WARNING: This story contains graphic sexual content and BDSM, read at your own discretion.
Spent, Hermione fell back against her mound of scarlet pillows and slowly withdrew her fingers from her sleep shorts. They glistened in the faint morning light. Hastily, she wiped her fingers on her sheets, and turned away from the evidence of her early morning debauchery. However, she found that the soft pants which still echoed around her chamber and the residual tingling between her thighs were a potent enough reminder of how she had just indulged herself. And at six o'clock in the morning no less!
Not for the first time, Hermione found herself glad that Head students were afforded their own quarters. Her face burned at the mere thought of what Parvati and Lavender would have to say about her more recent nightly activities, which had now bled into the morning hours. There was no way her two gossipy, former roommates would have failed to notice the signs. It would doubtlessly have been all over the school by first period that the Head Girl was, in fact, just as human as everybody else. The great Hermione Granger masturbated and had sex dreams like any other normal teenager.
Not that she would ever have dared to masturbate back when she lived in her old dorm. Separated by a thick, tartan curtain and a silencing charm or not, Hermione didn't think she had the nerve to do something so personal when she knew that she wasn't alone. She felt self-conscious enough pleasuring herself up here in her Head Dorm, where it was very unlikely that she would ever be disturbed.
Hermione was hit with a sudden, horrifying vision of Professor McGonagall bursting into her room with urgent Head business just as she was about to climax, Professor Lupin's name on the tip of her tongue. Hermione shuddered, and not from pleasure. Well, now she knew what her boggart would turn into the next time she encountered one. With these supremely disturbing thoughts floating around her head, Hermione dragged herself from bed and into the shower.
Seventh year Gryffindor's didn't have a DADA class on Wednesdays, and without the anticipation of seeing Lupin hanging over her, Hermione found that she was able to have a relatively normal day. The reminder of her coming detention lingered in the back of her mind, but she found herself occupied with a fascinating runes translation for most of the morning, and the afternoon Herbology lesson had taken quite an interesting turn when Seamus Finnigan was almost swallowed whole by a particularly vicious plant. So all in all Hermione hadn't had much time to dwell on Professor Lupin or what awaited her that night in his office. It wasn't until precisely 8:45 pm that the heady mix of nerves and anticipation began to swirl around in her head. Despite the chill of the drafty Hogwarts castle in mid-November, Hermione was flushed by the time she arrived at her Professor's door for the third consecutive night.
Once she had knocked and been granted permission to enter, Hermione made her way into his tidy office. She had barely shut the door behind her when Professor Lupin, standing before his desk, issued his first order of the night without so much as a cursory greeting to her.
"Take off your clothes," he said, and it was the closest to a growl that she had ever heard his voice. Startled and somewhat apprehensive, Hermione stared at her Professor.
"A-all of them, Sir?" she questioned hesitantly. As much as she had done with Lupin the previous two nights, he had never before seen her completely naked. She felt incredibly self-conscious at the thought of baring her body completely for his judgment. He had never even seen her breasts!
"Yes, Miss Granger, all of them," he said, leaving no room for argument. He simply stared sternly at her, arms folded across his chest, waiting for her to disrobe.
Gulping, she shifted her long mess of hair behind her shoulder and brought a shaky hand to the top button of her crisp, white blouse. With her fingers shaking as they were, it was hard for her to maneuver the small buttons through their holes. She became increasingly nervous that Lupin was going to lunge for her and just rip damn thing off, but her Professor seemed content to simply watch as she continued to struggle with the buttons of her school issued blouse. Her fingers felt immeasurably clumsy and stiff all of a sudden. Hermione bit her lip in concentration in order to work to undue the buttons. Once she had finally completed this arduous task, her blouse flapped open, revealing a sliver of her pale, flat stomach and the peak her breasts made from being pushed together by her bra. She nervously slid out of her blouse, letting it drop soundlessly to floor. Lupin stared hungrily at her bared breasts, which were now encased only by a sheer, lace bra of the barest pink. She was about to raise her hands to undue the back clasp when she caught sight of her blouse lying rumpled on the floor. Something about it nagged at her, and she stooped to pick it up, folding it neatly before setting it on Professor Lupin's desk. Unbeknownst to her, Lupin suppressed an affectionate smile at her OCD inspired behavior. When she turned to face him once more, he was looking at her with the hard expression a disciplinarian.
Hermione once again reached for the clasp on her bra, but Lupin held up a hand to still her.
"Leave that on for now," he instructed. So she wouldn't have to bare her breasts to him just yet after all, Hermione mused. She found herself oddly disappointed. Did he not want to see them? Were they unsatisfactory in some way? She had medium sized, C-cup breasts, but perhaps they seemed inadequate to her Professor. Did they disappoint him?
"Continue," he said, when she had paused a bit too long in her self conscious contemplation of her own body.
Hermione's breath hitched, and it felt as though a round ball of heat was expanding in her stomach. This was what she was most nervous for. Per Lupin's orders, she was wearing nothing beneath her uniform skirt. There were no knickers she would be permitted to keep on. He would be seeing all of her. Not that he hadn't before, but something about this was different. This wasn't during the act of sex. This wasn't her bent over his desk facing away from him. This would be her standing before him, completely nude from the waist down, and something about that made her feel very vulnerable. Hermione took a deep breath, and reached for the zipper on the side of her skirt. She tugged it down slowly, feeling the cool teeth scrape against her skin. Once she was all the way unzipped, Hermione shimmied in order to dislodge the material from her hips. Her skirt slipped down her legs with a quiet wisp to pool at her feet. Hermione bit her lip as Lupin appraised her. His eyes were glued to her naked sex, and she blushed under his gaze. His face didn't give much away, but she could see the lust building in his eyes. Finally, still focused intently on her most private area, Lupin spoke again, his voice very rough.
"Leave on your shoes and socks."
Hermione glanced down at her gray knee socks, and shiny, black mary-janes, mystified as to why her Professor wanted her to leave them on. Nevertheless, she would obey his order.
She now stood awkwardly before him (almost) naked while he was fully clothed. Something about this contrast excited her. She was, once again, completely at his mercy. Completely vulnerable to his wishes, his every command.
"Sit." Professor Lupin instructed, gesturing to stiff looking chair that Hermione hadn't noticed before. It was plain, but made of dark, rich wood with a high back and no arms. Obligingly, Hermione sat, the hard seat of the chair feeling uncomfortable and shockingly cool beneath her bare bottom.
Lupin gave her a look that clearly implied she wasn't to move, and left through a back doorway, the one that presumably led to his living quarters. Hermione craned her neck in an effort to see up the winding staircase, curious to see how her Professor lived, but otherwise remained still. Eventually she gave up on seeing anything beyond the stairs, and settled back onto the chair. Hermione was poised tensely on the edge of her seat as she awaited her Professor's return. He reemerged shortly, carrying in his hand three ties. One was obviously a Gryffindor tie (perhaps one of his old ones from school?), adorned with the telling gold and scarlet stripes. Of the other two, one was a pattern of cool blues and the other a plain, deep red. Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering what he intended to do with these accessories. Without a word, he advanced on her and circled around to the back of her chair.
Grabbing her wrists forcibly, Lupin tugged them roughly behind the chair and held them together there. He encircled them with a tie, and with a decisive knot bound her wrists tightly together. Not so tight as to cut off her circulation, but tight enough where she was unable to move her hands and could feel the cool fabric of the tie digging harshly into her skin. Hermione attempted to pry her hands apart, and succeeded only in scraping her delicate arms against the sides of the chair. Her arms were strained in a way that tugged at her muscles, and while not exactly painful, it was certainly an uncomfortable position. Lupin stood in front of her once more, watching amusedly as she struggled with the tie that bound her wrists together.
"Now, now, Miss Granger. None of that. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"
At those words, a rush of liquid heat flooded her center, and Hermione nodded, ceasing her efforts to move her hands. There was something about being physically tied up the muggle way, rather than just being restrained by magic, that made the experience much more erotic. It was more primal somehow, and in Hermione it triggered a visceral reaction that had her body flushing hotly, the tinge of pink spreading over her breasts and lower. Lupin watched her for a while, seeming to revel in her nakedness and physical reaction to him. He then knelt before her, and eased apart her legs, prompting an even deeper blush from the young witch. He positioned each of her legs so that they aligned with one of the legs of the chair. When Professor Lupin removed his hands from her to reach for his ties, Hermione had to struggle valiantly not to bring her legs together. This would surely result in dire consequences, but Hermione was embarrassed to be spread so before him; embarrassed to have his effect on her so clearly evidenced in the wetness leaking steadily from her center. Her struggle soon ended however, as Lupin secured first one of her legs, then the other, to the chair with his remaining ties. She was locked in position.
Professor Lupin gave one of her thighs a squeeze and then returned to his desk. He bustled around for a few minutes, messing about with saucers and cups and his wand. Bizarrely, he seemed to be making tea. Hermione couldn't imagine that he had tied her up like this, her arms pulled behind her back, her chest thrust out, and her legs spread so wantonly, to have tea with her. As a rule, Hermione didn't drink tea. She'd had rather a fondness for it when she was younger, but found that her experiences with Professor Trelawney and divination had forever put her off the stuff.
As if sensing her dismay, Lupin, who was now adding liberal amounts of cream to the steaming hot beverage, offered forth and explanation. "I've spiked this tea with an intriguing substance that's just been developed by Fred and George Weasley. As a Marauder, I have first access to all their products, and they were only too happy to issue me some of this. It's a bit like veritserum, but less potent and less illegal. At the moment anyway," he paused, and let out a laugh. "It doesn't force you to tell the truth, but it makes the imbiber quite loquacious." Hermione was suddenly feeling very apprehensive about where this was going.
"You've been very distracted in my classes lately, Hermione. And I intend to find out why. I thought this would be the perfect tool with which to question you." His voice was low as he spoke, an element of danger in it.
Hermione could feel herself breaking out in a sweat, and it wasn't because of the steam from the tea. There was not a single, logical way that this could result in anything but deep embarrassment on her part. At the same time, there was something compelling her to take the tea, to make herself even more vulnerable to Lupin.
He walked out from behind his desk, moving carefully so as not to spill any tea from the brimming cup. As he loomed closer, Hermione found herself opening her mouth unbidden. Professor Lupin pressed the saucer to her lips and tilted it back. Hot liquid rushed down her throat, and Hermione gulped quickly to keep up with the steady flow of tea from the saucer to her mouth. When she had drained the cup, Lupin stepped back and set the saucer on his desk before settling himself onto the edge of it.
At first, Hermione felt no different, and then a peculiar feeling began to come over her. She felt very light suddenly, but her mind seemed unaffected.
"So, Miss Granger, why have you been so distracted lately?" Lupin asked, even though he clearly already knew the answer (smug bastard). Hermione was of a half a mind to tell him this when, without her consent, the word, "You." popped out of her traitorous mouth.
"Me?" asked Lupin, feigning surprise.
"Yes," Hermione said. This wasn't so bad actually. It wasn't as if she was confessing anything he didn't already know.
"Why?" Inquired her Professor.
"I- I-, you're very handsome," she said honestly, and Lupin smiled gently. Not a smirk, but a smile, a real smile. It looked nice on him. "And you're smart, and articulate, and I like the sound of your voice -" the potion would have made her go on and on till she revealed every innocuous detail that drew her to him, but her Professor interrupted her stream of consciousness.
"My voice? Really?" asked Lupin, seeming genuinely curious.
"Yes, it's very pleasant," she blushed lightly and looked down. "And since Monday night I can't help but imagine you commanding me with it. Your voice becomes harsher and sterner when you command me and it's very…alluring."
Ah, there was the smirk. "So when you're off in your own world during class you're fantasizing about me." he stated more than asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back cockily on his desk. He made an infuriatingly attractive picture.
"Yes," said Hermione huskily.
"I see. And what exactly do these fantasies entail?"
"Sometimes I imagine that you can tell exactly what I'm thinking. That you call me to the front of the room and order me to bend over your desk in front of everyone. That you spank me repeatedly and tell them all what a bad girl I've been."
Hermione ended her confession in a humiliated whisper. She was deeply embarrassed, and blushing more than ever now.
"And that kind of exhibition excites you?" Lupin murmured.
Hermione nodded shakily, staring down at her spread, naked thighs in shame and embarrassment.
THWACK
Out of nowhere, a swift, sharp blow was delivered to the top of her thighs by Lupin's wooden ruler. Hermione gasped out loud in shock and pain. Hot, stinging pricks spread over her thighs were she had been struck. Before Hermione could even begin to process what had happened, the point of the ruler was being thrust under her chin, forcing it up, forcing Hermione to meet her Professor's gaze. His eyes were hard.
"Miss Granger, you will answer me when I ask you a question, and you will look at me when I'm talking to you," he ordered harshly. "Is that clear?"
"Very, Professor." Hermione said tightly, tears of pain stinging the backs of her eyes.
Professor Lupin lowered his ruler and placed it beside him on his desk.
"Good," he paused and assessed her with discerning eyes. "Do you like it when I discipline you Hermione?" he asked softly, circling around her chair till he was behind her, whispering hotly in her ear.
"Do you like it when I'm," he forcibly pulled down her bra, exposing her nipples and the top half of her breasts, "rough with you?" he growled sensuously, tweaking one of her nipples to punctuate this statement.
Hermione arched back against the chair, raising her newly exposed nipples before him like an offering. "Yes," she gasped, "Yes!"
Lupin continued to tease her, viciously tweaking her nipples so that the sensation straddled the border between pleasure and pain. And then suddenly he was severing her bra straps and wrenching the garment from her body. Hermione gasped, marveling at his strength. Her Professor flung the pink, lacy scrap carelessly to the floor before reaching forward and grasping her breasts. He seemed to be weighing them in his hands. He gave a hum of satisfaction, and then began kneading her breasts and playing with her nipples once more, flicking and circling the taut buds which had long ago come to stand at attention. Hermione strained against her bonds, trying mindlessly to move her thighs together, but it was a futile effort. She couldn't move an inch, and her thighs quivered from unfulfilled lust and the need for friction.
"Do you wish I was touching your pussy, Hermione?" Professor Lupin breathed into her ear.
"Yes," she moaned, long and drawn out. "Yes, god - please touch me!"
"You're so dripping wet for me my fingers would slide right into your tight little hole. Would you like that Hermione?" He continued to knead her breasts, flicking and pinching her nipples the way she desperately wished he would her clit.
"Yes, Professor, please!" she begged, arching against her bonds to the point of pain, but Lupin was merciless.
"Do you ever touch yourself, Hermione?" he asked against her neck, licking it. "Do you think about me and fuck yourself with your fingers, imagining that they're mine?"
"Yes!" Hermione cried
Lupin lowered his hands from her breasts to her stomach, drawing small circles with his thumbs just below her hips, teasing her tortuously. He dragged his fingers across her bikini line, making her buck and jerk against her restraints. And then his hands vanished completely. Hermione was delirious with lust and confusion, and it took her a few seconds to put together what had happened. Lupin had resumed his place in front of her, and was now taking himself out of his trousers. His member came free, and he took it in his hands, beginning to stroke up and down his shaft. He moaned softly, staring right into her frenzied eyes as he began to pump faster and faster.
She was…she was…she couldn't believe this. How could he sit there in front of her, getting himself off when she was right there, consumed with need? An eager vessel begging to receive him? Pre-cum began to leak copiously from his tip and Hermione licked her lips unconsciously.
"Do you want my cock, Hermione? Do you want to take me in your filthy, hot, little mouth and suck me off like the eager slut you are?"
Hermione was distantly infuriated that she had just been called a slut, but she was so crazed with lust, and so desperate for any contact at all with her Professor's anatomy that she moaned an affirmative, nodding frantically.
"Yes! Please! Please - so bad - I want your cock - so bad!"
"What do you want?"
"You! In my mouth! Please, Professor, please!" cried Hermione.
At last, Lupin stood and walked toward her. He stood before her chair and guided his erect manhood into her eagerly awaiting mouth. As soon as he made contact, Hermione took him as deep as she could within her mouth, and began sucking and swirling her tongue around him. She moaned around his cock in dual pleasure and wanting. It didn't take long before her Professor came in her mouth with a shudder. She swallowed the slightly salty mixture as quickly as she could, but some leaked from her mouth, trailing down the side of her face. Lupin, whose eyes where shut in blissful release, didn't appear to notice. He eventually opened his normally tawny orbs, now a darker shade of caramel, to peer at her with hazy, lust clouded eyes. He smiled dopily at her (in a way she would have found very endearing if he hadn't been torturing her all night), and withdrew his member from her mouth. It dragged against her cheek as he removed it, decorating her face with more of his juices. Breathing roughly, Lupin sat back heavily on his desk. While her Professor continued to ride out his post-orgasm high, Hermione concentrated on trying to regulate her breathing and calm herself down. After approximately five minutes she managed to get something of a hold on herself. She was still aroused, but not to the point of borderline madness.
Hermione focused once more on her Professor, and found her eyes widening in shock. Unbelievably enough, he was stroking himself and appeared to be getting hard all over again. She didn't know men his age were supposed to have that kind of stamina! It was close to the full moon though, and she had read that werewolves' sexuality was greatly heightened around that time of the month (a fact that had mortified her third year self). Yes, he was most definitely hard again. Dear Merlin.
Lupin continued to stare at her and lazily stroke himself. "You have lovely breasts," he remarked, fixing his eyes on them.
Hermione stammered out a thank you, unsure how to take this comment in light of everything else. Her Professor was gazing almost reverentially at her chest, leaning forward as if captivated by her tits. Perhaps it was true what Ron said, and they did indeed have powers. They certainly seem to have some kind of hold on Professor Lupin. He stood and walked towards her, his erect cock pointing at her like a homing device. Once he was quite close, he knelt before her on the floor and tipped forward until he was poised inches away from her cleavage. Grabbing hold of her breasts, he lifted them to his face and began nuzzling into him. For some reason, especially regarding past behavior, Hermione found this absurdly sweet, and a warm, pleasant feeling began to blossom renewed in her stomach. She had the urge to reach out and stroke his hair as he continued to burry himself among her breasts, but of course she couldn't, restrained as she was. He seemed to be drunk on his orgasm. Her Professor was acting like acting like a sleepy, overgrown puppy (wolf pup?) and she was utterly charmed by the adorableness of it.
When he finally emerged from the depths of her bosom, he leaned forward and kissed her right on the mouth. Hermione bit back a gasp of surprise. He had never done that before! Standing up somewhat unsteadily, Lupin moved closer to her still. He stood so that his cock was poised just below the center of her breasts. Hermione peered up at him, eyes wide in an unasked question. In answer, her Professor smiled wickedly before grasping her breasts and beginning to thrust his cock between them. It was, frankly, a weird sensation. Not unpleasant or anything, but it certainly did nothing for Hermione physically. Emotionally, she was quite content to let Professor Lupin do as he wished, however bizarre the act seemed. He began to thrust more and more frantically, the sounds of his pants and grunts filling the small office. With a low moan of completion, her professor found his finish. The hot, spurt of his cum splattered across Hermione's stomach, and she couldn't hold in her gasp of surprise this time.
Lupin shot her a lopsided smile. "Do you like my cum all over your body, love?" he asked.
Hermione simply did not know how to respond to that question. "I- I -"
"Mmm," mumbled Lupin, absently tucking himself back into his trousers and making his way over to his desk. He flicked his wand, and Hermione found that her restraints banished. She flexed her arms experimentally. Merlin, were they stiff.
"Shower's upstairs if you need it, love," Lupin offered around a yawn.
Hermione quickly gathered her clothes, including her ruined bra (Pity. It was quite pretty, if indeed a bit frivolous.) and scurried up the stairs.
To snoop or not to snoop, that was the question. There were two doors on the upstairs landing; one marked 'bathroom', and another one which obviously led to her Professor's living quarters.
Hermione had always been insatiably curious, sometimes to her detriment, but mostly to her advantage. Therefore, it was not surprising that she found herself tempted to peek. In the end though, she thought it would be rather obvious she had been prodding around in his room if she were to drip cum all over the floor. Besides, her thoughts were muddled enough as it was. She didn't need anything else to consider at the moment. Hermione pushed open the door to the bathroom.
It was done in navy and white. The tiles of the floor were an alternating diamond pattern of the two colours, and Hermione was pleased to note that the rugs were navy. She found the idea of white rugs ridiculous and impractical. It was a clean room (naturally, what with House-Elves to maintain it), sparse even, and Hermione found it had a distinctly masculine feel to it. Navy towels, embroidered with a single white stripe were laid out neatly on either side of the ivory sink. Sat on top of them were instruments for shaving. An electric shaver would go haywire around magic, so wizards always shaved manually. To Hermione there was something appealing about the ritual. Perhaps it came from all the mornings of sitting on the sink beside her father, watching him lather up and meticulously shave his face before work.
Hermione would have felt uncomfortable just chucking her clothes on the floor, and so instead folded them and placed them in a neat pile on the sink. Plucking two fluffy, white towels from the door of the closet, where they hung on hooks, Hermione made her way to the shower. Slinging the towels over the edge of the opaque, glass door before easing it open, she slipped into the shower.
Damp, and smelling of the mildly spicy scent that always clung to Professor Lupin, Hermione tiptoed quietly down the stairs.
When she reentered his office, she found Lupin slumped over his desk with his head pillowed in his arms. He was fast asleep. As Hermione crept closer, she became aware of the soft snores issuing from her Professor. She stopped and peered at him. It was an interesting phenomena how people always seemed to look younger in their sleep. More innocent, more at peace. She thought it probably had something to do with how ones facial muscles relaxed during slumber. Sleep; A brief respite from the harshness of life. Lupin could surely use it. Without thinking about it, Hermione reached out and smoothed her Professor's hair back from his forehead. It was surprisingly soft, especially given that two in one shampoo/conditioner he was using. Hesitating briefly, Hermione darted a nervous glance around the now dark office. Gathering all her nerve, she bent down and planted a quick kiss on her Professor's forehead.
"Goodnight….Remus."
AN: I'm super tired, so sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. Let me know in reviews if you find any, but please review anyway if you don't. And don't worry, Remus will make up for not satisfying Hermione next chap. It'll be all about her, lucky girl. Poor JK, the things I do to her characters.