Hermione's POV

The two minutes that Hermione Granger gave her client felt like they were dragging by, and she took her chance to let her gaze trail across his battered and bruised body. He had dropped to his knees at this point, breath coming in short and ragged bursts as he tried to process what had just happened. Dropping down to squat, her chocolate brown eyes scanned over each section of his skin, scanning for any marks that she would have to heal before he left the Chateau. The riding crop had yielded a good deal of the bruises that trailed across his thighs and buttocks, with several of the lacerations showing small amounts of crimson. The skin was angry and welted, a deep red shade; this was likely his first time being spanked or whipped, and she knew better than anybody else that the flesh wouldn't be conditioned to this sort of abuse for a long stretch of time.

Her gaze traveled to where the flogger had struck, the lines more sparse and dispersed now. The more impressive ones were across the tops of his shoulders and chest, stark against his milky pale skin. His form was similar to how it was growing up, though he had broadened slightly, contrasting with his lean midsection and legs. Hermione let her fingertips trail across one of the wounds, and Draco flinched away from her touch, raising his palm to bat away the sudden contact. Wrong move, weasel, she thought, eyes narrowing as she seized his wrist between hands and squeezed hard. Her long nails dug into the unmarred portion, yanking him forward so that his face and chest were inches from her face. "Don't you dare try to deny me like that again. You belong to me and I will do whatever the fuck I want to my property". Hermione's tone was dangerous, her temper flaring; this sort of rage was not a show at this point, not the dominant face that she put on for the majority of her clientele. This rage was raw and real, and she could feel the urge to break the Slytherin's spirit the way that he had done to her all those years ago.

Behind the blindfold, his eyebrows pinched, jaw tightening as his face grew into a scowl. "Yes, mistress Granger," he spit out, nearly bearing his teeth at her; he was reaching a climax of defiance, though her shock was too strong to even make note of that. Before she could even stop herself, her hand was flying through the air, palm landing a sharp crack against his cheek that sent him sideways. Had his wrist not been gripped in her other hand, he could have likely hit the ground, though she held him firmly in place. It was everything that she could do to keep her voice low and controlled, though it threatened to come out as a shriek. "My name is Mistress Jade and you will address me as such", she hissed, jerking his wrist up so that he was back in sitting position. "How fucking stupid do you have to be not to recognize that? I know you can rub those three brain cells of yours together and get that through your thick fucking skull."

She could see the words sting him, a warmth pooling in her belly as his discomfort began to arouse her. The experience of bringing a client in and making them hers always excited Hermione, though when it was somebody who she held a history of loathing towards, the feeling was amplified tenfold. Her slim fingers ducked between her into her tight shorts as she rubbed the growing moisture between her legs, pushing her panties aside to tease her clit. "Open your mouth," she commanded. It took several moments for Draco's jaw to unclamp, though he complied, allowing her to rub the wetness against his tongue. "Now suck them like the good little bitch you are."

Still managing to keep his wrist pinned, Hermione nearly arched her back at the sudden sensation of the ex-Slytherin's tongue on her fingers, lightly sucking the moisture off of them. He was unreadable, the mask hiding any sort of emotion he might be showing. It was at this moment that her vision began to trail down to the arm she was holding, the one with the Dark Mark still etched in it. The ink itself had not faded fully, stark against his wrist, though it looked different; greyscale flowers covered most of the skull, a second snake having been added to curl in the opposite direction. She knew what it was up close but from a distance, the original design was obscured into a floral piece of art. Lifting it up a bit, she squinted, observing the angry raised skin that surrounded the new ink; scars. The entire texture of the mark was different, as if he had tried to scrub it off of his skin. It unsettled her enough to let the appendage go.

Draco's POV

Everything in his felt like fire. His skin felt burnt to a crisp, like a bad sunburn that had salt and lemon juice rubbed into the skin. Sweat had begun to drip down his spine, down his brow, falling into the raw flesh. To him, the two minute reprieve that he got felt like nothing. Time was obsolete here, a feeling of uncertainty of how long it had been since he walked through those doors. Was it 20 minutes? 30? How much longer would this torture be? Even when the word came to mind though, he couldn't compare it to the torture that his dominatrix had been through at his own hands. Besides that, his persistent arousal was enough of an indication that his body was enjoying every second of this event. Every once and a while Hermione would reach down between his legs, alternating between stroking the tip of his cock lightly and giving less-than gentile tugs to his testicles. The dichotomy of it was confusing, but his body loved every second of it.

With her fingers in his mouth still, Draco felt Hermione let go of his wrist; the bones had felt like they were grating together, the restraints that had been removed already making his limbs feel weak. Her fingers still remained between his lips, and he did his best to suck them to her approval level. It didn't take him much to realize what she had been doing; she tasted sweet, like honey and basil. It was enough to make his cock throb painfully, and she stroked him once more. The hand holding his jaw in place withdrew trailing down one of the lacerations between his ribcage. "Poor Malfoy. A big bad Death Eater, practically begging to cum from some light contact play," Hermione cooed into his ear, thumb pressing to the sensitive area at the top of his shaft. Between the soft words and her body being this close to him, it felt like he was going to cum at any moment, a guttural moan leaving his chest. He bucked his hips into her hand, craving that release, praying that she would let him finish and relieve that tightness between his legs. It was futile though. Instantly her hand withdrew, leaving his cock to drip pre-cum onto the cold floor that he kneeled on. "I don't let my pets come that easily." She chided.

Without any warning other than the sound of her clearing her throat slightly, a wet feeling coated his face, and he recoiled slightly. She had just fucking spit on him. She had literally spat in his face...and he was desperate to taste it, to lick the saliva from his lips and feel what she tasted like. It was just as sweet as her own juices, like some sort of Cherry mixed drink. He felt like a desperate, pathetic fool. Somebody who comes to grovel at the feet of somebody he wanted closure from only to be reduced to a sputtering mess of a man, his pride bruising slowly as the degradation went on. This went against everything he stood for, every masculine drill his father had put him through, every chauvinistic line he had thrown between Crabbe and Goyle during his schooling years. He felt his hair being jerked back, his jaw tilted upwards. "You've had well over two minutes, Weasel. Back to the fun." If he could see her, he'd be throwing daggers in her direction.

Hermione's grip was gone momentarily, replaced by the sound of rustling and the feeling of soft fabric being peeled off. It didn't fully register what was happening until she took his hand in her own and drew it between her legs. Draco damn near choked at this; he did not know dominatrix etiquette, and didn't expect in a million years that the appointment would go beyond him being abused or dominated. "Since you've had a bad habit of talking back to me, I want a moment of true silence...but you need to beg first." His eyebrows furrowed, confused for a moment. What exactly was she expecting of him? It took a few moments before she gripped his hair once more. "Beg for me, you fucking idiot. Beg to lick me." His cheeks flushed, and he sputtered for a moment. "I don't-" a slap cut through the air, the same side of his face as before. Jaw ringing and stars in his vision, Draco let out a sharp yelp at the sudden force before gathering what little composure and dignity he had.

"P-please, Mistress Jade, let me pleasure you." A sharp laugh, the fingers digging deeper into his scalp. "Pathetic. Is that how you ask for something that you really want? Again." Gritting his teeth in shame and frustration, his voice was a bit more stable. "Please, Mistress Jade, let me lick you."

"Try again."

"Please let me lick you, Mistress Jade, I want you to feel good."

"I can't hear you."

"Please, fuck, Mistress Jade, please let me taste you"

"Again."

His frustration was at the brim, at risk of teeming over. "Please, please just let me taste your pussy. Please let me lick you!" Draco's voice came out in a sharp whine, loud and needy. Inwardly, he cringed; he truly was pathetic. This seemed to satisfy his mistress though, as she yanked his head forward and into her crotch. The back of her thigh rested on his shoulder, pinning him in place as he knelt on the floor. It took no time at all for his tongue to meet her lips, tasting the sweetness of her juices. It was addicting, and he couldn't get enough as he licked with fervor. It was enough for him to ignore the throbbing of his member, and his hand tentatively reaching up to rest on her knee. The sounds she was making...god, they were driving him wild. Everything about her, about the build up, the knowledge that he was able to give her some sort of reprieve was driving him absolutely wild.

Hermione's POV

He might be an arrogant, pompous, bigoted son of an absolute bitch, but Draco Malfoy was good with his mouth. Hermione couldn't deny him that; it was like he was born for this job, and in a way, he was. A pure-blooded traitor devolved to a mess, worshipping a "mudblood" as he had once thrown in her face all those years ago. "Good boy…" she purred as his tongue found the sensitive nub at the top of her folds, her hips thrusting forward to grind against his lips. "You love the taste of this Mudblood pussy, don't you?" His response was a slight nod, the leather mask brushing against her pubic bone. Sweat began to trickle down the nape of her neck, body too warm, clothing too tight. Senses on fire, Hermione arched her back a bit, pushing her clients head further between her legs as she braced against his back. With exception of the murmurs of encouragement or degradation being peppered throughout her speech, and the light moans coming from Draco, the room was eerily silent.

She glanced down at the hand that rested at her thigh, his forearm towards the ground; she knew which one it was though. That fucking tattoo, the one he was forced to bear his entire life; the vindictive side of her thought it fitting, but she pitied him deep down. It was hard to focus on it though, for his tongue flicked once more on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It wasn't often that Hermione had a customer make her moan like this, her head thrown back so that her long, wild curls bounced against the cleft of her ass. Every nerve sang, warmth pooling into her belly. Something else began to creep into her system though; fear. Anxiety was beginning to build with her climax, and something in her snapped. Old habits die hard, and she would not allow herself to feel that release at the hand of a man. It brought back too many mixed emotions from years ago. She quickly unhooked her leg from Draco's shoulder, pressing the heel of her shoe into his chest to knock him back to the floor. The look of confusion wasn't missed, though he savored every bit of her juices that remained on his flushed lips. His expression almost asked, "did I not do well?" though the words never left his mouth.

"You are going to stand up," she instructed, grabbing his forearm and jerking him up into standing position. How the hell is he still hard? His knees were beginning to bruise against the hard floor, and he crossed his legs slightly, trying to shield himself from her slightly. "Oh, stop with that shit. Bitches don't get dignity," she nearly growled, beginning to lead him to the back corner of the room. It was her bed, the one she had personally purchased and customized to her liking. The sheets were a deep maroon shade, the posts and headboard adorned with various anchors that restraints that could be attached so she chose so choose. Above it was the sheer black canopy, one that tricked down over the mattress elegantly. If it weren't customized to the dominatrix lifestyle, it would almost be lovely, romantic even. Here though, it served one purpose. Hermione wasn't careful of where she stepped, occasionally stepping onto his toes with the edge of her heels, almost gleeful at the winces. "You will lie on your back here until I tell you to move. Legs up, arms hooked under your knees. I want you spread on display like the whore you are when I get back".

Draco obeyed, though he fidgeted as he did so; this was obviously new and foreign territory for him, to have his legs spread pitifully like he had with so many people before. Hermione was almost shocked to see that his asshole had been shaved, the skin pink and puckered ever so slightly. The dominatrix just her thumb trace of his entrance, her submissive letting out a soft yelp as his grip on the back of his knees tightered. She rose, boots clicking as she approached the small cabinet next to her bed. From it, she produced two things: a small bottle of lubricant, and the medium sized dildo attached to a black harness that she was so fond of. The latter was placed at the edge of the bed, while she took no time squeezing a bit of the cool liquid onto her index finger. "Answer me, Weasel...have you ever been fingered?" Her voice was a purr as she rubbed her two fingers together, reveling in the slickness. "N-no, mistress…"

"Well then this will be especially fun...I don't get to fuck virgins often"

The curly-haired witch took her time approaching the tall man spread-eagle on the bed, letting the toes of her boot create lines in the floor. The clicking was enough to torture her blind-folded subs, and she could see his chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly than it had before. Standing over him, she let her knee rest on the mattress, rubbing a bit of the cool lubricant on his rim. He squirmed a bit at the cold feeling, earning a slap on his welted ass cheek with her other hand. "The only thing that will make this easier for you is if you hold still and fucking relax. I am giving you one chance to listen before I stop being nice. Now breathe, dipshit." Despite this being a normal reaction, Hermione's patience was wearing thin. It wasn't that fucking scary. She gave him little warning before sliding her index finger past the tight rim and into him.

At the sudden intrusion, Draco gasped, nearly breaking contact with his knees as he squired slightly. He was warm inside, dry despite the lubricant on her finger. Not a word passed between him as Hermione gently thrust the digit into him, searching for the bundle of nerves that she knew would ease the tension. Even when she did find it, earning a low moan, the tension against her was still prevalent. Teeth gritting, she let another low warning leave her lips. "If you think this is bad, Malfoy, then two fingers is going to be torture...well, for you, maybe." She released her hold on his ass cheek, reaching to grab the bottle of lube and letting it drip onto his tight hole. It wasn't long before the tight cavity felt a little bit less dry, and she took this opportunity to slide her middle finger in, scissoring him open. His breath was faster now, cock slapping against his abdomen as he strained against the sudden pressure. Hermione hummed a bit as she stroked his prostate. His body was beginning to relax around her fingers, though she could see the shame across his body, skin red from the lacerations and his own embarrassment.

A third finger was slid into him, and all the tenderness she had once shown as gone. Her digits thrusted into him at an even and firm pace, his cock dribbled pre-cum as he groaned and squired against her. "Such a good little slut. It was like you were bred for this…" The words instantly had an effect on him, and he tensed slightly. Oh well. He had 20 minutes left on his session, and she was going to get to the main course whether his body was ready or not. Besides, he knew the safeword. He could use it at any time. Drawing her fingers back, she pulled out of him, his asshole gaping slightly as she did. "It almost looks like you have a pretty little pussy…" she murmured, standing to stride towards her cabinet.

One leg at a time, Hermione slid the harness over her legs and strapped it firmly against her pelvis. The slickness of the lube almost made it difficult to hold, though she used it to stroke the 6" flesh-toned cock that adorned it. A larger size was reserved for regulars; anything more would definitely be painful, and not in the good way. "Are you ready for the main course, Malfoy?" She drawled with her approach, dragging his hips back so that he was on the edge of the mattress. A whimper was the only response she had, and she rubbed the head of the hard rubber against his entrance. He was still slick from the silicone based lube; it didn't dry out easily. Still, she took the time to apply more, making sure that it was nearly dripping. "I am going to fuck you and you are going to lie there and take it," she instructed, stroking the dildo, "though I encourage you to use the safeword should you need to."

Before he could even moan out a response, Hermione was already pushing the length into him. Draco's body vibrated on the mattress, and had she not had her nails dug firmly into his hip bones, she was sure he would have scooted back from her. Still, she took it slow. She didn't want him as a regular client, though she didn't want to hurt him either. A vein in his cock twitched as she slowly sunk into his body, hilting herself fully. "Mm…so tight," she moaned slightly, pinching one of his erect nipples. "Ah...thank you, mistress…" he whispered out, arching into her touch. Good. Affirmation. She took this as an indicator that he was ready for her, and drew the fake cock out just slightly before slamming into him. That earned a much louder response, one of him digging his nails into the soft him of his legs.

The pace she set was not gentle; she thrust into him hard, dragging his hips into her so that every inch of the rubber was hilted. His cock bounced between his legs, and she took the opportunity to grip it and stroke. The moans he made were delicious, the blindfold allowing the peaks of blush to spread. It should have made her feel good. It should have made her proud of her work. Instead, it caused the resentment and anger to bubble to the surface. He was in her Chateau, getting off on some sort of power dynamic he wanted to play out. Hermione had no idea why he had come in the first place, and frankly, she didn't give a shit. Thrusting a bit harder, Hermione angled herself to where she knew his prostate was.

The first time she hit it with the 6", she thought he was beginning to seize. His body reacted immediately, throwing his head back to let out a moan and buck into her hand. Perfect; he could handle it. The pace continued as she drilled into his slick entrance, jerking his cock more. "Do you want to cum, Weasel?" She demanded, twisting her grip. Another moan, with an especially hard thrust in response. "Answer me now!" He grunted; that one had to hurt. "Yes, please Mistress Jade, please let me cum!" He yelled out, voice rising to fill the air. He'd obeyed, and was running out of time on his session. Might as well let him. The combination of strap on and her fingers would push him over the edge in no time, and she was absolutely correct: in a matter of seconds, the blind-folded Slytherin had coated his stomach and chest with cum. His cock twitched in her grasp, but she was merciless in it.

"Tell me you like being fucked like a whore," she barked, squeezing him hard, "Tell me how much you like being fucked by a Mudblood." His moans turned raw as he writhed against her, muscles tense under her grip. "I-I, fuck, I love being fucked by a Mudblood." She spit against the blindfold as she drilled into him, narrowing her eyes to glare at him. She fucking hated everything about him. She loathed the tattoo that marred his strained arm, his smug expression that he held all these years, the fact that he seemed okay with the past. Everything about him gave her the opportunity to punish him. "Tell me how pathetic you are," she spat, releasing his cock to backhand his right cheek.

"I'm pathetic!"

"Again."

"I'm pathetic."

"Keep. Going."

"I'm fucking pathetic!" His voice was raw, words jumbled. "I'm a pathetic nobody!" Hermione wanted him to see her treating him like the bitch she was, and she ripped the leather away from his eyes so that she could meet his gaze. Instead of a grey glare meeting her...it was eyes squinched tight, tears streaming from the corners. He was crying; his voice was raw to keep that sob in his chest, though removing the blindfold seemed to be the key to releasing the pent of emotions. It was enough to make her pull out of him, and a weak "Strawberry" passed his lips before the tears openly fell. His body looked wracked with confusion, any trace of smug defiance gone.

It took little time for her to pull the harness off and remove the black collar that was tight against his throat, though by the time she had put everything away, he had turned his back to her on the bed to stare at the wall. Aftercare. She needed to utilize it. Hermione's touch was softer now as she rubbed small circles onto his back, allowing him to openly cry in front of her. It was...uncomfortable. The resentful was ebbing into empathy, and she almost cried with him given the raw vulnerability. They sat like that for what felt like hours, even after the timer dinged, and she alternated between letting her wand trace over the angry marks and letting her fingers brush against his back. It was easy to heal the marks, though she wasn't sure she could heal whatever had snapped in the ex-prefect.

It wasn't long before he wordlessly rose, not even looking at her as he slid on his dress robes and ran a hand through his tousled platinum locks. He didn't acknowledge her as he slid each foot into his shoes, nor when he straightened the tie. The only thing that she was granted was a small, "Thank you" as he drew the bag of coins from his pockets and gently laid them on the bed he had just been fucked on. With a sweep of black robes, Draco Malfoy was gone as soon as he had entered. The redness rimming his eyes didn't escape her notice, and instead of satisfaction in the money she had just made or the job she did, guilt rested in the pit of her stomach.