Umbridge licked her leather whip seductively, rubbing it over her heaving, sweat slicked breasts. Her pink lips were opened as she moaned silently into the night air. Down in her special crevice a pink tongue was licking her juice covered treat, trying not to gag and retch from the overpowering scent of her womanhood. Poor Harry Potter regretted trying to convince the class that Voldemort was real, when it lead to punishment like this.

Oh how he wished they could go back to the days where he wrote lines with the blood wriggled his tongue in deeper, his nose bumping up against her flabby, old snatch and his glasses becoming more and more skewed. He would have taken them off if his hands weren't currently tied behind his back, anything was better than watching them fog up from her love oven.