Up against the wall!

And then your hands are around her wrists, yanking them up, and Hermione squeaks in surprise as you shove her up against the wall. ‘Say sorry,’ you repeat, a little more dangerously. Hermione’s mouth opens, and in her eyes, you can see the ghost of Emma’s lust burning through.

‘I’m… I’m sorry,’ she mutters, trying to wrest her arms free. It’s no good; you’ve got her wrists pinned, and you’re stronger than she is. ‘There, I said it! Are you going to let me go?’

‘Let’s see…’ You pretend to think as you trail an idle finger between her boobs; Hermione looks down as if she can’t believe what you’re doing. ‘No. I think you’re a slut, and sluts deserve to be punished.’

‘How dare you!’ Hermione spits, even if it sounds little less convincing this time. ‘I am not a slut! Just because you can’t control your penis –’

Her voice cuts off suddenly as your hand squeezes roughly around her left tit. ‘Fine. Prove it. Put your hand inside your knickers, right now. If it comes out dry, I’ll let you go. If it comes out wet, you’re a slut and you’ll get what you fucking deserve.’

Hermione’s breath catches. ‘You’re foul, loathsome, vile…’

‘Heard it all before, sweetheart.’ You grip her wrists a little tighter. ‘Now, are you going to put your fingers down there, or shall I?’

Hermione holds your gaze for a long moment; then, exhaling angrily, she concedes. ‘Fine! Let go of my hands!’

‘I’ll let go of one hand,’ you allow. ‘Not both.’ You release one of her wrists, and Hermione sighs with relief. The skin around her wrist is slightly pink.

‘Fine, I – I’ll…’ She falters. ‘Just – don’t look, okay?’

You sigh exaggeratedly. ‘Whatever. Get on with it.’