From your sorrowfully short record of sexual endeavors, Hermione would be the first woman to conquer your body. It thrilled you; the prospect of a feminine tongue running its soft surface across your most sensitive skin had your legs trembling with impatience. Hermione's distinct new attitude was undoubtedly feeding into your excitement as well, where the girl was usually cool and reserved; she was now flirty, flamboyant, Freudian? And most alluring of all, quite forceful.
",בוא הנה, we shall ascend, make ye not bushels of grapes, but urns of pearls." Her tone gave no quarter. "Ten echelons to be clear."
Your soon-to-be lover beckoned you over, her fingers curling in a seductive roll, her intent explicit, and you obeyed as any sensible wizard would when faced with this buxom beauty. Unfortunately, the resulting march itself was quite uncomfortable; the blend of physical pain from walking up ten flights of stairs of the combined with the dangers of slick steps created from your anticipation secretions had you performing quite the dangerous feat to follow your friend, every step could be your last, but all this stress would surely result in the rewards you so desperately desired.
It was apparent this walk was a test of your submission, your devotion to serving this woman. You had to ask yourself, was this all worth it? Was this potential pleasure truly worth the risk of having your life snuffed short? The answer was obvious. Hermione had always been clever; you never expected her to use her savvy to manipulate you so thoroughly.
Eventually, the pair of you arrived atop the westernmost tower of Hogwarts, overlooking the beloved Quidditch pitch. So many pleasant memories associated with those warm wooden stands; this new angle was breathtaking.
While you wanted nothing more than what was to come, being this far from the ground inevitably led to a bit of trepidation. The only thing obstructing you from walking off the tower was a small cobblestone rail, its height amounting only to your midriff. One shove was all it would take for either of you to go for a mortal descent, and who knew what Hermione had in mind for this evening. If she could shift from shy to demanding in such a way, surely the beauty could become murderous in a moment's notice; you mustn't insult mistress!
While this may have been a sudden shift, there has been a long history of women taking charge and leading human development; this can be found in the shift from humanity foraging for sustenance to farming. Men were often responsible for hunting and fishing, while women were responsible for the gathering of edible plants and nuts; thus, they were far more knowledgeable in the field of nature and plant cultivation. Another interesting parallel would be the biblical story of Adam and Eve, wherein Eve gave Adam the "fruit of knowledge" which would change life forever. One has to wonder if this biblical story was written to represent the discovery of agriculture by women in idyllic hunter-gatherer societies, advancing the development of our species substantially or perhaps even of this very moment.
While you would love to see Hermione outfitted in the garb of a cavewoman, with tight furs adorning her mouse-like frame, breasts inevitably bouncing out of their confines as she hunts a lion in the fields of sub-Saharan Africa, she instead wore the robes of a sophisticated young witch. Hermione seemed to fit ideally into the image of the stereotypical evil witch;Her beauty could surely only be surpassed if she had a wart on her nose; you would do anything to see the white cream ooze out of her nostril pores.
With a flick of her wand, you found yourself on your knees. A single flick! No incantation was needed for Hermione; her position as your superior was more and more evident with every passing moment. Who knew what evil silent magic she had learned in her years ravaging the streets of Muggle London? Nothing less was to be expected from Jack's apprentice.
From your view on the floor, head slumped in submission, all there was to do was observe the wooden floor and its intricacies. Among the particles of dust settled on the planks, there was a faint collection of ants scrounging food to return to their far-flung home; you wondered if the ants knew what was soon to happen above their small caravan. Hermione took note of your apparent interest in their foraging; after a moment's hesitation, she quickly whipped her wand in a downward gesture. You found your head moving on its own accord, nay, on her accord, as it suddenly descended in a languid manner, your tongue stuck out. No... No, she wouldn't, she couldn't! She was going to have you wipe out this family of organisms! All they wanted was to bring food home to their community, and this is what they get!?
"Forsake your gods Y/N, enjoy my offering of these French ants directly imported from Portugal, and experience what we have to offer." What did she mean we!? (AUTHOR NOTE: should she be a death eater?!)
In one fell swoop, your mandible manages to collect every visible ant; tears stream down your face as the realization of your deed hits; This magical massacre would surely get you exiled from the wizarding society for crimes against magic as a whole. Suddenly, one small tidbit you had learned in your Care of Magical Animals class appeared in your mind. French ants were renowned for two particular reasons, their inclusion in European lust potions and their ability to paralyze those who indulge in their excretions, ohHHH nooo! :(! (AUTHOR NOTE: ant pee play?)
The stings hurt horribly until you can't feel them anymore. You can't talk, only groan! In your attempts to break free from this forced Formicidae feast, you realize your body has been contorted to be stuck in the lazy dog sex position! Despite your backdoor vulnerability, Hermione instead walks in front of you; her feet find themselves placed inches away from your open maw. You look up fearfully as she begins to speak.
"Bestow my feet with your worship Y/N, I have recently walked through a cranberry field, and within my oxford doc martens, my toes are quite rancid, ripe, and ready."
Your mouth watered; you hadn't tasted the succulent flavor of vinegar since you had been a mere muggle-like citizen. Your aunt Tunilia always had you massage her wrinkled feet, and often the sweat would drip into your mouth; it made you nostalgic of those innocent days. You prepared your cavern, licking lavishly every inch you could reach; this would be the perfect parking spot for her piggies. You would do everything you could to satisfy Madame Granger, for she was your first friend, and now, your first master.