A Confession by Hermione G.

BY : Scarlett_Pimpernal
Category: Harry Potter > General > General
Dragon prints: 40663
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: This project is based on and features characters and content that I do not own, nor is the content monetized by me. I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Year Four: Yule Balled

Wherein I take my next lover and become mistress of my very own sexual study hall

Over the course of the term, I became aware of the attentions of a certain visiting student, famous for his athletic prowess. He was much talked about and admired among the boy-crazy gaggle of girls from all houses, so I was not entirely comfortable in being singled out for his attentions. However, Fate seemed to be showing its hand and it is foolish in those cases to resist. Thus, I acceded to his invitation to attend the Yule Ball as his date. Of course, this event was preceded by a great amount of discussion and gossip that resulted in a general ratcheting up of expectations especially as related to potential hook-ups, canoodling, and even coitus.

I myself had become more and more horny in craving a sexual encounter with my young man. However, beyond some snogging and petting in deserted corners of the castle, had been unable to advance our sexual contact. Therefore, I approached the Yule Ball with a high degree of sexual anticipation. I had gone so far as to conspire with my ghostly compatriot Myrtle to set up a ‘trap’ of sorts conceived to allow me to isolate my man for a stealthy encounter. I had previously described for him the various ghosts that haunted the castle and suggested that we steal away between songs to see if we could spy on Myrtle.

Taking him by the hand, I led him across the transom of the second-floor girl’s bathroom, and we poised at the entry to the WC proper. My ghostly friend had arranged herself on the bank of sinks and, legs spread widely, skirt hiked up, frigged herself with great gusto. My date stared in wide-eyed wonder as Myrtle put on quite a show. After a keening orgasm, she affected to observe us and with a surprised shriek disappeared down the drain of a sink

“What was that?!” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Well, erm… I daresay she was pleasuring herself.”

He asked if this was a typical “custom” of the girls here?

I answered that it was the custom of women everywhere.

“You as well?!”

“Indeed, I confess,” I said, causing him blush in an endearing manner.

“It’s perfectly natural - and fun,” I added. “Come now, do you mean to say that you do not touch yourself?”

“Well, that is… erm… that is different, for a male…”

‘Baldershash!” I replied and taking him by the hand and leading him to one of the stalls where I hiked up my skirt and seated myself on the loo. He was quite taken aback by my lack of undergarments and even more befuddled when I began to finger myself, though he did not look away!

“I do it all the time,” I said. “Sometimes I think about you while I’m doing it…

“Now you show me yours!”

Like a dutiful fellow, he produced his member, quite turgid, protruding prominently, seeming to fix me intently with its single eye.

“Oh, that’s quite lovely. Bring it here.”

The enjoyment was curtailed by a pealing of bells throughout the bones of the castle, heralding the curfew for the students of his school, for their master was quite strict and wary of potential liaisons with libidinous English such as your truly. I was proud, however, to have debauched his student in spite of his regulations. Flushed with a sense of accomplishment, and I drifted back to the main gallery, a healthy dose of sperm filling my tummy and its strong taste lingering in my gullet.

The dancing to the horrid band was still in full swing. I gravitated, not to the dance floor, but to a table where three familiar, forlorn Slytherin males moped in the absence of their dates. Seating myself beside them, I realized I was still quite horny, my inhibitions having been mellowed by several swigs from my date’s flask of potent booze right before our erotic encounter.

“Well, why are you three moping around as if the dog died?”

“Sod off, Mudblood,”

“Always charming. Abandoned by your dates?”

“That’s right. No fun to be had.” Malfoy continues to explain that his putative girlfriend Pansy has retired for the evening without having yielded up any Yuletide nookie.

I complain that curfew cut short any fun I might have had.

“Well, I’ve no interest in sulking. Come along then.”

“How’s that?”

“Follow me,” I said. “If you’re up for it.”

I did not bother looking behind me, confident that the three would follow. Lo and behold, they are there, close behind me as we wind down and down into the bowels of the castle to my secret dungeon. With a wave of my wand, the old dungeon door swings open and we step inside. With several more practiced gestures, I transformed the old musty furniture of torture into an inviting four-poster, velvet drapery and a number of tall candelabra providing romantic candlelight to the formerly horrifying chamber.

“What are you on about?”

“You said you were looking for some fun. Let’s get to it, then.”

 I draw up my hair and direct Malfoy to unzip the back of my dress and step out of the frightful thing, relieved to feel the cool air of the dungeon on my bare skin where it peeks through the lace of my lingerie.” I stood there in brassiere and garter belt; having foregone any panties, the fellows have a nice view of my fanny, with freshly cropped decoration of chestnut hair.

“Before we begin, let us lay down some rules: We’re here for one thing: sex. I don’t want to hear about magic and spells and potions or any wizarding business. That means no cracks about muggles and mudbloods or any of that nonsense. You may address me as ‘Miss G.’

“Not that I care much about my reputation in any case since you gits have done nothing but talk trash about me since I came to this moldy school. I don’t expect anyone will believe you if you started piling on that I’m a slut giving it out in the dungeons to sex-starved Slytherins. In any case, I will make it crystal clear for you Neanderthals: the pussy express leaves the station the minute I hear rumblings about banging you lot.”

They stared dumbly at me.

“This is the point at which it is appropriate for you to say something like, ‘Yes, Miss. G, we promise.’”

Three voices echoed the statement.

“Alright, let’s have some fun. I should warn you that I am as horny as a holly bush, so I hope you’ve got some game. I am going to suck you all until you are good and hard, and then you can each have a go.”

“Have a go?” asked one of the stooges.

“A fuck, you prat,” snapped DM.

“Alright, then, trousers down.”

Three wide-eyed prats and their one-eyed knobs stare back at me. It required very little on my part before they were as hard as only schoolboys can be. I invited DM to take me first and I must admit that they acquitted themselves admirably, even causing me to come. Thus, I set myself of as the mistress of my own private sexual dungeon where I will entertain these and several other fellows throughout the course of the next three years, thanks to my ‘compact’ of free passage from Filch and the continued payment of duties.

One would, of course, suspect that I had my hands full of sexual dalliances at this point in my young career. Curiosity, however, would soon open a whole new chapter of carnality.

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