Draco and hermione (alt)

Coming home from a shitty day at work to an empty house and a text saying that he’d be late was the last thing Hermione wanted. In fact, it just caused the upset and dissatisfaction to stir. She fought it valiantly, taking her time in shedding her clothes to start her normal routine. Robes off, jumper off, skirt off… everything except her garters and hose. Panties were a no no even when she went to work so she only had a couple pairs in her dresser, mostly to complete specific outfits. She folded everything neatly and went to her cushion by the armchair for her daily reflection.

The familiar kneeling position did nothing to quiet her mind today. All she could think about was how infuriated she was at her coworkers, how one in particular had bugged her deliberately it seemed, over and over. Her brain was muddied and aching from all the emotions and thoughts. She tried to breathe and find her serene place but it wasn’t coming in this maelstrom.

She shifted out of her position and sat with her arms around her knees, groaning as she tried to process. The feeling of being naked in her special spot was arousing her despite it all and she nearly shuddered with relief. That’s what she needed, a good orgasm to get all these feelings out of her. She shifted her thighs open and slid her hand down, ever so slowly. She skimmed her nails lightly over her bare folds and shivered, gooseflesh rising.

Her pussy ached and she started fingering her clit, skimming and stroking it till it pulsed in time with her heart. She let her other hand pinch her nipples till they throbbed, not feeling nearly as good as when Sir…no she couldn’t think about that. But even as she fucked herself with two, then three fingers, grinding her palm against her clit, she couldn’t get off. She was soaking wet, tears running down her face but it wouldn’t come, literally. She hovered at the edge, so close it hurt, but nothing, no trick would trick her body into the much needed orgasm.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” The voice froze her body, three fingers stuck deep in her cunt. Her eyes had been squeezed shut. But they slowly opened, starting first at the shoes, black and polished, before traveling up up up…to the icy gaze and frown of Sir. Her heart stopped, then kick started into high gear. Normally she’d be in the surrender position, kow-towing with her wrists crossed as she awaited punishment. But today was a shitty day and she frowned, mulishly. That caused a brow to rise and her heart pounded that much harder. Then she had to go and make it worse.

“Fingering myself, what does it look like?” She immediately regretted the words but they were already out in the air. Her fingers still buried in her sticky wet pussy and her body splayed like a slut.

She started to pull them out but froze at the taciturn “Leave them.” She watched as he examined her body, not saying anything for a good solid minute. He then pulled up a straight backed chair and inclined his head as he sat, fingers laced and his elbows on his knees. “Continue.”

His lack of direction but full attention grated on her nerves. Fine, he wanted to watch, she’d show him. Her legs fell apart and she fucked her fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, feeling herself grow disconcerted under his unwavering stare. His body was completely still except for his eyes, which bounced between her pussy and her face. Back and forth leisurely, the only sounds in the room her labored breathing and the wet squelches of her fingers moving desperately. She was still so close, she tried every trick…but her body waited for a cue, a nod of approval from Sir. It pissed her off. It turned her on unbearably. She tried harder, using her pinkie to finger her ass…but nothing.

Still he stared. Why didn’t he say anything?! Why did he watch her try so desperately to come and not stop her or, for fuck’s sake, help her? She saw his erection through his slacks, felt a little gratification.

Nothing. The friction of her fingers taunted her. Her face was flaming, not from embarrassment but frustration. But now she worried. He had told her to masturbate, to finish what she started…Her fingers stilled and his eyes snapped to her face. Hazel eyes connected with grey. She trembled, humiliated and so conflicted. So she did what she knew best.

“Please Sir… I can’t…” She trailed off, a sob choking her throat.

“Can’t what?” He gave her no leniency, had no pity in his eyes. He waited, fingers laced in front of his mouth. His eyes were making her quake inside.

“Can’t finish. I…can’t…” She kept her fingers awkwardly inside of her because he hadn’t instructed otherwise. And as she rose up on her knees, her mind started to slow, stilling from the frantic whirl. The pressure on her chest eased. “I can’t come.” The whisper rang throughout the room. She was kneeling on her cushion, spotted with her fluids and she felt ashamed as she stared at the dark spots on the burgundy silk. She’d gotten her favorite item in the house dirty because she hadn’t been able to wait. Her pussy throbbed from her treatment and her breathing was still uneven, but tears of shame ran down her face.

She hadn’t been aware of him moving, caught up in her own misery. His grip around her wrist was hard as he pulled her fingers out of her cunt. She could smell her juices and her face flamed. His other hand buried into her sweaty curls and yanked her head back to look up at him. It may have been a trick of her mind, but his eyes seemed less hard as he stared at her.

“Filthy girl. Fingering my pussy without permission.” The words sent a tremor down her spine. She didn’t dare look away, even as he placed her wet fingers into her mouth. “Lick them clean.” She laved each one, imagining it was his cock, pulsing and hard on her tongue. He let her wantonly suck her fingers before pulling them away.

“Hands behind your back, girl.” He barely said the words and she had them laced, thrusting her breasts forward. He knelt down, inches between their bodies as he looked her over once again. Her flushed cheeks, wild hair, swollen pussy. Nothing escaped him and a few more tears slipped out, these of gratitude. She had been a bad bad girl but she could depend on this. Even more than the sex, she anticipated his discipline. As if reading her thoughts, he brought up his hand to collar her throat. The delicate gold chain she wore to work pressed against her pale skin, chafing between her neck and his hand till she let out a muffled whimper. His eyes glittered.

“Does wearing my collar mean nothing to you?” He inquired, his voice deceptively soft. Her pulse pounded frantically now as she tried to shake her head. His grip prevented that and the sense of helplessness went straight to her cunt.

“Sir, it does! I’m…”

"Sorry, yes. So sorry you thought to finger yourself without permission, get my gift to you dirty with your fluids. I think you’re just sorry you couldn’t orgasm. Do you know why you couldn’t, little girl?” His grip tightened infitesmially with each word. It was harder to breathe but not impossible.

“Sir, I’m so so—”

“Sorry. Yes. But that won’t stop the punishment you’ve got coming. You couldn’t orgasm, you little slut, because you didn’t have my permission. Your body knows its mine, knows that no matter how bad you want a cock in your pussy, your ass or your mouth, your orgasms are mine. Your body is mine to fuck, to hurt, to cherish, to degrade. It is entirely my decision whether or not you feel pain or pleasure. Now, thanks to this disruption, you’ll get more pain than pleasure.” Her low moan, cut off by the pressure on her throat, brought a look of triumph to his face. But he pulled his hand back and she swayed, the lack of connection disorienting her.

“What is your safe word?” He asked her, rolling up one sleeve precisely, then the other. She quivered, lowering her eyes.

“Firebolt, Sir.”

“Good. If you beg mercy, I may pause, but don’t count on it.” He trailed a finger lightly over the curve of one full breast. “You don’t deserve it, but I picked up a gift for you earlier. That’s why I was late.” His stare pinned hers and a few more tears escaped as she felt the shame rise up. He nodded, then the next thing she knew a clamp was tightened viciously on one nipple. She gasped but pressed her lips tightly shut at his quelling look. The other nipple followed, and the weighted clamps quivered and tugged with each labored breath she took.

“Beautiful. Your nipples get so sensitive don’t they? My personal little slut, so eager… look how much wetter you’ve gotten. But you haven’t earned that orgasm you were trying to steal. Should have seen yourself, writhing on your fingers like you thought they were my cock. Only got you all pretty and puffy for me…” His fingers coasted over her folds and she whimpered, biting her lower lip to keep quiet. She started when he pulled away abruptly, returning to sit on that chair, leaving her with her nipples and cunt throbbing in time. But she waited, trying to learn her lesson. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Across my lap. Lock your hands on your elbows, ass up. Be quick about it.” She scrambled to her feet, a little wobbly but she lay as he indicated. Her hands tightened on her arms as she focused on her breathing, blood starting to flow down into her head. “Spread your legs.” She whimpered again, knowing full well what was coming, but did as he asked.

Nothing. No movement, just the sound of his breathing. She jerked when his hand touched her ass, lightly tracing it.

“No need to count today, girl. We are going until my hand gets sore. If you think of coming without permission, I will take you to the club and let every stranger slap your tits and ass, yanking on the chain between your clamps until you scream and beg.” Warning delivered, the first slap came down, hard.

It was harder than she’d anticipated. Over and over, with a steady rhythm. She grunted with each hit, eyes watering from the sting. He would slap different areas, before revisiting one and hitting it harder. It burned, her ass throbbed and lit up with pain. The grunts turned into moans before long, then hard, aching sobs. But he didn’t stop.

She didn’t want him to. Each slap, each tear yanked from her made her chest ache and her head fuzz out. She was starting to drift into sub space when he landed a hit directly on her aching cunt. That made her scream, legs thrashing. He kept them in place with a firm hand, forcibly spread them apart. Then he slapped her cunt again, right on her clit. She choked on the scream that time, turning it into a violent sob as she pressed her face into his thigh, rubbing her cheek on his thigh desperately. He went back to her ass, but the hits were different… each one reverberated back to her pussy and she started writhing, humping his lap as much as she was able.

“Dirty slut, what do you want? Hmm? You’re not getting my cock, you haven’t earned that.” His voice was more relaxed, amused. She felt his cock against her stomach and moaned, squirming. He slapped her pussy again and she lost her breath. “Oh, more of that? Do you want your pussy punished?” His hand stopped entirely and she fought in earnest, feeling an orgasm so intense hover just out of reach.

She hazily realized he was waiting on her, demanded her attention. He deserved her responses at the very least, and honest ones at that. She was still crying, but she managed a broken “Please, p-please Sir… I was a b-bad girl, p-please punish my cunt…p-please let me come!” The last word was screamed as he spanked the crease of her thigh, his fingers just grazing her folds.

“Since you asked so prettily…You may come.” His words were followed by three fingers shoved deep into her cunt, curling and rubbing her g-spot in firm circles as he spanked her ass one last time.

The magic words had been said and her body locked up, muscle after muscle, until the tension broke and she screamed against his leg. Her hips bucked and ground on his fingers, riding them like a wanton whore. Her hands clawed into her arms, leaving welts as her body shuddered, over and over, wetness coating his entire hands as she rocketed straight into subspace.

She was then confused to find herself sitting upright on his lap, feeling light and empty, his silk handkerchief wiping her face till it was clean of tears and, embarrassingly, snot. She sagged against his sturdy frame, her arms wrapping around his neck. They moved to his comfy armchair, where he settled her legs over the side. She winced as he adjusted her on his lap, her ass sorer than it had felt minutes ago. He chuckled into her ear, sliding his hand over his handiwork until she whimpered.

“Thank you Sir… Thank you.” She nuzzled against his neck and reached up, curling her fingers around the chain at her throat. He petted her hair, until she went completely limp.

“ My pleasure. I’m sure you learned your lesson about relieving…frustration.” His tone was amused, very much so. And in that moment, content on his lap, she was sure she could forgive Draco Malfoy for being an ass at work if she got his focus and discipline and care at home.