant that at least the hours of ‘work’ she was due to spend with Thoros Nott would be somewhat pleasant. Certainly, he shared her penchant for a neatly organised planner. She dreaded to think what this could have been like if her Masters had just decided to call on her at random, without any kind of scheduler.

“I believe Draco intends to test you on these rules tomorrow during his evening with you,” Master Thorfinn commented, “so I suggest you pay attention. He will doubtless be trying to trip you up, so he can punish you.”

Hermione looked up at him, frowning. “He can’t punish me if I don’t get anything wrong!” she declared.

Master Thorfinn laughed, petting her hair. “Sweet girl, he can do whatever he likes, so long as he doesn’t damage you permanently. You are a toy, remember? Precious and expensive, yes, but ultimately he may play with you however he wishes.”

The unfairness of it all made it hard for her to concentrate, but she knew she needed to. She refused to let Malfoy beat her in a test, even a perverse one like this.

There were ten rules. The language was detailed and almost contract-like - she assumed they were aware of her career as a lawyer and didn't want her trying to find loopholes - but she could summarise them all fairly simply.

She was not allowed to say no to her Masters, and she was to be respectful of them in her manner and actions, and address them as Sir or Master at all times.
She was not to wear any underwear, or cover her pussy in any way. There were also specific rules about her clothing; essentially, only short skirts and tops that were either buttoned, or low necked.
She was not allowed to change her appearance without permission, including hair cut and colour and any other body modifications.
She was to take care to be well groomed and to take care of her body, ensuring she ate healthily and drank enough water, had regular healer check-ups, and did not gain or lose a significant amount of weight.
She was not to drink alcohol, take drugs, or use recreational potions unless ordered to, and could not take anything which might interact with any potions they might choose to give her, such as arousal potions. She was also to take the contraceptive potion regularly, to ensure she did not have periods or get pregnant.
She was to wear the butt plug at all times unless being actively being fucked or told to remove it.
She was to follow the scheduler unless unable to for a serious reason, in which case she must contact Thorfinn and he would either allow and sign off on her reason, or punish her for it.
Her Masters were not allowed to expose her to anyone outside of their immediate circle of 19 men.
Her Masters were allowed to set their own rules for her conduct while she was with them, and punish her as they saw fit if she broke them, but they were not allowed to permanently injure her, and any body modifications like her breast enhancement and the piercings must be agreed upon by all 19 men and done responsibly.
Any necessary potions such as the contraceptive, any bruise balms or other intimate healing required, any aesthetic things required by her Masters such as makeup or hair removal, and any toys or equipment required for her role as Toy would be paid for and provided by her Masters.

She read through the rules, summoning a highlighter halfway down the first page and duplicating the contract so that she could mark up her own copy.

It was laid out clearly and concisely, and she again felt a sense of hope that at least working with Thoros Nott would mean working with a keen mind. Perhaps they really would get some work done.

It was when she read the line, “the Toy may be whipped, beaten, or otherwise physically chastised at the Master's discretion, with the caveat that no permanent physical harm is done to the Toy” that she felt tears beginning to slide down her face.

She pointed it out to Master Thorfinn.

“So long as they know basic healing charms, they could literally cut off my fingers and there would be no permanent harm!” she objected, bitterly.

Master Thorfinn stroked her hair gently.

“I want you to remember two things, pet. Firstly, how hard you came when I spanked you last night. And secondly, that I am your advocate, and that if any man causes you more pain than you can bear, or does anything that makes you truly upset, you are to come straight to me, and I will have a word with them.”

He cracked his knuckles, menacingly. “And believe me, pet, none of those men take the threat of a word from me lightly.”

She felt a little comforted by his words. She still didn't really know why she trusted him, but she did, and she felt certain that anyone on the wrong side of a ‘word’ from him would be seeing stars for a month.

“I asked you yesterday what you knew about BDSM, pet,” he said, after a moment. “I would like you to research it. I will write down the names of some books for you. This is a slightly unconventional lifestyle relationship, true, but I think it will help you immensely to understand the role of a submissive, and how pleasure and pain can go together.”

Hermione perked up immediately at the thought of a research project, and books. The idea that there were books that related to her situation meant that perhaps she wasn't so alone, after all.

“Yes, Master Thorfinn,” she agreed, happily.

“Now, pet, you haven't had breakfast yet, and your next meeting is soon,” he reminded her.

She quickly made eggs and toast for both of them, then checked the scheduler as she sat down to eat.

“It's 8:30am now, and I'm meeting Master Nott at work at 9am,” she read out. “That's for three hours, the first two at work and then the third one at his house.”

She shivered slightly at the thought of Nott Manor.

“Then this afternoon I have a hour with Master Yaxley, and then an hour with Master Rosier, and then an hour with Master Lestrange, and then four hours with Masters Selwyn, Travers, Greengrass and Parkinson,” she reeled off, sounding more and more panicked as she realised just how many Masters she would be servicing.

“And then the evening and all night with Master Rowle!” she exclaimed. “Oh, that's you,” she realised, relaxing slightly.

Thorfinn smirked at her. “A busy day, certainly. I'm sure you will be well warmed up for me by the time I see you this evening. Remember, Hermione, I may be your advocate, but I am your Master. You will be respectful, or I will have to teach you to be respectful.” His tone was light, but she heard the warning, loud and clear.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, immediately dropping her tone.

“Now, you should get dressed - Thoros should not be kept waiting.”

Chapter Text

Twenty minutes later, she was stepping through the floo to her office, scheduler in hand.

She barely had time to scourgify the congealed cum and potion from her desk, and take some deep breaths as the memory of being raped here exactly 48 hours previously echoed through her mind, before Thoros arrived barely a minute later, greeting her with a smile.

“Good morning, my dear. Such a lot has happened since I last met you like this!”

She smiled weakly at him. “Good morning, Sir.”

She sat down at her desk, trying not to think about the photo of herself, spread open and leaking cum across this very desk, which kept jumping to the front of her mind.

Thoros has no such compunctions. He rubbed a thumb over the brass nameplate on the desk, and winked at her.

“Glad you managed to get it clean, I was worried the potion would affect the finish.”

She made an inane joke about cleaning spells working like magic - rather lost on the pureblood wizard - and tried to change the subject.

Fortunately, Thoros was easily brought to the topic at hand; the former Death Eaters’ probation and rehabilitation.

He was every bit as organised and sharp and Hermione had hoped, and had a detailed plan, which he talked her through.

By the end of their two hours slot, Hermione was impressed by his forethought and planning, and the skillful way he intended to manipulate the Wizengamot, and wizarding society at large, into accepting them all back into society as quickly and painlessly as possible. For them, anyway.

The first steps involved her own glowing reports on the rehabilitation each of the men had experienced while incarcerated in the new and improved Azkaban.

This would be followed up in a few weeks time by her recommendation to the Wizengamot that the younger members of the cohort - Malfoy, Goyle, Flint and Pucey - be given roles within the ministry, both as a form of community service and to further their rehabilitation into normal society.

Malfoy was to join the Aurors, working with Harry and Ron, and Hermione herself would facilitate the friendship between them all by telling her friends how much Malfoy had changed, and how nice he was now.

Flint was to join the Magical Games and Sports department, thanks to his Quidditch prowess in former years, and become close with Angelina and Alicia Weasley, who had married the Twins, and both now worked there.

Pucey was going to join the Communications department, working as a press secretary giving positive stories about them all to the Daily Prophet and the other wizarding news outlets.

Goyle would join Magical Maintenance, and become friends with Arthur Weasley, whose office was on the same floor.

Hermione was impressed by how well thought through the plans were. Nott had done a huge amount of research, especially considering he had only been out of Azkaban for about a week.

The plan continued beyond the initial stages, but the first steps - her own co-operation and her initial reports - were crucial, so they began there.

Two hours flew by, and suddenly Thoros was checking his watch.

“It's time we got back to the manor, my dear,” he said, with a bit of a leer.

Hermione had been so caught up in doing some actual work that she had almost forgotten how the second half of this meeting was likely to go.

She crossed her arms nervously, suddenly aware again of how obviously her pierced nipples were poking through the thin cotton of her blouse.

“Oh, don't be shy, my dear,” Thoros soothed. “Come along. You can leave all this here for now, just bring your scheduler. I have a lovely set-up planned.”

She went ahead of him through the floo, at his insistence, trembling as she was greeted by the same cold hallway as yesterday.

She didn't see Droopy, for which she was profoundly grateful.

Thoros led her through the house, bypassing the library, and instead taking her into a room full of strange furniture and things that looked designed to tie people up.

Nearly everything was black, and there were photography lighting rigs and reflectors as well as one wall covered with a variety of backdrops.

“I am a photographer, my dear, and you are going to be my muse,” he announced.

She remembered again the photos he had taken of her in her office, and shivered. She couldn't deny they were striking, but she wasn't sure she wanted yet more evidence of her humiliation.

He saw her face, and chuckled. “Don't worry, my dear, I don't intend to make pornography with you. I want to make art.”

She wasn't entirely sure of the difference, as he then immediately had her strip naked, but it wasn't like she was allowed to say no anyway, and at least if he was taking photos, hopefully he couldn't also be hurting her.

“Have you ever heard of the Japanese art of Shibari, my dear?” he asked her, as he took several hanks of rich green rope from a drawer laying them out on a table.

She shook her head, she had never really researched Japan.

“I would prefer you to answer me out loud when I speak to you, my dear, at least as far as you are able,” he rebuked her mildly.

“Sorry, Sir. No, I haven’t heard of Shibari,” she said, quietly.

He picked up a length of rope, folding it in half so he had two strands, and approached her with a smile.

“Well then, I hope you will enjoy learning. It is the art of rope bondage, but it is so much more than merely a method of restraint. Done well, Shibari ties are beautiful, functional, and can be extremely pleasurable for the one being tied. They transform the body into a work of art, displayed for all to see, framed and manipulated into intriguing forms and full of delightful contrasts between rope and skin.”

He placed the folded end of the rope against her lips, and she opened her mouth obediently.

“Good girl. Hold this for me, please, and do not drop it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, before gripping the rope between her teeth. The fibres were soft, more like a silk cord than a coarse rope, and she felt a small frisson of excitement at the idea of being turned into living art. It sounded rather decadent, and he had not mentioned pain in his loving description of the practice.

He wound the length of rope around her body, nestling it against her upper arm and across her back before bringing it around and across her chest, above her breasts. He repeated the loop until there were four strands of rope laying flat across her upper chest, and then tugged the end free of her mouth and looped the strands through, cinching it snugly against her skin.

He moved down, looping the rope twice more around her body, this time sitting just beneath her breasts, and cinched it into place there, too. Then he threaded the cords through between her arms and chest, vertically binding the two horizontal bands he had created, to form a kind of harness which pinned her upper arms to her sides and framed and presented her breasts. Her forearms were folded behind her, her wrists crossed and bound together and tied into the harness.

Thoros seemed to find the act of binding her extremely meditative as he looped and tied the ropes into place, and Hermione found herself calmer, too. Something about trusting herself to his skillful work felt safe, somehow, and the ropes, despite restricting her quite a lot, felt more like a hug than a bondage she should be scared of.

Another length of rope was bound vertically to the harness between her breasts, and then brought down her stomach and between her legs, nestling snugly into her cunt. When he was sure of the placement, he carefully tied a knot in the rope before replacing it between her labia, sitting the knot directly over her clit and delighting in the whimper it pulled from her. A second harness was swiftly formed around her pelvis and upper thighs, an intricate latticed corset of ropes joining the two harnesses and encasing her in rope.

He continued tying down her left thigh, lifting it behind her and joining the ropes from her leg, her hips and her chest together to hang through a hook in the ceiling. Suddenly she was floating, suspended in his carefully spun web with just the tips of her toes still on the ground.

Her brain felt floaty too, as if in slow motion and she blinked slowly as he moved around her, weaving and binding and tightening and loosing. He bound her hair into a bun, tying it somehow into the ropes to support her head, and shortened the rope binding her ankle to the ceiling until she was presented like a ballerina doing an arabesque, en pointe with her leg bent elegantly up behind her, her back arched delicately and her head thrown back as if in artistic ecstasy.

When he was content with his work, Thoros took out his camera and began to photograph her.

He took several shots from multiple angles, then cast a charm on the knot wedged against her clit, making it vibrate.

He photographed her as the charm took hold, the magical camera capturing the way her muscles tensed and her body swayed in the ropes as she gasped and moaned.

When he was content with his shots of the pose, he added a final length of rope to the hook in the ceiling, looping it securely around the ankle of the foot she was standing on, and pulling sharply.

Hermione screamed as her supporting leg was yanked from beneath her and she was thrown forward into the harness, sending her swinging as he attached her ankle to her shoulder by as short a rope as he could, effectively hogtying her in mid air.

At this angle, her ass was squeezed tightly, and she could feel the plug jammed inside her, but her thighs and cunt were spread wide. The knot on her clit pressed into her hard, the ropes dividing behind it to frame the sides of her labia and cup the cheeks of her ass, holding her open.

Thoros hoisted her up a little higher until she was suspended at eye level, and then picked up his camera again.

“I hear Thorfinn has your pretty little cunt stuffed with a toy today,” he said, almost conversationally, as he casually span her around to an angle he liked.

“Yes, sir,” she agreed, whimpering as the toy in question shifted and jiggled inside her in response to the spinning, forcing her to clench for fear of it falling out.

She felt him between her thighs, the flashes of his camera punctuating the air, interspersed with light, tantalising touches as he tugged gently on the ropes, arranging them around her cunt. The vibrating knot was stilled, the ropes adjusted to part above her mons and frame her labia, leaving her cunt open and untouched.

He toyed with the tail of the ben wa balls, pulling them half out of her and capturing the rush of arousal and fluid as her muscles fluttered and contracted. She moaned openly, something about the tight restriction of the ropes feeling strangely freeing to her inhibitions. Then he pulled the toy fully out of her, and held it to her mouth.

“Open wide, my dear,” he told her, and she had no choice but to take the ben wa balls, dripping with her arousal, into her mouth.

She tasted the salty sweetness of her cunt on them, a flavour she was already becoming familiar with, as she automatically swirled her tongue around the smooth surface.

“Good girl,” he praised her, and she moaned softly, still unused to how much she enjoyed hearing that. “I’m afraid I need your sweet cunt empty for now.”

He disappeared from her sight again, and she felt something smooth and cold being run through her folds before something - a cup? She couldn’t tell, but it seemed round and hollow - was pressed to her skin, surrounding her whole cunt.

There was a ringing tap of wood on glass as he murmured ‘suctus’, and then she felt an intense suction pulling on her labia as the cup sealed into place.

She moaned loudly as the sensation increased with each tap on the glass, pulling the blood into her clit and labia and she was sure her whole cunt was swelling.

“That’s right, my dear. Sing for me.” He seemed delighted by the sounds he was pulling from her, and she couldn’t help but oblige.

Finally, finally he released the cup, and she let out a sob at the feeling of the cold air on her hot, swollen cunt. The lightest touches seemed heightened, the faintest brushes of his fingers against her delicate skin drawing gasps, and when he finally stroked a thumb over her clit, she thought she would explode.

A gentle pinch drew screams from her, and when he took the balls from her mouth and pushed them back into her cunt she found herself fighting to thrash against her bonds, completely unable to move, screaming alone not seeming loud enough to express the intensity of the pleasure and pain.

He teased her for what felt like hours, though it could only have been minutes in reality, until she was sobbing and gasping and begging to cum.

“You are so responsive, my dear,” he responded delightedly, completely ignoring her begging. “I will so enjoy exploring your sensitivities further at our next meeting.”

“Please Sir! Please, Master, please may I cum? Please let me have your cock, please sir, I need to cum,” she begged, held at an agonising edge as he continued to torture her.

He kept her on the edge until he had removed her bondage, stopping at his leisure to take pictures of the intricate red marks the ropes had left in her skin, until at last she lay on the floor before him, sobbing ‘please’, over and over.

“You may suck my cock now, my dear,” he told her gently.

She was certain there was true desperation in her eyes as she surged to her knees, almost tearing his trousers as she fought to get to his cock like a drowning man fighting for air, and she didn’t even care that he was photographing the whole thing.

She came stratospherically the moment his cock touched her lips, collapsing back to the floor as her back arched and her body shook, a puddle forming as she squirted.

He knelt beside her, seemingly amused as he fed her his cock while she lay almost insensate on the floor, fucking her mouth to get his own pleasure from her limp form.

He pulled out before he came, finishing in her hair.

He gave her five minutes, a pepper-up potion and some bruise balm, and a glass of water before sending her through the floo to her next appointment.

She didn’t even notice she was naked until she stumbled, falling out of the grate onto the marble hearth of Yaxley’s home, and realised how cold it was on her bare knees.

Yaxley was waiting for her, and seemed delighted to see her naked and still bearing the marks of Nott’s ropes, his cum in her hair.

“Well, well, well. You have had a busy morning,” he said, with apparent glee. “Up you get, little Toy. I only get an hour with you, and I want to make the most of it.”

She got shakily to her feet, following Yaxley down the hallway and up the stairs to a large bedroom. He shut the door and then moved to stand behind her, groping her breasts greedily with both hands. She could feel his cock already rock hard in his pants, digging into her ass.

“I hope you can take a little pain, pet, because I can’t wait to flog these tits,” he growled in her ear. “Are you going to scream?”

“I - probably, sir,” she admitted.

He laughed at her honesty. “I’d better find something to keep that smart mouth busy then, hadn’t I?”

He summoned a gag from a drawer, except rather than the ring or ball she’d expected, it had a four-inch dildo between the straps. “Open wide, pet.”

She opened her mouth more to object than to obey, but he swiftly had the dildo between her teeth and was tightening the buckle behind her head before she could react.

The dildo filled her mouth, but it wasn’t long enough that she would choke on it, and she realised she didn’t hate having her mouth filled with a cock, when it wasn’t thrusting unpredictably and making it hard to breathe.

“That’s better,” Yaxley smirked. “Such a pretty toy with a cock in her mouth.”

“Now, get on the bed, on your knees, and cup your tits in your hands and present them to me.”

She obeyed grudgingly, knowing she really didn’t have a choice, and he adjusted her hands until he was happy with how she was lifting and displaying her breasts for him. They felt full and heavy in her hands, so much larger than she was used to, soft and yet firm.

“Good girl. I want you to hold them like that until I tell you to stop. If you let go or move, I will punish you severely, do you understand?”

She nodded miserably, as he picked up a small flogger made of fine strips of leather bound together into a tail.

“Tilt your head back, pet. I don’t want to hit your pretty face,” he leered at her.

She leaned back, turning her face to the side, still holding out her tits to him like an offering.

He brought the flogger down gently at first, flicking it overhand to smack against her pale skin. She whimpered into the gag as he repeatedly struck her, squeaking softly as it caught her nipples, which were quickly peaking into hard, sensitive nubs.

It didn’t hurt too much, just stung a bit, and she relaxed slightly as he continued. He must have noticed the tension leaving her shoulders, because he began to increase the weight behind his strokes, moving to a figure eight pattern as he alternated between her tits, smacking them much harder now.

She tried to focus on her breathing, trying not to gasp and pant the way she wanted to as she was starting to hyperventilate.

“Deep breaths, Hermione, you’re doing so well,” Yaxley praised her.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose as he returned to the gentler strokes, the sound of her own name grounding her, even as it also reminded her that she, Hermione Granger, was kneeling on a Death Eater’s bed, naked, offering him her tits to whip.

Hermione felt tears start trickling down her face, and Yaxley laughed softly, though not unkindly. “It’s intense, I know, but you’ll get used to it. You’re taking it so well already.”

He switched back to the harder blows, increasing his speed, until she was shouting into her gag, but she held position. She had no desire to experience a punishment from the sadist, if this was supposed to be pleasure.

Finally he stopped, placing the flogger down, and began to run his hands over the tops of her breasts, almost reverently.

She looked down. She could feel the heat coming from her abused skin, and it was bright red and incredibly sensitive, all of the blood brought to the surface.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” he murmured. “Your skin marks up so well.”

He bent to kiss them, flicking his tongue over her nipples, and she was surprised to feel a rush of pleasure and arousal shoot through her.

“Arms behind your back,” he directed her, swapping her hands for his own cupping her tits as she obeyed.

“I’m going to flog the undersides now,” he told her.

He summoned a collar from a drawer, buckling it around her neck, then lifted her breasts and clipped her nipple rings to the O ring on the front of the collar. She squealed as the full weight of her heavy breasts was hung on her sensitive, recently pierced nipples, and he laughed.

“Just hold position for me, pet,” he told her, picking up the flogger again.

She did as she was told, breathing through it as he flogged the undersides of her tits, which she quickly realised were much more sensitive anyway.

When he began the harder, faster strokes, she couldn’t help herself. She threw herself backwards, away from the pain, bringing up her hands to cover herself, shaking her head vigorously.

He laughed, apparently pleased by her reaction. “Oh dear, pet! Now I’ll have to punish you.”

She had a sinking feeling that had been his aim all along; to force her to fail so that he could hurt her more.

He murmured a variant on the incarcerus hex that she hadn’t heard before, and her wrists were suddenly bound together and pulled tightly above her head, her knees only just on the bed.

He unclipped her nipples from the collar, and cast another spell she didn’t know, binding wraps of rope tightly around the base of each of her tits, making them stand out from her chest, hard and engorged.

Her nipples stood out on the tops of each one like the cherry on a cupcake, and when he ran his fingers over them she squealed with how sensitive they were.

Then he picked up a cane from the side table, and lined it up against her tits.

Her eyes widened in horror, but she could do nothing about it as he swung it back and brought it crashing into her sensitive flesh.

A line of fire burst across her skin, a pair of matching welts quickly rising on her skin, which he examined delightedly, licking the bruised skin and nipping at them with his teeth in a way that made her scream into the gag.

He caned her three more times, each one an inch below the previous, until her tits looked like they’d been pressed to a griddle pan.

Then he lined up his final stroke, right across her nipples, and brought it down.

She thrashed against her bonds, almost dislocating her shoulders as she fought against the pain, completely helpless to get away.

“You look delicious when you cry and scream and try to get away,” Yaxley told her fondly, running his hands over her abused tits and lightly pinching her nipples, sending ricochets of pain through her again and again.

“Now, pet, I’m going to let you choose! Would you like me to cane your ass and then fuck your bruised tits, or would you like me to cane your cunt and then fuck your ass?”

She stared at him in absolute horror.

“Nod once for the first one, and twice for the second,” he prompted her. “Quickly, or I’ll do both.”

The pain of her tits still freshly agonising, she hastily nodded twice, willing to agree to anything to get him to leave them alone.

He smiled nastily, releasing the spell on her wrists, and she flopped onto the bed, crying quietly.

“Spread your legs for me, pet.”

She parted her thighs, and he forced them further apart, binding each of her ankles to a corner of the bed. Then he whistled softly as he saw the puffy, swollen lips of her cunt.

“What have we here, pet? Who has been having fun with you, hmm? I’m not sure you could take a caning right now. Your tits must be agony if you’d rather I caned this poor pussy.”

He pulled apart her labia, spreading her open to reveal her clit, and shook his head as she winced and moaned in pain at the simple action.

“I’m not allowed to injure you permanently, so I’m going to use the flogger, not the cane.”

He let the strands of the flogger hang down between her thighs, then swung it gently so it tapped against her cunt.

She jerked and whimpered, and he grinned, swinging it harder and then again, before switching to overhand to let the weight of the strands slap onto her mons and fall down her labia.

She was writhing and sobbing on the bed as he flogged her, even more so when he moved down to let the strands fall directly onto her swollen labia.

“Another choice, pet. Twenty more with the flogger like this, or you can hold yourself open with your fingers and I’ll just give you three.”

She had her hands between her legs before she had really thought about it, pulling her labia open for him to reveal her most sensitive inner skin, nothing at all between her clit and the strands of his flogger.

“Good girl,” he breathed, clearly pleased, and she was disgusted with the way, even now, her cunt flooded with juice as she held it open for his inspection and punishment.

“Oh, you have a praise kink, pet?” he said, with a laugh. “How adorable.”

“Now, stay still, and do not move your hands. I’m going to remove your gag so you can count the strokes.”

He unbuckled the gag, pulling the short cock from her mouth and roughly wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re being such a good girl for me, pet,” he cooed, and laughed as she moaned.

“Count the strokes, and don’t forget to thank me.”

She sucked in a sobbing breath. “Yes, Master Yaxley.”

He lined up his stroke carefully, flipping the flogger against the mattress a few times to be sure he had the angle right. Then he swung it forward, letting it crash against her clit.

She screamed piercingly, gasping for air, but managed to sob out, “One, thank you Master Yaxley!”

“Good girl, ask me for the next when you’re ready,” he told her.

She took a moment to recover, barely able to force herself to say the words.

“Please may I have another?”

“Of course you may, pet.” The flogger came crashing down again, and she wished she still had the dildo to bite down on.

“Two, thank you Master Yaxley,” she fought out, around her tears. “May I have another?”

“Good girl.” The third and final stroke was the hardest one yet, and she immediately moved her hands to cover her burning cunt, crying in pain.

He pried her hands away to inspect his work, holding her wrists as he bent to kiss her clit, licking the abused and oversensitised little nub as she screamed and wriggled beneath him.

At last he pulled back.

“Now, my sweet little Hermione, I want you to beg me to fuck your ass.”

“Please fuck my ass, Master Yaxley,” she asked quietly through her tears. After asking him to flog her cunt again, this was nothing.

He smiled in satisfaction as he untied her ankles.

“On your hands and knees, pet.”

She got into position, whimpering whenever she jostled her tits, which were still bound and aching, now a bruised reddish purple colour.

He pulled the plug out of her ass, setting it aside, and pushed himself in without any further prep.

Fortunately, the plug kept her moderately well stretched and lubricated, but still the intrusion of his hard cock into her ass drew a pained moan from her.

He reached forward as he fucked her, running his hands over her aching tits, the motion of his thrusts making the ben wa balls still in her cunt slide up and down inside her, fucking her there too.

Despite the agony in her tits and clit, and the earth-shattering orgasm she had had not even an hour before, she felt herself somehow close to the edge of cumming.

“Please may I cum, Master Yaxley?” she begged, as he thrust hard into her ass, over and over.

“Of course you may, pet. You don’t have to ask with me, it won’t be often you get the chance to and far be it from me to deny you pleasure where you can find it.”

“Thank you sir!” she gasped, tipping over the edge and crying out as she clenched around him.

He took advantage of the moment to vanish the ropes binding her tits, and she sobbed in agony as the bruised flesh suddenly fell free, the blood rushing back into them aching terribly.

She instinctively went to hug them, to comfort her wounded skin, falling forward onto her face in the mattress as he continued to pound into her ass without pausing.

He finally came, spilling into her ass and replacing the plug as he pulled out, letting her flop down onto the bed.

“The bruise balm will make sure you’re healed up by tomorrow, but it won’t help for the rest of today,” he told her, as she shakily pulled the small tube from her bag and began to apply it cautiously to her tits.

She nodded. “Master Thoros gave me this to use on my pussy, and I applied it right before I came through the floo, but I don’t think it did anything at all.”

“The bruise has to have formed properly - your cunt is still swollen at the moment, it hasn’t settled into bruising. Have a bath with murtlap essence tonight, and then apply the balm afterwards, you’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

He let her rest for the ten minutes remaining, but her muscles were still trembling as she stepped into the fireplace to floo through to the Rosier residence.

Chapter Text

Rosier was waiting for her by the fireplace, and seemed a little distressed at the state she was in.

“What have they done to you, sweet girl?” he asked, scooping her into his arms and carrying her bridal-style through the apartment to a cosy living room.

He sat down on the sofa with her still on his lap, and summoned a pain-relief potion.

She downed it gratefully as he ran his wand over her bruises, murmuring healing charms.

“Are you a healer, sir?” she asked softly.

He smiled at her. “Not in the sense you’re thinking, no, but I do believe in aftercare, unlike Yaxley, apparently.”

He held her until she stopped shaking, feeding her sips of hot chocolate and bites of food, holding them to her lips and not letting her do a thing.

He cast charms to clean her hair and moisturise her skin, removing the puffiness of her cheeks from her tears, and pressed kisses to her face, her hands, her neck.

She felt confused and wary to start with, expecting him to begin torturing her somehow, but he seemed content to treat her like a precious doll.

When she was finally calm and content, and had eaten and drunk her fill, his little kisses and touches became more intimate. He gently stroked her breasts with the tips of his fingers, eliciting little gasps and sweet moues of pleasure from her as he delicately teased her sensitive skin, stealing the sounds from her mouth with deep, plundering kisses which left her bright eyed and pink cheeked.

“It gives me the greatest pleasure to make a woman feel cherished and adored, and to give her as many orgasms as she can handle,” he murmured in her ear as he brushed his thumb over the peak of her nipple, the tickle of his hot breath on her ear making her squeal and duck her head, cuddling against him as she giggled coquettishly.

“How many can you handle, Hermione?”

She looked up at him, biting her lip. “I don’t know, sir,” she said, quietly. “I’ve never had more than two in a row before, except for… the ritual.”

He smirked at her, cupping her face before pressing another searing kiss to her lips. “I think I can do better than that.”

He laid her out on the bed, blindfolding her and tying her wrists above her head.

She could feel his hot breath on her still-swollen cunt, and gasped as he kissed her clit, tugging the piercing gently between his teeth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub until she screamed.

“Please fuck me! Please I need your cock, I need to cum!” she babbled desperately as he continued to feast on her, his tongue lapping at her oversensitised folds and dipping into her core.

“You beg so sweetly,” he chuckled, sliding up her body to press a kiss to her lips which tasted of her desire.

“I want you to cum on my tongue though, sweet girl, so you can suck on my cock instead.”

“Please Sir, I need your cock,” she begged, delirious with arousal as the edging pleasure drove all sense from her mind.

He moved above her, and she opened her mouth wide to receive him. He hovered above her, the head of his cock just out of reach of her lips and tongue as she strained to suck him.

“Patience, sweet girl,” he laughed, lowering his lips to her clit once more and working her up into a screaming frenzy.

Finally, finally he thrust his hips, pushing his cock into her begging mouth.

She shattered beneath him, writhing and shouting.

He licked her through her orgasm, chasing one into the next as she bucked and moaned, shattering anew when he pressed his cock into her throat and his tongue speared deep inside her cunt.

He devoured her without mercy, drawing five orgasms from her one after the next, leaving her boneless and sweat slicked and trembling.

Then he held her, curling around her on the bed, his fingers playing with her nipple rings as he found his own release in a quick fuck of her ass.

He cleaned her up with a scourgify and gave her an energy potion before sending her through the floo to the Lestrange residence.

~~~

She was greeted at the floor by a dispassionate house elf with a vial of polyjuice potion - an interesting silver colour - along with a black leather thong and a Slytherin tie.

She was confused, until she downed the polyjuice with a grimace, and found herself staring at the reflection of Draco Malfoy, just the way she remembered him at Hogwarts, in the mirror above the mantlepiece.

Apparently, Rodolphus had not been kidding when he'd said he wanted to fuck her as a boy - and not just any boy, but his own nephew, even if not by blood.

She pulled on the thong, struggling awkwardly to get Draco's cock and balls stuffed into the narrow strip of leather in a way that wasn't excruciating. She had known that balls were supposed to be sensitive, but really. It seemed highly impractical to have such delicate organs just… hanging around.

She placed the Slytherin tie around her neck, and took a deep breath.

The plug felt strange in her ass, but not as weird as it had done that first time she’d inserted one, and she didn’t feel that his body was rejecting it as much as she’d expected. She couldn’t decide which was worse - the possibility that Draco's ass was still virginal, and that she would have to deal with that first anal fucking all over again, or the possibility that Draco’s ass was not virginal, and that this young version of him was somehow used to having something up his ass.

The house elf led her down the hall to a room that she would probably have described as a parlour, if it weren't for the large and elaborate throne which took centre stage, set on a small dais.

Rodolphus was lounging atop it, his eyes gleaming as he saw her enter the room.

“Hello, boy,” he said, with a vicious grin.

Hermione gulped, feeling unfamiliar adam's apple bob in her throat.

“Hello, Sir,” she replied.

“Come here. On your knees.” He directed.

She obeyed, dropping to the floor and crawling awkwardly towards him. Draco's longer limbs felt strange, as if she were controlling a puppet rather than her own body.

Rodolphus had her kneel at his feet, resting her head in his lap as he ran his fingers through Draco's fine blond hair and over his pointed features as if admiring the workmanship on a doll.

“I know just how you feel,” he said, suddenly. “My darling Bella never loved me. She fucked me two or three times a day, but she never once had sex with me in my own body. Every day she would polyjuice me into someone new. On our wedding night, she polyjuiced me into the Dark Lord, back when he was young and handsome. She had a vial of his hair and several of the other Death Eaters. Anyone she lusted after, or wanted to control, or wanted to punish but couldn't.

“I would spend hours worshipping her cunt the way she wished the Dark Lord would, or being fucked by her transfigured cock when she wanted to dominate someone, or taking a whipping while polyjuiced as Potter or one of the other Order members.

“When Draco came of age, she became obsessed. As his aunt she could not touch him, even for the Blacks that was too far, but with polyjuice… she kept a stash of his hair, accio-ing it every time she visited the Manor, and I was her pretty blond toy, on my knees before her throne.”

He sounded almost wistful, matter of fact, perhaps a little bitter, but then he smiled again.

“Now I get to be on the other side.”

Hermione stared up at him, horrified. It made a sick sort of sense. Bellatrix had been exactly that kind of twisted.

“I want you to call me Uncle, while you are in this body, and to be just the slutty little cum-dumpster twink I know my nephew really is,” he growled.

“Y-yes Uncle,” she replied meekly.

“Beg for my cock.”

Hermione took a deep breath, looking down at the masculine body that was currently hers. Was it better or worse to be debased in someone else's skin? She wasn't sure.

“Please may I have your cock, Uncle?” Draco's voice begged, in a needy tone she had never heard it use in real life. “Please, Uncle? I'm such a naughty, slutty boy. Please may I have your cock?”

Rodolphus looked delighted. He slapped Draco's cheek gently as the boy's head rested on his lap. “You're a filthy little cum dumpster, aren't you?” He asked.

“Yes, Uncle! I'm such a dirty, filthy, needy cum dumpster,” Draco admitted desperately. “Please fill me with your cum, Uncle.”

“Take that slutty little thong off, boy, and lie down on the table.”

Draco did as he was bidden, shimmying out of the scrap of leather and letting his cock spring free, then climbing onto the coffee table and lying back.

“Hold the back of your knees, and spread them wide,” Rodolphus directed.

Draco splayed himself obediently, the position displaying his hard cock, full balls and plugged ass to his leering Uncle.

Rodolphus got up from the throne, striding towards his nephew. He fondled him casually, touching Draco's body with an easy sense of ownership that turned Hermione's stomach.

He tugged at the plug, and Draco moaned sluttily as the silver bulb was pulled from his hole.

“I know just how this ass feels. Tight and new, every single time, freshly ready for its Master to break in,” Rodolphus breathed, brushing a finger over the puckered rim. “A true virgin whore.”

Draco whimpered, tensing and gasping as his Uncle’s fingers stroked his fluttering anus, teasing the delicate skin.

“Please take my ass virginity, Uncle,” he gasped. “Make me your slutty cum dumpster whore.”

Rodolphus seemed to be enjoying Draco's needy pleas, because instead of pulling out his cock immediately, he summoned a tube of lube.

“Does that feel good, Draco? Does your slutty hole like being fingered?”

“Yes, Uncle! Oh, it feels so good,” Draco panted, moaning luxuriously as Rodolphus’s fingers strummed across the puckered skin, taking note of the most sensitive areas.

A cold, wet sensation made him gasp and cry out, and Rodolphus petted Draco's rigid cock comfortingly.

“Just a bit of lube to help loosen you up,” he crooned, as he worked the cold fluid around Draco's hole before slipping a finger inside.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Draco’s answering moan was wanton, and Rodolphus quickly added a second finger, sliding them in and out of his ass and scissoring them to coat his inner passage thoroughly as he worked him open.

It was the longest Hermione's ass had been empty in more than 48 hours now, and she found she was craving the already-familiar fullness.

Draco bucked his hips. “More, please Uncle!” he begged. “Please fill my ass with your cock!”

Rodolphus chuckled. “Such a needy boy. Is your cock getting painful? Are you desperate to cum already?”

Draco groaned as his Uncle's fingers crooked inside him, hitting his prostate. He shuddered, loud moans escaping his throat as shocks of pleasure shot through him, his cock and balls indeed aching with the desire to cum.

“Please Uncle! I want to cum so badly!” He begged.

Rodolphus smirked, taking Draco's cock in his other hand and working him up and down.

Draco's whole body twitched and shuddered as his Uncle edged him, and he begged desperately and incoherently as Rodolphus added a third finger to his ass.

Finally, when Draco thought he might pass out from the intensity, Rodolphus withdrew his fingers, and then the blunt head of a cock was breaching his anus.

Draco came immediately, and Rodolphus directed the cock he still gripped, so Draco's cum splattered across his own face and into his mouth.

Rodolphus laughed as he began to thrust hard into Draco's ass, reaching up to grip his nipples and twisting them as he fucked into him.

Draco yelled in pain even as the delicious sensation of his Uncle's cock hitting his prostate again and again flooded through him.

“Does that hurt, Draco?” Rodolphus cooed.

“Yes, Uncle, my nipples hurt, but my ass feels amazing,” he gasped.

“Beg me to hurt you more, Draco,” Rodolphus panted. “Good little slut twinks love to be punished and hurt. And you want to be my good little boy, don't you?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, Uncle. Please hurt me more, and make me your good boy! I want to be such a good slutty boy for you.”

Rodolphus summoned a pair of clamps, linked by a silver chain, and quickly applied the vicious little jaws of the clamps to Draco's peaked nipples.

Draco cried out, but Rodolphus’ hands were petting his cock again, stroking him as he got used to the bite.

“This little cock has had its fun for today. Time for it to be put away,” Rodolphus recited in a sing-song voice.

He summoned a metal cage, and began to fit it around Draco's soft cock, locking the base of it around his balls to hold it in place. Then he took a spiked leather strap which was attached to one side of the base, pulling it tight over Draco's balls before buckling it in place on the other side, so the spikes dug into the sensitive flesh.

Draco howled with pain, and Rodolphus giggled. “Your Auntie Bella has that cage made specially to fit you, Draco, and she always liked to buckle the strap nice and tight, to remind you who your balls belong to. Don't be ungrateful.”

“Thank you, Uncle!” Draco groaned, as Rodolphus slammed into him twice more before shuddering and stilling, spilling his cum deep inside his nephew’s ass.

“Crawl back to the throne and suck my cock clean,” Rodolphus ordered, as he pulled out of Draco and stepped back to take a seat on the throne with a satisfied smile.

Draco obediently released his legs and stiffly got down onto his knees, the clamps on his nipples and spiked strap across his balls sending shots of pain through him as he changed position.

He crawled painfully across the room and up the steps of the dais, to kneel once more at his Uncle's feet.

He took his Uncle's softening cock in his mouth, licking away the salty cum, the slippery lube, and the musky flavour of his ass, reminding himself that the prep plug kept him clean and hygienic.

Rodolphus stroked his hair, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“You still have your cum on your face, Draco. Lick it off.”

Draco carefully wiped the cum from his cheeks and chin with his hand, licking it clean.

“What a good little cum dumpster,” Rodolphus crooned. “It is time for your punishment. You did well today, Draco, so I have not added any extra strokes, but you know you must always be punished so you can learn to be better.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Draco replied dutifully.

“Lie across my lap,” Rodolphus directed.

Draco got into position, wincing as his thighs pressed his balls harder into the spikes.

Rodolphus summoned a paddle from the wall. “Ten strokes, count them and thank me.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

The paddle smacked down across his ass, and Hermione found herself very grateful for the fresh, un-caned skin that the polyjuice had granted her.

“One, thank you Uncle!” Draco counted.

Again, harder this time, and Draco counted it off. He took all ten without screaming or crying. After Yaxley, this was barely anything.

Afterwards, Rodolphus had him sit on his lap, fondling his caged cock and balls and tugging on his clamped nipples as Draco gasped and whimpered and begged needily.

Two minutes before the hour was up, the house elf reappeared, and Rodolphus removed the clamps and cage - to screams from Draco as the blood returned to his abused nipples - and sent the boy away with his ass plugged up again and a fond smack on his pink ass as he left the room.

A moment later, Draco was Hermione again, and she sobbed as the pain Draco's body had felt in the past hour was suddenly added to the pain her own body was already feeling, another layer of bruising coating her ass and her nipples aching.

She returned the Slytherin tie, the only thing she was still wearing, to the house elf, and flooed to the Parkinson estate.

~~~

Master Selwyn, Master Travers, Master Greengrass, and Master Parkinson were sitting around a poker table when she arrived in the grate.

“Oh look! The entertainment has arrived,” Master Travers sneered, as he took in her battered body. “Looks like you’ve been well used, slut.”

They had her sit on a table, knees up and legs splayed wide, and finger herself as they played. Any time one of them glanced over and she wasn’t being enthusiastic enough with her masturbation, they cast stinging jinxes at her cunt, and yelled at her to do better.

“Make sure you stretch yourself out good, slut!”

“I want to see your whole hand in that slutty cunt!”

After half an hour, she was aching with need, sore from the constant friction on her already abused skin, desperate to cum as she continued to finger herself. At their demands, she had worked four fingers inside of herself, which she was ashamed to see she took easily after spending the night filled with Master Thorfinn’s cock.

Finally, Master Travers grunted with triumph, and she surmised that he had won the game.

“What shall I fuck her with?” he asked the others, as he wandered over to another table which Hermione suddenly and gut-wrenchingly realised was covered with a variety of large, vaguely phallic items. They weren’t going to use their cocks. They weren’t going to let her cum.

Travers picked up a long, knobbly piece of ginger root, and used his wand to peel it until he had an inch-thick, eight inch long wand of raw ginger.

Selwyn laughed as he watched his friend prepare the root. “You old sadist,” he teased him.

Travers shrugged. “Just getting her warmed up,” he grinned.

He brought the root over to Hermione on the table, and without warning pressed it against her clit.

The fresh ginger burned like acid against her sensitive skin, and she almost leapt off the table as he pressed it against her, his other hand going to her back to hold her in place as she screamed.

“Please sir no!” she babbled. “It hurts!”

They all laughed at that, and Travers began to slide the ginger slowly down her slit, making sure to let it burn for a moment everywhere he trailed it.

She sobbed wordlessly as he tortured her with it, running it through her folds over and over before finally sinking it into her cunt.

“Keep fucking yourself with it, slut,” he told her. “All the way in, then out, then up to your clit and hold it there, then back down to your cunt and repeat, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she sobbed, as he moved the ginger back to her clit to emphasise.

She took the ginger, and he watched as she obediently and painfully followed his instructions.

“Make sure you press it hard on your clit,” he ordered. “I want to hear you scream every time.”

Travers returned to his seat, and they began a new round of cards as they watched Hermione torture herself. Every time Travers didn’t think she was screaming loud enough, he cast a charm on the ginger to bring fresh juice to the surface, intensifying the burn.

Hermione’s hands were shaking as she forced herself to continue.

Greengrass won the next hand of poker, and Hermione didn’t care what he chose to fuck her with, so long as it wasn’t the ginger.

She was saved by Master Greengrass selecting a butterbeer bottle.

“Come here and beg me to fuck you with this, slut,” he demanded, as he sat back down at the table, smacking the bottle into his palm a few times with a nasty smile.

Hermione felt tears running down her cheeks as she climbed off the table, discarding the burning ginger root, and crawled over to her Master.

“Please fuck me with the bottle, Sir,” she said miserably, kneeling beside his chair and looking up at him.

He laughed. “I thought you were the brightest witch of your age, slut. You can do better than that.”

“Please, Sir, please fuck me with the bottle,” she begged, trying to sound sincere. “Please shove that thick glass bottle into my cunt and fuck me like a proper slut,”

The men whooped and leered as Greengrass grinned. “That’s more like it, you nasty little bitch. Stand up and bend over, so we can all watch.”

She stood, gripping the seat of a chair as she bent over and presented herself to him.

Greengrass lost no time pressing the bottom of the bottle into her raw, red cunt.

It slipped inside her with only a little resistance, and she moaned at the sensation of the hard, cold glass inside her, unyielding against her delicate inner muscles but almost a relief after the burning ginger.

He gripped her hip and forced it deeper, and she sobbed as she felt it pressing up against her cervix, bruisingly deep.

He fucked her with it for a while until it was sliding in and out of her easily, and he seemed bored.

“Get back up on the table, slut, and keep fucking yourself with the bottle. I want to hear you moaning and telling us how much you love it!” he told her, sending her off with the bottle deep in her cunt and a smack to her ass.

She waddled back to the table, the men laughing at her awkward gait, and took up her humiliating position once more, sliding the bottle out of herself before thrusting it back in with a loud moan.
“Oh, it feels so good,” she panted, as she pushed it deep. “So thick and hard inside me…”

They watched her for a while, jeering and taunting, more stinging jinxes hitting her thighs and breasts.

Then they started another round of their poker game.

She didn’t want to know what would be next, but she had a horrible feeling it would only be worse.

She kept fucking herself with the bottle, so needy and desperate cum.

It was Master Parkinson who won the next round, and by this point she was so desperate to cum that she started begging immediately.

“Please, Master Parkinson, please fuck me with your cock! Please fill me with your big, thick cock, and cum inside my needy pussy! Please sir!”

They all laughed heartily at that, and Parkinson told her, “None of us is going to fuck you with our cocks, honey. We all prefer our lovers to have cocks of their own. You’re just a bit of fun to play with.”

He sauntered over to her, grinning, and casually rubbed her clit as she continued to slide the bottle in and out of her cunt.

“Does that feel good, honey?” he cooed to her. “I bet you never thought you’d be a death eater whore, did you? But now here you are, and you love it, don’t you? You were born for this.”

She whimpered as he touched her, too far gone to do anything but obey.

He summoned something from the table, then turned to show her what he was holding.

A thick wooden beater’s bat, thicker than the bottle, and a lot longer.

He Vanished the bottle, and she gasped as it disappeared from her aching cunt, leaving her empty.

“Come and sit on my lap, honey.”

He helped her down from the table, and escorted her to his chair.

The other watched, smirking, as she limped the few metres and hesitantly took a seat on his lap as he sat down.

He pulled her back against himself, so her ass pressed against the hard ridge of the cock in his pants, and she moaned. She needed to cum so badly.

He laughed, stroking her clit almost fondly. “No no no, honey. That cock is not for you. Mudblood cunts don’t deserve pureblood cock just because they are horny little sluts.”

He hefted the bat, flipping it around in his hand so that the bulbous end pressed against her cunt, the handle hanging down towards the floor.

“I used to play Seeker for the Slytherin team, when I was at Hogwarts,” he murmured in her ear. “They had a hazing ritual for new members.”

He slid the bat through her folds, coating it in her juices, then pressed it against her opening.

“I was in third year when I made the team. The rest were sixth and seventh years. After the team list went up in the common room, the Captain invited me to the seventh year dorm to hang out with the team. I was so proud. The two beaters held me down on a bed and someone pulled my robes up and my pants down, and they took it in turns to fuck me until my ass was wide enough open to fit this bat into it. Then they fucked me with the bat.”

Hermione couldn’t hold back her yell of pain as he slowly but steadily drove the bat into her, not giving her any time to adjust.

“The next year, my best friend, Greengrass, joined the team as a Chaser.”

He yanked the bat out of her before forcing it in again.

“I was given the… honour… of being the first one to fuck him as the seventh years held him down.”

He forced it deeper this time and she gasped as he hit her cervix bruisingly hard.

“In fifth year Rowle joined as a beater. Did he tell you that? Greengrass fucked him so hard with the bat that he had to go to the hospital wing.”

Parkinson laughed as he pulled the bat all the way out of her before shoving it back in.

Unlike the slick glass of the beer bottle, only a little larger than the cocks she had grown used to, the wooden bat felt rough against her insides and it burned as she was forced to stretch to accommodate the large girth.

“Please sir, it hurts,” she whimpered hopelessly.

Parkinson just laughed. “Your cunt is designed to stretch. Be thankful it’s not your ass.”

He pressed a hand against her flat stomach, smiling sadistically as he watched the bat distending her belly as he thrust it in again.

“Look how it’s stretching you,” he told her, making her put her own hand on her stomach. She could feel the hardness within as he pressed the bat deeper, angling it to make her belly bulge even more.

“Go back to the table and keep fucking yourself with it, slut. I want it slipping inside you as easy as that bottle by the time we’re ready for the next round.”

She tried desperately to think sexy thoughts to somehow increase her natural lubrication as she stood up, the bat hanging from her cunt, and waddled awkwardly back to her table.

Instead of climbing up, she stood beside it with one foot raised high and propped on the side of the table, spreading herself as wide as she could.

She rubbed her clit with one hand, and held the bat steady with the other, moving her hips to ride it, trying her best to make it as slick as he had demanded.

She found herself wondering if the Slytherin team had still done the hazing when she was there, or if Snape or Dumbledore had banned it.

Had Draco bought his way onto the team in second year, only to be held down by Flint and Pucey and fucked by the other six members of the team, and then by a bat?

After her recent experience as Draco, she wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been fucked recently when the hairs were taken for the polyjuice, but it hadn’t seemed like he was totally new to having something in his ass either.

“You can take it deeper than that, slut!” Selwyn goaded her, shooting a stinging jinx at her tits.

She yelped as it hit her nipple, and pushed the bat further inside herself, moaning as she did so. “Sorry sir,” she panted.

She imagined Master Thorfinn taking this bat up his own ass so many years ago, and struggled to picture it. He was so big and strong. She pitied whoever had joined after him, and had had to take his cock up their asses.

Finally, Selwyn was standing up and walking towards her, and she realised he must have won.

She started to pull the bat out of her cunt, but he shook his head. “Leave that where it is, slut. I don’t want to ruin your fun, you seem to be enjoying it so much! I want you to just keep fucking yourself with that bat, while I whip you.”

He smiled cruelly as he picked up a coiled whip from the table, and flicked his wrist. The whip cracked threateningly in the air, and she jumped.

“Unfortunately I don’t think you’ll be able to stay still enough,” he continued, “So I’m going to tie you up, and let Parkinson keep fucking you with the bat while I whip you, instead.”

He made quick work of transfiguring the table to a St Andrew’s cross, and cuffing her to it with her back to him. She could see over the cross where the beams connected, and watched as Master Parkinson knelt down in front of her and began pumping the bat in and out of her abused cunt.

There was nothing for a moment, as Master Selwyn took aim.

Then a line of fire seared across her back and she screamed so loudly she thought she would break her throat.

Master Parkinson met her eyes, and she was shocked to see what looked like pity there.

He kept a steady rhythm as he fucked her, not too deep or too fast, and she found herself focusing on it to ground her as the lash came down again and again.

The sounds coming from her throat were inhuman, but Master Parkinson held her gaze throughout it, and she wondered if he had been whipped by Selwyn at some point too, and knew how much it hurt.

She wasn’t sure how many times he hit her, she just knew it was too many.

When he finally stopped, they unshackled her, and Master Parkinson led her to the floo. He might have said something, but she didn’t hear him.

~~~

She was crying as she stumbled back through the floo into her living room, falling to her knees by the fireplace not out of submission but from sheer exhaustion.

Master Thorfinn appeared a moment later, raising his eyebrows at her battered state. Despite the best efforts of Master Rosier’s healing and the bruise balm, her tits were a dark purple and red, and her back burned with the marks of Master Selwyn’s whip.

“Bath time, pet,” he said decisively. “It’s all ready for you.”

She followed him to the bathroom, and watched numbly as he poured a generous dose of some kind of healing potion into the water before helping her in.

She was already naked, and somehow it felt so wrong not to have to take anything off before she stepped into the water. She let out a quiet sob as a fresh wave of tears pooled in her eyes.

Master Thorfinn brought her hot chocolate as she soaked in the tub, and she ate her dinner sitting in the hot water too.

By the time she was finally calm and warm and fed, her bruises were fading to a week-old yellow and she was starting to feel human again.

Master Thorfinn was in the next room, and she relaxed against the side of the bath, relishing the moment of freedom and calm.

A surge of need suddenly tore through her, her cunt clenching painfully around nothing, her bruised breasts agonisingly fully and heavy. Her nipples tightened to stiff peaks, and she found herself panting desperately, her tongue out and her eyes glazed as her fingers flew to her clit.

Her needy, gasping moans brought Master Thorfinn to the doorway.

He shook his head. “Really, Hermione? You haven’t had enough fucking for one day? You had to masturbate in the bath? You know that won’t even work, why torture yourself?”

She shook her head desperately, even as her fingers couldn’t stop thrusting inside herself.

“No sir! I don’t want this! It just suddenly hit me!”

He frowned. “How long has it been since you were fucked, pet?”

She writhed on her fingers, almost sobbing again. “I don’t know sir! It was Master Lestrange, he made me polyjuice into Draco,” she groaned.

“Master Lestrange?” Thorfinn summoned her organiser and flipped it open. “That was… oh, I see. It’s the enchantment, Hermione - you have to have a cock in you at least every six hours, and that was six hours ago.”

“Please fuck me, please sir,” she begged, almost in tears at the painful frustration.

He pulled out his cock, casually, and laughed as she almost threw herself out of the bath in her haste to get to him.

“Deep breaths, pet,” he advised her, as he bent her over the sink and thrust into her dripping cunt.

She braced herself against the counter as he speared into her, face to face with her own reflection.

She couldn’t help but watch. Her slender frame was dwarfed by the huge blond viking behind her, his muscles rippling as he moved inside her, so tall that only the lower half of his face was visible in the mirror. His hands were on her hips, so large that he could probably reach his fingers around her whole waist.

Her own body was wet and gleaming, her large breasts heaving and jiggling with the force of his thrusts. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed with desire, her tongue out as she panted needily. The piercings in her nipples shone silver. She looked absolutely wanton, and she felt like a true slave.

She came quickly and without permission, and then came again twice more before he spilled himself inside her cunt ten minutes later.

“You know I’ll have to punish you for that, pet,” he said idly as he pulled out of her.

She turned to him, boneless with pleasure as she leaned against the counter. “Anything you want, Master,” she murmured.

Thorfinn’s lips twitched as he watched her, the power of the enchantment that was designed solely to enforce her slavery flooding her with endorphins from her submission, reinforcing her dependence on her Masters’ cocks.

He hooked a finger through one of her nipple rings, using it to lead her to the bedroom.

She moaned softly as he tugged on the ring, following him willingly down the hall.

“You came three times without permission, pet, so I think three rounds of edging where you’re not allowed to cum seems fair, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master Thorfinn,” she said quietly, her voice breathy with desire still.

“Take your plug out, pet,” he told her, as he summoned her box of toys. He had added to it a few of his own choice which he had bought today, and it was now a pretty good selection.

He pulled out the giant, 10-inch dildo which was one of hers, and put it on the bed, then added a long string of large anal beads, and a five-inch penis gag. Finally, a big wand vibrator joined the pile.

He put the gag on her first, the five-inch cock attached to it filling her mouth and hitting her throat. She gagged as he put it in, and he gave her a moment to recover before strapping it tightly around her head.

Her big brown eyes stared up at him, just as they did when that mouth was stretched wide around his own cock, and he smiled at her.

“That’s my good girl,” he told her, grinning as the praise brought a blush to her cheeks and dark arousal to her eyes.

He cuffed her ankles to the legs of the bed, spreading them wide.

“Bend forward, ass up,” he directed her. “That’s it.”

A hand on her shoulder pushed her face down onto the bed, and he quickly cuffed her wrists together behind her back before pulling them upwards and tying the cuffs to a long rope attached to the headboard.

The strain on her shoulders in the modified strappado would keep her in position for him, her ass and cunt spread wide for his entertainment.

He positioned the vibrator beneath her, wedging it against the mattress so that the head of it pressed directly against her clit, carefully parting her folds and pulling back her clit hood so he was certain her little bud was taking every bit of abuse.

Then he switched it on.

He was not prepared for the jolt that ran through her entire body, the muffled scream that was torn from her mouth, as the vibrator roared to life. He turned it down a little, and the screams became wanton, throaty groans as she ground into the vibe, shifting her hips.

“Round one, pet. Twenty minutes of this.”

She didn’t respond.

Thorfinn conjured a chair and sat down, taking his cock in hand as he watched his beautiful, horny pet writhe and moan on the bed.

Her empty cunt gushed with arousal, fluids running down her legs and coating her thighs. Her empty ass gaped just a little, well used today no doubt and plugged up the rest of the time. He couldn’t wait to see it stretch as it ate up the anal beads he’d prepared for round two of her punishment.

He summoned a lust potion to keep himself hard, and got himself off twice before her twenty minutes were up.

She actually started crying when he finally turned the vibrator off.

He let her rest for ten minutes, to take the edge off her arousal, then cast the cleansing and lubricating spell on her ass.

She moaned deep in her throat as it washed through her bowels, and he laughed.

“You’re starting to like that, aren’t you pet? I bought you a new toy today. Are you ready to try it out?”

He showed the string of anal beads, grinning as her eyes widened in alarm at their size.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your greedy little ass took nineteen cocks, including mine, just yesterday. It’s going to gobble up these beads no problem.”

She whimpered, and he saw a bright red blush stain her cheeks adorably.

He pressed the first, smallest bead against her hole, watching it pop in with almost no resistance. There were six in the string, the smallest just under an inch in diameter while the largest was two inches, about the size of a pool ball.

He slicked the second bead with the juices from her cunt before sliding it inside her ass to join its mate. Her hole stretched briefly around the widest part of the ball before sucking it inside, and he had to fist his cock with his other hand to control the urge to just plunge it inside her, thereby letting her cum and ruining the game.

The third and fourth beads slid home, making her tremble as they slowly stretched her out and then slipped quickly inside, each one pushing the previous ones deeper into her.

He slid a finger into her cunt, running it along her inner walls. He could feel the contours of the beads through the thin wall and count each bulge. Later he would fuck her cunt while her ass was full of these. It would feel glorious. He stroked himself as he fingered her, imagining it as he spilled his cum over her thighs.

The fifth bead needed extra lube and a bit more encouragement, and her breathing hitched as he let it sit in her entrance at its widest point, holding it in place so her greedy ass couldn’t gobble it down, stretching her out ready for the largest, final bead.

“You’re taking them so well, Hermione,” he murmured to her as he finally let it slip inside her and she let out a throaty moan. “Just one more. I love stuffing your greedy hole and watching it eat up everything I give it. You were made for this, pet. You’re such a good girl for me.”

The suppressed whimper and the happy little shimmy of her hips at the praise, even as he began to push the final and largest bead into her already full ass, made him smile. Her praise kink was too cute.

He slicked the final bead with lube, and ran a finger around her hole to slick that up more too, pushing against the peaking edge of the fifth bead still visible through the slight gape to free up more room.

Then he pushed the sixth bead home, slowly but steadily easing it in. She didn’t fight him; she was pushing back and relaxing her inner muscles to help him.

Once the whole string was fully seated inside her ass, he pushed two fingers into her cunt and began teasing her g-spot, his thumb going to her clit.

She was on the edge in seconds, he could tell, but she had twenty minutes to endure.

“You’re so ready to cum, aren’t you, pet?” he asked her teasingly. “I can feel your greedy little cunt clenching around my fingers, you want this so badly. But you had an orgasm you didn’t ask for earlier, so you’re going to take this for twenty minutes like the good girl you are, Hermione.”

She groaned in frustration, clenching and fluttering around him, and he knew it was only the powerful magic of the ritual holding back her orgasm. If his cock got anywhere near her, she would explode.

After five minutes of fingering her right on the edge of cumming, he took hold of the cord at the end of the anal beads, and pulled the whole thing from her body in one smooth movement.

Her ass rippled and gaped, her upper body coming off the bed and her shoulders almost dislocating as she screamed through her gag, what should have been a full-body orgasm again magically ruined.

The sight was so erotic that he came again, the lust potion heightening his arousal past the point of control, his cum splashing across her ass to mingle with her juices.

He fed the beads back into her with almost no resistance this time, just the muffled sobs as she cried into the mattress, her ass totally overstimulated.

Again he fingered her for five minutes before yanking the beads out again, and then a third time before he finally took pity on her and removed them slowly, one at a time, fucking her with each one.

“That’s your second twenty minutes done, pet,” he murmured to her. “You’re doing so well.”

He let her recover for ten minutes again before picking up the 10-inch dildo.

He showed it to her. “I’m going to fuck you with this for the final twenty minutes, pet,” he told her. “I know you told me before that it’s too big for you, but after the anal beads you just took, your ass is going to take it beautifully.”

Her eyes widened at that, and he smiled, actually leaning down to press a kiss to her tear-streaked face. “I told you, Hermione. Your body was made for this. You’re the perfect little toy.”

The dildo was about the diameter of the fourth anal bead, and he was right. She took six inches of it in one thrust without any resistance at all, and it didn’t take a lot of effort before the entire ten inch shaft was disappearing into her ass and filling her to the brim.

“Twenty minutes, pet,” he said as he began fucking her with it, his fingers curling around her clit once again.

A week ago she would have laughed at the idea that she would ever find anal sex orgasmic, or at the idea that this massive dildo would fit fully inside her, but the last couple of days she had had so many intense anal orgasms that she was on the edge almost as soon as the huge cock breached her hole.

She didn’t know how she could endure another 20 minutes, how the wild magic she could feel sparking in her hair at the intensity of her frustration and need didn’t explode out of her, but somehow, one breath after another, she got through it.

Master Thorfinn’s voice crooned to her as she sobbed helplessly, telling her how good she was, how she was made for this, how perfect a toy she was. With the way she was reacting, maybe she was.

When he finally pulled the dildo out of her, leaving her desperate and needy and gaping and empty, she could barely think.

His large, gentle hands undid the gag strap, pulling the cock from her mouth, and she wept aloud with the intensity of her need.

“Please Master Thorfinn, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “Please may I have your cock, please may I cum, please sir, please,”

He stroked her hair back from her face, his thumb brushing away tears from her cheek.

“You were such a good girl for me, pet,” he told her. “I’m going to take my pleasure from you now, and I took a lust potion so it might take a while. You may cum as much as you like.”

He took a moment to fill her ass up with the anal beads again, all of them sliding into place without a hint of resistance after the dildo, then finally slid his cock home, bottoming out in her neglected cunt.

She immediately and wholly collapsed into an earth-shattering orgasm, screaming as she clenched around him so tight that he came too, deep inside her, the anal beads pressed into his cock through her walls.

Her orgasms seemed to chain together as he fucked her, and he thought she might have cum for half an hour straight as he used her cunt over and over, and then her ass.

Finally he untied her with a flick of his wand, and carried her limp body back to the bathroom.

They sat together in the bath, freshly filled, as he tenderly washed every part of her with a soft cloth and healing soap to ease her muscles, then washed her hair before taking care of himself.

She leaned against the opposite end of the bath as he quickly washed himself, watching him.

“Master Parkinson told me that the Slytherin Quidditch team used to… new members. With a beater’s bat,” she said, suddenly.

Master Thorfinn paused as he ran a flannel over his shoulder, and looked at her. “Did he do that to you?”

She shook her head. “My cunt. Not my ass.”

He nodded slowly, not saying anything.

“He told me that he and Master Greengrass did it to you. And that you had to go to the hospital wing.”

Master Thorfinn nodded again, his blue eyes holding hers.

“I know it was a long time ago but…” she paused, not sure what she wanted to say. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

A half smile tugged at his lips.

“I just spent well over an hour fucking your ass with things just as big as that bat, Hermione,” he reminded her gently.

She blushed and looked down. “I know, but… you made it feel good. They hurt you.”

He leaned forward, putting a finger under her chin and lifting it so she was forced to make eye contact with him again.

“That day was a bad day, pet, it’s true. But that day started me on the course that led me to becoming a Dom, and learning how to play rough and use pain safely.”

“Thank you, Master Thorfinn,” she murmured.

He frowned at her in surprise. “What for, pet?”

“For taking care of me. For teaching me. For not hurting me. For being… kind.”

He smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Hermione.”

Chapter Text

Hermione woke on her third day as the Death Eater Toy with her cunt clenching around the huge cock inside her, her body shaking with the aftershocks of an orgasm.

She felt thoroughly used, her whole body ached and tingled.

Her legs were sore from the positions she'd been in, her ass and tits bruised and swollen from the beatings they'd taken yesterday.

Her cunt and ass felt stretched and oversensitised, yet constantly ready for their next fucking.

Even her mouth felt different, her soft palate bruised from all the face fucking she'd endured, her jaw aching, and yet she almost felt that she wanted a cock to suck on, something to fill her.

The constant pressure and fullness of the plug in her ass, so uncomfortably alien two days before, now felt oddly comforting.

Master Thorfinn's arms tightened around her as she shifted, pulling her back against him and pressing his cock even deeper inside her. One of his hands cupped her mons, his fingers toying with the ring pierced through her clit hood as he slept, and she whimpered at the sensation.

Soon enough he would wake up and fuck her, and then the day would begin. Another day in the rest of her life as a sex slave.

He kept toying with her, pulling her right to the edge of another orgasm, but she didn’t dare cum again without permission, not now she was fully awake. The pain in the remaining bruises that the balm still hadn’t healed was too great a deterrent.

She focused on the pain, trying to use it to ignore the mounting pleasure pooling and coiling inside her, but at this point even pain was sort of pleasurable.

It was a relief when Master Thorfinn finally stirred.

“Good morning pet… are you having fun?” he growled in her ear, feeling the way she was shifting and moaning against him.

“Good morning, Master Thorfinn,” she gasped. “You’re… touching me… I’m so close, sir. Please may I cum?”
He seemed to realise that his fingers were toying with her clit ring, and chuckled softly.

“Oh dear, you are in a predicament, aren’t you? I’m too comfortable to move right now though, so if you want to cum you’ll have to do it yourself, I’m not going to help you.”

He released the ring, cupping a hand over her folds so that nothing was touching her clit, and she couldn’t play with herself either.

She wiggled, groaning with frustration.

“Play with your nipples for me, pet,” he murmured.

She lifted her hands to her breasts automatically, but gasped as her fingers brushed the stripes of the cane, achingly sensitive with the newly healed skin.

“Are they sensitive?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

She nodded, whimpering as she traced the edges of her areolas experimentally, the flesh puckering under her touch.

“Yes Sir, so sensitive!”

“Pinch them,” he commanded.

She hesitated, and he growled softly. “Pinch them, pet, or I’ll do it for you.”

Hastily, she brought her thumbs and forefingers together around the tight nubs, tightening them carefully. An involuntary squeal escaped her lips and she felt him laugh, the motion shifting his cock inside her.

Between the agonisingly sweet pain in her nipples and the rolling motion of his cock in her cunt, she fell over the edge into orgasm, screaming in surprise and pleasure as it rocketed through her.

He rolled over on top of her, pinning her face-first against the mattress, and thrust roughly into her fluttering cunt, claiming his own release from her, then pulled out and sat up, leaving her spent and gasping.

“Good girl,” he told her, casually, as he got out of the bed.

She trembled visibly, her face still buried in the mattress.

~~~

She began her appointments for the day again on her knees with Goyle’s cock down her throat, followed by breakfast eaten haphazardly from a dog bowl on the floor while he fucked her ass.

Then she had an hour in which Master Avery had her sit on his lap with his cock up her ass and a rabbit vibrator in her cunt while he pinched and teased her nipples. Her wrists were bound to his so he toyed with her like a puppet, and she felt so incredibly full that she thought she might explode.

She begged and begged to cum, but he refused every time until she was forced to disobey, the orgasms milked from her body over and over.

After the first time she came without permission it was like a game to him, to see how many he could wring from her. He took ten, in the end, as she sobbed in his lap, while he whispered in her ear about what a naughty, greedy little girl she was.

When he was done, he wrote ‘Greedy slut who came 10 times without permission’ across her belly, and all but threw her into the floo with the rabbit still sticking out of her cunt.

She fell out the other side onto a stone hearth, where Antonin Dolohov was waiting for her.

He looked surprised at her state of disarray, but the shock soon turned to sadistic glee as he saw what was written across her stomach.

“Are you a greedy girl, Hermione?” he asked her, his Russian accent lilting over her name.

She shook her head miserably, unable to say anything. She was going to get punished regardless.

“Feeling shy?” he teased. “No matter. I will train you to enjoy humiliation. I love to watch a pretty girl forced to expose herself and see the horror in her eyes as she realises how turned on she is.”

Hermione looked up at him uncomfortably. She was becoming somewhat accustomed to the physical torture and seduction of her body. She was not at all ready to have them break her mind.

“Are you an exhibitionist, Hermione?” he asked, his voice low as his eyes grazed her trembling body. “I think you are, deep down. I think you know that, and you’re so, so ashamed of how wet your greedy cunt gets when you imagine me fucking you in public.”

He picked up a thin outer robe, which buttoned down the front but definitely wasn’t supposed to be the only clothing worn, and passed it to her.

“Put this on, and those shoes. We’re going out for a walk.”

The robe barely hit mid thigh, and exposed more of her cleavage than she was happy with. The heels had platform soles like a stripper might wear, and she would have struggled to stand up in them if they hadn’t been enchanted with stabilising charms.

Dolohov made her put on a bright red lipstick, and cast some kind of charm on her breasts that held them up and out as if in a push-up bra, making the visible cleavage even more alarming.

“Now you look like a real greedy slut,” he said in satisfaction, leading her towards the front door.

She hadn’t walked much over the last two days, and now as they began to stroll down the street she realised how much the plug in her ass was making her hips sway, gently fucking her with every step.

They appeared to be in a muggle town, not one she recognised. There were already catcalls and wolf whistles coming her way as they turned a corner into a park, and she tried unsuccessfully to pull the skirt of the robes down further. She felt paradoxically grateful to be here with Dolohov, whose imposing presence she hoped would scare off anyone who wanted to take advantage.

She turned to glance at him, feeling his steady hand on the small of her back as he led her through the park, and jumped when she realised he wasn’t there at all.

“M-master Antonin?” she whispered.

“I am here,” he replied, quietly, in a tone that did not invite further conversation.

She realised as she studied the air where he should be that the faint outline of his disillusionment was in fact visible as a shimmer against the grass, but the comfort of being next to a man was entirely gone.

She remembered all of her mother’s warnings about not walking alone, always wearing a coat, carrying a weapon. She felt naked, even more naked than she actually was.

Dolohov steered her to a remote corner of the park, supporting her as she stumbled in her heels as they left the path and entered a small copse of trees.

“Take off the robes,” he ordered quietly.

She stared at him, eyes wide. “B-but…”

“Now, Hermione. Or I will vanish them, and you will have to walk back in nothing.”

Horrified, she began toying with the top button of the robes, slowly slipping it from its hole, trying to delay the inevitable.

Dolohov pulled out his wand as he shimmered back into existence, tapping it against his hand threateningly.

Hermione hastily removed the robes, leaving her bare and shivering in nothing but platform heels in the little wooded clearing, the crude message still daubed across her belly.

“Lean against the tree, and put your foot up on this branch,” he directed her.

She did as she was bidden, the pose lewdly displaying her to any who cared to look.

Then he disappeared again.

“Touch yourself, Hermione,” he told her. “Play with that greedy, slutty pussy. I want you so close to cumming that the second I stick my cock in you, you explode all over me. If you don’t cum the moment I touch you, I’ll make you walk back naked.”

Reluctantly, she brought her hand to her cunt, still achingly oversensitive from the ten orgasms she had had not half an hour before.

She wasn’t sure where Dolohov was, but she could hear him moving around, and every now and again an invisible hand would cup her pussy to see how wet she was, or tweak her nipples, laughing softly when he made her cry out.

Sometimes he stood behind her and murmured to her her worst fears.

“Oh, I think I hear someone coming over there. I wonder if they’ll venture over here? What would you do if someone walked over here and saw you like this? Would you let them fuck you? I bet you would. But your poor, greedy cunt wouldn’t be able to cum. You’d be so desperate, wouldn’t you?”

When he finally fucked her, still invisible, she watched in horrified wonder as her folds seemed to part and her cunt to stretch of its own accord.

Despite her disgust and embarrassment at the whole situation, she had become turned on quickly. She had no idea any more what it was that aroused her; since the ritual, almost anything could make her dripping wet in moments.

As he had commanded, the moment he stuck his cock inside her she came, burying her face in his invisible shoulder as he fucked her up against the tree, her leg still lifted to expose every part of her to anyone who cared to look.

She swallowed her whimpers and moans, desperate not to attract attention.

He finished quickly, apparently very pleased with himself.

Hermione could have cried with relief when he chose to apparate them back to the flat, giving her time to floo home, wash and dress, and have lunch before meeting Master Thoros at her office at 1pm.

For two hours, he calmly and professionally helped her to fill out her fictionalised initial reports on each of the Death Eaters supposedly under her care, and then helped her prepare her speech for the Wizengamot the following day.

Hermione felt almost relaxed. Thoros was a thorough and clever man, and for all she hated that she was the one snared in his net, she had to admit that he had considered every angle of his plan. Working next to him in her office, she could almost believe that he was simply a colleague, helping her out.

Then the clock struck three.

“Leave your clothes here, my dear, you won’t be needing them at the Manor, and then you’ll have some spare here in case you’re sent through in a hurry in the future,” he directed her.

Hermione looked up at him, a sense of dread filling her as she realised her sanctuary of work time was over, and she was once again just a sex toy.

“Yes, Master Thoros,” she agreed dispiritedly, obediently standing to unbutton her blouse.

Thoros watched her greedily as she stripped before him, casually reaching out to palm her heavy breasts as she slipped off her skirt, leaving herself fully naked.

Then he clipped a leash to the piercing in her clit hood, and used it to lead her the few feet to the floo.

Hermione had rarely felt so entirely helpless. She wasn’t even handcuffed, but the very act of being led by her cunt felt so dehumanising she could hardly breathe.

Thoros seemed to thrill in her despair, leading her through several halls of the manor before returning to the same dark studio he had tied her up in yesterday.

This time the first thing he tied around her was a blindfold, followed by a gag which held her mouth open wide, and then cuffs on her wrists and ankles which had her stretched wide, standing on tiptoes with her legs spread uncomfortably far apart.

He pushed her head back as far as it would go, and then there was something long and hard pushing into her mouth through the ring gag until she could barely breathe around it, and it must have been attached to the ceiling because she couldn’t tip her head forward again.

“You have such a beautiful body, my dear,” he murmured to her, his lips close to her ear, and she shuddered at his hot breath against her skin as she heard his camera clicking.

His hand rested on her throat, so exposed with her head held all the way back, and she swallowed reflexively, fighting down panic.

Something freezing cold pressed against the small of her back and she jerked wildly, wrenching her wrists in the cuffs as he laughed. “So sensitive,” he crooned, trailing the ice cube up her spine and chuckling as she writhed.

His hand left her throat and then there was another ice cube, this one pressed to her clit, making her howl.

“I want you to stay quiet, my dear,” he whispered to her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Every time you make a sound will earn you another spank with the paddle when I have finished playing with you. Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer, staying quiet, and he laughed. “Good girl. I knew you were a smart one.”

Then he was torturing her again.

He switched between ice cubes, brushed against her most sensitive skin with no warning, to a little wheel of sharp spikes which he rolled across her nipples or along her cunt, the backs of her knees or the underside of her breasts; then warm, gentle hands soothingly stroking away the pain he’d given her; then the soft feather end of a quill, tickling her arms and neck and making her squirm. He dripped painfully hot wax onto her breasts and ass, and pinched the skin across her belly and thighs with pegs before ripping them all off at once.

Her skin was a cacophony of sensation, unable to distinguish pain from pleasure, and she lost track of the number of squeals, gasps, moans and sobs he pulled from her despite her attempts to stay quiet.

Finally, the cold, smooth wood of a paddle rubbed over her bottom, and he announced that she was a very naughty, noisy girl who would have to be punished.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, even the whisper of his breath on her oversensitised skin making her shiver, “I have run out of time for today, so I will have to give you the 48 spanks you have earned tomorrow, after your meeting with the Wizengamot.”

Hermione barely heard him. Her legs were trembling from the extended time in such a stressful position, her whole body singing with sensation. She felt lightheaded, as if she were floating somewhere outside of her body, and when he released her cuffs, she collapsed to the floor as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. She kept her eyes closed even when he removed the blindfold, the thought of light feeling too much to bear.

He tutted at her, clipping the leash back to her clit piercing and tugging her down the hall as she crawled after him blindly.

He pushed her into the floo with the leash still clipped to her, calling out her next destination as she whirled into the green flames.

~~~

Mulciber’s home was small and neat, and the man himself looked rather disgusted as Hermione’s sweaty, trembling body fell out of the floo onto his immaculate hearth, showering it in soot.

He aimed several scourgifys at her before approaching, each one making her scream as her oversensitised skin was scoured by the caustic cleaning spell.

“What a mess,” he tutted to himself as he strode over to her, scooping up the leash and forcing her to scramble to her knees to follow him into the bedroom.

He didn’t let her touch the bed, instead casting Levicorpus on her as soon as she crawled into the room, yanking up into the air by her ankle.

She watched upside down as he quickly and carefully stripped off his smart trousers and underwear, folding them, and sat down on the edge of the immaculately turned down bed so that his cock was just at the height of her head.

He grabbed her hair, using it to angle her dangling body and force his cock down her throat. Then he set her swinging, keeping hold of her hair to stop her going too far, using the absolute minimum of effort to fuck her as she hung there helplessly.

He finished twice in her mouth before casting the countercurse to let her down, not bothering to catch her as she crumpled to the floor, dizzy from being swung around upside down for so long.

“Parkinson told me you took the beaters bat in your cunt yesterday,” he said abruptly, the first thing he’d said to her in the whole half hour she’d been there.

“Yes sir,” she forced out, her throat hoarse from his rough treatment.

“You know it’s tradition to take it up the ass, right?” he asked, a nasty little smile on his face.

Hermione stiffened where she lay. “He did mention something about that, yes, sir,” she hedged.

“I don’t have a bat here, I played Chaser so I never saw the need, but I’ll have to get one for next time I have you. Can’t have the Slytherin’s communal broomstick not properly initiated, can we?” he asked rhetorically.

“Stand up.”

She struggled to obey, holding on to the chest of drawers for support as she climbed to her trembling legs.

“Turn round and bend over, and spread your cheeks.”

She nearly fell as she bent forward, displaying her ass to him, and he sighed, muttering a spell.

A moment later she was frozen in place, as if bound by the petrificus totalus jinx, but held exactly where she was instead of forced into the petrificus position.

Cold fingers pulled the plug from her ass and she felt him balance it on her back before the cleansing spell swept through her bowels in a rush of tingling cold.

Locked in position as she was, she couldn’t do or say anything at all, and so she simply stood there as Mulciber, a complete stranger whose first name she didn’t even know, pushed two fingers into her ass and began to work them in and out, quickly adding a third and then a fourth until she wanted to cry with the pain of the rough, unlubricated stretching.

“I think that bat is probably about the size of my fist,” he said, as he somehow forced his thumb into her as well, a sick pain pooling in her gut. It was too much, she was going to break.

Her head screamed and she thought she might have blacked out for a second, and then his whole fist was inside her, forcing its way deeper, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream.

When he pushed her through the floo at the end of the hour she was clutching the plug in her hand, her ass gaped too wide to hold it in, her eyes staring into nothing.

~~~

She had no idea whose house she went to, only that they took one look at her and shoved her back into the floo, and then she was at home.

She fell forward onto the rug, not moving, not even sure if she was breathing. The petrificus was gone, but it didn’t matter. Her limbs seemed so distant she could hardly imagine moving them.

She didn’t know how much time passed as she lay there, but she didn’t think it was very long before the floo flared again behind her, and Master Thorfinn was there, almost tripping over her as she lay where she had fallen across the hearth.

“Merlin,” she heard him breathe, and then large, warm hands were lifting her and she was cradled to a broad, muscular chest. Her head bounced limply against his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom.

“Hermione?” he asked gently, and she heard it, but her body felt a thousand miles away and she couldn’t work out how to move her mouth and respond.

He murmured a spell, and the most intense stabbing, sickening pain in her gut eased, but she still hurt in ways she couldn’t describe.

Sitting down on the bed, he pulled the blankets around her and wrapped her tightly as he held her on his lap. Then there was a glass of water at her lips, and she felt it trickle into her mouth, cold and refreshing, then overflow down her chin as she failed to even swallow.

He summoned chocolate next, breaking off a square and slipping it onto her tongue, letting it melt into her mouth. It tasted like safety, and she felt hot, aching tears gathering in her eyes, leaking down her cheeks and soaking into his shirt, but still she didn’t move or make a sound.

“It’s ok, sweet girl, I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he soothed her, his voice rumbling in his chest as her ear rested against it. He let her lay there, holding her as she wept limply in his arms, until she slowly felt her senses returning. She didn’t know how long it was, but it must have been almost an hour before she finally recovered herself enough to shift her weight a little, curling into him.

His arms tightened around her in relief, and she felt him brush a kiss to the top of her head.

“There you are, pet,” he murmured, pushing her hair out of her face as he offered the glass of water to her again.

She sipped carefully, then realised how thirsty she was.

“Gently does it,” he chuckled quietly. “Don’t down it all or you’ll be sick.”

She let him pull the glass away from her lips, and gratefully accepted the square of chocolate he offered in its place.

“May I have a look at your injuries?” he asked her, when she was recovered enough to reach up and wipe her eyes with the blanket.

She tensed, biting her lip.

“Or I can take you to St Mungos, but I have a feeling you would rather not answer their questions,” he added.

She took a deep breath, then nodded. “H-he…” she stopped when her voice barely came out, coughing to clear her throat. “He did something like petrificus totalus but it held me in a different shape, and then he… he fisted my butt, with no lube, just over and over and I couldn’t move or scream or anything,” she confessed in a whisper. “I just… shut down.”

Absolute fury burned in Thorfinn’s blue eyes, but his voice was impossibly gentle as he cupped her cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“I will deal with Mulciber later,” he said, with a cold quiet that sent a shiver down her spine. “For now, let’s get you healed up.”

Two potions and several spells later, she was no longer physically broken, but the pain in her mind lingered.

Thorfinn allowed her to curl up in his lap, still naked, and murmured soothing words into her ear as she burrowed into his warmth.

His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her snuggly against him, and his finger stroking her labia gently - not even sexually, just casually petting her cunt as he cuddled her.

“You're doing so well, Hermione,” he murmured. “I'm so proud of you for handling all of this, you're amazing. I knew you were something special the moment I saw you, and I'm so glad I get to hold you like this and be the one who makes you feel safe.”

She cried for a while, her tears soaking into the fabric of his robes as she buried her face in his shoulder, and he continued to soothe and pet her as she cried.

Finally he slid his fingers a little lower, gathering the slick which now pooled constantly at her entrance, and brought it to her clit, swirling his fingers around the tight little bud.

She whimpered against him, lifting her head from his shoulder to find him watching her.

“There you are pet. All better now.”

His fingers kept circling her clit, the rough pads sliding over it and making her gasp and moan. She shifted in his lap, trying to get to his cock, but he immediately took his hand away from her clit.

“Uh uh uh, did I say you could move, pet? Be a good girl for me, and stay still. I want to stroke my pet, and your only job is to sit still and enjoy it.”

Hermione groaned quietly. The comfort she had been feeling was already being washed away by overwhelming arousal, and she just had to take it and not move?

Master Thorfinn laughed quietly at her frustration, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Answer me, pet,” he chided her gently.

“Yes, Master Thorfinn,” she agreed, begrudgingly.

“There's my good girl,” he purred, his fingers returning to their tantalising swirl around her clit.

Within ten minutes she was twitching and begging for mercy, for his cock, to be allowed to cum, but he just held her firmly and continued to stroke her cunt and trace patterns over her clit, driving her towards madness.

“Please sir, please,” she chanted, gasping with pure need as he kept working her, holding her effortlessly right on the precipice of orgasm thanks to the ritual magic.

“Not yet,” he smirked, kissing her softly. “I love seeing you so desperate for me, Hermione. You're such a good girl for me.”

She moaned as he called her a good girl, bucking into his hand and he smiled.

“Do you like being my good girl, pet?”

She nodded desperately. “So much, Master Thorfinn! I want to be your good girl!”

His other hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “How many more minutes of edging will you let me give you, Hermione? How long can you be my good girl for?”

She stared at him in agony, desperate to please him yet out of her mind with need. “How long do you want, Master?” she asked uncertainly. She wanted to please him, she couldn't disappoint him by offering too short of a time, but could she stand another ten minutes of this? Another hour? She wasn't sure.

He kissed her mouth, his tongue claiming hers and plundering her until she trembled.

“You are so perfect for me,” he told her. “Will you trust me to push you, to give you as much as I know you can take, and not to push you too far?”

She stared up at him, fuzzy with desire. “I'm your good girl,” was all she could manage.

“Yes you are, pet,” Thorfinn grinned, leaning down to kiss her again as his fingers continued to tease her dripping cunt.

She trembled and whimpered and gasped and shouted under his ministrations for another half an hour as he delighted in her submission and her reactions, until he could see her eyes beginning to glaze and her movements becoming more mechanical.

“I'm so proud of you, pet,” he told her. “You can choose how to take my cock, to have your orgasm.”

“Want you… in my pussy… please sir,” she gasped, barely able to speak.

A moment later his clothes were gone, and he was lowering her shaking body onto his rigid cock.

She came explosively the second he entered her, screaming and convulsing, squirting harder than he'd ever seen and he thought she might have passed out.

He held her as she came down, rocking into her slowly as she recovered.

She sprawled against him, panting her chest heaving. “That was… insane…” she gasped, hardly seeming aware she'd said the words out loud.

“Good girls get treats,” Thorfinn responded simply, with a smile.

Chapter Text

Hermione woke alone on Thursday morning for the first time since she’d become the Death Eaters’ toy.

Her cunt throbbed, feeling strangely empty, and for a moment she felt almost abandoned.

There was a note on her bedside table, propped against her wand.

“ Good morning Pet.

You have a busy day today so I decided not to wake you. I’ve gone to take care of some business, I will be back soon.

Master Thorfinn ”

Strangely relieved that he had bothered to leave her a note, Hermione got up and went about her morning routine. Her first appointment was with Goyle, as was becoming routine, and she didn’t even bother to get dressed before flooing into his bedroom and getting on her knees to suck his cock.

He leered down at her as she deepthroated him, choking on his cock as he held her in place with a meaty hand on the back of her head.

Fortunately he came quickly, and she was back in her own bathroom, gargling mouthwash and wiping the tears from her eyes barely ten minutes later.

She had just found some clothes when Thorfinn returned, stepping effortlessly out of the floo and flicking soot from his shirt with a smile in her direction.

“Good morning, Pet,” he greeted her. “Back from Goyle’s already?”

Hermione made a face. “It doesn’t take long for him to fuck my face and send me back through the floo.”

Thorfinn laughed. “Well, you might enjoy this next appointment a little more. I spoke to Parkinson, who sent you back to me yesterday for aftercare after Mulciber broke you, and we’re going to go now to discipline him. Parkinson is fetching Thoros now, so this is official, and once we’re done with Mulciber we’ll be sending round some updated rules to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Master Parkinson?” Hermione repeated, surprised. He had been the one who had fucked her with the bat - although she recalled the pity in his eyes as he watched her get whipped by Selwyn.

“It seems he and Greengrass were planning to doubleteam you, but when he saw the state you were in he knew you were too far gone, and sent you back to me for aftercare,” Thorfinn explained.

They flooed through to Mulciber’s house, finding Parkinson and Thoros waiting in the living room. Mulciber sat on the sofa, looking murderous.

Thoros took charge. “Mulciber, yesterday you broke one of the rules of ownership of our Toy,” he declared. “She arrived at Parkinson’s manor completely dissociated and bleeding heavily, conscious but otherwise unresponsive. He then sent her back to Rowle, who was able to heal her and, through several hours of care, bring her back to herself.

“Both Parkinson and Rowle are here to testify that you left Miss Granger in a state which would have caused permanent damage were it not for the prompt medical care Rowle was able to provide, which you did not seek for her.

“Accordingly, you are sentenced to endure the same acts which you put Miss Granger through, and will be banned from using her alone for a period of one month. Do you have anything to say?”

Mulciber glared poisonously at Hermione, and she flinched backwards, hiding herself a little behind Thorfinn. He put a protective arm around her shoulders.

“The little bitch came to me already filthy and overused,” he growled.

Thorfinn interjected. “We will be inputting a new rule from today that there must be half an hour of aftercare for Hermione after every appointment, so she should arrive fresh each time in the future. However, that is no excuse for your abuse of her.”

Parkinson stepped forward, holding the bat, and leered at Mulciber. “Pants down, bitch,” he grinned.

Hermione watched in fascinated horror as the three Death Eaters stripped and restrained their apparent friend, first hanging him upside down as he had done to her and force-feeding him their cocks in turn, then flipping him over and each fucking his arse to completion before forcing the huge bat into him, lubed by the three rounds of cum they’d filled him with.

“You take it even better now than you did when you were Chaser,” Parkinson taunted him, as Mulciber let out a sob, the bat six inches deep in his arse.

Thorfinn yanked it out before shoving it back in, even deeper this time, drawing a high-pitched scream from the man. “Let’s shut that mouth up, shall we?”

He turned to Hermione. “Come here, pet.”

Hermione timidly approached them, and Thorfinn summoned a chair. “Sit down, pet, and spread your legs for me. Let Mulciber apologise by eating your pretty cunt.”

It was a mark of how overwhelming the last few days had been that Hermione didn’t even question it, pulling up her skirt and spreading her legs in front of the screaming man.

Thorfinn forced Mulciber’s face into her cunt, as Parkinson continued to fuck him with the bat. “Go on, lick it properly,” he goaded. “We’ll stop fucking you once you’ve made her beg for cock so she can cum.”

With that promise, Mulciber began to lick eagerly, if sloppily, at her clit, and Hermione moaned, pressing herself into his mouth.

Thorfinn smiled at her as he reamed the man’s arse while Hermione rode his face, and she had a wild, intrusive thought that this is what it might be like to have a threesome, if Thorfinn were her partner.

In the end, Mulciber actually came before she did, the huge bat apparently hitting his prostate just right, and he whimpered into her cunt as he spilled his load on the floor.

Thorfinn made him lick up his cum with the bat still deep in his arse, and then offered Hermione the choice of Mulciber’s tongue or his cock to finish her off. Hermione gratefully chose Thorfinn’s cock, and he fucked her to a glorious orgasm as Parkinson continued to lazily thrust the bat in and out of Mulciber’s arse, as he twitched on the floor.

~~~

An hour later, Thorfinn and Hermione had had breakfast, she had been edged for 45 minutes as she ate before he finally let her cum, and then she had hastily dressed and got ready to meet Thoros back at her office, ready for the work day.

They had left Parkinson to deal with Mulciber, and Thoros to write up the rules amendment, which arrived by owl five minutes before she was about to floo through to the office.

The envelope contained three rather graphic photos of Mulciber’s punishment, and a letter detailing his crimes and the discipline awarded, followed by a statement of the new rules, and a blatant threat that the next person to break the rules would be dealt with just as severely - if not moreso.

The upshot of it all was that Hermione was now to have half an hour of aftercare after each hour’s session, either from the man she was with or they could send her home to Thorfinn, and that no-one was to push her past her limits or damage her. They were to ensure that she could always either say or otherwise indicate a safeword, and that if she was not sent home for aftercare, that she was sent on to her next appointment in a clean, calm and presentable state. 

This also meant that the men could now request her to attend appointments dressed or otherwise presented in the manner of their preference, as she would now have time to achieve that.

Hermione stared at the photo of Mulciber’s gaping arse as he lay sobbing on the floor of his living room, the beater’s bat visible beside him and his half-hard cock dribbling cum onto his belly, and couldn’t summon even a glimmer of pity.

~~~

She flooed through to her office with barely a minute to spare, dressed in one of her new slutty but sort of work appropriate outfits, and nodded to Thoros, who was already there.

She had barely moved away from the grate when the floo flared again, and Draco stepped out of the fire, flicking soot from his robes with characteristic arrogance.

Thoros waved them both over to the desk. “I invited Draco to join us this morning, Miss Granger, as you will be presenting to the Wizengamot regarding him this afternoon, and I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.”

Thoros explained his plan for the speech and how Draco should act, and what he should be expecting, as Hermione watched Draco. He was as arrogant and entitled as ever, all straight lines and sharp angles. She thought he’d filled out a bit since those hairs had been taken which were used for the polyjuice, to allowed Lestrange to fuck her in his body. She wondered if the real Draco had ever been fucked like that. Whether he’d taken that bat up his arse, or his uncle’s cock, or anyone else’s. She knew how his body responded to pain; how his caged cock had twitched and jumped when he was paddled.

Draco smirked as he caught her staring at him, and casually flicked his wand, vanishing all the buttons on her shirt and letting her boobs tumble free of their constraints, then continued his discussion with Thoros as if nothing had happened.

Hermione gritted her teeth, hoping no-one from the ministry decided to visit her office, and continued drafting her speech, bare breasted.

The three of them flooed through to Hermione’s office in the Wizengamot just after noon, ready for the afternoon session at one o’clock.

“Now, Hermione, I want to make sure you remember who you belong to this afternoon, and aren’t tempted to go off-piste in front of the Wizengamot,” Thoros began. “As I told you yesterday, you were a very naughty girl, and earned 48 strokes of the paddle. I am not going to give them all to you now, as you will need to be able to sit down in there, but I think 12 should make that ass nice and pink, and be a good little reminder of your place, hmm?”

She barely even blinked as she pulled up her skirt and draped herself over his knees, ass in the air.

He transfigured a book into a paddle, and stroked it over her ass, tapping the jewelled plug and making her moan. “Beg for your punishment, slut,” he told her.

“Please punish this naughty slut, sir,” she begged immediately. “Please paddle my bottom and make me your good girl.”

Draco grinned as he watched her beg, stroking himself through his trousers.

Thoros brought the paddle down hard on her ass, evenly across both cheeks, and she yelped. “One, thank you sir! Please may I have another?”

He delivered the next, smirking at Draco. “She’s a fast learner, our little Toy, just like you said,” he remarked. “Less than a week, and she’s already a top-of-the-class little slut.”

Hermione flushed with pleasure at the compliment, feeling a rush of wetness in her cunt even as her ass stung with pain.

“Two, sir, thank you! May I have another?”

He kept up the idle conversation with Draco as he spanked her, apparently ignoring her begging as she squirmed in his lap, her ass turning a bright pink under his ministrations.

Finally he delivered the twelfth blow, and helped her to her feet.

“Go and show Draco your ass, little slut,” he commanded.

Hermione kept her skirt hiked up as she walked over to Draco, turning and bending over a little to present her ass to him.

“Gryffindor red,” he remarked. “How appropriate.”

He reached between her legs, swiping two fingers between her labia and bringing them up drenched in her arousal.

“Oh, you really did enjoy that, didn’t you?” he teased her. He moved round her, putting his fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth obediently and he pushed his fingers inside, right to the back of her throat, choking her with the taste of herself.

“Answer me, slut.”

She felt a blush rising in her cheeks. It was easy to debase herself for the other death eaters, she didn’t know them. She said what she needed to to keep them happy. But Draco? She had known Draco for years.

“Y-yes, sir.” She answered, quietly, dropping her eyes.

“Look at me, and tell me what a slut you are for death eater cock.”

Hermione swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I’m a slut for death eater cock.”

Across the desk, Thoros cleared his throat, amused. “You have ten minutes to have your fun, Draco, then she needs to be fully presentable to go into the Wizengamot.

Draco grinned, as if suddenly struck by an idea.

“On your knees, Granger.”

Hermione dropped to her knees obediently.

“Now beg for my cock. Make me believe that you, Hermione Granger, desperately want to suck my cock. If I don’t believe you in one minute, I’ll just cane your tits instead.”

Hermione winced. She’d had her tits caned already this week and had no desire to repeat the experience.

“Please, Master Draco, sir, please let me suck your cock! I want it so badly, please sir?” she gazed up at him, opening her mouth a little and making her eyes wide and pleading. “Please let this little slut suck on your big, hard cock, sir, I want it so badly!”

“Do you want to rub your face against it?” he asked her. She nodded eagerly, leaning forward to nuzzle lovingly against the growing bulge in his pants.

“Please let me take it out and suck it, sir? I promise I’ll make it feel so good for you,” she begged.

Draco pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know… I think I might prefer to see those tits jiggle as I cane them…”

“Oh please, no sir! Please please let me suck your cock, I’ll be so good for you!”

Draco grinned. “Since you beg so nicely,” he allowed, graciously.

He undid his belt, and let her free his cock from his pants, eagerly taking him into her mouth. He didn’t try to control her at all, letting her prove her eagerness to worship him as she lavished his shaft and head with her tongue, taking him as deep as she could as she gripped him with one hand and stroked his balls with the other.

After a couple of minutes, he pushed her off and took himself in hand, cumming all over her tits a moment later.

Finally, he cast a finicky little charm to put the buttons back on her blouse, and did it up, leaving the sticky mess of his cum cooling on her chest and soaking through her blouse.

He summoned her Wizengamot robes from the rack by the door, and held them out for her to put on.

“You’re going to stand in front of the Wizengamot wearing my cum while you tell them all about what a lovely, rehabilitated individual I am, and how much I deserve to join the Aurors,” he told her, with a wicked grin. “Good luck out there.”

And with that, she was hustled out of the office, and into the throng of plum-robed Wizengamot delegates in the hallway as they made their way into the session.

~~~

The session began promptly at 1pm, and Hermione noted as she glanced at her agenda that she was one of the last to speak, meaning she had a good couple of hours to catch her breath and compose herself, not to mention go over her notes, as she hadn’t had a chance to thanks to Draco.

She shifted a little in her seat, the wooden bench uncomfortably hard on her recently-paddled bottom, and carefully adjusted the collar of her robes to make sure none of the sticky wetness coating her tits was visible soaking through her shirt.

Fortunately, the Wizengamot robes were a thick, high-quality wool impregnated with anti-staining charms to keep them fresh between sessions, so nothing showed, or soaked, through them.

Hermione did her best to relax into the session, listening politely to the other delegates presenting their bills and reports, trying to ignore the fact that this was easily the longest she’d gone without something sexual happening to her in nearly a week. She could feel her cunt leaking arousal and hoped it wasn’t dripping onto her skirt.

They were due to finish for the day at 6pm, but the debate on cauldron bottom thickness ran long, and it ended up being just after six by the time Hermione was called to present.

She took the podium, feeling her juices slippery between her thighs as she walked, acutely aware that it had been well over five hours now since she’d had a cock.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled charmingly at the gathered delegates, and began her speech. She went through all of the material she had prepared with Thoros, explaining how she had met with all 19 of her probationary charges, and felt she had got to know them all well. They were, to varying levels, all changed individuals, and she felt sure that they would all come to be assets to Wizarding society.

Draco Malfoy in particular, so young during the war, had realised the error of his ways, and had asked to become an auror to help to stop dark wizards. She petitioned the Wizengamot to grant him an Auror apprenticeship as his Community Service, as part of his rehabilitation.

Trying not to squirm or drool as she mentally plotted how quickly she could get back to her office and get Draco to fuck her, Hermione called the Wizengamot to a vote, and secured Draco’s probationary Auror training.

With a final thanks, she almost staggered back to her seat, sure she was scarlet in the face, and practised deep breathing as the final presentation of the session began. She had no idea what it was about, her mind solely focused on getting a cock into her as soon as possible. Her fingers slipped beneath the heavy woollen robes, sinking into her cunt, desperately seeking some release. It was six hours since she’d been fucked, she couldn’t take it any more.

Finally, a thousand years and seven minutes later, the session was called to an end, and she bolted from the room, hurtling down the corridor to her office and flinging open the door.

Draco was there, thank Merlin, and she didn’t even stop to shut the door before dropping to her knees, clutching at his robes.

Draco flicked his wand at the door to close it, eyes wide at her recklessness, but she was crying with need now as she pawed at him.

“Please Draco, I need your cock, please, please sir, it’s been more than six hours, I need it, please,” she babbled.

Draco laughed as he watched her desperation.

“Stand up then, Granger, and strip for me. Let me see that cum dried on your tits, and how wet your cunt is.”

She stood immediately, almost ripping her robes in her haste to take them off, but he shook his head. “Stop that, that’s not sexy. Strip properly for me, nice and slow. If you take it off too quick and look too needy, I’ll make you put it back on and do it again.”

Hermione let out a sob of frustration, but began to slowly unbutton her Wizengamot robe, moving her hips in a way she hoped was sexy. She needed a cock in her, now, it was the only thing she could think about.

“Please sir, I need your cock, I need it so badly,” she begged, as she undid the last button of the full-length robes and slowly shrugged them off, revealing her cum-soaked blouse and arousal-soaked skirt.

“Tell me what a slut you are for going to the Wizengamot dressed like this,” Draco directed, tutting as he gestured to her general state of disarray.

“I’m such a filthy slut,” she gasped, unbuttoning her blouse as slowly as she could, fondling her tits through the thin fabric. “I’m such a dirty girl, going to the Wizengamot covered in cum and only being able to think about your cock and how much I need it, the whole time I was there.”

She peeled away the blouse, displaying the tell-tale white marks on her skin of his dried cum, and toyed with her tits for a moment, making them jiggle as he watched before quickly moving to the waistband of her skirt and finding the button.

“I told them what a wonderful auror you would be, while stood there wearing your cum and dreamed about sucking your cock,” she admitted breathlessly, shimmying out of her skirt until she was standing naked but for her heels and the preppy knee-high socks that Thorfinn had picked out for her.

“I’m a shameless whore, please fuck me, sir,” she finished, as she stepped out of her skirt and presented herself to him.

“Lie down on your back, on the desk,” he told her, licking his lips as he took her in.

She obeyed immediately, lying back atop books and paperwork without stopping to move any of it, and he grabbed her ankles, lifting them over her head to bend her in half before pulling the plug from her arse and sinking into her in a single thrust.

She came loudly and instantly, shattering around him as he fucked her hard on the desk, her ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Thank you sir, thank you sir, thank you sir,” she murmured over and over, tears running down her cheeks as she shuddered beneath him, riding a second orgasm on the back of the first.

He let her come down for a minute once he’d finished, even getting her a glass of water and a biscuit from the packet in her desk drawer.

Then he sat down in the chair behind her desk, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back to put his feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles, looking the very picture of nepotism.

“I made a deal with Thoros,” he said, casually, as Hermione finished her biscuit and looked at him nervously. “For those 36 spanks you’re still due,” he added.

“I had a scene planned for you back home, but since we’re here, I think I’ll save that one for another day, and use this moment to celebrate my newfound status as the long arm of the Law,” he grinned.

He flicked his wand, transfiguring his robes into a passable impression of the red Auror robes, then turned a handkerchief into handcuffs - a simple Sympathetic Transfiguration, given the name similarity, but strangely enough not one McGonagall had taught them - and held them out for her wrists.

“Hermione Granger, you are under arrest for soliciting sex from an auror,” he told her, smirking. “I’m afraid you’ve been a very naughty girl. I sentence you to your choice of a night in the cells, naked, with whatever criminals are in there, or 36 spanks with a paddle on your ass, here and now, and I’ll let you go.”

Hermione took a breath, then held out her hands for the cuffs. “I’m terribly sorry, Officer,” she purred. “I think you’d better spank me and make sure you teach me a lesson. I’ll try to be a good girl for you.”

Draco slid the cuffs onto her wrists, tightening them into place, then used the linking chain between them to pull her onto his lap and settled her in place, draped over his knees. His fingers probed at her cunt, roughly pulling apart her labia to ‘inspect’ her.

“Soaking wet already, you really are a wanton little slut,” he commented. “I can see how stretched open you are, both your cunt and your ass are loose. And as for this…” he tugged hard on her clit ring, making her whimper, then pinched her clit. “That proves to me that you truly are an unrepentant slut. You will have to beg me for every spank, and after each one thank me for taking the time to teach you what a naughty, dirty girl you are, and beg me for forgiveness.”

“Please teach me a lesson, sir,” she begged him. “Show me how to be a good girl.”

Draco picked up the paddle which Thoros had left on the desk earlier, and brought it down hard across her ass. Hermione yelped in pain, wiggling her hips. “Oh, thank you sir, for teaching me what a dirty girl I am! Please forgive me! Please give me another one so I can really learn my lesson!”

She felt Draco’s cock twitch where she lay across his lap, and moaned as he brought the paddle down again and again, grinding against him as she begged and pleaded and apologised.

He spread the blows out, first one cheek and then the other, across both, high and low, down onto the backs of her thighs, keeping her guessing as she squirmed in his lap.

“I'm sorry sir,” she gasped as he slammed down number 33 on her left thigh, soothing his hand over the mark as she babbled out her litany. “I'm sorry I was such a naughty girl, thank you for teaching me to be good, please teach me more, please sir!”

He brought the paddle down across both of her cheeks, making an audible splat as the wooden surface smacked into the dripping wetness of her cunt.

“Still so dirty,” he said, with a sigh, dragging his fingers through her labia and smearing the wetness he collected across her ass, bringing the paddle down again where he had wiped her juices.

He pushed her thighs apart, and angled the paddle sideways. “I'm going to deliver this final stroke directly to your slutty wet cunt, and we'll see if that cleans you up any.”

The paddle smacked into her cunt and she screamed. “Thank you sir, thank you for trying to teach me a lesson, please forgive this naughty slut, please,” she begged, as he threw the paddle aside and began rubbing her cunt.

“I think you've actually got wetter and dirtier as I punished you,” he mocked her, pushing one long finger inside her and swirling it around, making lewd wet noises with her arousal.

“I wonder how many fingers I can fit inside you? Just how loose are you?”

He added a second, quickly followed by a third with embarrassing ease, and she moaned wantonly as he fingered her.

“I think I can get another one in here,” he commented, scissoring the three already inside her to demonstrate how much he'd stretched her out before pushing the fourth inside. Now he had half his hand in her, just his thumb cupping her ass as he thrust his fingers into her.

“Have you been fisted before, Hermione?” He asked her.

She shuddered, not expecting him to use her name, somehow. “Yes, Master Draco,” she admitted softly. 

“Before this week?” He asked. 

”No sir, only this week. Master Parkinson fucked me with the beaters bat two days ago, that's the biggest thing I've had in my pussy,” she explained.

She felt Draco draw a breath, and wondered again if that ritual had still been happening in their day at Hogwarts. Had Flint and Pucey fucked Draco and Goyle with it? Or did he just know how big a beaters bat was, and felt bad for her?

“No wonder you're so loose,” he said, with a mirthless laugh, pushing his whole hand into her and twisting his wrist as he thrust deeper.

She moaned low in her throat, her arousal peaking despite herself.

“You're so turned on by this, aren't you?” He marvelled. “You really are a true slut. There's no way we've done this to you, it's only been a couple of days!”

“Please may I have your cock, sir?” She responded weakly, as he thrust his fist into her cunt again, hitting her G spot. “Please may I cum?”

“I'll decide if you get to cum, naughty girl,” he chided her. “I don't want to hear you ask about it again for at least half an hour.”

Hermione slumped hopelessly against his lap, and he laughed as he spread her legs wider, allowing himself even better access to plunder her cunt.

She was on the edge within a couple of minutes, writhing and moaning and panting, meeting his thrusts with her hips, begging with everything but her mouth for him to allow her orgasm.

He made her wait, playing with her like a cat with a mouse, fisting her cunt, spanking her clit, making her pinch her own nipples until she almost cried.

Finally, he pushed her off his lap onto the floor, still pinching her nipples aggressively, and undid his pants.

“You may kiss the tip,” he said, imperiously.

Hermione fell upon his cock ravenously, pressing a long, loving, tongue-filled kiss to the head of his penis.

It was enough. Despite the pain in her tits and ass, the tension inside her was well past breaking and she almost passed out as she came, earth shatteringly hard, apparently just from pinching her own nipples to pain, and kissing the tip of her master's cock.

Malfoy shook his head in amazement as he looked down at her trembling form.

“Such a fucking slut, Granger. Go on, go get taken care of by Rowle. I'm sure you have another appointment soon.”

Chapter Text

Hermione didn’t even notice she was crying until Thorfinn’s large hand cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears.

She still wore nothing but her heels and knee-high socks, a bundle of her clothes clutched in her arms as she stood trembling in front of the floo in her living room. Her ass stung and ached, and her whole body was coated with sweat and cum and her own slick.

“Not how I expected you to come back from the Wizengamot, pet,” Thorfinn remarked gently. “What happened?”

“M-master D-d-draco,” Hermione hiccuped, now crying properly. “The Wizengamot went well, but Master Draco used me afterwards in my office.” She paused to suck in a breath, her shoulders shaking as the day caught up with her. “I’m… I’m fine,” she wailed, a sob tearing from her throat.

Thorfinn summoned a blanket, wrapping it round her and gathering her into a hug. “I’ve got you, pet. You’re ok now, this is just sub-drop. You’re safe. Let’s go take a bath.”

He picked her up as easily as he would a child, and she cuddled into his broad chest. Moments later, they were both seated in the bath, neck-deep in scalding water and soothing potions.

He held her while she cried, the hot water easing her pain and quickly helping her relax.

“I did some brewing today; the bath potion should help soothe pain, heal bruises, and reduce stress, and I added some moonflower to increase the calming element and help with sub-drop too,” Thorfinn murmured in her ear as he cradled her, once her breathing had settled and she seemed calm again.

Hermione twisted to look up at him, her eyes lighting up. “You’re good at potions?” she asked, excitedly.

Thorfinn smiled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “I used to help Severus with the brewing for the death eaters; I would have qualified for a Mastery if it hadn’t all been illegal.”

Hermione whimpered, her usual physical attraction to the blond viking suddenly growing on an intellectual level too. “Maybe you can study for a Mastery now - I can ask Thoros to let me petition the Wizengamot for you.”

Thorfinn shrugged, but he looked pleased. “We can think about that another time. You’re working full-time hours as our toy, it’s hardly fair that I ask you to actually be my probation officer as well.”

Hermione blushed at the reminder of the sham that her job had become. She’d barely been given a moment to really think about it, but that afternoon sitting in the Wizengamot covered in cum had been a low point.

“It… hasn’t exactly gone to plan so far,” she admitted. “I guess I still kind of hope that maybe I can get some of you to be productive members of society, eventually… I know that sounds ridiculous, given everything.”

Thorfinn laughed. “That Gryffindor idealism is a force to be reckoned with.”

His hands slid down her body under the water, one cupping her breast while the other dipped between her legs.

“Such a gorgeous body, pet,” he murmured, as he traced circles around her clit with a finger. “You’re such a good girl for us. It’s only natural you want everyone else to be good too.”

She melted into him at the praise, her body arching unconsciously into his touch.

“I ordered dinner from the Leaky, it should be arriving soon,” Thorfinn told her as he lifted her easily by the hips, sliding her onto his cock.

She whined at the intrusion, but it quickly turned into a moan as he resumed stroking her clit. “I think I can get an orgasm out of you first though, hmm? My good girl?”

“Yes, Master Thorfinn,” she gasped, leaning forward to give him a better angle to fuck her. “I’m your good girl.”

“Do you trust me, pet?” He asked her, snapping his hips forward to fill her even more.

“Yes sir!” His fingers were already pulling her towards the edge.

“Take a deep breath, sweet girl,” he ordered her.

She obediently sucked in a breath, and then she was underwater, her face pressed to the bottom of the bath as he lifted her hips and rose to his knees, fucking her into the water.

Bubbles escaped in a rush as she panicked, and he hauled her back to the surface, letting her gasp in a breath, even as he landed a sharp smack on her bruised ass.

“Trust me, pet,” he growled. “It’s no different to choking on a cock, you can’t breathe either way. I’ll let you breathe when I’m ready. You are mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “You’ll let me breathe when you’re ready.”

“Take a breath.”

She sucked in air, and he forced her down again. Now that she was ready for it, she could control her panic, and she focused on the pleasure of his hips snapping into her, his hand on her shoulder holding her down, strong and controlling.

The first thirty seconds felt like years, but as she relaxed into the submission she felt a powerful wave of calm. She was his. He would let her breathe when he was ready.

She could feel the orgasm tightening in her cunt as he fucked her, her body primed to respond to his touch. The ritual magic seemed to make her orgasms even stronger when she was fully submitted to him - or maybe that was just her own body’s response to submission - and with her head underwater she had no way to ask permission.

She felt her chest and belly spasm as they fought the instinct to breathe in underwater, but her spacey head felt light and calm.

She came hard, clenching again and again around his huge cock as he fucked her through it, something about the lack of oxygen and the forced completeness of her submission to him making the intense pleasure roll through her over and over.

He yanked her back to the surface just as she felt dizzy stars beginning to burst behind her eyelids, and she drank in the cool, sweet air.

He pulled her towards him and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

“Merlin, Hermione,” he groaned. “You are so fucking perfect.”

She closed her eyes, basking in the absolute peace of knowing that she had pleased her Master.

***

Waking up on Friday morning stretched around Thorfinn’s cock felt pleasingly right and Hermione wriggled her hips, enjoying the pleasurable feeling of him moving inside her.

She had slept wonderfully after he had taken care of her last night. He had tucked her in at around 10, telling her to get an early night, and she had pouted at how lonely the bed felt without his solid warmth behind her.

He laughed, and told her he’d come to bed later, and fill her greedy cunt with his cock then.

The genuine sense of joy and relief that had filled her at that news came with a slight wash of shame, but she’d pushed it away.

Sure enough, around midnight he had slipped into bed, and she had half-woken as he eased himself into her from behind, moaning sleepily.

“That’s my good little cock-warmer,” he’d purred into her ear, and she shivered with pleasure.

Now she was awake, trapped against his body, her cunt deliciously full.

Unfortunately, her bladder was also full, and Thorfinn wasn’t showing any signs of waking up.

She ground herself against him again, fucking herself on his cock as best she could with his arms wrapped around her, hoping the motion might wake him, but it only served to heighten her own arousal and make the desperate throb of her bladder ever more intense.

“Master Thorfinn?” she asked aloud, her voice timid. She wasn’t sure how he would feel about her waking him. “Sir?”

There was no response. She really needed to pee.

She clenched her kegel muscles, whimpering as the tightness made his already large cock inside her feel impossibly huge.

“Please, sir, I need the toilet,” she begged quietly, wriggling against him in desperation.

She tried prying his hands from her body, to ease herself free, but he was too strong for her, and she only managed to move his grip from her hip to over her belly, making the situation worse, if anything.

Her wand was on the bedside table, about a foot out of her reach.

“Accio wand!” she hissed at it, holding out her hand, hoping desperately that it would obey her. She had never got very good at wandless magic, despite Harry insisting she learn - as aurors, they had to be able to do a minimum of an accio and an expelliarmus wandlessly, for exactly situations like this. Well, not exactly this, but being trapped without their wands.

“Accio wand!” she tried again. Her wand wobbled, rolled, and then fell off the bedside table onto the floor, even further away and outside of her line of sight.

She sighed and gave up, flopping back down against Thorfinn.

He looked down at her, grinning. “Going somewhere, pet?”

She jumped in shock. “Master Thorfinn! Thank Merlin you’re awake. I need to pee!”

He laughed, the hand on her belly sliding down to rest right over her swollen bladder. “Do you, pet?” he teased, pressing down gently as he jerked his hips upwards, filling her cunt to the max.

She groaned desperately, frantically trying to get away from him.

“Please sir! Please, it hurts!”

“You know, a full bladder makes you cum harder,” he said, suggestively, one finger stroking over her clit.

She whined as he touched her, looking up pleadingly. “If you make me cum, I’m going to pee all over you,” she warned him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he smirked, but he let her go.

She had never run to the bathroom so fast, or been so glad she was already naked as she almost fell onto the toilet.

***

She knelt on the floor at Thorfinn’s feet, her knees spread wide, one hand four fingers deep in her cunt as the other teased her clit. She was well past the point of cumming, but without his cock she didn’t have a choice but to keep edging herself for his amusement.

“You could have had an orgasm in bed, but you were too desperate to get off my cock and go to the toilet,” he teased her. “So now you’ll just have to wait.”

He fed her her breakfast one tiny bite at a time, as her hands were both busy, and she whimpered with need in between swallowing the tiny morsels of egg and toast.

Finally he cleared the plate, pushing the last forkful between her lips.

“Just in time for your first appointment,” he remarked, checking his watch. “Lucky you, you get to be the first girl Goyle’s ever made cum.”

Hermione miserably made her way to the floo, aware that the moment she took Goyle’s cock in her mouth she would absolutely shatter, probably to his complete confusion and her mortification.

To make matters significantly worse, when she arrived in Goyle’s bedroom, he wasn’t alone.

She stepped out of the floo, naked and dripping and desperate to cum, to find Malfoy and Pucey lounging in the doorway, while Goyle buttoned his shirt.

He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then shrugged and unbuttoned his fly.

“Forgot I got Granger this morning,” he told his friends, who were smirking at the state Hermione was already in at 7am.

Her face flaming, she dropped to her knees in front of Goyle, and took his soft cock in her mouth.

She tried to hide it, but the half hour of edging had her too desperate, and she screamed around him, shuddering and squirting onto the floor as her body arched.

Pucey gaped at her, while Malfoy whistled. “Such a fucking slut for cock, aren’t you, Granger?”

She tried to ignore him, focusing on sucking the rapidly-hardening cock in her mouth, as Malfoy explained to them how she had cum from just kissing his cock the night before.

“Shame we can’t stay and enjoy her a bit more,” Pucey sighed, checking his watch as Goyle grunted and came down her throat. “Duty calls.”

Goyle hastily put himself away, following Pucey into the hallway.

Draco lingered by the door. “Clean your mess before you go, slut. Use your mouth.”

He waited only long enough to see her bend to her task, licking her own cum from the floorboards, before striding from the room after his friends.

***

Hermione returned home after scourgifying the floor, once she was sure she’d heard them all apparate away, her absolute mortification almost equalled by her confusion at why they’d all been there so early, and what duty had stopped them taking ten minutes to fuck her before they left.

Thorfinn was gone when she returned, but there was a note on the mantle which went some way to explaining.

“Emergency meeting, shouldn’t take too long. I’ll definitely be back by 9am, maybe before, and I want to find you fucking your arse with the big dildo when I get back.

Your next appointment is Master Nott at 9:30, so make sure you have your work clothes ready to put on by the floo for when I’m done with you.

Thorfinn”

Hermione decided to compromise, and summoned the book on BDSM which Master Thorfinn had bought for her and she hadn’t yet had a spare second to read.

Then she found the big dildo, used a spell to prep and lube her arse, and eased the monster cock into her hole, a little at a time.

Thanks to the many brutal fuckings it had taken this week, and the constant presence of the plug, she was able to slip it inside fairly easily, gasping and whimpering at the intrusion.

Finally she had it seated all the way inside, until she could feel it distending her belly if she pressed down. The thought would have horrified her, this time last week. Now she felt proud that she could take it so well.

She lay down on the bed and picked up her book, setting a charm on the dildo so that it would move in and out as she flicked her wand, and began to gently fuck herself as she read all about safe words and collars and Risk Aware Consensual Kink, and several other things that she really wasn’t sure applied to her current life as a toy. Certainly she got some aftercare from Master Thorfinn, and they had made rules for her, but the rest of it all rather fell apart on the word ‘consensual’.

Despite her misgivings, when Thorfinn returned a little before 9, she enthusiastically consented to taking his cock absolutely anywhere he preferred - in this case in her cunt, while her ass was still stretched tight around the huge dildo, the two cocks filling her more completely than she had ever dreamed possible.

***

Master Thoros was full of praise for her as she greeted him in her office half an hour later, her ass still gaping so wide that Master Thorfinn had had to find her a larger plug to wear.

“You performed admirably in the Wizengamot, my dear,” he told her enthusiastically. “Draco starts his apprenticeship today, we have just had a meeting to discuss everyone’s behaviour in public so as not to undermine our ruse of rehabilitation, and I am confident that they will behave. I threatened them with a week of not being allowed to fuck you if they say anything about blood purity or mudbloods!”
Hermione blinked. It seemed that, in the most backward way possible, she actually was sort-of rehabilitating the death eaters, if the threat of not fucking her causing them to improve their language could be classified that way. Perhaps she could leverage it further going forward, and get them to improve their behaviour across the board - all to ‘keep up the ruse’, of course.

In the meantime, she decided it would be prudent to send a quick interdepartmental memo to Harry and Ron in the Auror’s office.

“Dear Harry and Ron,

I expect you’ll have heard by now that Draco Malfoy will be joining the Aurors as an apprentice, as part of his Community Service and probation.

I want to ask that you give him a chance. I know there was some animosity between us at Hogwarts, and he was on the wrong side of the war, but he was underage for most of that time, and he deserves a chance to prove that he’s changed.

I have met with him a few times this week, and I am convinced that he has learned his lesson in Azkaban, and that he is serious about wanting to join the Aurors and fight for the light.

Looking forward to seeing you at the Leaky tonight! It’s been a long week and I can’t wait to have a night off.

Love,

Hermione.”

Thoros nodded approvingly as she folded the letter into a neat little origami otter, and sent it sailing through the floo to the Ministry.

“Most convincing. Speaking of meeting your friends tonight, I am sure I don’t need to remind you that should you… inform anyone of your current situation, it would not be ideal for you,” he said, lightly.

Hermione winced. “You certainly don’t need to remind me of that, no.”

***

After work, during which Hermione and Thoros wrote up her report of the Wizengamot the day before, and filed the paperwork for Draco’s apprenticeship, Hermione returned home to get changed. Jugson had requested her in a skimpy muggle bikini, apparently.

After a rather boring hour of vanilla sex with Jugson, who clearly couldn’t believe his luck at the sight of Hermione in a bikini and almost came in his pants immediately, she returned home again for some lunch, which Master Thorfinn again fed her in very small bites as she edged herself.

Master Yaxley was next, and Hermione almost cried as she saw his name on the scheduler. He had requested her naked and hogtied, with her breasts bound too.

Master Thorfinn murmured gently to her as he tied her, the long lengths of rope winding around her torso and arms, pushing her breasts out and making them tight and perky, then binding her ankles to her wrists behind her back with her thighs spread wide, displaying her for his use.

“I don’t play with rope that often, sweet girl, but you look so pretty for me wrapped in this colour, I can see why Thoros likes it so much. See how those big tits of yours spill over the rope so beautifully? And your thighs spread so nicely, giving us perfect access to your sweet cunt.”

She arched into his touch as his fingers grazed over her skin, gentle and teasing.

Then he picked her up like a parcel and stepped into the floo with her, calling out Yaxley’s address.

Master Yaxley looked delighted to receive his beautifully-wrapped gift, and directed Thorfinn to place her on the table on her back, displaying her tits and cunt with her arms and legs trapped beneath her.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me? I know you have her next, but we could share and make it a double session?”

Thorfinn was about to refuse, but the sound of Hermione’s involuntary whimper as she looked hopefully at him made him pause.

“Why not.”

Yaxley looked amused, but didn’t comment. “Since you’ve trussed her up so nicely for us, would you like to choose the first toy?” He gestured to a selection laid out on the side.

Thorfinn wandered over to examine the options. “I’ve had her edging for the past half hour, so she should be just ready to explode the moment she touches a cock,” he commented, picking up a long cane and swishing it experimentally in the air.

“I believe in business before pleasure,” Yaxley smirked. “Our sweet girl will have to earn her orgasms. I’m not opposed to keeping her edging though…”

He picked up a small metal ball, and held it to Hermione’s clit, tapping it with his wand. Immediately it sprang to life, buzzing its way around her clit in a tight circle. Hermione moaned wantonly, completely unable to move in her restrictive bondage and thus utterly at the mercy of the insistent little orb.
“That’s a neat little toy, where did you get it?” Thorfinn asked curiously.

Yaxley pulled a small box from the drawer and handed it to him. “Turns out the Weasley brats have a kinky side. They have an Adult store off Knockturn Alley now, WWW presents XXX, with all sorts of interesting little treats. I have to admit they’re quite inventive.”

Thorfinn examined the box. Rather than the usual intense orange and purple branding of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the box was black and gold and featured a cartoon bee in a sexy pose alongside the slogan “Honey Bees. Treat your honey to a real buzz!”.

The box apparently contained three, with instructions to place them against the part of the body to be ‘pollinated’, tap twice with a wand, and incant ‘mel apis micos’. To stop them was simply the same again.

“Ingenious. I’ll have to pay them a visit,” he murmured.

Hermione whimpered desperately from the table, and Thorfinn put down the honeybees, picking up a pair of floggers. “Something to warm her up first, I think.”

He moved to Hermione’s side, and began flipping the floggers hand over hand, raining gentle blows over her tits and torso, moving along her body as he went.

She whimpered and moaned under his assault, her skin pinking quickly as the repeated flogging brought blood to the surface.

“Let's give that pretty mouth something to think about, mm?” Yaxley suggested, picking up a gag.

“She's been learning to deepthroat, so maybe a ring gag with a dildo?” Thorfinn suggested.

Yaxley agreed, slipping the large ring between Hermione's teeth and forcing her jaw open wide, buckling the straps tightly behind her head.

“There's something delicious about the vulnerability of a ring gag,” he commented, putting two fingers into Hermione’s mouth and casually stroking the back of her tongue and throat as she gagged helplessly, completely unable to object.

Thorfinn nodded in agreement. “Not as good to fuck, but gorgeous for submission and training,” he agreed. “Why don't you fill her up with cum, and have her display it on her tongue for you without swallowing? Should keep her quiet too - and if she swallows, you have a reason to make her beg for punishment.”

Yaxley chuckled appreciatively. “You are a devious bastard, Rowle. You heard that, sweet girl, didn't you? No swallowing, or you'll be begging me to cane your clit.”

Hermione nodded that she understood, whimpering at the threat of punishment.

He pulled out his cock, and a minute later had spilled a load of cum onto her face, using his wand to channel it neatly into her mouth, and admired the way it sat on her tongue, her mouth already filling with saliva as she fought not to swallow.

“What a pretty slut,” he smirked, patting her cheek.

Thorfinn paused in his flogging and summoned a collar from the table, tapping it with his wand and murmuring ‘Terinum lucis’. The collar flashed red, then green, then settled into a dull white glow.

He looped it around Hermione’s neck, buckling it into place snuggly, and made sure she met his eyes as he spoke. “As you’re not able to speak, pet, this collar will flash red if we go too far. If not, it will stay green, and we’ll know you can still take a little more.”

Hermione nodded as much as she could, and Thorfinn ran a hand over her cunt, feeling how wet she was. “That’s a good girl.”

They both laughed at the way the compliment made her whimper, and Thorfinn picked up the floggers again, focusing on her inner thighs as Yaxley picked up a pair of vicious little clamps for her nipples.

Hermione focused on breathing through her nose, the incessant buzzing on her clit keeping her at the edge of orgasm. The world felt far away and unimportant, her Masters’ words, “good girl,” echoing in her ears and filling her with a pleasure that made her want to squirm.

The floggers Master Thorfinn was using had her skin tingling and begging to be touched.

Master Yaxley ran his fingers over the tight skin of her bound tits, sending shivers through her body at his touch.

“Let’s get some decorations on these pretty tits, hmm?” He held the clamps up for her to see. “Don’t scream, or you’ll choke.”

Hermione focused on her breathing as she felt him pinching and rolling her nipples into stiff peaks, letting out a stifled squeak as the metal bit down on her sensitive skin.

“Such a good girl,” Master Thorfinn purred, as Master Yaxley leaned down to lick and suck her other nipple into readiness. She arched into the warmth of his mouth, then whimpered again as the metal bit down, fighting the urge to gasp.
Master Thorfinn was edging the floggers closer and closer to her cunt, and she could feel herself desperate for something to touch her there, anything. She wanted to cum so badly.

Finally one strand of the flogger hit her labia and she sucked in a breath through her nose, whimpering and trembling at the initial sting, then groaning deep in her throat as it settled into a delicious burn.

The flogging kept coming, gentler at first as he worked over her cunt, but still insistent. She arched and moaned, fighting the restrictive hog-tie, wishing she could beg to cum.

Finally, Master Yaxley gripped her chin, directing her to look at him. “If I take the bee off your clit, and let you kiss my cock, could you cum just from the flogging?”

She nodded frantically, desperation in her eyes, and he laughed.

“Go on, then.” He summoned the bee off her clit, and vanished the cum and saliva in her mouth, which had built up so much she would have choked if she’d tried to swallow it lying down. Hermione took a deep, grateful breath.

Master Thorfinn increased the speed of the floggers raining down on her cunt, and Master Yaxley held his cock just out of her reach above her face.

“Come and get it then, pet.”

Hermione strained her neck forwards eagerly, reaching out with her tongue for his cock, knowing it only needed to pass her lips to grant her the orgasm she’d been so close to for over an hour.

He only teased her for a minute, before letting her take his cock in her mouth and suck greedily as she came so hard she saw stars, squirting onto the table as the floggers smacked down against her spasming cunt.

The collar at her throat flickered yellow, and Master Thorfinn set the floggers to the side, giving her a moment to recover before he thrust into her slick, swollen pussy. The collar settled back to a bright, cheerful green, and he felt her cunt tighten around him as a second orgasm chased the first.

Master Yaxley thrust into her throat, groaning in pleasure. “Fuck, pet, that's so hot. Watching you just explode as you take my cock and Thorfinn whips you. We're going to work on that, I think I can make you a proper little pain slut with enough training. Would you like that, pet?”

Hermione moaned around his cock, too far gone to have any idea what she was agreeing to.

“Let's change up her position,” Thorfinn suggested.
A moment later he had her suspended, a clever arrangement of knots and making her arch her back, pushing her ass back towards him, and her tits forward towards Yaxley.

“Beg for the crop on your tits, pet,” Yaxley purred delightedly, tugging on the chain that linked her nipples. “I want you to keep begging until you really can’t take it any more; the collar will tell me if you’re lying. If you lie to me, you’ll get punished, but if you keep begging for it like a good little pain slut, we’ll make sure you get plenty of rewards.”

Hermione let out a noise that sounded like a sob as he picked up the riding crop, tapping it against her tightly-bound tits.

Thorfinn pulled her body against his, his hips fitting snugly around her plush arse from behind, stroking his hands down her ribs and over her belly as he murmured in her ear. “Say please for Master Yaxley, sweet girl. Beg him to turn your pretty titties all pink and purple.”

She wriggled her hips against him, turning her head as much as she could towards him, begging with her eyes for him to save her.

“You can do it,” he encouraged. “Just until the collar changes colour. The magic doesn’t lie, it knows how much you can take.”

She closed her eyes, and he felt her breathing hard against him. He slid a hand between her thighs, strumming his fingers over her swollen clit. The pain and pleasure drew a shocked gasp from her, and seemed to return her courage.

“Please whip my tits with the crop, sir,” she whispered.

Yaxley grinned. “There’s a good, brave little Gryffindor,” he teased, snapping the crop down firmly on her sensitive skin. “Count them off, and keep begging.”

“One, sir, please may I have another?” she echoed miserably. Yaxley willingly obliged, and Thorfinn continued his gentle assault of her bruised cunt as he cradled her, almost presenting her for Yaxley’s crop.

She obediently begged for thirty-seven strikes before one caught her nipple, knocking the clamp off and drawing an ear-splitting scream from her lips as her collar abruptly turned a dark orange.

Yaxley, to his credit, immediately dropped the crop, taking her nipple in his mouth and soothing the harsh pain of the clamp being removed with his tongue.

Thorfinn had her bondage released in a wave of his wand, lowering her to the floor where he held wrapped in a conjured blanket as Yaxley quickly removed and soothed the other clamp, then fetched her chocolate as she curled into Thorfinn, sobbing.

“Such a good girl for us, Hermione,” Yaxley murmured, as he began to apply bruise balm to the pretty purple marks blossoming on her chest.

Thorfinn took his own handful of the balm, stroking it over her inner thighs and cunt as she trembled under his touch. Slowly, she relaxed, her breathing evening as the two men continued their intimate, healing massage.

Thorfinn watched in satisfaction as her collar returned to a pale greenish-yellow.

“We’re going to finish here with an orgasm for you, Hermione,” Yaxley said, as he finished working over her bruises with the balm at last. “Your choice as to who and how.”

Hermione blinked at him, then glanced up at Thorfinn, who nodded encouragingly. “Whatever you like, sweet girl. Have some good endorphins to wash the pain away. You were begging so beautifully for us.”

She hesitated, unused to having any choices in these scenes with Masters. “Could I… I mean, would you…” she trailed off, embarrassed.

Thorfinn laughed. “Use your words, Hermione.”

“Please would you lick my cunt, Master Thorfinn, while I suck Master Yaxley’s cock?” she asked, her voice barely audible as she buried her scarlet cheeks in her hands.

“So willing to beg to be whipped, and call herself a whore, but can’t ask for her own pleasure,” Yaxley remarked. “Sounds like Rosier has some work to do, getting her used to begging for more than just pain.”

Thorfinn carefully placed her back on the table, spreading her thighs before him with his large hands. “I’ll have a word with him,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Hermione’s mons. She whimpered.

Yaxley fisted his cock a few times as he watched Thorfinn begin to devour his treat, grinning at the way Hermione writhed and moaned so sweetly beneath him, before offering her his cock. “You can come as many times as you want, until I do,” he told her.

“Thank you, sir,” she moaned, licking her lips hungrily before meeting his eyes as she took him into her throat in a single swallow.

Chapter Text

Hermione was looking forward to her evening off at the Leaky Cauldron with her friends, but when she checked her planner after Thorfinn had helped her clean up, she was horrified to see that Draco had claimed the two-hour slot immediately before she was due to meet them.

With no choice but to obey, she packed her going-out clothes into her trusty beaded bag, then dressed in the mockery of a Hogwarts uniform that Draco had requested.

Feeling uncomfortable in the familiar and yet embarrassingly slutty version of the uniform she had worn for so many years, she stepped through the floo.

Draco was waiting for her, still in his auror robes, fresh from his first day on the job.

“Ah, just the slutty little Prefect I was looking for!” he declared. “Come with me, Granger. It’s time for your detention.”

He pushed Hermione ahead of him as they walked down the hall, his hand shamelessly cupping her ass, which was fully visible beneath the ridiculously short skirt.

The room he ushered her into was an exact replica of a Hogwarts classroom - except that the posters on the walls seemed to be taken from the Kama Sutra, and there was a spanking bench at the back of the room.

Draco pulled out a chair for her at one of the desks, and she blushed as she saw the large dildo protruding lewdly from the middle of the seat, jarringly sexual in the classroom setting.

“Take a seat, Miss Granger,” he purred.

She had no choice but to lower herself onto the dildo, trying not to whimper. The large, unlubed cock was forced fully inside her as her ass made contact with the seat of the chair, and she wriggled a little to adjust herself, trying to get comfortable.

Draco smirked at her as he leaned back against the edge of the teacher’s desk, twirling his wand.

“Comfortable?” he asked her, smugly.

“Yes, thank you,” she responded, as politely and neutrally as she could.

“You may call me Professor Malfoy, or Sir.”

“Yes, thank you, Professor Malfoy,” she tried again. Malfoy’s face became, if possible, even smugger.

“You are here to serve detention for speaking out of turn in class, and so I think it’s only proper that we put that smart little mouth to a better use.”

Draco flicked his wand, summoning a strange little metal contraption. He dangled it in front of Hermione.

“Does this look familiar?” he asked, in a teasing voice.

Hermione was about to shake her head, when a flash of memory from her childhood made her gasp.

“That’s a Whitehead gag,” she whispered. “My parents are - were - Dentists. I… I recognise it from their equipment.”

“Five points to Gryffindor,” Draco smirked, holding the mouthpiece up to her lips. “Muggles are the worst form of barbarians, truly. Now, ‘say Ahhh’,” he mocked.

Hermione obediently opened her mouth at the familiar phrase, and Draco laughed as he slipped the metal between her teeth, ratcheting it open until her jaw was held uncomfortably wide. He tied the strap behind her head, securing it in place.

“Now, a little something for your hands…” he transfigured his handkerchief into handcuffs again, just as he had yesterday, and cuffed them behind her, looping the chain through the back of the chair. Combined with the dildo, she was effectively trapped.

“Much better. Now we can teach this naughty mouth a lesson.”

He perched on the edge of the desk in front of her, stroking the hair back from her face and tracing her features with a casual ownership that made her shudder.

All of the men had used and abused her in ways that had made her feel less than human, but somehow this was incredibly violating.

Malfoy slid two fingers into her wide-open mouth, running them along her teeth and over her tongue. He stroked the roof of her mouth, then moved deeper, making her gag.

She jerked her head away, eyes watering, and he laughed.

“Oh no, that won’t do. Don’t make me immobilise you, Miss Granger.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping a fistful of curls and yanking her head back into place. “This mouth belongs to your masters, just like every other part of your dirty little body.”

He pushed his fingers back into her mouth, using his grip on her hair to angle her head awkwardly backwards, so he could see down her throat. He traced her uvula with a finger, ignoring her gagging and spluttering, then caressed the back of her tongue.

“Relax, Granger,” he grinned, as she stared up at him, tears leaking from her eyes. “You're safe. I'm not risking a punishment from Rowle. You can take this.”

He played with her throat, stroking inside every crevice of her mouth, pushing his fingers down her windpipe until she couldn't breathe, and laughing at her panicked eyes.

“This is just a noisy little fuck-hole in your face, Granger,” he murmured to her as he conjured a thick stick of ice. “It needs training just like your other holes, and punishing just like them too.”

He pushed the ice into the inside of her cheek, twisting it to melt and smooth the end of the pole into a crude dildo as she whimpered in fear.

“Let's freeze that big brain of yours, Granger.”

He forced the ice into her throat, fucking her with it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as the shooting pain of an ice cream headache burst through her temples, tears leaking down her cheeks.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he grinned, pulling the ice out of her mouth and pressing it to her nipple without warning.

She screamed as the ice soaked through the thin cotton of her blouse as if it were nothing, bringing her nipple to a sharp peak instantly as it seared with cold.

“Oh Granger, you scream so beautifully,” he purred, moving the ice across to her other nipple and drawing a second scream from her throat.

He summoned a pair of nipple clamps, easily snapping them into place on her tightly peaked nipples, even through her blouse.

He tugged on the chain between them, the clover mechanism causing the clamps to tighten with each pull, drawing breathy sobs from her wide-open mouth.

“Some weights for this chain, I think…” he murmured, summoning a pair of weighted hooks which he dropped into place, making her scream again.

“Let's see that slutty cunt, Granger.” He levitated her chair a few feet in the air, lifting her skirt to display her slick hole, lewdly stretched around the large dildo.

She whimpered as the chair wobbled in the air, Malfoy's face inches from her clit as he admired his work.

“A nice little clamp here too, I think,” he commented, and Hermione didn't have time to react before the clover clamp was pinched shut right over her clit. She howled in pain, but Draco only pressed the ice dildo against her clamped flesh.

“They say ice is good for soothing pain,” he teased her over her screams. “Maybe I'd better leave it here a little longer.”

Hermione sobbed as Draco slowly rubbed the ice back and forth across her tortured clit, sending waves of agony through her.

“I wonder how this would feel up your muddy little ass, Granger?” he mused, grinning as she shook her head violently, garbled sounds coming from her as she tried to beg around the gag.

“No? You don’t like the cold?”

He strolled over to his desk, pulling a potion vial from a drawer and holding it up. “Fire-flower Nectar. I think I’ll have you self-administer this.”

He vanished the handcuffs and gag, and gestured to her to stand up.

“Come and sit on my desk, Miss Granger.”

She stood on wobbly legs, wincing as the clamps bit into her flesh as she walked to the front of the room. Draco helped her onto the desk, spreading her legs wide with her knees up. He removed the clamp from her clit, producing a yelp of pain as the blood returned to her sensitive skin, and pulled the plug from her ass.

Then he had her cup her hands, and poured a trickle of the thick, viscous purple potion into her palm. She gasped as it touched her skin, heating her hands as if they were cupped around a mug of hot chocolate.

“Rub it into your cunt. I want every little nook and cranny covered, all round your clit, inside your cunt, and make sure you get it well into that asshole as well. Go on, you didn’t like being cold. So warm up.”

Hermione tentatively dipped a finger into the nectar in her palm, applying it along one labia, and gasped in pain as the intense heat burned her sensitive skin as surely as if she’d applied hot sauce right to her cunt.
“Please sir, it hurts,” she begged. “Please don’t make me do it!”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “This is a detention, Miss Granger. You didn’t think it was all going to be fun and orgasms, did you?”

Hermione bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Professor. Is there any other way I could make it up to you?”

Draco looked at her, sternly. “Either you apply it to yourself, Miss Granger, or I will do it for you and you’ll be sucking my cock at the same time. You were a very bad girl, and you need to learn your lesson.”

He dipped his finger into the potion, coating it in sticky purple, and pressed it to her arse, slowly pushing inside as she moaned at the burn.

“Is that what you want, you naughty little slut? You want to suck my cock while I finger your cunt and ass until you cry?”

He pulled out his cock, yanking her down so she was lying on the desk, her head hanging off the side, and pushed himself into her mouth. She took him willingly, swirling her tongue around the head as he quickly hardened.

Her hands were still cupped in front of her, and he filled them to the brim with the potion, dipping more fingers into the thick purple liquid and stroking them between her folds and over her clit.

She screamed around his cock, and he thrust into her throat, choking off the sound as the potion burned her most sensitive skin.

Hermione choked and tried to relax as the familiar sensation of cock filling her throat overwhelmed her senses. Long fingers toyed with her cunt, setting it on fire wherever they went, but the immediacy of not being able to breathe made that far less important.

Her Master would let her breathe when he wanted her to. Her Master was using the cunt of his toy, as was his right, and if he said she needed to be punished, then she would learn her lesson like a good girl. Tears came to her eyes, partly from pain, but mostly in sorrow that she had been so bad as to earn such a punishment. Her Master was so kind to correct her.

He pulled back, letting her breathe, and she gasped for air as she lapped at his cock, suckling on him gratefully. His fingers spread her cunt - at least three of them, maybe more, and she felt him thrusting the fire inside her, scorching her insides.

Then he thrust back into her throat again, filling her, and his fingers dipped into her arse, burning as they stretched her open, coating her inner walls with pain.

He moved back to her clit, circling and stroking and rubbing in the fire, over and over as he fucked her mouth, thrusting harder and harder into her face as he fingered her, and she felt the orgasm tightening inside her even through the pain. Master Yaxley had told her he could make her a pain slut, and maybe she was already halfway there.

She was reaching the crest when Draco finally pushed deep into her throat again, stilling for a moment before the telltale jerks and salty slick filling her mouth betrayed his own climax, and he pulled out as she swallowed down his cum as best she could upside down, leaving her own orgasm unfulfilled.

His fingers left her clit as he scourgified his hands and hers, leaving the purple nectar smeared liberally across her cunt and ass.

“Go and sit back down on your dildo, Miss Granger, and write me an apology for being such a naughty girl, and making me have to spend my own time punishing you like this.”

Hermione made her way back to her chair, whimpering with every step, and almost sobbed as she forced herself back onto the large dildo, pushing the burning potion even deeper inside her.

Draco smiled dangerously as he placed a small, glistening teal quill on the desk. “You won’t need any ink,” he purred.

Hermione stared at him in horrified disbelief, and his smirk changed to a scowl. “It’s not a blood quill, Granger. I’m not a monster. Just write your lines.”

Hermione picked up the quill, turning it in her hands. It didn’t look obviously nefarious, and the ‘WWW presents XXX’ printed in tiny gold letters along the shaft made her hopeful that it wasn’t dark magic. She took a deep breath, making a mental note to hex the twins next time she saw them, and put the nib to the parchment.

The true nature of the quill became immediately apparent as she began her apology letter with “Dear Professor Malfoy,” and squealed as the letters were magically traced over her clit as if a phantom tongue were licking them against her cunt.

The letters appeared in glistening purple on the page, the same colour as the Fire-flower Nectar currently scorching her cunt and ass.

“The more you write, the more nectar will be licked out of you and onto the page,” Draco explained. “A little persuasion, to make sure you’re… truly apologetic.”

She bent to her task, scribbling down flowery apologies for being a naughty girl and forcing poor Professor Malfoy to waste his time giving her detention, whimpering and moaning as her cunt and ass were liberally licked and sucked by the magical quill.
The more she wrote, the more intense the pleasure became, until she was groaning wantonly, fucking herself on the dildo as she chased an orgasm that she knew she couldn’t have until he allowed her his cock.

Draco sat on the table, watching her as he casually stroked his cock, his eyes dark with lust.

“Perhaps I should coat you with Fire-flower Nectar every time you have an essay to write, Miss Granger, and watch you fuck yourself on your chair as you write it. Would that give you a bit more motivation to study properly, hmm? Have you write every piece of homework with the hummingbird quill as it licks the nectar from your sloppy little cunt? I wonder how many inches of parchment you can take before you’re sobbing for my cock, so needy for an orgasm you can’t even form words any more? The brightest witch of our age, reduced to an illiterate mess as she weeps for a cock in her cunt like the muddy little whore she really is.”

Sure enough, Hermione’s neat cursive was devolving into an illegible scrawl as she tried desperately to keep writing.

“Please Sir, please Professor Malfoy, please give me your cock,” she sobbed, as she traced out ‘sorry’, over and over. “Please Master Malfoy, I need to cum, please.”

“Take off all your clothes, Miss Granger, then bend over your desk and spread your cheeks for me,” he directed, smugly.

Hermione almost ripped off her shirt, screaming as the nipple clamps were torn from her tits but not wasting time to soothe them before tearing off her skirt and tie too. In less than thirty seconds she was naked, prostrating herself across the desk with both hands pulling apart her ass to display herself to Malfoy.

“Read your apology letter out loud to me, nice and clearly.”

She used her nose to position the paper on the desk, not daring to change her position lest he refuse to fuck her, and tried to draw a deep enough breath.

“Dear Professor Malfoy, I offer my humblest apologies for causing such a nuisance to yourself and disrupting the class. I am very sorry for speaking out of turn, and not waiting for your permission to speak. I realise that it is a huge waste of your very precious time to spend disciplining me, and I am terribly sorry to have caused you such inconvenience. I am very grateful for your gracious willingness to teach me this valuable lesson, and I am so sorry for being such a slut -”

She was interrupted by Malfoy gripping her wrists together in one of his large hands and forcing them upwards until her shoulders screamed, ramming her face into the desk and then ramming his cock into her ass, right to the hilt.

She came immediately, exploding beneath him in a flood of cum as her legs gave out, pinned in place by his grip on her wrists and his cock impaling her ass. She screamed as she shattered, pulsing and writhing around him, milking him as her inner muscles clenched over and over.

He fucked her through it, revelling in her complete destruction.

He filled her ass with his cum, plugging it up so it would stay inside her all evening, then let her slump to the floor, quivering.

“There’s a bathroom through that door, Granger, and I’ll let you see yourself out. I have somewhere to be.”

***

Hermione finally apparated into Diagon Alley, showered and mostly recovered and made her way to the Leaky Cauldron only about 15 minutes late.

Draco grinned at her across the table, like a cat with a bowlful of cream.

“Hermione!” He said warmly. “I'm so glad you could join us. I really appreciate everything you've done in setting up the apprenticeship for me, and Harry and Ron have agreed to let bygones be bygones, so we can all be friends.”

Ron clapped Draco on the back. “And he's going to join our monthly quidditch game too, we've been needing another Seeker to put Harry through his paces, now that Ginny’s pregnant again.”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, leaving it effortlessly tousled. “I could get that snitch faster than you in my sleep, Potter,” he teased, but there was no malice behind it.

Harry laughed. “In your dreams, Malfoy.”

Hermione was astounded, and horrified.

Her cunt pulsed as he smirked at her, her words from less than an hour ago echoing through her head.

I am so sorry for being such a slut…

She took the empty seat next to Malfoy, and blankly accepted his offer of a drink.

***

Malfoy slipped into the bathroom, disillusioned, and locked the door behind him before removing the spell and palming his cock through his pants.

“You're only allowed alcohol if one of us gives it to you, Granger,” he taunted her. “So if I'm going to spend the night buying you cocktails, I'm going to need a little return on my investments. On your knees.”

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. “But Harry and Ron -” she began.

“You couldn't be saying no to your Master, could you, slut? And tits out when you're talking to me.”

He reached forward and grabbed the neck of her dress, yanking it down until her boobs spilled out, and leered at her appreciatively.

“Sorry sir,” she murmured, dropping to her knees as ordered.

Malfoy fucked her face hard, choking her on his cock until tears ran down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Fortunately, he was quick to finish, pulling out and covering her tits in his cum just a couple of minutes later.

Then he grabbed her wand, and slipped it into his own pocket. “No scourgifies for you. If you're good, I'll let you clean up when I fuck you again in payment for the next drink in an hour.”

He unlocked the door.

“Hurry back now, Granger. Harry and Ron will be wondering where you are.”

He disillusioned himself again and cast a notice-me-not on the door before slipping out of the bathroom.

Hermione scrambled to lock it manually behind him, then took 30 seconds to fix her makeup as best she could with only water and loo roll, and wipe as much cum as possible off her tits before fixing her dress. Her hair was an absolute state, but without her wand there wasn't much she could do.

Then she took a deep breath, and left the room.

Harry, Ron and Draco were all laughing over a joke that apparently Draco had made, and as she returned to the table, Draco slid her new drink over to her with a knowing smirk.

“Hermione! I got you a refill while you were in the bathroom,” he said smoothly.

She took the glass with a brittle smile, sitting down and self-consciously adjusting her dress.

Fortunately, Harry and Ron were oblivious.

“You’ve got a little…” Draco gestured vaguely to her face, solicitously passing her his handkerchief.

Hermione blushed furiously, angry that he had put her in this state, and also recognising the handkerchief as the one he'd transfigured into handcuffs to ‘arrest’ her yesterday.

Ron waggled his eyebrows at them. “Such a gentleman, Malfoy,” he teased.

Malfoy flicked invisible lint from his robes, making a snobbish face. “Some of us are just well-bred, Weasley,” he sneered, then shocked Hermione by bursting into laughter at his own attitude, along with Harry and Ron.

Clearly, it had been quite a reunion between the three of them.

***

Hermione nursed her drink far longer than she usually would, especially with Draco’s hands frequently wandering up her skirt under cover of notice-me-nots and bland smiles, hoping that she’d be able to get through the evening without needing another, but it wasn’t long before Ginny, Luna, Neville, and, of all people, Theodore Nott, arrived to join their table.

Draco magnanimously declared that it was his round, and took everyone’s orders.

“Hermione? What about you?” he asked, solicitously.

“Oh, I’m ok,” she tried, unconvincingly waving the dregs of her previous drink.

“What’s wrong, Hermione? Not like you not to have a drink after a long week!” Ginny giggled, saluting with her own glass of orange juice. “Not joining me on the sober parade are you?”

Hermione floundered to try and explain, but Draco swept over her. “Of course she’s drinking! Don’t worry, Granger, accepting a casual drink from your probationee doesn’t count as bribery or corruption - I checked.”

He winked at her, drawing laughter from the rest of their group as he smoothly volunteered her into accompanying him to the bar to help carry everything.

She miserably trailed after him towards the bar, trying desperately to keep her chirpy, Friday night demeanour in place.

Draco stood pressed close behind her at the bar, his robes covering his movement as he lifted the back of her skirt and pressed his cock up against her bare arse. A moment later, she felt the plug vanish and barely had time to suck in a breath before he was forcing himself inside her, pinning her against the bar. His cum from earlier lubed the way, and she had to bite her lip to smother a whimper.

Hannah Abbott came over to take their orders, and it was all Hermione could do to keep smiling vacantly and nodding appropriately as Draco effortlessly charmed the Hufflepuff into making the various drinks, all while balls-deep in Hermione’s arse.

“There’s a good little fuck-toy,” he purred in her ear, when Hannah’s back was turned. “When we get back to the table, you’re going to make an excuse to slip out for a moment. You’ll come back disillusioned, and get under the table, and suck my cock until I come. Then you’ll slip out again, and come back as if nothing happened. Understand?”

She nodded jerkily, as he pulled out of her ass and smoothly replaced the plug. A moment later, Hannah was back, and they were each carrying a tray of drinks over to the table.

As demanded, she made a flimsy excuse to leave for a few minutes, and hurried to the door of the pub. Outside, she disillusioned herself, before slipping back inside and carefully making her way through the least crowded areas of the pub, back to their table.

It was difficult to find space to crawl under the table, but eventually she managed it, wedging herself between Malfoy’s legs as she pulled his cock out of his pants, and took it in her mouth.

She was impressed by his ability to keep talking as if nothing was happening as she bobbed up and down on him, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him deep into her throat, using all of her tricks to make him come as quickly as she could.

***

She returned to the table and slid into her seat beside him, where he smiled warmly at her.

“All ok, Granger?” he asked her, solicitously.
“Oh, yes, fine, thank you s- Malfoy,” she smiled back automatically, barely stopping herself before calling him ‘sir’.

He smirked at her, and she covered her blush by taking a gulp of her drink.

“Steady there, Granger,” was all he said, before Ginny pulled her into conversation.

***

Neville bought the next round, and Hermione nearly took a sip of the drink before Malfoy’s hand landed on her thigh, and she hastily put it back down.

Of course, she wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol unless given explicit permission by her Masters, or if they bought it for her.

She glanced at Malfoy, trying to be subtle.

“May I?” she murmured. He raised an eyebrow, then nodded slowly.

She picked up the glass again to take a sip, and his hand slid from her thigh to cupping her cunt, one finger sliding over her slick clit.

She almost spat out her drink.

Malfoy’s hand stayed cupped over her cunt, casually fingering her as he chatted with Harry and Neville.

Hermione tried desperately to focus on the plans for Ginny’s baby shower, but she was sure her eyes were glazed, and she kept having to take sips of her drink to cover the moans that leapt to her lips.

She was well past the point she would have cum, but without a cock, she couldn’t, and so she simply sat and tried to socialise as Draco Malfoy edged her in public.

When Draco finally offered to get in one last round, she almost leapt from her seat to help him with the drinks.

But at the bar, he stood beside her instead of behind, and when she said suggestively that she could do with nipping to the loo, he simply smiled and ordered her a water, and told her he’d manage the glasses on his own then.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not going to -” she broke off, looking around, and then mouthed, “fuck me?”

“Sorry, what was that?” Draco asked. “I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

Hermione almost audibly growled at him, but caught herself, in case he decided to punish her for it.

“Are you seriously not going to fuck me?” she murmured, very quietly but with genuine anger in her tone.

Draco’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Really, Hermione, I know we’re getting along better now, but I don’t think we’re quite such good friends as that just yet! If you need a quickie, maybe you should ask Ron - weren’t you two together?”

Hermione flushed scarlet with equal amounts of rage and embarrassment.

“I think maybe you’ve had enough to drink for one night. Shall I make your apologies to the group, and you can just head home now?”

She didn’t want to abandon her friends just yet, but if Malfoy was going to continue teasing her and refuse to fuck her, she wasn’t exactly being a good conversation partner. Maybe it was best to play this off as her being a bit drunk after a long week.

“...Fine,” she bit out.

“Wait here,” he said lightly, but she heard the command in his tone.

She nodded.

He levitated the drinks across the crowded pub, back to their table, where he was greeted with cheers.

She saw Ginny and Harry glance her way, nodding, and then he was back.

“I’ll escort you back through the floo, I don’t think you should be apparating in this… state,” he teased her.

She glared at him, knowing he was right that she couldn’t apparate with her brain so scattered and close to cumming, and also knowing that everyone else thought she was drunk.

He led her to the floo, but it was his address, not hers, that he said to the green flames.

They were whirled away, stepping out of his fireplace a moment later.

“You might be allowed to hang out with your friends, Granger, but you’re still just the Death Eaters’ little fuck toy, and you’d better not forget it,” he said coldly as he aimed his wand at her, vanishing her clothes. “You were getting quite the attitude there at the end, demanding that I fuck you and glaring at me like you get a choice when and where you’re used.”

He sat down on a chair near the fireplace and yanked her down across his lap. “Spread your legs, these spanks are for your cunt.”

She arranged herself as best she could, draped across his thighs, and he shoved her legs further apart, making sure he had a clear shot.

“You’re going to count and beg for every one of these. I want to hear you say you’re a Death Eaters’ fuck toy, and beg me to spank your cunt and remind you of your place.”

His large hand rested over her swollen, needy cunt, still dripping with the edging he’d been giving her for the past hour, and she couldn’t help the tears that leapt to her eyes.

“Please spank my cunt, sir, I’m just a Death Eater’s little fuck toy and I need to learn my place,” she said miserably, resigning herself to her fate.

Draco’s hand disappeared from her cunt for a moment, cool air brushing against her slick, overheated skin, and then with a loud crack he brought it down against her puffy cunt, sending pain screaming through her nerves and out of her mouth.

He let her scream for a moment, and then he was fingering her clit again, drawing the sensitive bud out of hiding ready for another blow.

“Count and beg, bitch. The longer you wait, the more turned on you’ll be and the more it will hurt for the next one. You brought this on yourself.”

She could barely suck in a breath, but she managed to stammer out her piece.

“One, thank you Master. Please spank my cunt again, I’m a Death Eaters’ fuck toy and I need to learn my place.”

He didn’t hesitate before bringing his hand down again, a jolt of pain lancing through her clit and right through her cunt, bruising against the bone.

She sobbed and begged and counted, and he smacked her over and over, fingering her clit every time she took too long.

Finally, after ten, he pushed her to the floor and fucked her into the rug, watching in sadistic satisfaction as she came so hard she almost passed out while he pounded her bruised, abused cunt and screamed his name.

***

Hermione came to in Thorfinn’s arms, as he very gently applied bruise balm between her legs.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he saw her eyes flicker open.

“There she is,” he murmured. “How are you feeling, sweet girl?”

She trembled as he held her. Draco knew exactly how to push her buttons; everything he’d done had been planned and targeted just for her.

“I’m just a Death Eaters’ fuck toy,” she whispered, her throat raw from screaming. “I needed to learn my place.”

Thorfinn kissed her, plundering her mouth slowly and fully, until she melted into him.

“You learned it so well, pet,” he told her tenderly, stroking her hair back from her face with one hand as the other continued to gently massage the bruise balm into her labia. “You’re the best fuck toy we could have hoped for. Look how much you’ve learned in just a week! You’re incredible, pet.”

She sniffled as she cuddled into him, keeping her legs obediently spread for him to continue his ministrations.

“Master Draco fucked me in public at the pub, no-one knew, but I was so embarrassed,” she admitted.

“But then you came so hard you passed out, didn’t you, pet?” Thorfinn reminded her. “Draco told me you forgot your place and were rude to him when he embarrassed you, because this is all so new to you. Even though he was turning you on and making you feel good, you didn’t know how to deal with it because you’re not used to being used in public. But now he has punished you for your rudeness and you’ll remember how to be a good little toy for him next time, won’t you, sweet girl? He’s not the only one who will like to use you in public, so you’ll need to learn how to be good all the time for us, not just in private.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes, Master Thorfinn. I think I find it extra hard to be good for Master Draco, because we had an… adversarial relationship at Hogwarts.” She whimpered as Thorfinn’s fingers found her clit, and began working the balm directly into the sensitive nub.

“I know, pet, but I’m sure Draco will enjoy teaching you to behave for him. You just keep being a good girl for us, and I’m sure you will soon learn to submit just as beautifully for him as you have been for me.”

Chapter Text

Hermione woke a little some time before dawn, feeling Thorfinn pull out of her and slip out of bed, but he returned a few moments later and she went back to sleep.

It was only in the morning that she realised he’d replaced his cock inside her with a dildo, meaning it had been several hours since she’d had a cock in her now.

Thorfinn didn’t mention it as he made sure she had breakfast and dressed her in a slutty little dress that was barely two strips of sheer fabric crossing her breasts and hanging down between her legs, held in place by a jewelled belt at her hips, that made her look like some kind of harem slave.

He made sure to pet her cunt and touch her casually in the most intimate ways as he fed her and got her ready, then had her touch herself as she sat by the floo, waiting for him.

Then he was flooing with her to Master Rosier’s place.

“Good morning, princess,” Master Rosier purred in her ear, as he greeted her at the floo. He led her into the living room, seating her on his lap.

“Now, sweet girl, Master Yaxley tells me that you’re ever so good at begging to be whipped and punished and used, but that you can’t ask for your own pleasure. Is that true, princess?”

His hands remained firmly on her hips, not stroking and teasing as she was used to, and she squirmed, already desperate for her first orgasm of the day. “Yes sir,” she murmured, because it seemed like the answer he wanted.

He tutted gently, and she looked up at him, worried that she’d said the wrong thing. “A good little sex slave isn’t just a body to be toyed with, princess,” he told her. “That’s like a dildo with no vibration settings - boring. I want to hear every filthy little dream and desire you’ve ever had come out of that pretty mouth. I want you to tell me your every fantasy, and to beg for your pleasure, not just to be used for ours. What do you want, Hermione?”

She stared at him, blankly. This wasn’t part of the deal. She was supposed to be able to disassociate into a good little toy when they used her. She didn’t want this, her body’s reactions notwithstanding.

“I… I don’t…” she tried. “I just want a normal, vanilla sex life with a normal, vanilla boyfriend who is sweet and kind and maybe likes to try a 69 if he’s feeling adventurous. I don’t have any fantasies. If you want to fulfil my fantasies, I’d like a nice book and a cup of tea, and to be left alone,” she added, warming to her theme. “I’ll beg for a whipping if I’m told to because it’s in my interests to keep you all in a good mood with me - if I don’t beg for it, I’ll just be whipped harder in punishment, or you’ll ruin me and everything I’ve worked for. But I can’t beg for my pleasure, because my pleasure would be for you all to go away and leave me alone.”

She could hardly see through the tears that were suddenly blurring her vision.

Warm hands wrapped around her, wiping her tears, and she tried to lean into the familiar comfort of Thorfinn’s arms, but he held her away from himself.

“Ah, ah, ah, pet,” he chided, as he set her down on the plush rug in the middle of the floor, and cast a complex little ward charm that created a golden cage around it, large enough for her to stretch out in any direction, but no more. “You want to be left alone.”

He picked a couple of books from Rosier’s shelf at random, tossing them onto the rug, then stepped back to sit next to Rosier on the sofa.

“It seems as you feared, our princess needs to learn her lesson,” Rosier shook his head sadly.

Hermione looked at them in confusion, then shrugged and picked up one of the books - a rather insipid Wizarding detective novel that she had read before - flicking it open. She did in fact have some rather specific sexual fantasies right now, thanks to the edging Thorfinn had put her through before bringing her here, but she was sure they would simply laugh at her if she were to mention them, and anyway, it was a point of pride now. If they wanted to watch her read in a cage, then she would read in a cage.

She made it barely ten minutes before the first desperate tug of arousal washed through her, and she found her fingers burying themselves in her cunt before she’d even realised what they were doing.

A wave of horrified realisation filled her along with more arousal, and the burning, tingling heat in her cunt that meant she hadn’t had a cock in more than six hours. The bastards had planned this.

“Are you ok, princess?” Rosier asked her, solicitously. “Do you need anything?”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Fine thank you,” she managed, shifting to face away from them to try and hide her obvious and needy arousal.

They let her stew for another five minutes, by which time she had abandoned the book entirely and was simply rocking on the floor, breathing deeply, before Thorfinn said, “We have all the time in the world, pet. All you need to do is tell us exactly, precisely what you would like us to do to pleasure you, and we’ll do it, but you need to tell us every single step of what you want. And no cocks for at least the first twenty minutes, so the sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll get relief.”

“Come on, princess,” Rosier coaxed. “Seduce us. Take your pleasure.”

Hermione’s ability to hold out against torture was legendary, but the intense, needy desire that had had her literally wanking in the Wizengamot and then sobbing as she desperately begged Draco Malfoy, of all people, to fuck her, had already proven it could break her pride.

“Fuck,” she whispered, brokenly, pressing her fingers into her cunt and moaning at the stretch that did nothing to ease the burning arousal.

“I want to… sit on Master Thorfinn’s lap, and have him touch my… my tits, while Master Rosier…” she tailed off, finding herself completely unable to say it.

Thorfinn dispelled the cage, scooping her onto his lap and holding her there, his large hands each cupping one of her tits, unmoving.

Hermione ground back onto his cock, but the angle was all wrong. “I want to rub my ass on your cock,” she begged.

Thorfinn laughed. “No cocks just yet, sweet girl. That’s your punishment for being so stubborn, and not admitting to yourself that you do have sexual fantasies, because you’re a dirty little thing. Now, what was it you wanted Master Rosier to do to you?”

“Please can he lick my… my pussy?” she asked, shutting her eyes to avoid meeting Rosier’s gaze as he instantly dropped to his knees before her.

She moaned loudly as he licked a long, lingering stripe up her cunt, almost sobbing in frustration as he pulled away again.

“That’s right, princess,” he said, encouragingly. “Did you like that? If you want me to do it again, you only need to ask. We just want to hear your sweet, swotty little voice saying all those dirty words, and admitting all the filthy things you want two big, strong death eaters to do to the Golden Girl’s perfect little body.”

Hermione squirmed desperately on Master Thorfinn’s lap, far too in her head.

“I want you to be in charge,” she tried, miserably, but Master Rosier shook his head in amusement. “Not this time, princess. You need to tell us every single stroke and lick and touch that you want us to give you - as vanilla or as kinky as you like, just tell us what you want, Hermione.”
“Please lick my pussy, sir,” she whimpered. “Master Rosier, please, please lick it, over and over, keep licking it,” she tried, her brain completely scrambled. “And Master Thorfinn, please play with m-my tits, and stroke my nipples and make them feel good.”

“That’s a good girl,” Thorfinn purred in her ear, immediately releasing his stiff cupping of her breasts and moving to tease and roll her nipples expertly. “I know your brain is overwhelmed right now, but keep doing your best for us. Do you like Master Rosier licking your whole cunt? Or do you want him to suck on that sweet little clit, or fuck your dripping hole with his tongue? Tell him what you like, Hermione.”

Hermione was practically sobbing in frustration and need. “S-suck my clit, please, sir,” she begged.

Master Rosier obliged, and she screamed with pleasure, almost delirious with her need to cum.

“I want Master Thorfinn to fuck my ass and Master Rosier to fuck my cunt, I need you to fill me up so good so I can see your cocks pushing my belly out, and then I want you to cum so deep inside I can almost taste it,” she begged.

Thorfinn and Rosier exchanged glances across their witch’s writhing body.

“That’s more like it, sweet girl! If we give you our cocks, will you keep saying pretty dirty words like that for us?” Thorfinn purred in her ear.

“Yes, anything, please fuck me!” Hermione screamed.

It was the matter of a moment to seat Thorfinn’s thick length balls-deep inside Hermione’s ass, Rosier filling her cunt a moment later as she absolutely shattered, cradled between them.

They fucked her at a leisurely pace as she sobbed and shuddered in their arms, three orgasms in a row ricocheting through her body until she was utterly spent.

Thorfinn held her as she came down, murmuring reassurances, and Rosier brought her a cup of tea and helped her to sip it as she recovered.

“Let’s play a little game of ‘would you rather’,” Rosier suggested, once she was sitting up again and her breathing had levelled out. “It’s very simple. Rowle and I will each make a suggestion of something we could do. Then you can choose which one you’d prefer - or you can offer an alternative, and we’ll do whatever you choose.”

Thorfinn nodded. “I’ll start. Would you rather I played with your pussy with my fingers?”

“Or would you rather I licked and sucked that sweet little cunt?” Rosier countered.

They both looked at Hermione expectantly. “You said I could choose an alternative?” she asked, slowly.

“Within reason, pet,” Thorfinn warned her. “If you sass us again, we’ll spank you instead and then start again.”

Hermione sighed, her half-formed plan of choosing ‘have a nap’ vanishing swiftly. “I choose Master Rosier,” she murmured, blushing fiercely.

“Ask nicely, Princess,” said Rosier, grinning. “Use all the words.”

“Please could Master Rosier l-lick and suck m-my sweet little cunt,” Hermione blurted in a rush, her face scarlet as she obediently repeated the filthy language.

Thorfinn and Rosier both grinned triumphantly. “You have no idea how hot it is to hear your sweet, innocent mouth saying those words,” Rosier told her, as he scooped her up and laid her out on the couch for his attentions.

Hermione writhed and begged under his expert tongue, but he refused to let her cum as he teased her clit until she almost sobbed.

“Would you rather I spanked your bottom while Master Rosier let you suck his cock?” Thorfinn asked.

“Or would you rather I continued to torture you with my mouth while Master Rowle flogs your tits?” Rosier offered his alternative.

Hermione was too desperate to cum to consider her options. “Please spank my bottom Master Thorfinn! And please let me suck your cock Master Rosier!” she screamed as Rosier latched onto her clit, sucking hard.

“Your wish is our command, princess,” Rosier grinned as he sat back from his feast, wiping her juices from his mouth. Thorfinn sat down, pulling her across his knee with her ass in the air as Rosier pulled out his cock.

His spanks weren’t gentle, but Hermione was so far gone that even the stinging smack of his palm across her ass just fanned the flames of arousal sweeping through her body, and she opened her mouth wide, ready for Master Rosier’s cock.

“Look at you, Princess, such an eager girl for me,” he cooed as he teased her, holding his cock just out of reach. She strained for it, even sticking out her tongue to try and get to him as Thorfinn rained down smacks on her ass, turning it pink.

Finally Rosier allowed her to take his cock in her mouth, and she sucked greedily on it as she came, Thorfinn spanking her right through the orgasm and only stopping when Rosier had cum down her throat as she stared trustingly up at him, her stomach clenching as with the need to breathe.

She gasped down air as he pulled out, involuntary tears leaking from her eyes.

“Would you rather I fuck your ass and Master Rosier controls your air?” Thorfinn offered her.

“Or Master Rowle fucks your throat and controls your air, and I use the spike wheel on your ass and pussy?” Rosier suggested.

Hermione was still floating in the dizzying headspace she’d found, the memory of being fucked underwater the other night filling her brain.

“Please Master Thorfinn in my ass and choke me,” she begged. “And Master Rosier use the spike wheel on my nipples.”

The two men exchanged glances, not expecting her to enter into it so readily. “There’s my good girl,” Thorfinn purred in her ear, and she shuddered with delight as he pulled her upright on his lap, lining his cock up with her ass while one large hand wrapped around her throat.”

Rosier summoned a spiked pinwheel, and ran it experimentally over the pad of his thumb, wincing slightly. “Cup your tits for me, Princess, and present those nipples.”

Hermione obeyed, lifting her breasts in each hand and holding them out to him as Thorfinn pushed his large cock into her ass, making her moan. Her tender, recently spanked thighs and butt were pressed into him hard as he gently squeezed her throat, cutting off her air.

Her eyes widened - she hadn’t experienced this kind of breath control before - but the same sense of peace quickly filled her again as the pleasurable stretch of her Master’s cock bottoming out inside her and the sweet-sharp pain of the wheel being swept over her tits took over her senses.

Thorfinn couldn’t move much at this angle, so he used his wand to thrust Hermione up and down on his cock as he choked her, and it took both men by surprise when she came hard after just a couple of minutes.

Thorfinn followed her into orgasm, releasing his grip on her throat and pulling her head around to face him as he kissed her deeply. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured to her. “That’s my perfect girl.”

Rosier left the room, and Hermione heard the rush of the floo, but paid it no attention as she curled into Thorfinn’s chest, seeking the comfort she’d already come to associate him with.

He slipped out of her ass, summoning her plug and replacing it, then held her against him and summoned a blanket.

Wrapping it around her, he slipped his hand between her legs. His fingers stroked and petted her cunt soothingly, as he might pet a cat, and she widened her stance instinctively to give him more space.

He smiled at her reaction, such a difference from her instinctive pulling away and closing her legs tightly as she had just a week ago. It wouldn’t be long until she genuinely needed someone to play with her cunt in order to calm her down.

It was about half an hour before Rosier returned, and Hermione was deep in subspace, very calm but also very turned on in his arms, rutting her hips against his hand and panting softly as he continued to stroke her gently, refusing her the friction she craved.

“Such a sweet little pet,” Rosier commented as he entered the room, smirking at Hermione’s blissful state. “I have a present for you, Princess. Come and get it.”

Hermione blinked up at Thorfinn as she fought her way out of the subspace she’d been drifting in. “Master?” she asked, softly.

“Go to Master Rosier, pet,” he told her, removing his hand - making her whine with displeasure - and pushing her gently off his lap.

She crawled over to Master Rosier, presenting herself on her knees as she’d been taught. She still wore the skimpy ‘dress’ they’d put her in, but the fabric now pooled around her waist and hung from her arms, baring her breasts and cunt and making her look thoroughly fucked and dishevelled, more than simply being naked would have done.

“Don’t you look delicious, Princess,” Master Rosier smirked. “Now, do you have enough presence of mind to listen to me? I have a present for you, but it comes with some new rules, and I need you to understand them and remember them.”

Hermione blinked at him. “Yes, sir,” she murmured.

Master Rosier glanced at Thorfinn, who shrugged. “I’ll make sure she remembers them.”

Master Rosier pulled out a parcel, and handed it to Hermione. “Open your gift then, Princess.”

She pulled the paper off the wrapped present eagerly, quickly revealing a beautiful golden dragonhide journal. She stroked the cover reverently, opening it to smooth her fingers over the lovely parchment inside.

“Thank you, Master,” she gasped. “It’s beautiful!”

Rosier smiled at her, enjoying her pleasure. “You’re very welcome, Princess. Now, listen carefully to what you are to write in it.”

He explained that from now on, it would be arranged so that she woke up with only half an hour until she was desperate for cock. She would have to spend that half hour, as soon as she woke up, writing out a dirty fantasy about one or more of her masters - or anyone else - having sex with her, in detail.

If it was detailed and dirty enough, Rosier explained, Thorfinn would reward her. If not, she would have to spend another half hour writing a new fantasy, this time while desperate for cock, in order to help get her… sexually creative juices flowing.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she listened to Rosier’s explanation of what she was to write in the beautiful book.

“Do you understand, Princess?” he asked, putting a finger under her chin and lifting it so he could see her eyes.

“Yes, Master Rosier,” she answered miserably. No more waking up pleasantly full of Thorfinn’s cock. And being forced to write filthy fantasies every day, which would no doubt be shared around the death eaters for her humiliation.

“Any questions, pet?” came Thorfinn’s voice from behind her.

“What will you do with what I write, Master?” she asked, timidly.

Rosier smiled, and she heard Thorfinn chuckle softly. “Whatever I think fit, pet. But if you are honest, and write your true fantasies, you shouldn’t need to worry. If any of them are carried out, it will only be pleasurable for you, after all.”

She didn’t bother to ask that they not be shared with anyone else. They already had all the collateral they needed to secure her compliance - not to mention that it was becoming abundantly clear that she literally couldn’t live without her slave masters now, whether she liked it or not.

She stared down at the lovely notebook, stroking her thumb over the soft dragonskin cover, trembling slightly.

She didn’t want to be a slave. She didn’t fantasise about these men, who raped her every day. But everyone had some fantasies, and if they were going to force her to write every day… how long would it be before her darkest imaginings started making their way onto the page? How long before this wasn’t something that was being done to her, but something she was actively participating in?

She shook the thought away, as Thorfinn held out a hand to help her to her feet.

“Come on, pet, let’s get you home and cleaned up. You’re due at Rookwood’s in half an hour.

***

Rookwood had booked a double slot, making the most of the extra time allowed on the weekend because he hadn’t used her all week.

He had requested her clothed, including her usual underwear, and Hermione felt strange stepping into the familiar cotton knickers. They felt far too innocent now, like a relic of her childhood. Even the short summer dress that Thorfinn approved for her seemed like too much clothing.

She flooed to the address Rookwood had provided, stepping out of the fireplace into a large potions lab and narrowly avoiding bumping into the huge cauldron on the fire next to her.

Rookwood wore traditional potions master robes, flowing black and buttoned to the neck, just like Snape used to wear. He scowled at her in greeting and gestured to a cushion on the floor.

She dropped obediently to her knees, taking her usual position with her legs apart and hands behind her back, and waited for him to finish what he was doing. She recognised many of the ingredients he was working with, but she had no idea what he might be making with them, and given the eight different cauldrons of various sizes all perched atop fires around the room, she supposed he was probably adding to several of them.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he added a pinch of the lacewing flies he’d been mincing into three of the different potions, turning one a sluggish brown and another a glistening orange, while the third hissed menacingly. Then he stirred two others, checking his watch and counting precisely, before finally casting stasis charms and turning to Hermione.

He looked her up and down and she felt uncomfortably like one of the strange specimens floating in jars on the far wall as he scrutinised her. She dropped her eyes, straightening her posture, and hoping that she pleased him.

Then he turned in a swish of robes, and left the room without a word.

Hermione took a deep breath, but didn’t dare move. The cushion was soft enough, and she wasn’t uncomfortable. She wasn’t even cold, or naked, but she felt more exposed under his assessing glare than she had been being fucked in public by Dolohov.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before he returned - at least thirty deep, slow breaths - but she didn’t look up. Thorfinn had taught her to keep her eyes down in a high-protocol situation, and she had a feeling that this was definitely high protocol.

“Eyes,” he commanded, softly.

She lifted them, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were brown, and not unkind as he looked at her.

“Good girl. I see you are learning well. I will not use you often, but I will expect you to be well trained and obedient when you serve me. I know you are intelligent, and if you continue to do as you are told and remember what you have been told, I do not think you will find me an unpleasant Master.”

He lowered himself to one knee in front of her as she knelt on the cushion. “As is traditional, this will be the only time I will kneel to you; to place my collar at your throat.”

He tipped her chin up with a finger, wrapping his hand gently around her neck.

Her breath caught as she felt her pulse race, surprised by her own arousal.

“Good girl.”

He showed her the slim leather collar he was holding, then buckled it snuggly into place. “You will wear this whenever I summon you. It is my covenant to you that I am in control of your life, health and pleasure when you wear it, and that I take that responsibility very seriously, just as it is your covenant to me that you will submit to my control. Is that clear, Hermione?”

She swallowed. “Yes, Master Rookwood.”

“Good.” He clipped a leash to the front of the collar. “Follow me.”

He led her out of the potions lab, into the next room, and had her kneel again on a cushion by the door.

This room had a bench in the centre, about hip height and featuring an alarming number of ways to tie someone down. An array of multicoloured potions lined one wall on shelves, catching the light in a rainbow that seemed to almost glow. On the opposite wall, the array of floggers and canes she was becoming used to hung neatly from a rack.

Rookwood returned to her a moment later, holding a vial of swirling silver potion. “Drink up.”

It was immediately clear that he was not going to provide an explanation, and nor would he be pleased by her hesitation, so she lifted the vial to her lips, and poured the silver liquid into her mouth. It was surprisingly neutral in taste and texture, and she finished the vial easily, handing it back to him.

“Good girl.”

He turned away from her again, and began dictating to a hovering black quill. “Subject one-two-eight-F is a 28-year-old female, in good health, recently subjected to a Pleasure Binding ritual to which she has responded well. Subject has been administered one standard dose of Reverserum at 10:21am. No immediate effects observed.”

Hermione shifted nervously on the cushion, checking in mentally with her body. Everything seemed normal. Her breasts were sore, but that was normal now, and her knickers were soaked, but that was normal too. The plug in her ass felt snuggly familiar, a constant erotic pleasure. The only thing which felt strange was that she was dressed. Her bra felt restrictive and awkward, and she was so aware of her dress everywhere it touched and covered her body.

“Stand up, and remove your clothes, slowly and erotically,” he commanded her.

She got to her feet, feeling a bit itchy, and gratefully began to unbutton her dress. Her skin prickled and burned every time she ran her fingers over her body, trying to look sexy, and she hastily finished unbuttoning and shimmied out of the fabric. There must be something on it - maybe some powder in the air in the lab?

Rookwood looked amused. “Slowly, Hermione. Take your time.”

“Sorry, sir.”

She made a show of running her hands over her body, now naked but for her bra and knickers, but winced as her fingers delicately stroked over her belly and thighs. Normally this was quite pleasurable, but she felt like she’d taken a whipping.

She whimpered in outright pain as she slid her fingers over her sodden knickers, as if she’d run Rosier’s pinwheel over her cunt instead.

“Three minutes after ingestion, Subject is clearly feeling the effects of the Reverserum. When lightly touching her skin, she is clearly feeling discomfort, and stroking her genitals produces an audible sound of pain,” Rookwood narrated calmly.

Hermione reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and groaned as the usually-pleasurable sensation of her tits being freed from their bondage sent a stab of pain through them instead.

Reverserum. Everything pleasurable was painful. What if that meant everything painful would feel good?

Boldly, she cupped her tits, and pinched her nipples tightly between fingers and thumbs. She couldn’t help the blissful moan that escaped from her mouth as she mauled the sensitive buds, rolling them in her hands.

“Subject has worked out the mechanism of the Reverserum within five minutes of administration,” Rookwood narrated smugly, a definite tone of pride in his voice. “Pinching the nipples with significant pressure elicits a moan of pleasure, and Subject appears likely to continue to the point of self-injury.”

Hermione paused in her harsh gripping of her tits, realising how deeply her nails were digging into the soft flesh. It felt incredible, but of course, that meant it was seriously hurting her in reality.

She let go of her bruised tits, sucking in a breath at the sensation.

Moving downwards, she slid her knickers down her thighs with uncustomary force, delighting in the rough scrape of the elastic against her skin, which felt amazing.

Finally she stood naked, not daring to touch herself further without his permission.

“Up on the table, Hermione.”

She obeyed, and he was quick and not at all gentle as he buckled her wrists into place, then lifted her legs over her head and folded her in half, strapping her ankles down next to her wrists. The painful position had her moaning and whimpering in pleasure at the strain in her back and thighs, and made her ass and cunt both very prominently available to his ministrations.

The plug in her ass felt amazing at this new angle.

“Subject displayed in a standard supine ankle-to-wrist position for testing. Subject’s vulva shows significant signs of arousal. Due to the pleasure-binding ritual, subject will not be able to negate the potions effects through orgasm, making her the ideal test subject. I will begin by placing a ‘zipper’ of pegs and rope down the inner thigh of the subject.”

Hermione let out a whimper at the idea, but quickly realised as Rookwood clipped the first clothes peg onto the sensitive skin of her inner thigh that the agony the sharp pinch would usually have caused was now only pleasure.

She moaned loudly and wantonly as he continued to peg the rope to her thigh, a burst of delicious pleasure washing through her with every one. Then he continued with a second ‘zip’ down her side, pinching the side of her belly and the side of her breast, and continuing along her underarm and down to her elbow.

She had never felt so much ecstasy, bliss washing over her from every angle as he flicked the pegs, pinching them harder into her skin. She was so wet she could feel it dripping down her body in the upside-down position, onto her breasts, and he hadn’t even touched her cunt yet at all.

Then he grabbed the end of the rope he’d carefully pinned along the length of her body, and yanked it hard.

She howled with the spoiled orgasm as a wave of shockingly intense pleasure ripped through her, battering against the magical barrier that meant she couldn’t cum, winding it tighter and tighter inside her.

She knew she was already at the point where she would pass out when he finally granted her his cock, and he’d barely started.

He continued to report his findings and her reactions to the quill, as she sobbed deliriously.

Then, very gently, he stroked a single finger along her slick, swollen labia.

Hermione howled in agony. “No! It hurts, no, please!” she sobbed, twisting helplessly in her bondage as he ghosted over her clit, then leaned down and licked a long stripe up her cunt.

She screamed desperately in pain, and he pulled back.

“Subject responds to brief cunnilingus with expressions of extreme agony,” he reported blandly.

He picked up a sharp wooden stick, like a kitchen skewer, and poked it hard into her labia, and she relaxed paradoxically back into her state of blissful pleasure.

“Thank you sir, that feels so good,” she babbled, as he moved the stick along her cunt, jabbing her with it harshly.

“Let’s see how you respond to internal stimulation,” he murmured to himself, as he pulled the plug out of her ass and picked up a large dildo.

“Subject has been wearing a medium sized plug consistently for one week, and has been penetrated anally regularly during that time,” he reported to the quill, as he lined the dildo up with her ass. “Inserting a ten-inch dildo, with a medium girth.”

He pushed the cock into Hermione’s ass without much resistance, the position making it easy to fill her to the brim. She groaned as he slid it in. She had become used to anal over the last week, and even got some pleasure from it. This felt like the first time her ass had been fucked, by Macnair during the ritual - uncomfortably painful.

“Does that hurt, Hermione?” Rookwood asked her.

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered. “Like the first time I was fucked there.”

He nodded, smirking a little. “Subject reports significant pain from complete penetration by the 10-inch dildo, suggesting she has acclimatised well to anal sex, and now derives pleasure from even large penetrations. Inserting a 12-inch dildo, with a large girth.”

He pulled the first cock out of her ass, setting it aside, and picked up one the length and thickness of Hermione’s forearm. “Let’s see if this feels more pleasurable for you, then.”

The head of the thick cock breached her ass, and she moaned at the delicious stretch. Rookwood nodded approvingly as he fucked her with it, forcing it in another inch with each thrust until it was fully seated.

“How’s that, Hermione?” he asked her, flicking the base of the dildo and making her moan loudly.

“It feels… incredible, sir,” she gasped, her breath coming in quick pants of desire.

“Good girl,” he praised her, pressing the sharp stick right into her clit as a reward.

The pleasure broke over her again, desperate for orgasm.

“Please let me cum, Master Rookwood, please give me your cock!” she begged hazily. “Please sir, please, please, I need it so badly.”

“If I let you cum, the potion will end, and you’ll feel all the pain of those pinch bruises and this cock in your ass,” he warned her. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay feeling good? I was going to cane your ass next, don’t you want to know how amazing that will feel, Hermione?”

She whimpered desperately as he gently stroked her cunt, sending shooting pains through her body. She couldn’t think at all, her brain awash with endorphins and desire.

“Please cane me and make me feel good, then please let me cum,” she begged.

Rookwood’s grin was vicious as he picked up a cane and swished it into his palm. “Of course, Hermione.”

“Subject is reduced to begging to be caned in order to receive pleasure. The slightest touch on her vulva appears agonising.”

He brought the cane down smartly across the backs of her thighs and cunt, delivering three strokes in quick succession as Hermione sobbed and begged for release.

Each stroke would have been enough to make her cum, but instead she felt poised on a precipice, agonised with pleasure.

He put the cane down, andundid her wrist and ankle bonds, letting her collapse to the table. “Subject released from bondage at 10:47am, 26 minutes after administration of Reverserum.”

Hermione immediately crawled to the edge of the table. “Please may I have your cock, sir, please,” she begged desperately.

He undid his robes, and Hermione practically pounced on his cock, mouth first.

The orgasm almost appeared to be a seizure by the intensity of the spasms that wracked her body, and she collapsed unconscious as her body continued to convulse for several moments.

Rookwood documented this, for science, then carefully extracted the huge dildo from her ass, sent a scourgify over her body, and scooped her up in his arms.

He carried her trembling body out of the lab and into his living quarters, where he laid her on a soft rug in front of the fire, and began massaging her limbs. Previous testing of the potion had shown that it caused a few minutes of painful pins-and-needles in the extremities as they adjusted back to the correct orientation of pain and pleasure, and massage helped.

She came round a minute or so later, and began crying almost immediately, curling in on herself.

Rookwood gently pushed her down onto the rug, continuing to massage her leg.

“Well done, Hermione. You were beautiful in there, letting me test your limits. Relax and try to breathe, proper sensation will come back in a moment, and then I will get you a bruise balm.”

She lay back, shuddering under his touch as his hands worked quickly and efficiently up her thigh.

He felt the moment that the potion fully wore off, as the tension in her muscles disappeared and she melted into his touch. “That’s a good girl,” he said gently. “Where does it hurt?”

She paused before answering, checking in with her body. “The cane… and my ass feels so stretched and sore. And the bruises from the pegs, under my arm especially. Sir,” she added.

Rookwood smiled slightly. “Good girl.”

He summoned the bruise balm, then settled back into a chair. “Come and lay across my lap.”

Hermione climbed awkwardly to her feet, making her way across the room to him and draping herself obediently across his knees, ass up.

He ran a hand over her ass, apparently admiring his handiwork. “Your skin marks up so beautifully,” he commented, as Hermione tensed under his touch. “Have you orgasmed from a spanking or caning yet?”

Hermione blushed, glad she didn’t have to look at him as she admitted that she had.

“I look forward to testing your limits further, at a later date,” he mused. “For now, the bruise balm.”

He smoothed the paste onto her skin, the now-familiar slightly sticky texture of the balm making her strangely wish that it was Thorfinn applying it to her. His fingers were clinical as he coated the places on her cunt that the cane had caught, bringing instant relief.

Then he smeared it around the rim of her gaping ass, and she whimpered softly as the pain of the stretch lessened to something more manageable.

“This balm can be used internally, will that be necessary?” Rookwood inquired.

Hermione clenched her ass experimentally. “No, thank you Sir.”

“Good.”

He summoned and replaced her butt plug, before having her stand and lift her arm, so he could admire the full line of bruises spaced neatly down the length of her body, from her elbow right down to her hip.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking one of the bruises on the side of her breast almost reverently. “I would like you to wear these for me, Hermione, for the remainder of our time together today. But if there are any which are particularly painful, tell me, and I will mend them now.”

Hermione stroked a hand down her side, testing her muscles and wriggling her hips. “Only the one here, sir,” she said after a moment, indicating a particularly dark bruise right under her arm.

Rookwood nodded, applying the bruise balm gently to the area and watching as the bruise quickly healed to a week-old yellow. “Good girl. I am pleased that you are willing to bear my marks and the discomfort for a little longer. I will allow you to choose which of your holes I take my pleasure in now, and then it will be lunch time.”

Hermione quickly ruled out her ass, and after a moment’s thought, also her cunt. “Please may I suck your cock, sir?” she asked politely.

Rookwood seemed delighted by her submission. “Of course you may, Hermione. Since you asked so prettily, I will allow you to touch yourself while you do it, and orgasm if you are able.”

Hermione obediently settled onto her knees, taking out Rookwood’s cock with practised ease. Thorfinn regularly had her sit and touch herself, so she wasn’t shy about slipping a hand between her legs and gliding her fingers over her swollen clit as she took him into her mouth.

He didn’t grab her hair or thrust, as many of her Masters preferred to do, instead sitting back and enjoying her attentions. She found herself working to try and please him, working out which flicks of her tongue had him tensing or twitching, the slight gasps that escaped him when she sucked especially hard, and the groan as he hit the back of her throat, sending a gush of wetness over her fingers in her cunt as she took pride in making him come undone.

Taking a deep breath, she took him deeply into her throat, forcing down the urge to gag, and felt a thrill of pleasure as he groaned audibly and she felt his thighs tensing to either side of her. She swallowed around him, fingers flicking over her clit, and came hard as she choked herself on his cock, shuddering against him as she buried her face in his abdomen.

“Good girl, Hermione,” he gasped, his voice breaking as her throat spasmed around him, and he came down her throat as she slumped against his thigh, obediently swallowing his spend before finally pulling back and sucking in a greedy breath.

She looked up at him, eyes streaming and face pink, swallowing and gasping as she recovered from the self-inflicted choking.

“Thank you, sir,” she rasped.

Rookwood patted her cheek as she rested against his leg. “You are very welcome. Now, you have had your appetiser, let us go and eat.”

He attached the leash to her collar again, and led her through to a small dining room. A single place was set at the table, complete with wine glass and cutlery for each course.

“Stand up, Hermione,” he ordered, turning to fetch something from a cupboard as she got to her feet.

He turned back with a polished wooden tray, curved at one edge, with a strap hanging from each corner.

“You will be fetching my food from the kitchen, and serving it to me,” he explained.

He cinched the longer straps closed around her waist, pulling the curved edge snug against her stomach, then clipped each of the shorter straps to one of her nipple rings, holding the other edge of the tray suspended from her breasts.

She gasped at the sharp tug on her nipple piercings as he pressed down on the tray to ensure it was secure.

“Now, to display those delicious marks…” he mused. “Hands above your head, and clasp the opposite elbow.”
She adopted the posture obediently, and he made short work of binding her wrists to her elbows in a neat harness, the rope continuing down her back and between her legs, then up to tie around her waist beneath the tray.

He tugged on the rope, making her gasp as it dug into her cunt, and smiled in satisfaction. “Something to keep you entertained as you walk to and from the kitchen,” he told her, admiring his work.

He ran a finger up the neat row of bruises, enjoying the way she trembled under his touch as he gave her directions to the kitchen.

Hermione walked carefully through the house, the hemp rope scraping over her wet, swollen cunt, slickened by the orgasm she had so recently had while choking on her Master’s cock.

She felt another gush of arousal at the memory as she made her way down the hall, each step tugging on her clit and making the tray bounce thanks to its attachment to her nipples. She would have to be careful returning with it laden, or she would tip food everywhere, and she had no way of picking it up if she spilled it.

With her arms bound above her head, she felt very exposed and vulnerable.

It was only as she entered the kitchen, up the stairs and to the left, that she realised she had no way of putting the food on the tray, which meant there must be someone else here, who was about to see her, so obviously a sex slave in her collar and crotch rope.

A sharp thrill of adrenaline and fear shot through her, but she didn’t dare return to Master Rookwood without the food.

A shrill voice behind her made her heart sink.

“Bad Missy Hermione is come for the Master’s food?”

She turned to see a female house elf, dressed in a clean white chef’s jacket, eyeing Hermione’s nudity disapprovingly.

“Y-yes,” she agreed. “I have, thank you. What’s your name?”

“My name is none of Bad Missy’s business,” the elf sniffed, snapping her fingers.

A large jug of ice water materialised on Hermione’s tray, and she yelped in pain at the yank of the heavy jug on her nipples, stumbling forward.

Without her arms to catch her, she tripped and fell, the freezing water spilling everywhere and Hermione landing helplessly in the icy puddle.

The elf laughed viciously.

“Bad Missy is not even a good slave,” she goaded, as Hermione struggled to her feet, soaked and shivering.

“Do not spill the Master’s food, or he will punish you more than just those little bruises,” the elf warned her, poking a sharp little finger into one of the bruises on Hermione’s hip.

Hermione yelped miserably, and the elf smiled.

She cleaned up the water with another snap of her fingers, then placed the actual food and drink for Master Rookwood’s dinner on the tray by hand, allowing Hermione time to adjust to each one.

The final tray was painfully heavy, but Hermione carefully adjusted her balance, leaning back a little to compensate for the extra weight. Her nipples stretched lewdly forward, aching sharply.

She made her way back down the stairs, taking her time to manoeuvre herself down each step, then through the halls back to the dining room, the crotch rope sawing at her cunt and the heavy tray tugging on her tits with every step.

Finally she was back at Master Rookwood’s side.

He looked her up and down, clearly enjoying the sight. “What happened to you? You’re soaking wet.”

“Your elf decided to play a trick on me,” she admitted, quietly.

Rookwood smirked. “Ah yes, you’re not terribly popular with the elven community. At least she didn’t try to fuck you like I’m told Thoros’ little beast did.”

Hermione shuddered.

Rookwood reached out, teasing the tip of her abused nipple with his finger, and she gasped at the intensity of the sensation with her flesh held taut.

“That looks ever so heavy,” he sympathised. “Your poor little breasts are all stretched out of shape.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed breathlessly, struggling to keep the tray balanced as he continued to tease and stroke her tits.

Finally, he took pity on her, removing first the wine bottle and then the plate of food from the tray, and she couldn’t hide her sigh of relief.

“On your knees, Hermione,” he told her, indicating the cushion beside his chair.

She sat patiently as he ate, occasionally reaching down to feed her tidbits from his plate.

When he was done, he placed the plate on the floor and had her lick it clean, laughing as the tray got in the way and her lack of arms made her fall face-first into the sauce before she managed to catch her balance.

“Messy girl,” he chided her, as she got back to her knees, face scarlet with embarrassment and covered in sauce.

He held his napkin in his lap, and spread his legs apart. “Come and clean yourself off.”

Blushing furiously, she shuffled towards him on her knees, nuzzling her face into his napkin-covered crotch to wipe the sauce off, as the evidence of his significant arousal in humiliating her this way poked her in the face.

Finally, she got back to her feet, and he loaded the empty plate back onto the tray, and sent her to fetch the main course.

The journey back to the kitchen was without incident, and this time the elf didn’t speak to her, simply removing the dirty plate, and placing a large covered dish on the tray in its place.

Hermione couldn’t help shouting in pain as the heavy plate - at least twice the size of the starter plate she had carried before - settled into place, and the elf grinned but didn’t say anything.

Hermione made her way back to the dining room as quickly as she could, whimpering when any uneven step made the tray jostle and tug painfully on her tits. She didn’t dare move as quickly as she wanted to, for fear she would spill the whole thing and land in the mess, but she couldn’t bear the painful weight for any longer than she absolutely had to.

By the time she reached the table, she was panting with the pain, sure that the piercings were about to tear through her nipples under the weight of the tray.

Rookwood again took his time enjoying her abused tits before removing the plate.

“Such a beautiful submissive, suffering for your Master,” he complimented her as he ran his fingers over the taut skin of the tops of her breasts. “You’re being such a good girl for me, Hermione.”

She couldn’t help the moan that his words elicited, walking quickly with the crotch rope had worked her cunt into a state that she knew would have made her cum several times by now under normal circumstances, and his praise only stoked her arousal higher.

He smiled as he finally lifted the plate from the tray, placing it on the table and lifting the cloche.

“Is your needy cunt already ready to cum again, Hermione?” he asked, as she arranged herself on her knees on the pillow again.

She nodded, flushing. “Yes, sir.”

He tutted vaguely as he sliced into his meal, taking a bite of chicken. “You are a horny little thing, aren’t you? Does it turn you on, being used like this?”

Hermione bit her lip, unwilling to answer. The evidence was irrefutable, but she didn’t want to admit it.

He cleared his throat, looking down at her sternly. “I believe I asked you a question, Hermione.”

“Sorry, sir. Yes, it turns me on,” she admitted, in a mutter.

“Get up on the table, and touch yourself. I want to watch you shamelessly enjoy being my slave, while I eat my dinner.”

Hermione hardly knew what she was doing as she got to her feet. “M-my hands are bound, sir,” she reminded him, shyly.

He untied the rope, dragging the length through her slick, and then showing her the sodden strands. “What a dirty little girl you are. Go on, up on the table and give me a show.”

She climbed onto the table, spreading her legs wide. The tray was still bound in place, so she couldn’t see her cunt, but she knew it would be red and swollen and dripping with need.

She stroked herself, moaning softly as her fingers ghosted over the hot, wet flesh, and tried to imagine she was somewhere else as Rookwood’s eyes feasted on her greedily as he ate his meal.

She was shaking with the overwhelming need to cum by the time he was done, but he didn’t seem inclined to let her.

Instead, he bound her hands again, but left off the crotch rope this time, and sent her back up to the kitchen for dessert.

“And Hermione?” he called, as she turned to leave the room. “Ask the elf for a whole raw carrot too, and have her put it in your cunt. I want you to carry it all the way back here, and you’d better not let it fall out.”

Hermione felt tears well in her eyes, but she took a shaky breath, and just said, “Yes, Master Rookwood,” in as steady a voice as she could muster, before leaving the room.

Her thighs were slick and slippery as she walked to the kitchen, and she knew keeping a carrot inside her would be next to impossible, nevermind the utter humiliation of asking the mean little house elf to insert it for her.

Sure enough, the elf cackled shrilly when she relayed Master Rookwood’s request.

“Bad Missy is getting what she deserves!” the elf giggled to herself, as she fetched a large raw carrot from the pantry.

“Spread your legses, Bad Missy,” the elf demanded, returning with the vegetable.

Hermione obediently widened her stance, displaying her cunt to the vindictive elf.

She squealed as the ice-cold carrot, fresh from the cold cabinet, was pressed against her clit for a beat, before the elf thrust it roughly deep inside her.

“T-thank you, Mistress Elf,” she gasped miserably, closing her legs tightly to hold the carrot inside her.

“Bad Missy is welcome,” the elf giggled nastily, as she placed the dessert on Hermione’s tray - as far as she could tell, just a large and heavy bowl of whipped cream.

Hermione inched her way out of the kitchen, parting her legs as little as possible.

The carrot was uncomfortably cold, but was thick and solid inside her, and she found herself panting as she clenched her cunt around it, fucking herself on it as she walked. She was already so desperate to cum, and this was only making it worse.

Finally she reached the dining room again, and presented the dessert to Master Rookwood.

“Good girl,” he greeted her. “And the carrot?”

She spread her legs for him, clenching as tightly as she could as the carrot almost slipped out of her cunt.

He caught it with a Wingardium Leviosa, and held it up in front of her face.

“Open wide, Hermione.”

She parted her lips obediently, and he levitated the carrot into her mouth.

The slick saltiness coated her tongue immediately, and she whimpered.

“Lick it clean. I want you to suck on it like it’s my cock, while I eat my dessert.”

He helped her up onto the table, not releasing her arms this time, but took the tray off, then laid her down. Moving all of his cutlery and his wine glass out of the way, he tugged her down to the edge, until her drenched cunt was spread wide right in front of him.

Then he took a large spoonful of whipped cream, and dolloped it directly onto her clit.

She would have gasped at the cold, but the large carrot was filling her mouth, and with no hands and gravity against her, it was all she could do to lick and suck it clean without it slipping down her throat and choking her.

He used his tongue as skillfully and effectively as Master Rosier, and she was soon writhing under his attentions as he made sure to lick every bit of cream and arousal from her as her exhausted body clenched desperately on empty air, held frantically on the precipice of orgasm but unable to cum.

The carrot effectively gagged her, but it didn’t stop her whimpering and sobbing around its girth as he tortured her, tears dripping down the sides of her cheeks.

Finally, when she was screaming, he stood and freed his cock, easily sheathing it inside her in a single thrust.

He fucked her through her instant orgasm as she clenched around him like a vice, her body riding the intense wave as she passed out again.

He pulled the carrot from her mouth, vanishing it, and continued to take his pleasure from her spasming cunt until she came round a couple of minutes later, still shaking.

He finished inside her, then pulled out and scooped her up, carrying her back to the rug in the living room.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, as she sobbed against his chest, lying limply in his arms. “Such a perfect girl for me. Such a good little submissive slave, aren’t you, Hermione? That’s right.”

He cradled her, summoning a blanket to wrap around her, then called the house elf to bring her a cup of hot chocolate and a restorative potion of his own devising.

The elf smirked knowingly at Hermione’s exhausted state, but returned shortly with a mug of hot chocolate and the potion.

Rookwood gently helped Hermione drink the potion, then held her as she sipped the hot chocolate.

He cleaned her carefully with a series of gentle charms as she hunched into the blanket.

Then he gently but firmly slid his hand between her legs, petting her cunt as he cuddled her against his chest.

Hermione leaned into him, widening her legs and sighing happily at the familiar sensation of Thorfinn’s favourite aftercare routine.

She was quickly becoming used to being cared for and reassured by a man cradling her and stroking her cunt, and she rested her head on Rookwood’s shoulder as she sipped her hot chocolate.

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured, over and over as he stroked her. “That’s my good girl, Hermione.”

Before she flooed back home, he had her get dressed again, pulling her innocent little cotton knickers over her cunt, and scooping her stretched nipples into the sensible bra, covering the whole thing in her sweet summer dress.

Then he had her kneel before him again, and removed her collar, placing it carefully in a case.

“I shall see you next week, Hermione.”

She nodded shakily, still overwhelmed by the intensity of her session with him. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured.

Then she stepped into the floo.

Chapter Text

“Ah, if it isn’t Bella’s little bitch,” Thorfinn smirked, as Pucey brushed the soot from his robes.

Pucey stiffened. “Rowle,” he greeted him, his tone guarded.

“I still think it’s a shame we didn’t do the ritual on you too, and have a pair of toys,” Thorfinn murmured, stepping forward and backing Pucey into the wall. “Bella had you so well trained. Such a waste of a good slave.”

Pucey’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down, not meeting his eyes.

“That’s right, you know your place,” Thorfinn jibed, reaching down to cup Pucey’s cock and balls through his trousers, squeezing lightly.

Pucey whimpered, the sound turning into an outright moan as Thorfinn continued to fondle him.

There was a soft cough from across the room, and both men turned to see Hermione, dressed for the afternoon in a black knit dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck, that fit her like a second skin. Her nipple rings were clearly visible through the fabric, and she crossed her arms self-consciously.

Thorfinn released Pucey, stepping back with a smile. “Hello, Pet. All ready for your afternoon with Flint and Pucey?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, still staring at Pucey’s flushed cheeks and visible erection, as he leaned against the wall.

Thorfinn followed her gaze, and his smile sharpened as he noticed the other man’s arousal.

“Pucey here used to be a toy too, mostly for Bellatrix,” he explained casually. “She liked to share him around on occasion, though. He was an excellent slut.”

Pucey straightened, taking a deep breath. “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed my… services,” he said, evenly, lifting his chin and smiling at Hermione.

“Shall we go, Hermione? Marcus and I have four hours booked with you and I must say after seeing that dress, I am eager to begin.” He held out his arm to her. “We’ll be apparating, as our apartment isn’t on the Floo network.”

Hermione stepped forward to take his arm, and Thorfinn put a warning hand on Pucey’s shoulder.

“I know how you like to play, Pucey. Remember her rules, or I will fucking destroy you. Understood?”

Pucey nodded quickly. “Perfectly, sir.”

***

They apparated to the hallway of a sleek, muggle-looking apartment that appeared, to Hermione’s surprise, to be in central London.

Pucey led the way down the hall to a sitting room decorated in minimalist style, all clean lines and polished surfaces, along with two large white leather sofas.

Flint was relaxing on one of them, looking expensive in a dark green button-down shirt and tailored grey trousers - a million miles from the brutish Quidditch captain Hermione recalled from Hogwarts.

Pucey went immediately to Flint’s side, dropping to his knees on the floor next to him and settling into position.

Flint leaned down, casually gripping a handful of Pucey’s perfect blond hair and angling his head for a kiss, claiming Pucey’s mouth as he knelt at his feet until he was moaning into his Master’s mouth.

Hermione watched, open mouthed and strangely aroused by Pucey’s evident submission and Flint’s easy dominance.

Flint finally released his sub, leaving Pucey flushed and panting on his knees as he stood to greet Hermione.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he smiled. “I’m Marcus, and you’ve already met Adrian. For now, you may call me Marcus, but once we begin a scene you may call me Sir, or Master Flint. Adrian answers to most things, and although he is technically your Master, please do not use that title for him in this house.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, sir. I mean… thank you, Marcus,” she corrected herself awkwardly.

Marcus sat down on the sofa, and summoned a tray of colourful-looking cocktails from the kitchen with a lazy flick of his wand.

“Come and sit down,” he said encouragingly, patting the sofa beside him.

Adrian smiled at her. “We thought we’d start by getting to know each other a little, and what better way to do that than a game of Never Have I Ever, based on a BDSM limits list?”

Hermione laughed self-consciously. “Up until last week that would have been a very boring game for me, but I suppose I’ve gained quite a lot of experience recently,” she said ruefully, taking a seat beside Marcus. It felt like a novelty to be fully clothed for once, and to be sitting on a chair instead of on someone’s lap, or kneeling on the floor.

Adrian laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I remember that feeling. Don’t worry, you get used to it, and please don’t be embarrassed - I’m pretty sure there’s almost nothing on the limits list I haven’t done at this point.”

He glanced up at Marcus with a smirk, and Marcus shook his head with a chuckle. “He’s a real masochist,” he explained to Hermione. “He genuinely gets off on pain - which is probably just as well.”

Hermione shivered. “I’d like to say I never understood that, but unfortunately I’m discovering whole new worlds of what my body is capable of.”

Marcus handed her a cocktail, taking one for himself and leaving Adrian to take the third. “My own recipe - I won’t give away the secret, but I hope you like it.”

He clinked his glass against Hermione’s and Adrian’s and took a generous mouthful.

Hermione took a cautious sip, and smiled as the sweet, fruity flavour filled her mouth. There was definitely more than a hint of alcohol in it, but it was delicious.

Adrian picked up a list from the table, and a pen. “So. We’ll go down the list, taking it in turns to say never have I ever… done whatever it is. If you’ve done it, even if you just said it, you drink. And then we take it in turns to share our story or experience. If you haven’t done it, you don’t drink, and instead you’ll say whether it’s a hard or soft limit for you, or if it’s something you’d like to try. It’s a long list, so don’t feel you need to give a long story for everything if you don’t want to! I’ll start us off; Never have I ever tried anal.”

They all laughed as they took large sips of their drinks.

“Robert Hilliard, the Ravenclaw prefect, took my anal virginity in the prefect’s bathroom when we were both fifth years,” Adrian supplied. “Since then… I must have had well over a hundred different cocks, as well as toys, fists, beaters bats, and however many other things up my ass on a regular basis. And now we’re out of Azkaban, I have a permanent plug unless I’m being fucked, much like yourself, Hermione.”

Marcus casually grasped a handful of Adrian’s hair, pulling him up for a kiss. Adrian moaned as his Master claimed his mouth, both of them visibly hardening.

“Fuck this is hot,” Marcus groaned, as he finally released his panting sub. “I don’t think we’re going to get all the way through this list, but I guess we can try. Adrian took my anal virginity in fifth year, and he’s the only one I’ve ever bottomed for. I’ve topped a couple of others, but mostly I just get to fuck this beautiful idiot whenever and however I like,” he said fondly, running his hands through Adrian’s hair.

Hermione took a deep breath, realising it was her turn. “Well, you watched Macnair take my anal virginity last week… I’ve worn a plug pretty much 24/7 ever since, and the other day Master Thorfinn put a 10-inch dildo up my ass, so it’s fair to say I’ve gained a lot of experience in a short time. I didn’t enjoy it initially, but now that having a cock inside me is the only way I can cum, my body is quickly learning to associate it with pleasure.”

She wriggled a little on the sofa, feeling the familiar plug shift inside her.

They went down the list, ticking off ten different kinds of bondage - Adrian apparently loved to be tied up, and Marcus loved to tie him; Hermione had experienced some bondage at the hands of Thoros, but quickly discovered there was a whole world of ways to be bound that hadn’t even occurred to her.

Something about being fully clothed and on an equal footing with Marcus and Adrian, especially with Adrian also a slave in this space, made her more confident speaking about her experiences and even admitting what she enjoyed, in a way she just couldn’t when Master Thorfinn and Master Rosier were trying to make her confess her fantasies.

“Never have I ever done breath play,” Marcus announced. “This one’s actually true - not my thing. I occasionally choke Adrian with my cock when I’m fucking his face, but I’ve never really been bothered by breath play. Not a limit, just not a preference.”

Adrian shrugged. “I’ve been choked and smothered a few times, and Mistress Bella liked to punish me by holding my head underwater, but not really in a sexual way. Because I’m a masochist, she couldn’t really punish me with pain, so drowning me was a way to hurt me without turning me on. And I’ve put a hand round a sub’s throat before, and choked them on my cock a bit, but yeah, not really breath play.”

They both turned to Hermione, who was taking a sip of her drink. “I guess this is one where somehow I have more experience than you then,” she said, with a slight laugh. “Master Thorfinn likes to hold me underwater in the bath while he fucks me, and I just have to trust that he’ll let me breathe when he’s ready. It puts me into deep subspace really quickly, because it really shows me how helpless I am and how I have no choice but to submit, and it makes me cum so hard. Several of the other Masters have choked me on their cocks, too, Malfoy and Rosier are particularly fond of forcing themselves down my throat as deep as they can and then holding me there while my throat spasms around them. I hate it in the moment, but it always gives me the biggest orgasms.”

“Wow. The way you explain it, I almost want to try it,” Adrian commented, watching Hermione with a newfound respect.

Hermione laughed shyly. “The key is to relax and trust your Master. If you panic, your body goes into fight-or-flight mode and then you’re likely to bite them or something.”

Marcus made a face. “If you bite me, Ad, I will bite you back, harder,” he warned.

Adrian sighed dramatically. “Promises, promises,” he smirked. “Never have I ever been caned.”

He took a big gulp of his cocktail, and Marcus laughed. “Sentences I never thought I’d hear you say,” he teased. “Come here and show Hermione the pretty stripes I put on your ass last night.”

Adrian stood up, undoing his trousers as he draped himself across his Master’s lap.

Marcus tugged the fabric down, revealing a neat set of ten raised welts across Adrian’s cheeks, with two more strokes crossing the ten diagonally to form an X, dark purple bruises forming on the ‘stars’ where the welts crossed.

Marcus ran his hand over his sub’s ass, kneading and squeezing, and Adrian gasped and whimpered as he did his best not to squirm.

“He loves it,” Marcus told Hermione, conversationally, as he continued to torture his sub. “Want to try?”

Hermione reached out a tentative hand, and ran a finger over the raised texture of the bruises, drawing a moan from Adrian.

“Tell Hermione about how you found out you love to be caned,” Marcus prompted, grinning as Hermione grew bolder and squeezed a handful of Adrian’s ass.

“I was a… sub… for Gilderoy Lockhart… for a few months in my sixth year,” he gasped, between moans.

Hermione gasped too, shocked. “While he was your professor?” she asked, somehow scandalised despite everything they’d been discussing.

“Yes,” Adrian admitted. “I propositioned him, and he was more than happy to oblige.”

“I had such a massive crush on him,” Hermione murmured, her face scarlet. “I was just a second year but he sent me a valentine’s card and I slept with it under my pillow.”

Marcus and Adrian both snorted with laughter.

“You never had a detention with him, did you?” Marcus asked, quickly.

Hermione shook her head. “No. Harry had several, but I never got detentions.”

“Good,” Adrian said grimly. “He took advantage of some of the girls who did - although they were all sixth and seventh years as far as we know. Anyway, he was a complete sadist, he loved to spank and flog and paddle and especially to cane me. He loved it most of all when I came while he beat me, and then he could beat me more for cumming without permission. Afterwards I used to wank in the toilets while squeezing my bruises to remember the pain.”

Marcus dragged his fingernails over Adrian’s ass, making him whimper. “That’s why he’s kneeling today, because if he sits directly on his ass, he’ll cum in his pants,” he explained casually to Hermione.

Hermione giggled at the unexpected comment. “Well, this morning Master Rookwood gave me a potion that reverses pain and pleasure, and caned my cunt and ass til I came, but that was agony afterwards. Other than that, Master Yaxley caned and flogged my tits, that hurt a lot too. It’s not something I want to experience again if I can help it, but I don’t really get a choice.”

Marcus nodded. “The reason we’re doing this, apart from just getting to know each other and getting in the mood a bit, is because we don’t want to force you, Hermione. I know that sounds silly, because this whole thing is against your will, but we would rather you join us occasionally as a willing third in our dynamic, not as a sex slave. If you don’t want to be caned, I don’t want to cane you. It’s as simple as that.”

Hermione’s head snapped up, and she looked Marcus in the eye properly for the first time, seeing only sincerity and kindness there. “I… thank you,” she said, quietly.

He smiled gently, and traced a line across Adrian’s quivering ass. “As you can see, I’m quite proficient with a cane. I have come to enjoy it, but mostly I enjoy how much he enjoys it. Adrian can take as much pain as I can dish out, and usually more. I would be happy to explore other forms of sex and BDSM with you, that aren’t based around pain but are more about sensation or humiliation or whatever it is you’re into. As for my own experience, I have been caned myself once, and I didn’t enjoy it, but Bellatrix believed - correctly, I think - that a Master should never use something on a submissive that they haven’t experienced themselves. Accordingly, I’ve tried each pain toy we have exactly once, so I know exactly how it hurts and therefore how to use it well.”

“Did Bellatrix teach you how to be a Dom?” Hermione asked, curiously.

“Not really, I was already pretty well-versed by then. But she certainly considered herself my mentor, and I suppose I did learn a few things from her,” Marcus admitted. “Speaking of which, never have I ever done CBT.”

Adrian shivered where he lay across Marcus’ lap. “I can’t drink in this position, but I think I should probably be draining my glass,” he commented.

Marcus patted his sub’s ass. “Up you get, I’ve tortured you enough for now.”

Adrian got to his feet, picking up his drink and taking a swig. He stood beside the sofa, his trousers still undone and pulled down a few inches, displaying his rigid cock. Hermione’s eyes widened at the large silver ring pierced into the head of it, and the five thick silver bars lining the underside like a ladder.

Adrian waved a hand at them. “Case in point; CBT. What can I say, I’m a pain slut, and Bellatrix loved a piercing.”

Marcus shook his head at his sub. “Adrian is understating it. Bellatrix used to seriously torture him for hours, she got off on it. And she had Rookwood do a ritual on him a bit like the one he did on you that bound your pleasure to us; if Adrian’s balls are squeezed or crushed or compressed in any way, he becomes instantly submissive and cannot say no. It’s kind of like the Imperius curse, except he’s not just floating in a sea of calm in his head, he knows exactly what’s happening, but he can’t stop it or protest. She would put his balls in a humbler and then force him to pierce his own cock, shit like that.”

“That’s why you just sort of melted when Master Thorfinn groped you,” Hermione realised aloud. “So CBT… that stands for Cock and Ball Torture?”

Marcus nodded, but turned to Adrian. “Rowle groped you?”

Adrian shrugged. “He called me Bella’s little bitch and backed me into a wall, and grabbed my balls and warned me not to hurt Hermione or I’d be the new Toy.”

Marcus growled, low in his throat, but Hermione gasped. “He said that?” she asked aloud, before she’d thought about it. A little burst of warmth at the thought of her Master trying to protect her flooded through her chest.

Both men stared at her, and she blushed. “I - sorry. I’ve experienced a little bit of CBT, when Master Lestrange had me polyjuice as Malfoy. It was… weird, and painful. Not something I’d love to do again.”

Marcus pursed his lips, eyeing her. “Be careful about falling for your Master,” he said quietly. “It’s classic Stockholm Syndrome and it rarely ends well for the slave.”

Hermione blushed harder, looking away. “I’m not - I mean - well, it’s hard not to be attracted to the one person holding your head above water, especially when they make you cum multiple times a day. It’s just biology.”

“We’re not blaming you, Hermione,” Adrian said gently. “Just telling you to be careful. And on that note… Never have I ever tried cockwarming.”

Hermione picked up her drink and took a deep swallow. “Master Thorfinn likes to sleep with his cock inside me, and because of the six hour limit between getting cock, it means I can get a decent sleep.”

She risked a glance at Marcus and Adrian, but their expressions weren’t mocking or knowing. Adrian shook his head slightly. “I knew he was a kinky bastard. I suppose it works better when you have a cunt, I don’t think anal cock warming would work that well - which is to say, I’ve not tried it.”

Marcus made a face, apparently imagining the sensation of his softened cock trapped in Adrian’s tightening ass after a night’s sleep. “Mmm, I think we’ll give that one a miss. I can see how it sounds hot if your sub has a cunt though.”

They moved quickly through cuckolding, cum drinking, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, golden showers, and so many more.

Hermione was both impressed and horrified by the breadth of Adrian’s experience in particular, although she was also alarmed to see her own newfound experience so starkly catalogued. It was adding up fast.

Marcus and Adrian were very tactile, frequently touching, kissing, and even demonstrating the various sex acts as they listed them, all of them becoming more free as they continued to sip their drinks.

Hermione noticed Marcus’ gaze frequently dropping to her tits, where the tight black dress clung to her curves, showing off her tight, pierced nipples to perfection.

“Never have I ever tried hot wax play,” Adrian read off the list, taking another large sip of his drink.

Hermione paused, trying to remember. “Oh - yes, Master Thoros used wax on me, I think,” she recalled, taking a sip. “I was all tied up, and he used ice and wax and a nasty little spiky wheel and all sorts. It was very overwhelming.”

Marcus licked his lips. “I would love to show you how delicious wax play can be, Hermione. Your tits would look delectable covered in wax, and from everything you’ve told us about what you like, I think it would be a very enjoyable experience for you.”

Hermione blushed, looking away as she tried to formulate a response, a rush of heat pooling low in her belly at the rough edge of desire in Marcus’ voice.

“As you might have guessed,” Adrian murmured, “my Master is a big fan of wax play. I don’t prefer it - the pain is too mild, unless it’s dangerously hot, and then it’s too difficult to heal properly - but I enjoy how much he enjoys it.”

Marcus chuckled, low in his throat. “You used to love it when Bella put a candle in your ass and used you as a table decoration for her dinner orgies,” he murmured.

Adrian shivered. “That was more about the humiliation and anticipation of the candle eventually burning itself out and filling my ass with molten wax, than about the wax play itself,” he said lightly. “I loved watching you watch me, up there on the table on display, helpless and covered in dripping wax, which I know is one of your favourite visuals.”

Marcus groaned, shifting his weight slightly as he palmed himself through his trousers. “Fuck, Adrian, you can’t just say things like that. Come here.”

Adrian dropped immediately to his knees, undoing Marcus’ belt and freeing his impressive cock. He took him into his mouth with familiar ease, and Hermione watched shamelessly as he skillfully deepthroated his Master.

“So, what do you say, Hermione? Do you fancy trying a scene, letting off a little steam? We can return to the list when we’re all a little less… tense?”

Hermione swallowed, then nodded. She was very turned on, and Marcus seemed like a kind Dom. “Yes. Please,” she added.

Marcus grinned. “Come here then, sweetheart,” he purred.

Hermione crawled towards him across the sofa, kneeling beside him as he smiled sinfully up at her. His large, warm hands came to rest on her waist, tugging her closer, then skimmed up her sides to cup her large breasts.

She still wasn’t used to how big they were now, thanks to the potion they had given her that first day, and it felt strangely thrilling to see them filling Marcus’ hands, full and heavy.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, stroking his thumbs over her nipples through the fabric, making her whimper. They were still very sore and sensitive from carrying Master Rookwood’s dinner too and from the kitchen on the tray, but Marcus’ gentle touch felt unbearably erotic.

“What’s your safeword?” he asked softly, as she trembled under his touch.

“I… I don’t…” she faltered. She had read about safewords in the books Master Thorfinn had had her read on BDSM, but as a slave, she didn’t get to say stop.

Marcus’ face tightened, but he didn’t comment.

“Mine’s hippogriff,” he said, voice even. “How about we use that? You know how safewords work, right, Hermione?”

She nodded. “Yes sir. I just haven’t had the.. Opportunity for one.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t need it today either. But just in case, repeat it back to me.”

“Hippogriff,” she said, firmly.

He smiled, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Good girl. Now, arms up.”

She raised her arms obediently, and he slid the dress off over her head, revealing her naked body beneath.

“What a good girl,” he purred, and chuckled as she blushed, rubbing her thighs together as his words sent a gush of arousal to her cunt.

“What’s the last thing that was done to these pretty tits, Hermione?” he asked, bending his head to lick one of her nipples.

She gasped at the sensation, already struggling to speak as he teased her.

“M-master Rookwood,” she said, as evenly as she could. “He attached a tray to my piercings and had me serve his lunch on it, walking all through the house with heavy plates and bottles on it. I thought my nipples were going to rip right through. That was just about two hours ago.”

Marcus shook his head slowly, looking up at her in something like awe. “Two hours ago, you were Rookwood’s slave, and now here you are, willingly submitting to me. And I bet you’ve had two or three other men today too, right?”

Hermione nodded warily. “Master Thorfinn, and Master Rosier. They didn’t really hurt my tits though - just a bit with the pinwheel on my nipples. But yesterday Master Yaxley whipped them pretty hard with a riding crop, and he had clamps on my nipples too.”

Marcus put a hand on the back of Adrian’s head, holding him down as he grunted, cumming down his sub’s throat at Hermione’s words.

“You’re incredible,” he told her, sincerely, as Adrian sat back with a smile, wiping his mouth.

“Now, Adrian, lie down on the sofa, and Hermione, sit on his face. He’s going to eat you out while I show you just how amazing hot wax can feel. Any time you want to cum, just ask, and I’ll let you sit on his cock for a minute. Ok?”

Adrian turned out to be extremely talented with his tongue.

Hermione writhed, desperate with desire as he worshipped her cunt, grinding into his face. Marcus watched in delight, teasing her nipples between fingers and thumb and drawing long moans in response.

“Keep your arms behind your back for me, sweetheart. I’m not going to tie you, I want you to be a good girl for me. Can you do that for me, Hermione?”

She nodded frantically, gripping her elbows behind her back, pressing her tits forward into Marcus’ palms. “Yes sir!” she gasped, as Adrian sucked lightly on her clit, drawing a long moan from her throat.

“So responsive,” he smirked, bending to kiss her neck as she threw back her head, already approaching orgasm.

She didn’t even notice him summon the candles, lighting them with a flick of his wand as he set them on the table.

The first drop of wax landed high on her left breast, and she shrieked at the anticipated pain as it splashed hot against her tender skin.

Marcus cupped her face in his hand, his fingers sliding into her hair and holding her in place. His dark eyes locked on hers, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone soothingly.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Tell me how you feel.”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening as she realised she wasn’t in pain at all. The initial sting of heat had dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. The splatter of scarlet against her skin was strangely erotic as she looked down at it, and she drew in another breath.

“I feel… good,” she said softly. “Really good.”

Marcus grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth that surprised her. “That’s my good girl. Tell me if it gets too much.”

He raised the candle again, tugging her head back with his grip on her hair, and let a series of drops cascade down onto her breasts.

She moaned loudly as they landed, arching into the sensation even as she rocked her hips into Adrian’s mouth as he worked her towards her peak.

More wax poured from the candle, more of a stream than droplets now, coating the top of her other breast in a way that seemed to delight Marcus, if the filthy words he was murmuring to her were any indication.

She moaned and squirmed and begged helplessly under their dual assault, desperate to cum, but not wanting the delicious sensations to end.

Marcus tilted the candle once more, coating her nipple in wax, and she squealed with unsuppressed need.

“Please may I cum?!”

He responded with a flick of his wand, levitating her neatly up by a few inches, then directing her back until she was poised above Adrian's neglected cock.

Adrian drew in greedy breaths, a blissfully dazed expression borne of oxygen deprivation and a desperate need to cum painting his features along with Hermione's slick.

“Ready?” Marcus asked, glancing at his lover with fond amusement.

“Yes!” Adrian and Hermione answered in enthusiastic unison, and Marcus released the spell, impaling Hermione immediately on Adrian's needy cock.

Each piercing pressed into her cunt deliciously as it was rammed inside her, and she screamed as the combination of the heady sensations and the magically-released orgasm hit her body like the Hogwarts Express.

She fell forward, clinging to Adrian as the orgasm rocked through her, her fluttering cunt milking every drop of cum from him as his hips stuttered upward, filling her to the brim with his own orgasm.

Marcus smirked. “You didn’t just cum without permission did you, darling?” he asked in a falsely sweet tone.

Hermione’s gaze snapped anxiously to his, ready to protest, but it was Adrian who whimpered. “No…?” he tried.

Marcus flicked his wand again, levitating Hermione back into place riding Adrian’s face, except this time she was facing his cock.

“Clean up your mess, dirty boy.”

He picked up the candle again, holding it barely an inch above Adrian’s softening cock as Hermione watched, eyes wide. With the candle that close, the pain would be agonising. Adrian’s tongue delved inside her deliciously, licking his cum out of her with apparent enthusiasm, her ass completely blocking his view of the hot wax poised above his most sensitive parts.

Marcus tilted the candle, letting a long stream of molten wax splatter over Adrian’s cock and balls.

He arched beneath her, a yelp of pain muffled by her thighs and vibrating through her clit. She watched in awe as his abused cock immediately began to stiffen, and Marcus laughed, pouring another stream of wax directly onto the head. He moaned, long and low, a sound of equal pain and desire.

Marcus met Hermione’s gaze, noting her flushed cheeks and eyes dark with arousal. He leaned forward, running his fingers through her tousled curls, and put his mouth to the sensitive shell of her ear. “May I kiss you?” he murmured.

Hermione shivered, her whole body electrified by the heat of his breath and his words in her ear. “Y-yes,” she squeaked, clenching her thighs around Adrian’s head as he nibbled lightly on her clit, making her squeal again.

Marcus straddled his sub’s body, trapping Adrian’s hard, wax-coated cock between his own abs and the rough fabric of Marcus’ trousers, and kissed his way down the side of Hermione’s jaw to her mouth.

His kiss was gently possessive, all consuming but adoring, and Hermione melted under him. His hand ran down the length of her body, kneading and caressing, slipping between her legs to tease her clit as Adrian continue to fuck her with his tongue.

She moaned into his mouth, putty in his hands.

“Good girl,” Marcus purred against her lips. “How would you like to cum, Hermione?”

She blinked up at him, eyes spacey and dark, and he smiled. “Whose cock, in which hole? Or shall I choose for you?”

“You choose, Master,” she whispered, trembling as his thumb slid over her clit again.

Marcus picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively as he climbed off the sofa, walking her over to the sideboard and setting her down on the edge.

“Feet up, legs wide, and lean back,” he instructed. “Hook your arms under your knees to keep them in place.”

Hermione did her best to take the position, splaying herself wide for him as he picked up a heavy flogger of black leather strands.

“I promise this will be incredible. Do you trust me, sweetheart?” he asked her.

She nodded quickly, eyes fixed on the leather.

“I’m going to use this to get the wax off your tits, and warm up your cunt. It brings the blood to the surface, and makes you so much more sensitive,” he told her, his voice firm and even.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

The thud of the flogger was becoming a familiar sensation, but this one was larger, heavier and also somehow softer than the others she had experienced, with less of a sting on impact and more of a slow, tingling burn that she found she didn’t hate as Marcus used it with frightening precision to flick the wax from her breasts, alternating strokes between her glistening cunt and her abused tits.

After Adrian’s attentions, and Marcus’s kiss, she had already been ready to cum, but now she felt almost at bursting as he steadily flogged her, skin reddening under the leather.

Tears slipped from her eyes as her orgasm built and built. “Please, please, please,” she chanted, in half-broken sobs.

Marcus continued his rhythm unbroken as he freed himself with one hand, Hermione visibly trembling but fighting to keep her position as he had instructed. He stroked himself a couple of times, then lined himself up and slid home.

She was so wet and ready for him that it took no effort at all, and she immediately screamed, her body almost seizing as the overdue orgasm crashed through her.

He caught her as she collapsed, holding her quivering frame against she milked his cock with her spasming cunt, the spray of fluid as she squirted soaking his trousers and sweater.

“You are such a good girl, sweetheart,” he murmured, picking her up again and cradling her against his chest as he flexed his hips, moving gently inside her.

She moaned into his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss into her curls. “I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart, and then you can have a little rest while I take care of Adrian, ok?”

She nodded, and he laid her down on the sofa, shifting her legs up over his shoulders to give him better leverage as he drove into her. She was pliant and contented beneath him, making soft moues of pleasure as he filled her over and over.

He finished quickly, spilling himself inside her with a shudder and a groan.

***

Hermione woke up about an hour later, feeling deliciously sore and content.

She stretched like a cat, looking around at the unfamiliar room. It had to be Marcus and Adrian’s bedroom, she realised. The sheets were luxuriously soft, and the decor was sleek and masculine, just like the living room. There were metal rings set into the bed, all around the headboard, up the posts and around the base and canopy - perfect for tying someone to, she realised - and a large cage in the corner of the room like one might use for a dog. A chest of drawers was partly open, displaying an impressive selection of dildos.

Hermione reluctantly slid out of bed in search of a bathroom.

She was still naked, but she was used to that now. She padded out of the bedroom into the hallway, and found the bathroom door ajar.

Like everything else, it was sleek and modern, and she quickly relieved herself, and cleaned up a bit.

She could hear that Marcus and Adrian were still in the living room - sharp smacks were alternating with loud moans and pleas - and she surmised that Adrian’s punishment for cumming without permission was ongoing.

Curious despite herself, she peeked around the door into the living room.

Adrian was fully naked now, hung upside-down from the ceiling by his ankles, legs spread, his wrists bound together and tied to the floor beneath him, stretching him taut.

His cock had been stuffed into a tiny cage that she suspected would have been tight even when he was fully flaccid, and appeared painfully red as it strained to harden.

Marcus stood behind him with a wooden paddle, and from the deep purple of Adrian’s ass, he’d been spanking him for a while.

“Please,” Adrian sobbed, moaning pitifully as Marcus slammed the paddle into his ass again.
“I told you. You came inside Hermione without asking, and without my permission. So you may not cum again until Hermione says you can - and right now, she’s asleep. So you’re going to have to ride this sweet little pain-edging predicament until she wakes up and takes pity on you,” Marcus said, his tone soothing as he stroked a hand up and down Adrian’s thigh comfortingly, as if he weren’t the one who had set up the diabolical punishment, before smacking the paddle into the back of Adrian’s left thigh, where more purple welts revealed he had also taken extensive beating.

Hermione watched with wide eyes, strangely aroused by the scene - perhaps because of the evident arousal of both participants.

Marcus moved around Adrian, bending one knee to feed his sub his cock as he continued to spank him by reaching around his body.

He caught Hermione’s eye as she watched from the doorway, and winked at her as he thrust down Adrian’s throat, but didn’t give her away, leaving it in her hands.

She cautiously tiptoed into the room, and Marcus smiled encouragingly at her. Adrian couldn’t see her at this angle.

Picking up a paddle, she caught Marcus’ eye, and pointed to Adrian’s ass with a questioning expression.

He looked surprised, but shrugged and nodded, placing his own paddle down on the floor.

Adrian, focused entirely on breathing around Marcus’ cock in his throat, didn’t notice the switch as Hermione raised her paddle and landed it squarely on his ass.

Marcus groaned softly as he came down Adrian’s throat, the sight of Hermione wielding the paddle on his sub surprisingly erotic.

Then he stepped back, still in front of Adrian as Hermione continued to paddle him, waiting to see how long it would take Adrian to realise what had happened - and that the means to his release was now present.

Hermione had never considered corporal punishment to be particularly erotic before her life as a slave began, but the combination of her own experiences, and the obvious arousal of Adrian, made the experience of delivering a spanking more arousing than she had thought possible.

The way he moaned and jerked as each blow landed, his soft ass quivering beneath the hard wood of the paddle, his bruised flesh discolouring further under every strike, sent a flood of desire through her, and she moaned softly.

It took Adrian a moment to put it together - his eyes snapping open, noting his Master sitting across from him even as the paddle continued to work over his ass, and the soft, feminine moans coming from behind him - before he began to beg in earnest.

“Please, Hermione, please may I come! Have mercy, Mistress, please!”

Hermione giggled at being addressed as Mistress - it was oddly heady. She scraped her nails over the purple skin of his thigh, enjoying the way his muscles jumped and twitched under the assault.

“You can beg better than that, I’m sure,” she told him, flicking his balls with her fingernail for good measure.

He howled, gasping for breath. “Yes Mistress! Please Mistress! This slave deserves nothing but punishment Mistress, but throws itself on its Mistress’s goodness and kindness and mercy to grant it a brief reprieve!” he sobbed, far more articulate than Hermione had expected.

“Ooh, keep talking, pretty boy,” she purred, pinching his ass.

“Please Mistress, this slave can do nothing but beg for mercy, please,” he whimpered.

Marcus stood up, raising his eyebrows at Hermione. “Well, mistress Hermione?” he asked. “Are you going to play nicely?”

Hermione blushed. “You have my permission to cum, Adrian,” she said quietly, pressing a kiss to the skin she had just pinched.

Adrian was almost vibrating as Marcus carefully released his bonds, laying his trembling body down gently on the rug.

“You’re going to cum in your mouth,” he told Adrian. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll release the cage.”

Adrian nodded frantically. “I’m ready, I’m ready,” he gasped.

Marcus smiled fondly, and tapped his wand against the tiny cock cage. It sprang free, releasing Adrian’s cock, which immediately swelled to full size at a speed that looked painful.

Adrian groaned in ecstasy, and Marcus helped him lift his hips and fold himself in half, until he could suck his own cock.

He came almost immediately, swallowing down his own cum as his hands compulsively clenched at his ass.

Marcus pulled Hermione down into his lap as they watched Adrian, smiling. “Well, sweetheart, that was unexpected. I’m afraid we’re out of time, but next time we meet I’m sure we’ll explore this little… dominant streak of yours a little more. For now, I need to do some aftercare. Do you need anything? How are you feeling?”

Hermione blushed. “I… feel good. Thank you. I look forward to the next time your name is in my diary.”

Marcus smirked. “Good. Pop your dress on, then, and I’ll apparate you home.