Chapter 2
What Are You?

Hermione breathed heavily, trying to focus on her homework. Yes, it was the first day back, and yes, she had plenty of time to work on it. But the plug inside her, a brand new experience, was driving her crazy and anything that she could focus on outside of that was a welcome distraction at the moment. Merlin, how was she going to last with this plug inside her for the rest of the week, let alone the rest of the summer?

A knock at her door brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes immediately refocused on the parchment in front of her. She realized with a sigh that there was nothing on it but some ink blots, as she'd been zoning out instead of working.

"Come in," she called out. She turned in her desk chair, the plug shifting in an excruciating but pleasant way, and saw her father enter.

"Hello there, sweetheart," Michael said with a smile. "Come give your father a hug."

Hermione grinned and jumped up, her body jerking slightly as she was again reminded of the unusual intruder she was carrying. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling tight. After a few moments they pulled apart and Michael gestured toward her bed as he pulled her desk chair out for himself. Hermione sat down gingerly and turned her attention to him.

"Did your mother explain our decision to you sweetheart?" Michael asked gently. Hermione's face blazed again, and she nodded.

"Yes dad," she answered. Michael watched her for a few seconds before continuing.

"What we've agreed on is that your mother will be in charge of punishing you and training you, and I will be responsible for answering your questions, giving you information that you need, and preparing you for what will be expected of you." Michael paused and looked thoughtful for a second. "Most of the physical nature of your training will fall to her. We both feel it will be better if your first real interaction with a man in this way is with the one who claims you properly. That's why I won't be involved in that way. But I will help you understand the decision you're making, and answer any questions. If at any time you decide this isn't for you, let me or your mother know."

Hermione nodded, shifting uncomfortably.

"Ummm…" Hermione paused, not sure if she was allowed to speak yet, but the reassuring look Michael gave her was encouraging. "Mum told me to wear the… plug, at all times. It's making me feel… well, wonderful really. But, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to…" Hermione trailed off, her words failing her in how to convey the last part of her question.

Michael grinned mischievously.

"You want to know if you're allowed to pleasure yourself? If you're allowed to cum?"

Hermione blushed once more, but nodded without breaking eye contact. She needed to get over her embarrassment if she wanted this to be her life.

"The answer is… sort of. You must ask permission before doing so, but it's not something that we will prevent often."

"Thank you," Hermione said, flushing in anticipation this time instead of embarrassment.

"Do you have any other questions at the moment?" Michael asked lightly.

"May I, erm… please play with myself? And cum?" Hermione was so proud of how she'd barely stumbled over her words this time while holder her father's gaze. An amused look crossed his face.

"I will see what your mother thinks when I go downstairs, but you are being punished today." Michael chuckled at the enthusiasm that was on her face, even if she didn't realize it. "Before I leave though, I want to let you know more details about what will be happening this evening and tomorrow morning.

"In a few hours dinner will be ready, and you will come downstairs to eat. After dinner, your mother has some… plans for you, which I leave to her to reveal, before you will receive your lashes. These will be given here, in your room. You will be given specific instructions on how to sleep, and then tomorrow morning you will spend being properly introduced to your role by your mother while I am at the practice." Michael gave a somewhat heavy sigh and his face hardened.

"Hermione, do not mistake my absence from your training as either a lack of interest in my daughter's life or a lack of will on my part. We both think it is best if we prevent you from getting attached to me sexually, for many reasons that I should think are obvious. But do not test me, and do not push me. I will punish you myself if it becomes necessary, and it is important that you remember in this house I am always in charge. Your mother belongs to me. Every punishment her hand delivers it delivers at my direction, every lash you receive is given by something that belongs to me. You are young, and this can be very confusing. But do not get confused about who runs this house." His eyes narrowed. "Am I understood?"

Hermione's eyes widened as his speech went on and she nodded at his question, her heart thudding in her chest.

"Y-Yes, Sir."

Michael's expression morphed immediately into the good-natured, caring face that Hermione was so familiar with.

"Good girl," he said, standing up and patting her head. "I'll go get your mother and send her up to… attend to your needs."

Hermione watched him walk our and felt her breathing become heavy. That had been… thrilling, and everything she had hoped for. A part of her now knew exactly why her parents wouldn't let her interact sexually with her father: he would set the bar very high for other men.

Her eyes darted back to the door as she heard footsteps approaching once more. Elizabeth walked in and Hermione gulped at what she saw. Her mother was wearing a short skirt made of latex, and a half bra that didn't cover the breasts. And nothing else. Hermione was brought out of her reverie as her mother spoke.

"Before we go further, I need to know Hermione. What kind of dynamic do you want, who do you want it with, and why? I think I know the answers to all three of these questions, but I need to hear you say them."

Hermione thought back to the summer after second year when she'd finally settled on all three answers.


Hermione set her trunk down in her room and let out a heavy sigh. This year had been even worse than the last, and unfortunately for her parents, Hermione felt the need to bring up the very uncomfortable conversation she'd raised last summer. Perhaps though she could just ask her mother alone first?

She laid down on her bed and thought back to the new conclusions she had drawn. The fantasies hadn't gone away, in fact they had only gotten more intense. Harry nearly always featured in the center of them, but every so often her fantasies were about a faceless abstract person instead. She'd felt the need for that release, for that unburdening, even more intensely this year, but the petrification had drastically changed some of the things she was considering.

Being petrified had been a terrifying experience. Weeks and weeks of not being able to move, or speak, but still being able to experience and hear. She had never felt so restricted and confined, and it had been an experience of pure fear much like her imagined life debt scenarios had been in first year. But every so often Harry had come by her hospital bed and just talked with her.

Hermione had never heard Harry speak so continuously, he was usually far too reserved to speak at that kind of length. But he had done it anyway.

If Hermione had any doubts before about whether Harry was simply a convenient fantasy or genuine object of her desires and affections, being petrified had banished them. She felt a near constant terror except when he visited her. Instead, lying there utterly restrained… utterly controlled… and listening to him talk… it had felt safe and comforting. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, where she should be all of the time.

That realization alone had also been somewhat frightening, but fortunately for Hermione, she had an actual example of what that sort of arrangement could look like: her parents.

Hermione no longer wanted sessions, she wanted full and complete submission. She wanted to be owned, to be controlled in that same way, to have that totally complete exchange of power with someone that she trusted with her very life. But as much as that kind of control might actually help Harry… she just couldn't see how in the world she would bring it up with him.

So, she would bring it up with her mother instead. The sanitized version, at least. She got up off her bed and walked through the house, finding her mother doing a load of laundry.

"Mum?" Hermione started. "I want to talk with you, if that's okay."

"Sure, sweetie," Elizabeth replied, setting the clothes aside. "What's going on?"

"I… remember the conversation we had last summer? About sessions?"

Elizabeth's face turned into a frown.

"Yes, but it's only been one year."

"Mum, I don't just want sessions any more," Hermione said. "I want… I want what you have, what you do. That total and complete submission."

"Sweetie…" Elizabeth said hesitantly. "Are you… how could you know that you want that?"

"It's… something I figured out this year." Hermione paused. "I don't know if I can wait mum. Two more years? I don't know if I'll be able to make it that long."

"What do you mean make it?" Elizabeth asked, concerned.

"Before I… just snap. Have a break down. I don't know if I can do it."

"Sweetie," Elizabeth said slowly, "you remember the conversations we had when you were 10 after you walked in on us, right? What I do is… it's much more at the extreme end of this lifestyle, Hermione. It's not a light commitment."

"I know that mum, but I'm sure with everything that I am it's what I want."

"It means trusting someone with not just you safety, but with your mind as well," Elizabeth said softly. "Do you even have someone you could trust like that?"

"I… yes, mum. I do."

"How do you know it's not just a fantasy, sweetie? How do you know that it's something that you truly want?"

Hermione thought about her petrification again.

"I… just do mum. I know. This isn't just fantasy, I know that I want the real thing."

Elizabeth stared at her for several seconds before nodding.

"I think I believe you," Elizabeth said, "but I still think you're not ready for it yet. And you definitely shouldn't engage in that until you're ready to start it with an actual partner, not your parents."

Hermione frowned, but nodded. It was the response she had been expecting, but she'd had to at least try.


"Remember what I said after second year?" Hermione asked. Elizabeth nodded, thinking back to the conversation. At the time it hadn't made much sense, but Elizabeth suspected now what had made her daughter come to the conclusion knowing the events Hermione had been through. "That's… that's what I want. Complete submission. And… I want Harry. That's who I want to submit to."

"And the why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Why I think that or why I want it?"

They looked at each other in silence for several seconds.

"I think I know why you want it better than anyone," Elizabeth said. "But I want to know what made you realize it. What makes you think it's right for you?"

"It's when I was petrified," Hermione answered, looking down. "It… it was terrifying and it was a complete a total submission, in a way. But when Harry was there… it was safe and comforting and… perfect. I just want to be like that all the time. That's when I realized it."

"And that's what you want me to train you for?"

Hermione nodded.

"Alright… then that's what we'll do." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Your father tells me that you need to cum, slut?" Elizabeth cocked her hips and placed one hand against them. The post exuded confidence and sexuality.

"Yes, mum," Hermione responded softly. Elizabeth sighed, took the few steps over to Hermione, and grabbed her jaw firmly like she had earlier.

"You will call me Mistress. At all times." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "I don't care if we're standing next to the Queen, when you address me it will always be Mistress. Do you understand?"

Hermione was entranced by her mother's will and power.

"Yes, Mistress."

Elizabeth smiled with something more like satisfaction than affection and let go of Hermione's jaw.

"Good girl. Now, why do you want to cum?"

Hermione didn't respond for several seconds, unsure of how exactly to answer that question.

"Well, the plug has made me… very horny, mum, and I—"

Hermione fell to the side in a heap as Elizabeth's hand delivered a powerful slap across her face.

"What did I just tell you, slut?" Elizabeth asked dangerously.

"Mistress!" Hermione cried out, realizing her mistake. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

Elizabeth watched her get back into a seated position, the side of her face an angry red, before nodding for her to continue.

"The plug has made me very horny, Mistress, and I want to cum to relieve the tension."

Elizabeth hummed for a few seconds, as if considering something.

"No," she finally replied. "You want to cum because you are a slut, and that's what sluts do."

The rest of Hermione's face turned red, hiding the hand print. Hearing her own mother say such a thing was so… degrading. And exciting. The intensity of her mother's stare was almost unbearable, and Hermione's gaze dropped to her knees.

"Yes, Mistress."

A few seconds passed before Elizabeth spoke again.

"Say it."

"Say what, Mistress?"

"Say why you want to cum."

Hermione felt her stomach flutter.

"I want to cum because I'm… a slut, and that's what sluts do, Mistress."

"Good girl," Elizabeth said, patting Hermione on the head. She was already coming to associate the patting with praise, and felt a small warmth of pride wash through her at the contact and words. "Part of being a slave is that your body no longer belongs to you," Elizabeth began to explain, using a lecture voice that any of Hermione's acquaintances would readily recognize. "As such, nothing that you gain from your body, nothing that your body makes, and nothing that your body is used for belongs to you either. This includes your orgasms. It will take time, but if you want to do this, you need to learn to think of your body and the things that it gives you as gifts from the one that owns you."

A part of Hermione felt like she should be furiously scribbling notes as she listened to her mother, but instead she listened carefully and nodded.

"What you are asking for right now, is for me to let you use my property to enjoy yourself. I have no reason to grant such a request. I get nothing from it."

Hermione felt the urge to object, to argue. But her mind was traveling to different places than it usually did, and helping to curb and control her natural reactions was part of the reason she wanted this, wasn't it? Instead, after a few seconds, Hermione nodded.

"I understand, Mistress."

Elizabeth watched Hermione's face, before that predatory smile returned to her features.

"Remove your clothing and lay on your bed, face up."

Hermione took only a second of thought before she stood and began stripping her clothing off. She hadn't actually been wearing much, only shorts and a t-shirt. Laying down, Elizabeth walked to the edge of the bed and reached down, her fingers closing on one of Hermione's nipples. For a single, glorious moment, she thought that her mother was about to help her find release. But that came crashing down abruptly when her mother squeezed painfully tight and twisted.

"Hesitation will be punished," Elizabeth said evenly, holding the tweaked nipple several seconds before letting go.

Hermione gave several cries of pain and surprise, and when he mother finally let her abused nipple go, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

Elizabeth nodded before putting her hands on her hips and examining Hermione's naked body openly. Hermione could feel her embarrassment returning, but she tried to squash it down as much as she could.

"Slut's always have to work for their rewards. And what are you?"

Hermione's stimulated mind took a second to piece together what her mother wanted.

"I'm a slut."

Elizabeth reached out and tweaked the same nipple again.

"Hesitation will be punished," she once more intoned. "What are you?"

"I'm a slut," Hermione answered immediately.

"Again."

"I'm a slut."

"Again!"

"I'm a slut!" Hermione almost shouted it this time.

"Good girl," Elizabeth said, and Hermione felt the warmth pass through again at the pat on her head. "Now," Elizabeth said, standing near Hermione's head. "You will work for your reward."

Elizabeth raised a leg to crawl onto the bed, and Hermione saw that she wasn't wearing any panties underneath the small latex skirt. Not sure what exactly her mother had it mind, Hermione laid still, but only a few seconds later her mother was straddling her head, and Elizabeth's naked, glistening sex was only inches from her face.

"What do you see slut?" Elizabeth asked.

"Your vagina?" Hermione replied questioningly.

"Wrong answer," Elizabeth said, reaching behind her and tweaking Hermione's nipple again. The bushy haired teenager cried out in pain again.

"Cunt! Your cunt! I see Mistress' cunt!"

"Good girl," Elizabeth responded. "Now, you may play with your cunt so long as you are eating mine. However you may not cum before I have. Do you understand slut?"

"Yes, Mistre—"

The rest of the word was cut off as Elizabeth roughly pressed her wet fold into Hermione's open mouth. For a second or so, Hermione was too surprised to do anything, which turned out to be an error.

"Hesitation," Elizabeth began, reaching back and twisting Hermione's nipple more painfully than any time before, "will be punished." She said the last word with a mix of enthusiasm and satisfaction, as Hermione's muffled cries sent a pleasurable wave through her. Holding the punishment for a bit longer than before, if only to enjoy the pleasure her daughter's cries brought her, she eventually released it.

"Now," she said in a somewhat smug voice. "Eat my cunt and finger your own like the pathetic slut you are!"

Hermione understood this was not a suggestion, and darted her tongue out, reaching between her own legs at the same time.

"Yeessss," Elizabeth groaned. "Thaaat's a good slut. Are you getting off on drinking your mother's excitement?"

The question sent a thrill of forbidden pleasure through Hermione, and she moved her tongue with more enthusiasm, looking for her mother's clit with her tongue. A few seconds later she found it.

"Oh, such a talented little cunt licker," Elizabeth teased. "Such a shame I only get to use you during the summer."

Hermione felt utterly debased by the words she was hearing from her mother, but that was exactly what was exciting her so much. She could smell the pungent odor of her mother's pussy juices consuming her entire awareness, and slipped her tongue further down towards her mother's opening as she rubbed her own clit furiously.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. "That's where you came from. You're… mmm… you're licking the hole that brought you into this world."

The strong taboo of such a statement set off fireworks in Hermione's mind, and she quickly realized she was going to have to be careful not to cum before her mother.

A small shift in weight seemed to happen as Hermione continued using her mouth, and after a few seconds she realize that her mother was playing with her own breasts.

Tits, Hermione said it her mind. Only crude language… for sluts…

Elizabeth let out a long moan, and she knew that it wouldn't be long before she was cumming on her daughter's face.

"You know… what your father used to call me… in college?" Elizabeth asked, feeling the orgasm start to build. "Lizzie the Lezzy. You're going to learn… to love eating this cunt… fuck!" Elizabeth felt herself begin to shake and pressed down hard into Hermione's face, grinding herself with abandon.

Hermione, who had already been on the edge, felt her own orgasm rip through her as her mother began to shake. This was not Hermione's first orgasm, but it was the first while wearing a plug. As the orgasm began to happen, her ass clamped down on the unrelenting steel of the inserted device, and this caused her muscles to flex in a way she had never experienced before, extending and intensifying her orgasm.

She lost most control of her body and began to shake, her eyes rolling slightly and her awareness shrinking. After some time, though Hermione couldn't tell you how much time, she began to regain her bearings and realized that her mother was no longer on the bed.

Looking to her left she saw her mother standing a few feet away, panting.

"Good job, slut," Elizabeth said in a breathy tone. "Put on some clothes and come down for dinner, but leave my slime all over your face. You're going to wear that proudly around the house for the rest of the night."

And without waiting for Hermione to respond, Elizabeth turned and walked out, leaving a thoroughly content girl behind, basking in the lack of thought or concern that occupied her mind.