Sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to the young girls face. She starred up
at the ceiling consisting of old grey stones as her body was rocked back
and forth in a steady rhythm. A sudden wave of nausea forced her to close
her eyes tightly but the sickness from her stomach was beginning to invade
her throat. Her mind could only concentrate on the deep moans coming from
the man that was deriving so much pleasure from invading her body.
"You like it, don't you" the voice stated more than asked. Oh Gods, that voice. The silkiness was buried deep under raspy pants that could only be cause by the purest form of sexual pleasure. The thrusting was becoming deeper and harder as Hermione tried to become numb to this utmost invasion of her being- mind, body, and soul. Her tear ducts were beginning to give away to the climbing pressure of the flood pushing against them. She heard one final, last raspy moan and felt her small belly being filled in a nauseating fashion. His grown body collapsed on Hermione's fragile frame. After a moment, he rolled off with a pleasurable sigh and laid on his back with his fingers intertwined as if he had just finished a thanksgiving supper. He looked at her. She couldn't see it, but she could feel his glare pierce into her back.
"You need to get going." That silky voice demanded.
"I know." Hermione replied in a weak voice that wasn't hers. It had been stolen months ago. She tried to cover her naked body as she collected her clothes simultaneously; completely aware of the disgusting stickiness in between her legs. Even worse, she could feel him smirk at her embarrassment from behind her back.
"Do you mind handing me my tea?" he asked in an authoritarian voice as a saucer and a small cup appeared on the desk on the other side of the room. This was part of his game- the humiliation factor- he could of easily magiced it into his own hand, but he always got a sick pleasure out of making her play the servant girl and she couldn't say no. She picked up the drink with a shaky hand causing the porcelain rattle against each other and handed it to him.
"Good girl" he cooed as he accepted his tea and molested the spot in between his thighs with his free hand.
Hermione pulled her robes tightly behind her and began to walk out the door into the empty dungeon corridors leading towards Gryffindor tower and the sanctuary of her private room given to her via head girl badge.
"Hermione!" a friendly voice called in greeting from behind her. Hermione panicked, she quickly struggled to tuck the sweated strands of hair behind her ears. She could only pray that her flushed cheeks and the fresh smell of sex weren't as obvious to them as it was to her.
"Oh, hello Professor" she greeted trying to force a smile.
"Arghhh" he dramatically sighed, "you know I rather you call me Remus. Im still having a hard time readjusting to this Professor thing.So what are you doing down here, visiting Snape?" He chuckled kiddingly.
Hermione's smile altered, and she could tell he noticed by the wrinkle of concern that developed across his brow right below one of the more prominent grey streaks in his otherwise brown hair.
She tried to regain herself, "No, of course not, I just thought I heard something down here and decided to inspect."
"Right, Head Girl duties." He wasn't buying it but decided not to push it any farther.
There was a short awkward pause that disturbed Hermione more than she could imagine, "Yes, well I must get too bed, it's late." She responded and quickly walked away from the potentially dangerous situation. Her heart was pounding out of her chest begging for a chance to escape the anxieties of the night. She mumbled "Nietzsche" to a portrait of a philosophical looking wizard a couple of spaces down from the Fat Lady which gladly opened to reveal her private quarters. Hermione rushed in and tore off her clothes as if they were burning her skin, she couldn't stand the smell of him that seemed to attach itself to her skin, it was like fire. She entered the private bath and turned on a faucet that dispensed a lavender scent with the water. She needed something, a cure for being her, and she found it in the pocket of her robes. She gently stepped into the bath and placed the bottle on the edge and starred at it for a moment. Like every other night, she felt a ping of regret, as if she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help herself. Hermione untwisted the cap and carefully tapped some of the light blue powder onto the tile, letting it contrast against the white purity of the bathroom. She scrambled back out of the bathroom and grabbed the short straw from one of the cabinets and rushed towards the powder. Crouched down on all fours like a savage, she inhaled the substance in one line. Oh god, oh god, yes. That was it. She leaned her head back and held the unused nostril closed as she inhaled. She gasped as it passed the barrier between her sinuses and went straight to her brain. Pupils contracted. A wave of perfection swept from her fingertips to her toes. Her body slinked down into the bathwater and leaned her head against the tile. She thanked Snape for introducing her to this wonderful substance, condoning the fact that in return he took her body whenever he pleased and she had begun to cooperate out of habit. Of course, at first, it wasn't like this, she was a young girl seduced by an older man promising her the greatest pleasure of her life and allowing her to take a small amount of the duplexplicis to make her more "pleasurably cooperative". That was all it took, one dose and she gave her body to him and he failed to give it back.
For the past few months, she knew what she had to do to get her fix, she had to please him the way Duplexplicis pleased her. In effect, she had become his whore. A sick thought really. Hogwart's finest on her knees in between a professor's legs, head bobbing, all the while starring at the little brown vile he was twirling with his left hand.
Hermione crawled out of the bathtub in an barely-conscious state, still feeling the effects of the Duplexplicis, her naked body laying on the tile with a drug induced grin across her face and closed eyes, like that of a child dreaming on Christmas eve- but her life was no holiday, at least not anymore.
"You like it, don't you" the voice stated more than asked. Oh Gods, that voice. The silkiness was buried deep under raspy pants that could only be cause by the purest form of sexual pleasure. The thrusting was becoming deeper and harder as Hermione tried to become numb to this utmost invasion of her being- mind, body, and soul. Her tear ducts were beginning to give away to the climbing pressure of the flood pushing against them. She heard one final, last raspy moan and felt her small belly being filled in a nauseating fashion. His grown body collapsed on Hermione's fragile frame. After a moment, he rolled off with a pleasurable sigh and laid on his back with his fingers intertwined as if he had just finished a thanksgiving supper. He looked at her. She couldn't see it, but she could feel his glare pierce into her back.
"You need to get going." That silky voice demanded.
"I know." Hermione replied in a weak voice that wasn't hers. It had been stolen months ago. She tried to cover her naked body as she collected her clothes simultaneously; completely aware of the disgusting stickiness in between her legs. Even worse, she could feel him smirk at her embarrassment from behind her back.
"Do you mind handing me my tea?" he asked in an authoritarian voice as a saucer and a small cup appeared on the desk on the other side of the room. This was part of his game- the humiliation factor- he could of easily magiced it into his own hand, but he always got a sick pleasure out of making her play the servant girl and she couldn't say no. She picked up the drink with a shaky hand causing the porcelain rattle against each other and handed it to him.
"Good girl" he cooed as he accepted his tea and molested the spot in between his thighs with his free hand.
Hermione pulled her robes tightly behind her and began to walk out the door into the empty dungeon corridors leading towards Gryffindor tower and the sanctuary of her private room given to her via head girl badge.
"Hermione!" a friendly voice called in greeting from behind her. Hermione panicked, she quickly struggled to tuck the sweated strands of hair behind her ears. She could only pray that her flushed cheeks and the fresh smell of sex weren't as obvious to them as it was to her.
"Oh, hello Professor" she greeted trying to force a smile.
"Arghhh" he dramatically sighed, "you know I rather you call me Remus. Im still having a hard time readjusting to this Professor thing.So what are you doing down here, visiting Snape?" He chuckled kiddingly.
Hermione's smile altered, and she could tell he noticed by the wrinkle of concern that developed across his brow right below one of the more prominent grey streaks in his otherwise brown hair.
She tried to regain herself, "No, of course not, I just thought I heard something down here and decided to inspect."
"Right, Head Girl duties." He wasn't buying it but decided not to push it any farther.
There was a short awkward pause that disturbed Hermione more than she could imagine, "Yes, well I must get too bed, it's late." She responded and quickly walked away from the potentially dangerous situation. Her heart was pounding out of her chest begging for a chance to escape the anxieties of the night. She mumbled "Nietzsche" to a portrait of a philosophical looking wizard a couple of spaces down from the Fat Lady which gladly opened to reveal her private quarters. Hermione rushed in and tore off her clothes as if they were burning her skin, she couldn't stand the smell of him that seemed to attach itself to her skin, it was like fire. She entered the private bath and turned on a faucet that dispensed a lavender scent with the water. She needed something, a cure for being her, and she found it in the pocket of her robes. She gently stepped into the bath and placed the bottle on the edge and starred at it for a moment. Like every other night, she felt a ping of regret, as if she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help herself. Hermione untwisted the cap and carefully tapped some of the light blue powder onto the tile, letting it contrast against the white purity of the bathroom. She scrambled back out of the bathroom and grabbed the short straw from one of the cabinets and rushed towards the powder. Crouched down on all fours like a savage, she inhaled the substance in one line. Oh god, oh god, yes. That was it. She leaned her head back and held the unused nostril closed as she inhaled. She gasped as it passed the barrier between her sinuses and went straight to her brain. Pupils contracted. A wave of perfection swept from her fingertips to her toes. Her body slinked down into the bathwater and leaned her head against the tile. She thanked Snape for introducing her to this wonderful substance, condoning the fact that in return he took her body whenever he pleased and she had begun to cooperate out of habit. Of course, at first, it wasn't like this, she was a young girl seduced by an older man promising her the greatest pleasure of her life and allowing her to take a small amount of the duplexplicis to make her more "pleasurably cooperative". That was all it took, one dose and she gave her body to him and he failed to give it back.
For the past few months, she knew what she had to do to get her fix, she had to please him the way Duplexplicis pleased her. In effect, she had become his whore. A sick thought really. Hogwart's finest on her knees in between a professor's legs, head bobbing, all the while starring at the little brown vile he was twirling with his left hand.
Hermione crawled out of the bathtub in an barely-conscious state, still feeling the effects of the Duplexplicis, her naked body laying on the tile with a drug induced grin across her face and closed eyes, like that of a child dreaming on Christmas eve- but her life was no holiday, at least not anymore.