For the Potions Master's Amusement
Chapter 79: A Widening Sphere
The portly wizard stood at the front of a room crowded with desks, computer towers, monitors, keyboards, printers, and on their feet by their desks, the Ministry of Magic's Information Technology engineers.
'Good job, people!' the wizard cried, his voice made conspicuous by a distinct American twang. 'Nine months into this project, you have completed the first phase of implementation, and we go live first thing Monday morning. Give yourselves a round of applause, then off with you! You deserve an early start to your weekend!'
Hermione obediently joined in the round of applause, then slung her bag over her shoulder, checking her desk to make sure all was tidy.
'You're coming to the Leaky for a pint, aren't you?'
She turned to Tom Burns, whose desk was to the left of hers. 'Thanks, Tom, but I'm going to a party tonight. Another time I will.'
Patty Wooster came up on her other side. 'The whole department is going,' Patty informed her. 'You have to come, even if it's only for one drink.'
Hermione looked from one co-worker to the other. She wanted to arrive at Roissy House in plenty of time to primp for the dinner and dance portion of the gala weekend, but she was torn. She had been through an intense nine months with her co-workers, and they had accomplished something significant—the least she could do was go out for a drink with them. Besides, they'd been dismissed an hour early. She had plenty of time to stop off at the Leaky for a pint before leaving for Roissy House.
They were a silly, boisterous group at a large, round table in the wizarding pub. She nursed her pint and chatted with Tom and Patty. At length, she glanced at her wristwatch and saw it was almost five—it was time to say good-bye. But before she could do so, a group of men entered the pub, furtive-looking wizards in black cloaks.
'Ooh, look who's deigning to drink with mere mortals,' Tom said spitefully, a bit the worse for wear after three pints in quick succession.
'Who are they?' Hermione asked, curious.
'Well, I don't know about the younger bloke, but the other two are Unspeakables,' Patty put in. 'Tom is just angry because he couldn't even get an interview with the Department of Mysteries.'
'I heard they're recruiting,' Tom said gloomily. 'You'd think they'd be interested in someone from Information Technology. Isn't that what they're all about? Information?'
Hermione chuckled. 'I don't think computers represent the sort of information which interests the Unspeakables,' she said, amused.
'I wouldn't be so sure,' Tom sniffed. 'Rumour has it that they're researching the magical "answer" to computers—it seems the Minister is none too happy with bringing Muggle ways into the Ministry.'
Hermione stood. 'Well, the Wizengamot overruled him, didn't they? And I, for one, am glad they did, because I like my job, even if I have to spent every day with you lot!'
They laughed, even Tom cheering up a bit, and Hermione said her goodbyes, her mind already rushing ahead to her second party weekend in training with Master Claudius.
That night, feeling she was looking her best in her black party dress, Hermione was approached for dances by three different wizards who seemed quite interested in her. Hermione had no qualms about relaxing and enjoying herself; she could feel eyes following her every move, and she knew Claudius, Reg, and Rafe were all keeping her under surveillance. It felt good to be cared for to that extent by men whom she admired and respected, and she knew that she was reflecting that deep satisfaction to the people around her. Never before in her life had she felt so confident—so grounded—and for the first time in her experience, it did not surprise her when men responded to her as if they were attracted to her.
David Osborne was her first partner, and he asked her if she would be permitted to play at the Dungeon party the next night.
'It hasn't been discussed yet,' she said truthfully. 'But I don't know if I'm ready for that, to be honest.'
Master David smiled down at her, merriment dancing in his eyes, reminding her of Reg. No wonder he had been tempting to Kell …
'But it's not as if you're a novice,' he said. 'You've been collared before.'
Hermione averted her eyes from his and studied the placket of his dress robes. 'Yes, I have been collared before—but I'm taking things very slowly, this time around.'
His hand tightened at her waist, just enough to add emphasis to his words. 'I hope, Hermione, that when you decide you're ready to play, you'll consider my invitation,' he said, and his tone was so earnest, Hermione could not doubt his sincerity.
'Thank you,' she replied. 'I will.'
Alain Devereux was the next to ask her to dance, and she was pleased to accept. He was a small, elegant man, with sleek dark hair and eyes. Hermione had met him at dinner, introduced by Hadrian, but she learned much more about him as they danced. He was thirty years old, never married, six years in the lifestyle, in England for a three year stint with the French Ministry, as an attaché to their consulate in the U.K.
'I hope you'll enjoy your stay,' Hermione told him, liking the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
'How could I fail to do so?' he said. 'Roissy House is without peer for D/s activity—save, of course, for the first Chateau Roissy, in my country—and the submissives in England are beautiful.'
At that moment, their dance ended, and he lifted her hand to his lips. 'Perhaps, one day you will visit France, and it will be my honour to escort you to Chateau Roissy.'
Almost against her will, Hermione was charmed. She wondered what sort of Dominant this man would make. 'Thank you,' she said, feeling a bit flustered.
Her third partner was called Rufus Desmond, a Dominant visiting from Edinburgh. His heavy Scot accent reminded Hermione pleasantly of Minerva McGonagall, whose accent only grew that thick when she was agitated.
'I'll be staying at Roissy House for six weeks or so, learning about how the community operates,' he told her, trodding upon her foot. 'Ach, sorry, Hermione. Dancing is not my talent.'
Hermione laughed and suggested that they drink some punch, instead, and they settled at a small table and talked. Rufus would learn about what enchantments were used to secure the house, how the board of directors was organised, and the particulars of the Dungeon construction, for he hoped to endow a similar institution in Scotland.
'Oh, my,' Hermione said. 'That will be very expensive! I believe this community was set up when a wealthy man left his entire estate in trust for Roissy House.'
Rufus smiled modestly, his ruddy cheeks dimpling above his neat Van Dyke beard. He had hazel eyes and reddish gold hair, already receding. He was of middling height and a bit on the heavy side, but Hermione liked his demeanour.
'It may be a wee bit expensive,' he agreed mildly. 'I can afford it.'
Hermione studied his face, looking for some sign of pride or gloating in his wealth, but she saw none, and it made her like him even more. He might not be as fit as Master David, nor as handsome as Master Alain, but Master Rufus was possessed of a gentle appeal which Hermione found very trustworthy.
'Do you live here?' he asked her hopefully. 'Will I be seeing you for meals and such?'
'I'm in training with the Claudius family,' she explained, 'but I'm only here on the weekends. We sometimes eat with the household, but more often, we eat in their rooms.' He looked so disappointed that she had to smile. 'Never fear, though; there are at least two submissives in training who spend quite a bit of time here—young ladies called Ava and Chassity—so you won't be without charming company.'
Frank hazel eyes gazed into hers. 'Not so charming as you, I'll warrant,' he said. 'I'll have to be content to see you when I can. Will your training be … completed, any time soon?'
Claudius and Vi approached then, arm in arm, and Hermione stood in response to Claudius' extended hand. 'Good night, Master Rufus,' she said, and contentedly left the party with her training Master, the question unanswered, and her emotions bestirred by so much admiration.
Master Claudius studied her above his steepled fingers. 'And we are in agreement that you will appear at the July Dungeon party nude?' he inquired.
Hermione shifted restlessly in her chair, avoiding his icy blue eyes. 'Do you consider it a necessary part of my training?' she asked, already knowing the answer.
'I do,' he answered curtly.
Hermione inhaled deeply, seeking to calm her inner agitation with slow, even breathing. 'Then I'll do as you ask,' she replied.
'Of course you will,' he said briskly, rising. 'Now, go to see Violet; she has your garments for tonight's party.'
Hermione remained in her seat, alarmed. 'What are they?'
He looked down at her steadily. 'Nothing to cause you alarm or discomfort,' he assured her. 'Something to help prepare you for July.'
Hermione almost smiled when she saw the fetish garments Claudius had chosen for her to wear tonight. The leather straight jacket was shocking pink, a nice foil for the black straps and buckles which festooned the garment …
'But it leaves my breasts uncovered!' she said. 'Naked!'
'But there are these,' Vi said soothingly, presenting the black leather pasties. 'They cover your nipples, see?'
Hermione nodded, lifting the garment and seeing the array of straps festooning the back. She held it up before her in front of the mirror, imagining the shocking pink leather against her fair skin, her breasts on display—save for the little scraps of leather to cover the peaks—and her arms bound, useless. The idea appealed to her, and a fire of want kindled, low in her abdomen. The black strap which would bisect her sternum, running between her breasts, ended in a black collar, which reminded her of the one she had all but thrown back at the person who had given it to her. She swallowed, willing the memory away.
'Will I wear my thong knickers?' she asked past the lump in her throat.
'Oh, no,' Vi responded, coming forward with another item in her hands. 'For the bottom, there's this.' She spoke the word with such reverence that Hermione turned to her expectantly, and was surprised to see Vi holding an odd conglomeration of leather and … yes, those were heart-shaped, golden locks! 'Isn't it lovely?' Vi asked, raising her face, flushed with happiness, to Hermione's. 'It was my very own.'
Hermione replaced the straight jacket on the bed and took from Vi's hands the object of her fond reminiscences. 'Your very own what?' she asked, trying to sound respectful.
'Why, my very own chastity belt, of course,' she replied, sounding surprised that Hermione had to ask such a thing. 'Have you never seen one, before?'
Hermione felt her lips part in shock. 'You're joking!'
Vi shook her head once. 'I'm not, I promise you.' She unfastened the button at the waist of Hermione's skirt and unfastened the zip, allowing the skirt to drop to the floor, puddling at her feet. That left Hermione standing in naught save her blouse and her stay-up stockings. 'You won't want the stockings, tonight,' Vi told her. 'You'll go barefoot to the Dungeon. And you'll want to make sure you're freshly shaved—the belt covers more of your bum than the thong knickers, but it shows a bit more of your pudendum.'
Hermione stepped into the spaces Vi indicated, and the garment was pulled up to her waist, the leather gusset-piece thicker than the other straps, it's curved edges covering the area of her quim in the front and up to the middle of her bum in the back. The strap holding this piece attached to the waist-strap, completing the job of hiding her arse crack. The straps were adjustable, and Vi set about fitting the garment perfectly to Hermione, snapping the little heart locks until she was locked up as tight as a medieval wife whose husband was away on the Crusades.
'The privacy strap was replaced, of course, but the rest of the belt is as it was when Master gave it to me,' Vi said, standing behind Hermione and admiring it in the mirror.
'But why am I wearing it?' Hermione asked, thinking to herself that as a covering, the chastity belt hid her private parts—mostly—and for tonight, that was really her only concern.
'Because you're beginning a period of abstinence, Hermione,' Claudius said from the doorway behind her, and Hermione had only to shift her gaze to meet his eyes in the mirror. 'For the next month, you will be restricted to two orgasms a week, both of which you must report in your journal. This is not as restrictive as it might be—certainly not as restrictive as what Violet agreed to, when she accepted the gift of the chastity belt—but I feel that it would be unrealistic to expect you to go completely without sexual gratification when you do not have the advantage of constant supervision, and you spend four days a week away from us.'
He advanced into the room until he stood directly behind her, and he laid his hands upon her shoulders.
'The chastity belt is a symbol—I will not require you to wear it, except for tonight's Dungeon party—but it is also a signal to your admirers of the phase of training you have entered. This abstinence will go on for a minimum of one month, and at the end of that time, if I am satisfied with your progress, then we may dispense with it—or, we may continue on until I am fully satisfied. Do you understand?'
Hermione nodded, feeling slightly apprehensive. Up until this point, Master Claudius had placed no restriction on her masturbation or the number of her climaxes, and she knew it would be difficult to deny herself.
'You may, if you wish, indulge in touching tonight. Your hands will be bound, but I have no objection if you wish to allow an admirer to peel away the nipple-covers to enjoy having your breasts pleasured.' Hermione flushed a bit, slightly aroused by Master Claudius' words, and not entirely comfortable with feeling this way in his presence. 'I also have no objection if you wish to allow someone to finger you beneath the gusset piece. Of course, if you orgasm, that will count as one of the two you may have this week, and if you come twice, then you will have long, tense week ahead of you, won't you?'
Hermione was aroused, now, feeling as if her body had betrayed her by responding to Claudius' voice and suggestions. Still, he held her eyes in the mirror, his mien unchanged from how it had been when they were discussing the boring events of her work week. So she concentrated on his calm, and she slowly brought her own raging reactions under control.
'I understand,' she said after a moment.
He smiled. 'Wearing these things tonight will be fun—you'll see. And it's your last step before full nudity, which you will experience next month—and I predict you will end by enjoying that, as well.' He released Hermione's shoulders and held a hand out to Vi, who came up and wrapped an arm around his waist, looking up at him adoringly. 'We look forward to seeing your nakedness, Hermione. We will appreciate the beauty of your body very much.'
This made her face flame. Did he mean that he wanted to look at her naked body? Did he desire her? It confused her, sometimes, but she tried not to think about it too much. Master Claudius was never overtly sexual with her, and Vi showed no signs of jealousy, which was reassuring.
But Vi wasn't jealous of Kell, was she? In fact, she and Claudius both had sex with Kell, all three of them, together, her less than helpful inner voice reminded her.
This led to another thought. Did Vi desire her?
Stop it! she scolded the disruptive voice, and was relieved when Vi and her husband left the room, obviously headed for their bedroom, no doubt to share their memories about their experiences with the chastity belt.
Oh, bloody hell! They'd left her locked up in the damn belt! How was she supposed to shave with this thing on?
Are you a witch, or aren't you? the nag in her head inquired, and she marched off to prepare for her evening as best she could. Damned if she would interrupt her host and hostess now!
As usual, Master Claudius was right. Being in the Dungeon, her arms bound, her quim locked up tight, she was very, very titillated. She was simultaneously free of responsibility, because she had no use of her hands, and desirous of using those hands to touch herself, for everything excited her. Wearing the shocking pink straight jacket heightened all of her senses in a way she could not explain, and before she had been in the Dungeon for fifteen minutes, her quim was slick and aching as if her Master had been tormenting her for an hour with no relief.
Podgy Master Robert had Diana and Jacqueline on display, bound side by side on two St Andrew's Crosses, and he was flogging them in tandem. Hermione envied the girls very much the sting of the cat o'nine tails, and shuddered with them as they reached near simultaneous orgasms, their voices ringing through the cavernous room.
'Coming to climax without being touched is not unheard of, you know,' Claudius murmured into her ear when the echoes of the red-haired submissives' cries died away, 'and if you come from mere watching, that will still count as one.'
Hermione shot a speaking glance at Claudius, who responded with a crooked smile. Vi, nude for the first time since Marcus' birth—and looking very well, indeed—stepped up to dry the perspiration from Hermione's face with a sweet-smelling handkerchief before holding a straw to her mouth, so she could sip water.
'You're doing fine,' Vi whispered.
Claudius turned aside to speak with Rafe, and t joined Vi at Hermione's side.
'Oh, a chastity belt!' t cried. 'Vi, this was the one Claudius gave you before he collared you!'
Vi murmured her agreement, and Hermione said, 'You wore this for him before he collared you?'
'Oh yes,' Vi answered. 'It was a requirement I had to complete before he would accept my offer of submission.' Vi gazed raptly at Hermione's lower half until Hermione wanted to kick her. 'I wore it for two months.'
Hermione gasped, and t said, 'Two months? How could you bear it?'
'Master was wonderful,' Vi replied. 'I stayed with him the entire time, and he would sometimes touch me and kiss me, but he did not permit me to orgasm. When it became difficult for one or both of us, he would read to me until we were … calmer.'
'Did he go without for two months, as well?' Hermione asked.
Vi shook her head in the negative. 'He offered,' she said, 'but I didn't want him to suffer through that. It was my choice. I told him he didn't have to abstain, but he restricted himself to once a week—and it was one of the requirements that I participate, when he … did it.' She sighed. 'That was the hardest part—not to come when I sucked him off. It's so arousing.'
Taffy nodded her agreement, and Hermione decided she needed much more practice at fellatio. She remembered her first time to do it, kneeling between her Master's knees in his study, and how he had taken his pleasure from her. She had been unsure, but he had been patiently instructive, as well as deliciously primal. She turned slightly away from Vi and t, who were now talking about their babies, and she indulged in her memories. Then a voice spoke at her shoulder.
'What did you decide, about playing tonight?' David Osborne inquired, and Hermione turned to him. He was looking down at her intently, but very correctly, keeping his eyes on her face as they conversed. 'I asked Claudius, and he said it's up to you.'
Hermione looked up into the handsome face, seeing in her peripheral vision the broad, muscled chest, naked above the black leather trousers he wore, and she knew that if he touched her with those strong, capable fingers, she would come at the first contact. If would have nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her over-stimulated physical state. And what fun would that be for him? Even more important, what would he expect in return? She had no desire to kiss him or suck him, and that would be the only fair exchange, wouldn't it?
'Thank you, David, but I've decided not to play tonight,' she answered as kindly as she could. 'It was sweet of you to ask me.'
He gave her a rueful smile. 'Well, don't forget you were my first choice,' he said, and she nodded.
Alain Devereux spent a pleasant half hour sitting with her at the refreshment tables upstairs, feeding her strawberries and giving her sips of fizzy drinks with a straw.
'But it's a charming way to spend an evening,' he assured her when she thanked him and insisted that he go downstairs to join the other guests. Nevertheless, he went, and Hermione knew that he, as well as David, liked her—perhaps even preferred her—but neither of them were enthralled. No, not any more than she was with them.
The last of her evening she spent with Rufus Desmond, who sought her out and invited her to sit with him through a Japanese rope bondage demonstration.
'It's never appealed to me personally,' he admitted, 'but I think it's fascinating to watch.'
Hermione sat with him, and they discussed many things, only one of which was rope bondage. Hermione was aware of the people around her, the increasing sexual tension, the increasing number of people slipping into the shadows to complete sex acts, but talking with Master Rufus kept her calm, and she was pleased, at the end of the evening, that she had not used up one of her allotted orgasms tonight in a way which she would deeply regret, come morning.
Rufus escorted her through the Dungeon, and Hermione saw David, sweat gleaming on his shoulders, whipping Chassity. Further on, in a darkened alcove, she saw Alain Devereux with a woman over his knee, and he was administering a spanking. Hermione turned her eyes away, not permitting herself to remember her bare-bottom spankings at the hand of Severus Snape.
At last they ascended the stairs and stood together in the wide marble corridor.
'I'd ask to kiss your hand, but they're … otherwise occupied,' Rufus said seriously. 'May I be so bold as to kiss your cheek?'
Hermione looked at the hazel-eyed Dominant. Together, they had just watched a naked man rope-binding and sexually teasing a naked woman. Yet he approached her as if he were courting a nineteenth century virgin. She found it to be very sweet.
'Of course, Rufus,' she said, 'if you'll allow me to kiss yours, as well.'
Gravely, he kissed her cheek, then presented his for her to do the same.
'Good night,' they said, and Hermione turned from him and walked to the staircase.
It was the last week in June, and Hermione had been on an errand for her department head. Returning at mid-morning, she was crossing the Ministry Atrium to the lifts, when she saw a familiar dark figure.
Instantly, her heart tripped into triple time, and she suddenly felt as if she had missed a step climbing down the stairs. He turned his head, and she saw the sharp, hooked nose in profile—there was no question, it was Severus Snape.
Don't make a fool of yourself, she cautioned as she hurried across the floor. Remember to stay centred!
But when she stopped by his side and smelled his aftershave, she felt all sense of control slip from beneath her feet. 'Hello, sir,' she said simply.
He jerked about to face her, and she drank in every detail. He was wearing his best robes—not the fancy dress ones, but his smartest everyday ones—and he was freshly showered and shaved. His sizable nostrils flared, and it seemed as if he were inhaling unusually large quantities of air. Yet he swiftly recovered his composure, even if his unforgettable midnight eyes remained wary.
'Hello, Miss Granger,' he replied.
Hermione smiled, unable to keep herself from it, knowing her whole heart was on display, but unable to hide it away from him. 'Are you here for business or pleasure?' she asked inanely.
Fortunately, he did not appear to take exception to her question. He was watching her as if she were an exotic species of potions ingredient. 'I have business on Level Nine,' he said quietly.
The lift doors opened, and Hermione was desperately glad to see there was no one in the lift car. Professor Snape allowed Hermione to enter first, then followed her in. He chose his level, then raised an eyebrow at her.
'Level Seven,' she told him.
He snorted. 'They put the Information Technology Group in with the Department of Magical Games and Sports?' The he frowned and added, 'You're going the other way—you should have got on a different lift.'
Hermione smiled nervously, wishing the lift would stall or break down or something. 'Level Seven had the most available space,' she explained, ignoring his second comment. Dear God, they were stopping at Level Nine! 'Sir, would you care to pop out for a bit of lunch, after your meeting?'
The lift doors opened, but he placed a hand on them to keep them open and turned to her. 'I'm sorry to say my meeting is lunch meeting,' he explained.
Hermione knew her face was flaming red; she could feel it happening. She knew she was breaking all the rules about not going out on dates without permission, but the only thing that mattered to her now was how desperately she did not want to see this man walking away from her.
'Well, how about dinner?' she asked, trying to sound bright and off-hand, and succeeding only in sounding lame. 'My treat!'
He remained motionless for what seemed an eternity, save for his eyes. His glittering eyes were gazing into her own with such intensity that at any moment she expected to feel him in her mind, and she longed for it.
'I'm afraid the Headmaster expects me back this afternoon—we're administering the NEWTs this week, you know.' He spoke smoothly, his voice pleasant and civil … but she was sure—positive!—that his eyes showed true regret.
'I understand,' she murmured, and she deferentially averted her eyes so that he would not read her desperate disappointment there. He's rejecting the invitation, not you, she told herself, biting her lip hard. This isn't the end of anything—it's the beginning of you behaving like a woman behaves with a man she fancies.
'Another time, perhaps?'
She looked up, surprised and delighted that he had not moved from his place in the lift doorway, determinedly holding it open, though a pleasant female voice had begun to intone, Please do not obstruct the doors. The lift cannot operate if the doors do not close completely.
He was holding up the lift, risking the silly bell alarm, waiting for her response—had stood there looking at the top of her head while he waited!
'Yes, I'd like that,' she said breathlessly, and he inclined his head politely for a moment before allowing the lift doors to creak slowly closed.
And Hermione leaned weakly against the lift wall, watching him striding down the corridor into the Department of Mysteries.
A/N: Pictures of Hermione's garments are available on the Live Journal ftpma_dishing community.
