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Little Love	By : Cheeseydare Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 56470 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its associated properties. I have not made nor will I make any money from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Little Love's Punishment
- 1
Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair as he felt Hermione enter the house. He locked down the wards as he had every day since they had moved into the rebuilt Potter Manor. No one would be allowed in without his verification while the two of them were home, it had been the first thing Hermione had negotiated for. It didn’t take much convincing for Harry to agree, he too wanted complete privacy in their life, for one very simple reason; Hermione was his slave.
His beautiful, submissive, brilliant, fiery slave. They had been together for a dozen years and married for a decade, and Harry still thanked every deity he could find that she had chosen him to share this side of her with. They had started exploring a relationship while in Australia recovering her parents, and six months in Hermione had sat him down for a frank discussion and the rest, as they say, is history.
Hermione was a solicitor who represented the oppressed in the magical world, a job that she loved and was extremely good at, she had friends whom she saw, when Harry allowed her to, and she helped him to raise Teddy in conjunction with Andromeda. But she was his all the time, and no more so than when they were home.
Just then there was a light knocking on his door. Harry sighed heavily again, he was not looking forward to this. It was Friday afternoon of a week where Hermione had broken their top rule for the last five days; always be honest and open with problems. Communication was a huge part of the life they led, and since she had come home on Monday, Hermione had been frustrated by something, but she hadn’t yet told him.
The signs wouldn’t have been obvious to an outside observer, but Harry knew his wife inside and out; all of her quirks, her ticks, the things that made her, her. He decided to let her come to him to talk about what was bothering her, but after a week she was still stressed and still silent. Harry had gone over every interaction they had had in the last two weeks, painstakingly sifting through Pensieve memories to see if he had done something to upset her, but he came up blank.
“Come in,” he said quietly, though he knew she could hear him. The door swung open and she crawled inside, as she had crawled from the door of the house, up two flights of stairs. Hermione moved to the center of the room and he could see that she recognized that something was wrong. He had removed her pillow from where she was to kneel. It was a simple black thing with ‘HJP’ stitched onto it, but it was hers as a reward for being good. Its absence was a clear sign of his displeasure.
She stopped and settled with her knees spread, hands crossed behind her back, chest out, and eyes down. The only item of clothing was her deep green, leather collar. It featured a D-ring in the front, and an engraved plate next to the ring declared her as ‘Harry Potter’s Slave.’ It was a wedding gift from him to her, and she had worn it every day since. The beauty of magic was that it seemed like a normal, innocuous necklace to everyone else.
Harry set about organizing his papers for the day, taking his time to let her think about her choice. She was free to speak at any time as Harry loved her mind and appreciated her insight; though there had been times when he had asked her to be quiet by pushing his cock into her mouth if she was getting worked up. She often gave her best head unprepared and it served to calm her down.
Finally, he stacked the last parchment away neatly and Hermione still hadn’t said anything. He pushed his chair back and stood, wearing his usual attire of black slacks and dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Harry moved around his desk until he stood before his slave, so she could see his feet. She was a foot shorter than him at 5’2” when standing, meaning he towered over her whilst she knelt. With a firm grip of her hair, he tilted her head back so he could see those whiskey eyes he loved so much.
“Do you have something you wish to tell me, slave?” he asked quietly. She blinked up at him rapidly, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times. He never yelled when he was upset or angry, instead keeping his voice quiet and controlled. Hermione had told him one time that his quiet displeasure was far worse than being yelled at.
“N-no, master,” she replied meekly. He simply raised an eyebrow at her, but still there was no reply. Harry watched as tears formed and fell, his own heart cracking at the sorrow she felt by disappointing him. This was always the hardest part, but it was necessary. He crouched in front of his slave, keeping control of her head with her hair and bringing her eyes level with his.
“So you haven’t been keeping something from me? You haven’t been frustrated and stressed since you came home Monday? Tell me I’m wrong; I don’t want to punish you for something you didn’t do, little love,” Harry said softly, keeping eye contact even as the silent tears slipped out. He could see it on her face, she knew he knew, knew she was caught, and the tears fell even faster.
“You’re ri-right, master,” Hermione whispered, her voice hitching. Harry gently used his left hand to wipe away her tears and then placed a soft kiss on her forehead before standing back up.
“This is a big infraction, slave. Communication is our number one rule, it’s the most important thing we agreed upon, and even if it weren’t, it would still be immensely important. You’ve given me the greatest gift in the world; yourself. I need to know what’s affecting you so I can help you, you’re my responsibility. I thought you would tell me at some point this week, and the fact that you didn’t hurts.
“You’re my best friend, my slave, my wife, my little love. Even if we hadn’t signed a very explicit contract stating that we would be open and honest, I would expect after one hundred and twenty hours of stress and frustration that you would trust me enough to let me help you. Your hurts are my hurts, and watching you this week has been difficult because you wouldn’t let me in. Does everything I’ve said so far make sense?”
The tears had returned full force as he voiced his disappointment and disapproval. Hermione’s chest hitched as she tried not to sob. She mouthed the words ‘Yes, master’ a number of times before her voice finally emerged as a breathy whimper.
“You will go to our playroom and wait for me there, is that understood?”
“Yes, master,” she replied brokenly. Harry released her hair and watched as Hermione turned and began to crawl away. He could clearly see her buttplug winking at him from between her well-shaped arse; it was four inches of stainless steel with a green lightning bolt gem at the top. It was self-lubricating and vanished any waste products that formed.
Harry waited until she had left the room before roughly running his hands back and forth through his hair in frustration. He needed to take a couple of minutes for deep breathing so he was relaxed when he administered her punishment. One of the first rules of being a dom; never give a punishment in anger or whilst angry. It was one of the fastest ways to going too far and damaging the trust with your slave.
The truth of course, was that Harry was angry and confused and not a little bit scared. Hermione was always so good for him. Sure, she had her bratty moments to instigate some fun play, but that wasn’t unusual for subs or slaves. Not talking about an issue was a much different thing, especially after all the work both of them had put into being honest with each other. There was hardly a secret between them, and he loved how close they were. It helped him to be a better master for her, knowing her so well.
After a few minutes, Harry set out from his office to climb the stairs to the fourth floor. This floor consisted of their bedroom and their playroom, with the guest bedrooms on the third floor. The door to their playroom would only open for their magical signature, and guests weren’t allowed past the third floor either, as another precaution. He wanted it to be a space just for the two of them, where they could fully be themselves.
As he unlocked the door, Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him. This was their space, and he knew exactly how to operate in it. His slave was in a kiss the floor posture; kneeling with her arse pushed back and up while her chest and face rested just inches above the floor, arms outstretched parallel with her head, palms up.
Harry moved about the room, prepping in silence. He levitated a spanking bench to the middle of their space. It was a simple yet effective piece of furniture made of metal and some padded leather. It was designed for the slave to kneel on all fours so their legs were spread and weight evenly distributed, but there was an adjustable post positioned under their hips. Harry set the height so that her hips would be forced higher than her head. He also selected a bottle of lube, a paddle, and a small, clear globe from a cabinet.
The lube was actually a potion which enhanced sensitivity of the area it was applied to. The paddle was black leather, with ‘Little Love’ stitched in thick, green thread. It had been a birthday gift from her to him, and was his favorite paddle. The small globe was another favorite; it could be attached to either her nipples or clit and acted as a vibrator, but it was charmed to prevent any orgasms from occurring until removed. Harry had found his favorite brand of torture was an overload of pleasure without release.
Hermione hadn’t moved while he prepped, she knew better. Harry knew she would hold that position until her muscles cramped, and while he had used that as a punishment before, it wasn’t for today. One last visual sweep ensured everything was in place, so he turned his attention to his slave, prostrated at his feet.
“Up, slave,” Harry said firmly. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the bench she crawled to it and assumed the required position. He efficiently applied the straps around her ankles, shins, forearms, and wrists. The sight of her restrained and exposed like this made his cock twitch, but he was experienced enough to focus through his lust. He picked up the paddle and moved to stand in front of her, holding it so she could see the tool.
“Thank you, master,” she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the leather instrument. Harry crouched so they were eye-level.
“I’ve had most of the week to think about this, slave. I honestly wasn’t quite sure how to punish you for this, but I’ve decided that fifty hits to each cheek with the paddle should be sufficient. You will count and thank me for each one, am I clear?” Harry said. Her eyes widened at the number and her lip wobbled at another reminder of her failure.
“Yes, master, thank you,” she whimpered. Harry placed a gentle kiss on her hairline and then moved to stand on her left side.
He gently trailed the paddle up and down the backs of her thighs and over her arse. He could see her beautiful cunt starting to glisten with arousal and paired with the buttplug, Harry’s cock was straining against his trousers. Even after all this time, just looking at her turned him on. He continued to drag the paddle across her perfect flesh, giving Hermione no indication when he would begin to redden and bruise her skin.
Without warning he drew back and brought the paddle down solidly on her left arse cheek. Hermione yelped at the impact.
“One, thank you, master,” she said dutifully. Harry brought the paddle down on her right as soon as she finished speaking. “One, thank you, master.”
He then proceeded to bring the paddle down on her left twice and her right twice. Hermione groaned and cried at each. Harry usually didn’t restrict how vocal she was during their play, as he enjoyed her sounds. Listening to her during a punishment felt like being stabbed in the heart, but he wouldn’t silence her for his own comfort.
“Two, three, thank you, master. Two, three, thank you, master,” she whimpered, sobs barely suppressed in her voice. Harry knew she would likely be crying outright by the tenth hit.
So it continued, Harry raining down blows with the paddle, each the same, solid speed and strength as the first, and Hermione crying out and counting. It actually took until the eleventh hit for the tears to start and by twenty-five, she was sobbing through every word. He had to adjust his cock at the sight of her perfect arse glowing Gryffindor red. The fact that the inside of Hermione’s thighs were soaked in her juices wasn’t helping.
He gave her a thirty second reprieve when they reached twenty-five for each cheek. Harry lightly trailed the paddle across her skin, as he had before they started. It wasn’t nearly long enough for Hermione to stop crying, but she at least caught her breath. Until Harry resumed her punishment, at any rate.
By thirty she was sobbing again, by forty Hermione was nearly unintelligible, and the last five for each cheek took almost as many minutes as there were hits since she was crying too hard to form the words and Harry wouldn’t paddle her until she had counted and thanked him.
“Fi-fifty, tha-tha-thank you, ma-master,” she wailed. At least, that’s what Harry assumed she was saying through her tears. He placed the paddle under the bench and moved to stand in front of his large straight back chair. There, he undressed, folding each article of clothing and placing it on his seat before returning to his slave, who was trying to regain control of her breathing.
“Your punishment is over, slave, and you are forgiven. However, I feel a desire to fuck your arse now,” Harry said, carefully easing her buttplug free. He moved around and came to crouch in front of her wrecked face. Hermione was flushed and sweating, tears still leaking down her cheeks. He gently tapped the plug against her lips and she gave him a dazed smile as she opened and closed her lips around the plug. As he stood up, he conjured a floor to ceiling mirror so she could see herself as he fucked her. “Good slave.”
Harry moved to stand behind her and set to work. He attached the globe to her clit and activated it, which caused Hermione to jerk in her restraints at the sudden assault on her cunt. Next, he thoroughly lubed his cock. While the buttplug would help in her prep, he was far longer and as thick as the toy, so lube was an absolute must. He also poured some into her still stretched arsehole. The bench itself had its height modified by him to allow him easy access to fuck any of her holes while she was strapped into it, which he took full advantage of as he situated himself between her knees and sank his cock into her tight, clenching arsehole.
“Oh fuck, always so tight for me my little slave,” he groaned, taking a moment to rest in her arse. He enjoyed the feeling of her clenching and fluttering around him and the gripping heat was heightened by the special lube. He looked at them both in the mirror and couldn’t resist sliding a hand into her hair and pulling her head back so Hermione could see them as well. “So good, always such a good slut for me.”
Watching as he drew back and slammed his cock into her arse again was exquisite. The visual of them in the mirror was one of his favorite things. He knew each of them was considered exceptionally good looking, and they were both in very good shape. Seeing the undisguised lust on Hermione’s face as he began to rail her arse, watching her well-sized tits swing from the impact, seeing his muscles flex and strain as a sheen of sweat glistened on both of them only served to make him fuck her faster.
Hermione moaned and mumbled from behind the plug, as drool began to drip down her chin. He knew the combination of his long, thick cock and the globe on her clit would soon drive her near insanity for want of release.
“You’re my slave. Your cunt is mine, your arse is mine, your mouth is mine. Your orgasms belong to me and you won’t get to come until I feel you’re ready, slave,” he grunted as his cock pistoned in and out of her gripping arse. He had to resist the urge to spank her, as he could see that her skin was well and truly blistered. Harry knew each time his hips slammed into her that Hermione received a jolt of pain, and settled for gripping her hip with his free hand.
When he started he knew he wouldn’t last long with the lube, especially when he had decided to use her arse. Hermione was shaking in her restraints, the feeling of being pushed to the edge over and over only to be denied as he continued to ream her arse was overwhelming. Harry increased the pace of his thrusts, the loud sounds of skin slapping skin and the slick slide of his cock in her arse mixing with his groans and her muffled begging and moaning.
As he felt his orgasm about to overtake him, Harry de-activated the globe, allowing it to fall to the floor. Hermione released all of her pent up pleasure, her screams muffled by the plug. When her entire body tensed in climax, Harry buried his cock in her now vice-like hole and came. He watched as his mouth fell open in a silent groan and her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by all the sensations flooding through their bodies. He released spurt after spurt of come deep into her arse, releasing his grip in her hair as his knees buckled.
Very slowly and carefully, Harry pulled free of her arse, watching as a river of his seed came free and dripped down across her cunt. He moved about the bench, undoing each of the straps, before taking the plug from her mouth. He sent the globe, plug, and paddle to a special table where he put used toys to be cleaned later. Harry guided Hermione off of the bench, and scooped her up bridal style. She draped her arms about his neck and nuzzled into him.
“So sorry, master. I won’t do it again, promise. So sorry,” she mumbled softly, her words blending together. Harry felt a wave of affection and love for the woman in his arms rush through him, like he always did when she dropped off. She was adorable after her punishments and always so good for him.
He pulled the playroom door shut with magic and crossed the hall to their bedroom and on into their bath. He carefully laid her out on her front on the mats next to their bathtub. The mats were a foot of thick, fluffy material with cushioning charms built in. Harry then summoned a jar of ointment to apply to her arse which would simply disinfect and close any cuts. There were potion solutions which would almost instantly remove all the marks and pain, but Hermione argued that they defeated the purpose of the punishments and Harry wholeheartedly agreed.
As he was doing this, Harry began speaking softly to her, murmuring words of love and affirmation over and over. “I love you, slave, my little love. You’re perfect, always so good for me. You did so well today, you were amazing. So beautiful, so good for me, little love.”
This part, the part that came after the pain and pleasure was something Harry took very seriously. The routine of care had been perfected over their years together, and it truly was for the both of them. Hermione needed his love and attention and he needed to help put her back together to assure himself she was alright.
After tenderly rubbing the ointment into her skin, Harry turned on the bath and let if fill with warm water, mixing a muscle relaxant solution into the water. Once he had pulled her hair into a mess ponytail and helped her into the bath, he banished the ointment back to its place and summoned a bottle of water and a protein bar. Hermione was still a little groggy so Harry helped her eat and drink, continuing to whisper to her. She gave him a wide, soft smile as she reclined in the water.
When she had finished with the protein bar after a few minutes of nibbling, he took her out and drained the bath. He affectionately dried her off and carried her to their bed, where he summoned her favorite stuffed toy, a hippogriff. Harry positioned her under the covers and watched as she cuddled the toy to her chest and looked at him sleepily. Instead of being able to properly wash, he simply rinsed off with a stream of hot water, drying himself and the rug afterwards with a charm.
He slid into bed and spooned with her. Hermione immediately cuddled back into his chest, almost purring as he slipped an arm under her neck and around her waist. Harry placed soft kisses to the top of her head, mumbling soft words of endearment. The last thing he heard was her voice before he drifted.
“I love you so much, master, thank you.”
-LL-
It was early the next morning when he woke, slowly letting himself come back to the land of the living. Harry stretched with a big yawn and noted the space next to him was empty but still warm, meaning Hermione hadn’t been up long. He found her kneeling next to the bed like she did every morning, watching him contentedly. Harry slipped free of the covers and stood in front of her.
Hermione dutifully took the head of his semi-erect cock into her mouth and waited. He buried a hand into her riotous curls and held her as he began to piss. A small groan of relief escaped from him as he emptied his bladder into his slave, who expertly swallowed everything he offered. Once the stream finished, she carefully squeezed his cock to ensure she got the last droplets before releasing his cock. Harry ran his hand through her hair gently, smiling warmly at her. He wandlessly cast a breath freshening charm for her.
“Good morning, slave.”
“Good morning, master,” she replied demurely, her eyes fixed on his ankles. Harry sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. They were due for a rather pointed conversation. He gently curled a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could see her beautiful eyes.
“Little love, I gave you week to come to me, but you didn’t. So, instead I have to order you to tell me what’s wrong. What has had you so frustrated?” he asked, the concern plain in his voice. She closed her eyes and bit her lip in an effort not to cry. He let her take a moment to control herself, and she took a deep breath before speaking.
“It’s one of my cases, the Veela I’m defending?” she asked. She waited until he nodded his remembrance before continuing. “Well, we’ve been in pretrial all week, culminating in jury selection on Thursday and Friday. And just, seeing that pathetic excuse for a human sitting there, so smug, like he wasn’t an abusive rapist made me so angry. His solicitor is the worst sort, the type so slimy you want a shower after being in the same room as the man.
“They just get under my skin, and they know it. It’s like they went to the Ron Weasley school of little comments that just set me off. They remind me so much of the pureblood Death Eaters from way back, full of smug, snide comments, that are couched in just enough civility to not get them reprimanded in the courtroom. It’s drudged up so many memories and made me doubt myself in a way that I haven’t in years. And I just feel so stupid and ashamed that they can get to me like that,” she whispered, fresh tears spilling down her face. Harry opened his arms to her and she immediately climbed into his lap.
Harry gently rocked her as she nuzzled into his neck. He cooed into her hair softly, providing the warmth and safety she needed. When her tears had subsided he nudged her to sit up a little so he could see her face.
“I don’t ever want you to doubt yourself, your abilities, or your worth. You work far too hard and are far too brilliant for lowlife scum to matter to you. And if you ever find yourself in doubt in the future, I want you to do two things for me; one in the moment and one later. Do you know what I want you to do?” he asked softly. She gently shook her head eyes wide.
“The one for in the moment is I want you to look at your left hand,” he said, pulling her hand up so they could both see the beautiful ring glistening on her finger. “Look at your wedding band, and remember the day we swore ourselves to the other.” He hooked a finger in the D-ring of her collar, giving it a light tug. “Remember that night when I gave you your collar, and fully made you mine in every way imaginable; mind, body, soul, and magic, and I gave all those to you as well. Remember that you are my little love, and I will always be there for you at the end of the day. The second thing is to tell me when you feel like this.
“You’re my best friend, my wife, and my slave. I’ll be your rock, your biggest supporter, and your guiding hand from now until my last breath. You never have to hide from me, not ever. I love all of you, with everything that I am, Mi,” he murmured, gently brushing his thumb along her cheek to wipe away the tears.
Hermione gave him a pleading look and he marginally nodded his head with a smile. With his permission she leaned forward and caught his lips in a tender kiss that took his breath away. It was slow and sweet, an understated display of the love each had for the other. She softly closed her hand around his which was still hooked in her collar.
“I love you so much, master, thank you,” she whispered against his lips.
As he tangled his other hand in her hair and gripped it tightly while he bit her lip, Harry knew that he and Hermione were stronger for having gone through the last week, and if he had to spend the rest of his life proving her worth to her, he would. She truly was his best friend, his wife, and his slave. She was his little love, and he would do anything and everything for her.
- 1
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