Strip

Thomas hesitated, his heart pounding. He hadn’t anticipated this. The spell was supposed to be a translation, a harmless academic exercise. Not… this. But as he looked at her, standing there with her empty gaze fixed on him, a strange thrill coursed through him. Power. Real, undeniable power.

He swallowed hard, his voice steadying. "Strip."

Hermione didn’t hesitate. Her hands moved to the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. Her shirt followed, then her skirt, until she stood before him in nothing but her underwear. Her movements were mechanical, devoid of any hesitation or shame. She was his, utterly and completely.

Thomas’s eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. Her skin was pale, save for the faint flush of warmth that lingered on her chest. Her breathing was steady, her expression unchanged. She didn’t flinch as his gaze lingered, didn’t shy away from his scrutiny.

"All of it," he commanded, his voice low but firm.

Hermione’s hands moved to the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. The fabric fell away, revealing her breasts, small and perfect, the nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. She bent slightly to remove her panties, stepping out of them with the same detachment as before.

Now, she stood completely bare before him, her body on full display. Her hands hung at her sides, her posture straight and obedient. Her eyes remained locked on his, waiting for his next command.

Thomas stepped closer, his boots echoing softly on the stone floor. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Her skin was warm, soft, and she leaned into his touch instinctively. Good girl, he thought.

"Turn around," he murmured.

Hermione obeyed, pivoting gracefully on her heels until her back was to him. Her shoulders were tense, her body humming with a barely restrained energy. He walked around her slowly, taking in the curve of her spine, the gentle swell of her hips, the softness of her thighs. Every inch of her was perfect, and she was his.

"On your knees," he said, his voice firm.

She sank to the floor without hesitation, her knees pressing into the cold stone. Her hands rested on her thighs, her head bowed slightly, waiting. Her breathing was steady, her heart rate calm. She was his to command, his to mold.

Thomas crouched down in front of her, his fingers tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were still black, still empty, but there was something in them now, a flicker of… recognition? No, not recognition. Desire. A deep, primal desire to please him.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

Hermione’s lips parted obediently, her tongue resting lightly on her lower lip. Thomas’s hand moved to the waistband of his trousers, undoing the button and zipper with deliberate slowness. He pulled himself free, his cock already hard, throbbing with need.

"Take me in," he commanded, his voice low and husky.

Hermione leaned forward, her lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. Her tongue swirled around him, warm and wet, and he groaned softly. Her hands moved to his thighs, steadying herself as she took him deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried in her throat.

She didn’t gag, didn’t hesitate. Her mouth was warm, her tongue working him with a skill that surprised him. Her eyes remained locked on his, black and endless, as she sucked him off with a fervor that left him breathless.

"Faster," he growled, his hands tangling in her hair.

Hermione obeyed, her head bobbing up and down, her lips tight around him. Her tongue flicked against the sensitive spot just below the head, and he felt himself teetering on the edge.

"Stop," he said, pulling her off him with a sharp tug.

Hermione sat back on her heels, her lips glistening, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her gaze was still fixed on him, waiting for his next command.

"Touch yourself," Thomas ordered, his voice rough with desire.

Hermione’s hands moved to her chest, her fingers brushing against her nipples, pinching and tugging at them. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her other hand slid down her stomach, her fingers parting her folds, stroking herself with a practiced ease.

"Harder," Thomas growled, his cock twitching as he watched her.

Hermione obeyed, her fingers sliding inside her, her thumb rubbing circles around her clit. Her moans grew louder, more ****, her body trembling with pleasure. But still, her eyes remained locked on his, waiting for his next command.

Thomas stepped closer, his hand tangling in her hair again. "Look at me," he demanded.

Hermione’s gaze snapped to his, her fingers moving faster, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Thomas could feel his own release building, the sight of her unraveling beneath him driving him wild.

"Come for me," he growled.

Hermione’s body tensed, her back arching as pleasure ripped through her. Her walls clenched around her fingers, her moans filling the room. Thomas watched her, his own release close, his grip on her hair tightening.

"Now," he ordered, his voice rough.

Hermione’s hand shot to his cock, stroking him with a fervor that left him breathless. Her other hand stayed buried inside her, her walls still pulsing with aftershocks. Within moments, Thomas was coming, his release spilling over her fingers, her lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Good girl," he murmured, pulling her closer.

Hermione’s body leaned into his, her head resting on his thigh. Her breathing was rapid, her skin flushed, but still, her gaze was steady, waiting for his next command.

Thomas looked down at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, let’s see what else you can do..."