Hermione froze under her new boss, his gaze doing much more to pin her down than his weight, or the awkward position of her legs around his shoulders. She was not naked, but considering what she had on consisted of black stilettos, white stockings, and a mini-plied skirt that was positioned in a way that covered nothing, it was hard to take that as a consolation.
Yet, as he relieved her of her panties, she found herself unable to react, filled with anticipation. Things had come too far to stop.
That didn't prevent her eyes from widening when she felt something pressing at her entrance. Something that was decidedly not his fingers, slipping inside.
She couldn't help but turn her head. A part of it was to avoid his captivating gaze. Yet, if that had been the case, she would have turned to her left, and looked at the leather couch. Instead, she looked at the mirror, watching herself being treated like she had never felt before.
She watched herself, pinned under Mr. White, his shaft disappearing slowly inside her, feeling like an outside observer. The makeup and the way she dressed helped her to feel that way. After all, it was nothing but a dream … right?
The only thing that disagreed with the conclusion was the feeling of her insides, eagerly embracing his presence. It was a tight feeling, but the discomfort she expected from her first time didn't come.
She was too wet for that to matter, and despite everything, he was kind as he pushed forward.
As she continued to watch the scene before her, her boss continued to caress her body, moving his hands up along her stomach, as if daring her to say something.
She clenched her teeth and remained in her position, even as his fingers once again landed on her breasts, this time mauling them much more aggressively. She never enjoyed roughness, and it was supposed to be a turn off. Yet, she was aroused, more than she had ever been in her life.
For the mission, she repeated in her mind, but even with all her passion, it was not believable. After all, if it was for the mission, why was she closing her eyes to concentrate on a book and ignore it, instead watching carefully to etch it to her memory.
As he moved back and forth between her legs, a gasp escaped her mouth, threatening the illusion that she was watching someone else. Yet, she could only stare as he continued to move, getting faster.
Then, suddenly, he pulled back, about to stop. "I think that's enough to make sure you're enthusiasm, right?" he whispered. "We can stop if you want."
A good offer, she thought. Or, she tried to think, but her lips disobeyed that conclusion. "No, sir!" she gasped desperately. Her mind was foggy with pleasure, but stopping now was unacceptable.
"As you wish," he said as he leaned forward, his hands on her shoulders, her legs still on his shoulders. Then, he pushed forward, faster and rougher than she expected. Her mouth opened wide, a moan escaping the confines, suppressing the ongoing song.
He ignored that as his thickness penetrated her hard, invading spots that had been never touched before. Yet, it was his gaze that was about to drive her crazy. Her gaze turned toward the mirror desperately, watching in amazement as his hips drilled into her, the move fast and mercilessly.
She stared as her breasts swayed as a steady slapping sound mixed into the song, matching the beat of the music.
A few more strokes, and she found herself trembling in excitement, her core engulfed with pleasure. No longer in control of herself, she just moaned as his hips turned into a drill, her body moving back and forth as much as his position allowed.
Her movement increased once he shifted his grip. Rather than pressing her shoulders, he grabbed her hips, raising them for a better angle. She knew it to be better, as each push gave her more pleasure.
She felt that she wasn't too far away from breaking, still unable to believe the feelings going through her body, awakened by his increasing roughness. A change that she enjoyed even as his fingers disappeared into her breasts.
At that moment, she had a much better understanding of the way Lavender acted all through their sixth and seventh years. She knew it was supposed to feel good … but this much? If it had felt this good, she had been missing a great deal of experience in her life.
Maybe even enough to regret some of her past choices; too bad she was starting to have trouble remembering her name as the pleasure flooded. He fully attended to her tits, making her more and more aroused.
She never knew her breasts were this sensitive.
Once again, she looked away, catching her own gaze in the mirror, unable to believe how she was looking. Horny, slutty … yet happy. With the war going on, she didn't even remember the last time she had had any kind of fun. What she was doing was wrong, or supposed to be wrong, but his incredible girth went a long way to soothe her misgivings.
It was wrong, she knew, but the anticipation that was building in her didn't leave much space to worry. He pushed, and Hermione responded, her hips moving to meet his movement halfway, taking him deeper inside her.
Then, his hands shifted to her hips once more, digging into her flesh, and she moaned desperately, almost losing it. She whimpered, but her instincts followed his touch and raised her hips even more, giving him a better angle to invade her.
She had trouble believing how great the sensation of being … stretched to the limit felt, emotions dancing in her soul. She closed her eyes once more, abandoning control as he pummeled into her.
Her breasts hobbled wildly with each push.
Yet, despite the great sensation that was going on inside her, what had proved to be the last, devastating touch was his lips. She felt his head against her neck once more, but this time, it came along with a soft, lingering kiss, just above her collarbone.
And just like that, an orgasm hit her, stronger than anything else she had felt. She had played with herself in the past whenever the ache had become too distracting, but it never made her feel such a deep, desperate shift.
Her world toppled down.
His lips moved upward, slowly, trailing up her chin until they reached her ear, each touch leaving a memory that would never be erased. "Amazing work, sweetie," he whispered. "Do you want to stop?"
"No, sir!" her answer came immediately, stammered between her trembling. She was on fire, but she didn't need it to be extinguished.
She needed that fire to burn even more!
"As you wish, Miss Granger," he whispered, and Hermione froze for a moment. She didn't remember telling him her true name, just her cover identity. But as he grabbed her tits once more, squeezing them as he drove inside her again, she found that a small problem.
She probably slipped that during the interview. It wasn't like she was in her right mind. The combination of the sensation was too much for her to focus on any detail for more than just a few seconds.
The way her lips were clamping around his girth desperately was a much more immediate, and important problem. How she would be able to last for more than a few more seconds.
He continued kissing her neck, and she found herself hugging him, her emotions in chaos. She didn't know how to convey those, and in her confusion, she chose an unusual path.
She bit his shoulder. Hard.
A gasp escaped his mouth, but more of a surprise than pain. "So, that's how you want to play, Miss Granger," he whispered once again.
Then, Hermione lost any sense of time and space. The responsible thing, his hips, suddenly exploded into motion as they impaled her again and again, her pace mercilessly quick. She lost her control as she grabbed his back, her nails digging into his flesh.
And he got even faster, the explosion of pleasure destroying her senses completely. Her pussy clamped down against his invasion, but it was impossible to stop. It just made his pushes feel even better.
"I'm almost there," he whispered, just as she started trembling in orgasmic bliss once more.
"N-not inside, sir," she managed to say, the only hint of self-control she managed to muster since she stepped into this accursed and blessed room.
"Are you sure, sweetie?" he whispered, and it was hard enough to answer without the kiss to her neck that followed.
She wanted to say no, but somehow, her sanity prevailed. "Yes, sir. Please, outside," she managed to say, each word interrupted by a moan.
And, just in time, it seemed, because the moment he pulled out, and sprayed over her. It was supposed to be humiliating, demeaning, and disgusting, but as she felt his cum rain over her tits, the only thing that she felt was a sense of accomplishment.
There was something wrong with her, she thought as she looked at her tits covered with cum, still moving up and down with her desperate breathing. She wanted to say something…
But the exhaustion of the greatest pleasure she had ever felt — twice — was too much for her to ignore. She closed her eyes, and darkness took her.