Whoremione\'s Sexcapades

She headed for the prefect’s bathroom to clean up a bit before searching for her next victim. She gave the password, “Zestfully clean”, and walked in, expecting to have the room to herself. She walked to the edge of the tub, and found that it was already filling with large foaming bubbles that smelled slightly of aftershave. She looked around to see who was there, but found no one.

Slipping off her robe, sock, and shoes, she sat on the edge of the tub and dangled her feet in the water, feeling the cool marble against her hot, throbbing pussy, as Ron had neglected to return her panties to her. She was about to slip out of her skirt and into the water when she heard footsteps pattering across the room. She looked up as the sound stopped next to the water and saw the pale face of Draco Malfoy staring down at he, amusement in hild, ld, gray eyes.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said softly. She noticed that the green terry cloth bathrobe he wore was about to come open, and felt her longing increase as she saw his firmly chiseled chest peeking out at her. “What are you doing in here, mudblood? Come to wash the filth from yourself, I suppose?”

“I didn’t know you were in here,” she said, ignoring his remark. There was a time when his familiar insult had hurt her, but he had used it as a moniker for her for so long it didn’t even phase her anymore.

“Well, Granger, unlike some of the members of your house, I enjoy a nightly bath,” he said, letting the rob hang further open until she could see just the tip of his exposed member. She could feel a surge of wetness, and remained seated, afraid that he would see residue of her pleasure on the stone floor were she to rise from the spot she had taken beside the pool.

“That’s why I’m here, Draco,” she said softly.

Malfoy smiled cruelly at her. “Then undress and get in,” he said.

“You go first.”

His expression twisted into one of odd amusement, and he walked slowly around the pool, shedding his robe a bit more with every step until it was hanging all the way open and she could see every glorious inch of him standing before her. He grasped her roughly by the shoulders, and pulled her around so that she was facing him, his cock dangling right in her face. He was larger than either Snape or Ron, and she felt the sudden urge to take him.

“What are you waiting for, mudblood?” he asked, sneering down at her. “Wait, I bet you don’t even know what this is.”

He grabbed his now firm erection and shoved it into her mouth, grasping the back of her head and forcing himself all the way to the back of her throat, she tried to breath, but every sound she made came as a high pitched squeal which he undoubtedly mistook for pain and took utmost pleasure in. “Come on, mudblood,” he said, his voice rising with the heated passion that only hate was capable of producing, “can’t you handle it?”

She tried her best not to throw up on him as he pushed harder and faster down her throat. She was gagging each time he touched the back, and she knew with a horrifying certainty that were he to come, she would not be able to keep herself from spewing it out all over him. She willed him to tire of his face-fucking and to move onto other things when she heard the squeaking of a heavy door on its hinges.

“Aye, what’s going on in here,” she heard a crusty old voice ask.

“Filch!” Draco said, suddenly pulling himself from her mouth and allowing her to breath. “Get out of here, you dirty squib!”

“I don’t think so,” the old man said, coming closer, holding his dust-colored cat close to his chest. “My sweet was clawing at the door. Wanting in, she was. Heard voices in here.”

“We’re prefects!” Draco argued vehemently. “This is the prefects bathroom! I order you to leave at once.”

Filch smiled a nasty smile that sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine. “I don’t think so,” he said, sitting down on a marble bench that stood a few feet away from where Draco was getting it on with her face. The old man made himself comfortable with his cat in his lap. “Turn her around,” he said to Draco. “I want to see her face.”

Draco, obviously bewildered by the situation and sensing some strange mixture of victory and defeat for his position, did as he was told.

“Now fuck her,” said Filch. Draco bent to push her down, but Filch stopped him. “Get her on her knees,” he growled. “Hit her from behind.”

Draco did as he was told , with a cruel smile upon his face. “Say goodbye to your innocence, mudblood,” he whispered in her ear, hiking her skirt up and seeming surprised to find no panties beneath.

“Or not,” she said, not wanting him to have all of the fun.

“Take yer shirt off,” said Filch. Hermione did as she was told. As the white button down blouse his the floor, she felt Draco slam into her without so much as touching her first. He pushed one hand down on the small of her back, and grasped her bushy hair with the other, slamming himself deep inside with his initial penetration and forcing his way deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“How do you like that, you filthy mudblood,” he hollered at her,” pushing harder. “Tell me it hurts,” he said coldly. “Beg me for mercy.”

She would do no such thing, despite the pain. She watched as Filch unbuttoned his pants and began stroking himself in time with Draco’s rhythm.

“Say it hurts, Bitch,” she heard Draco order her again. She bit her lip to keep from crying out with pain, and squinted her eyes to keep from viewing the disgusting sight before her.

He pulled her hair harder, and a slight squeak escaped her lips. She could feel hip sit up straighter and drive into her like a machine. She could feel his hand move off of her back, disappearing for a moment, and then returning with a single finger, finding it’s way into the rosy pucker above where Draco was currently fucking her. She cringed as he forced a finger inside, and then another. She tensed against him. “Does that hurt, you muggle bitch,” he asked her.

She refused to answer though the pain was tremendous. She felt as though he were tearing her apart, and opened her eyes for a moment to register her shock and feeling of violated horror. Filch was stroking himself more furiously now, and Mrs. Norris, his cat, seemed riveted by the spectacle before her, her lamp-like eyes trained on Draco’s abuse.

Suddenly, Hermione felt Draco pull out of her pussy and felt his trace the tip of his cock around the ring of her ass hole. She tensed, and he gruffly warned her, “You had better relax.” A moment later, he was forcing his was into her, and she could almost feel her flesh tearing, her entire body screaming in protest as she let out a loud whimper of pain. Filch and Draco both laughed.

Tottering over, the old caretaker handed Draco her wand, and stood over her, poised to spread his seed all over her back.

“Engorgo,” Draco said, forcing the wood to swell. “Vibrato.” She could feel the cold tip as he forced her most prized possession inside of her, and she almost cried out with pain at the pressure being exerted by the double penetration. Filch was stroking himself faster and faster, as Draco pushed into her ass harder and harder. Tears sprang to her eyes as she cried out with pain. He pumped her wand in time with the thrusts with one hand, pulling back n her hair with the other as Filch pushed down on her back and simultaneously stoked himself. Hermione was too disgusted and hurt to feel any pleasure at all, and forced herself to try and think of anything else. She would not give them the disgusting satisfaction of watching her come.

She felt Draco’s balls tighten as they slapped her backside rhythmically, and then felt a pulsating sensation as her filled her backside with his cum. He pulled out, leaving the wand inside of her and rolling her over. He moved her hand down to the wand, and forced her to use it one herself. She gently pushed it inside and out, still far too upset to bring herself to a climax. She remembered all that she had read about physical signs of orgasm, and tightened every part of her being, closing her eyes and moaning as she felt a jet of Filch’s seed strike her face. She faked her orgasm, and her two brutalizers seemed satisfied, Draco slipping into the bath and Filch slipping out the door.

Hermione felt tears and she splashed some of the water from the tub over her, trying to rid herself of the worst of the filth. As quickly as she could, she got halfway cleaned up and ran through the door, still tugging on her robes as she did.

The further she got from the bathroom, however, the more the shame washed away from her, and the hotter she began to feel. She realized that she still had not managed to come, and knew that the effects of the potion would not wear off until she did. She crawled through the portrait hole. The clock over the mantelpiece said nine twenty-five, and it looked as though someone were still awake by the fire.