Warning: CP and Accidental stimulation
Feels so good being bad
There's no way I'm turning back
Now the pain is my pleasure 'cause nothing could measure
Captivated by the countless thoughts racing through her ever restless mind, Hermione's hand glided elegantly over the parchment, her sure fingers moving the quill with well-practiced precision, forming beautifully curved words. She'd been at this for well over thirty minutes and the small bones within her fingers were beginning to protest. She inwardly grimaced, resisting the urge to wring the now straining muscles. She only had a few more sentences to write and she wanted to finish before the other pupils.
"Oi, mudblood, don't you have more work to do?" She jerked her head to the side, eyes immediately going to the voice's owner. Oh, how delightful Draco wanted her attention. What on earth could he possibly be going on about? She gave the pureblood a puzzled expression. Draco merely pointed to his own parchment in reply. "After all, isn't that what mudbloods are made for; to serve purebloods." His lips curled upward in that famous Malfoy smirk.
"Oh sod off, Malfoy." She spat turning back to her work. God, how she loathed the little ferret. Thinking he was so much better than she was. Did he not read the history of purebloods? Disgusting; some of them were. Sleeping with their own blood but no she was one whom was to be treated like vermin.
It just did not make much sense to her.
A few minutes past and just as she was about to cross the last t and dot the last i, something landed upon her parchment obstructing her view. "What on earth?" She picked up the paper, unfolding it as neatly as possible, mocha eyes eagerly scanning over it. In the next moment, her face went blood red as rage coursed through pulsating veins like hot lava. For there, in all it's horrifying glory, was a very crude drawing of her upon all fours while taking it from behind by Buckbeak and above the scene was a small caption that read. A Mudbloods Place
Wild eyes darted around the room trying the find out just whom would do such a thing only to come to a screeching halt on one Draco Malfoy whom was sitting in the corner with a smirk quirking those much too feminine lips of his. Looking far too amused and smug about something.
Eyelids narrowed into slits. Malfoy.
Hermione violently jolted upward, nearly causing the old wooden chair to tumble backward, she marched over to Draco until she was a mere centimeter or two away from his face. "You stupid spoiled weasel-faced prat!" She slapped him across the cheek with the hand holding the paper then followed it by saying some very colorful words not meant for virgin ears.
"Ms. Granger!" The stern yelled of her name freezing the girl mid-rant, her head snapped sideways to the source. She swore inwardly when her eyes land upon Professor McGonagall standing just an arm's length away with her thin arms crossed over her chest and nostrils flared in annoyance. "Sit down this instance!"
"Professor McGonagall he-I said sit!" Hermione snorted in defiance but obeyed nevertheless, stomping back to her own desk, she plopped down rather unladylike and pretended not to hear the giggling echoing from her classmates. "Both of you are to see me after class."
The rest of the class period was followed by huffing and pondering how on earth was each of them going to get out of this. Finally when the bell rang and the last of the students left the room. McGonagall motioned the duo forward. "Care to share what that was all about." The older witch pushed, staring over the rim of her half-moon glasses at the young pair.
"Yes! He," She jabbed an index finger towards the boy. "drew the most disgusting picture of me."
A finely shaped brow raised at the accusation. "Well, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I did not. I've been too busy writing to do such a thing." Came a sweet schoolboy replay. Oh, ever the innocent party this one was. Hermione clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to smack him once again.
"He did so." She whined, hating herself for it but Merlin this day was turning into a real disaster by the second.
"And just where is this drawing, Granger?" He questioned looking a little too pleased with himself.
"Well, I," She glanced around as if it would appear out of thin air. Oh no the paper what did she do with the paper? At the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of grey orbs flashing in triumph. That slimy little git. She nearly said it out loud when a voice stopped her.
"That's enough, Mr. Malfoy. You are to write a three-foot essay on bullying."
"What! but she..." He sputtered a bit then sneered. "My father will hear about this!" And with a swoosh of his overly expensive school robes, Draco was gone, leaving Hermione behind and alone to her fate.
"And as for you, Ms. Granger, I must say that am severely disappointed in you." She could see the truth in those eyes and it caused Hermione to feel a bit queasy. There is nothing she hated more than having someone disappointed in her.
"But he-I do not care to know the details. All I seen was you striking one of my pupils." Feeling ashamed, Hermione lowered her head to stare downward at the stone floor with feigned interest.
"Now, as much I loathe to do this; I'm afraid, Ms. Granger, that you are in need of paddling."
Head snapped upward and eyes wide as saucers, Hermione stared at her favorite Professor completely scandalized. "What!? You can not be serious!"
Thin pink lips pursed and the older woman stood, straightening her posture, she conjured a very thick, very hard looking paddle in her right hand. The sight alone made Hermione's lower cheeks clench."You will find, Ms. Granger, that I'm completely serious." Hermione's heart dropped. "But I'm seventeen years old surly-And still a child not to mention my pupil. Now, you will take your punishment accordingly or I will be forced to take away your Head Girl badge."
Grumbling under her breath, Hermione weighed the pros and cons of the situation, not liking the odds she finally sighed. "Alright, I shall take my punishment."
"Very well, come around this way." The Transfiguration Professor motioned to behind the ancient hardwood desk.
When she reached her destination beside the older witch she watched as McGonagall extended an arm and tapped the cluttered desktop with a couple of figures. "Bend over the desk, Ms. Granger. Palms flat." And with her heart pounding and a deep blush painting normally pale cheeks, the brunette obeyed. In the next moment, she feels the end of her robe being tugged upward and over shapely hips, exposing pristine white cotton knickers to the cool air.
Oh, this cannot be happening. Oh, but it was.
The first smack honestly didn't hurt all that badly, but she could not help the gasp that burst from parted full lips just from the sheer shock of the impact, her hands twitch against the desk begging Hermione to let them cover her unprotected bum. But she forces them to remain in place. She will take this with pride. She was after all a Gryffindor.
The next swat was much harder, and Hermione's breath was taken away the moment the paddle reached her behind. It's quickly followed by more, raining down, covering each cheek with every blow and Hermione can feel tears prickling the corner of her eyes, but she dares not move.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
The noise of the swats echoed throughout the empty classroom, mixing in with the sound of harsh breathing, and grunts it combined to create a twisted little melody that only the two of them were dancing to. Hermione panted, there was a bubbling, hot and desperate beginning to churn and turn pleasantly within her stomach, tightening her muscles, dripping betwixt her thighs, and nearly causing her to moan out loud.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
She has felt this before from previous adventures with her right hand and the cover of darkness. She also knew all too well what happened in the grand finale. And with that simple knowledge in mind, she found herself edging farther and farther into the abyss.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
And oh dear sweet Merlin, a climax was already on the rise, taunting her with shocks of pleasure and frustrating her by staying just out of reach. She gritted her teeth quarreling ruthlessly with the urge to arch her behind in the air like a shameless cat in heat. White teeth sink into a moist bottom lip as Hermione tried to quell any moans that threatened to bubble forth. Just a few more and she'd be drowning in bliss.
Professor McGonagall must have sensed it too, perhaps even smelled the dampness now soaking white cotton knickers, because she halted mid-swing, and Hermione heard her take a step backward and in the next moment, there was the sound of wood hitting the stone floor.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione turned her head over her quivering shoulder to meet the older witch's gaze. Emerald orbs were wide and dark and that amble chest is rising and falling in sync with Hermione's own. It was then that the younger woman realized that she is not the only one who wants this.
A moment of ragged breathing and staring until finally, Hermione could not take it any longer.
"Please." It came out as a mouse's squeak and if the girl was not so far gone she might have been embarrassed. When after a minute past with the Professor still frozen in place, Hermione decided to try once more. "Please, Professor, please don't stop."
A primal growl rumbled from behind, sending a slight shiver down her spine, and the older woman stepped forward once again, reaching out with now empty hands she cupped the still stinging cheeks in her slightly calloused palms and gently stroked them through the thin material. Hermione whimpered pitifully then her breath caught in her throat, coming out like a choked sob when she felt the hand slid down until questing fingers are caressing over soaked cotton.
The touch was gone far too quickly for Hermione's liking, but then Professor McGonagall was grasping the hem of her knickers and pulling them downward until finally, they free fell down her legs, pooling around her ankles. She barely had time to register the feel of the cool draft against her heated skin before a swat was landing on freshly exposed skin.
The sound was louder and sharper now that it was skin to skin causing a shiver of delight to course through Hermione's body. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, spread her legs wide, and welcome the other witch betwixt this would have to do.
"Harder." She pleaded, her voice high-pitched borderline desperate.
Hermione's cheeks flushed as the involuntary demand that slipped from her lips but in the next moment, the embarrassment was all but forgotten when the hits became harder. She felt the impacts going lower now until each blow caught her just under the behind so that the vibrations are going straight to Hermione's throbbing clit. It's almost too much, but the storm deep within her abdomen still remained strong and was growing by the second until finally with one last push backward. The waves peaked, surging throughout her body, washing every cell, every muscle, every organ with its tingling embrace.
Long shaking fingers stroked soothingly against the burning skin as she came down gently from her endorphin induced high. Hermione ran a shaky hand over her face, still not quite able to believe what just happened.
"Now, Ms. Granger, have you learned your lesson?" The question came out in a firewhisky husk, filled with lust and a touch of regret. Hot moisture bathed the shell of Hermione's ear with each and every word. Not trusting her own voice, the girl merely nodded in agreement.
"Very well, you may leave." When her legs felt steady enough to hold her weight, she straightened then bent over, tugging her knickers back into place and turned toward the heavy oak door, not even daring to look the older witch in the eye. "Oh and Ms. Granger."
Hermione halted in mid-step but stayed facing the only exit. "Yes, Professor?"
"Some things are best kept secret." In other words, keep your mouth shut until the day you die.
"Yes, Professor." Of course, she'd keep it a secret. Whom would even believe her if she were to tell. Oh, I received a spanking by Professor McGonagall and came against her hand. It was a ridiculous notion but she kept tight lips, lest her bottom be heated once more.
Then again perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea.
A flush rose in her cheeks at the thought of what might happen if she were to purposely push the older woman and despite the fact she's still pulsating from the force of her orgasm mere moments earlier, enormous butterflies of anticipation began to slam within her stomach.
She grinned wickedly and began to plot.
END
AN: I know its a cliché fantasy and has been written before but I just had to write my version of it. Well, tell me what you think.