Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Come to Play	By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 120 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: AI-Generated story. I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter List
- 1-Relaxation
- 2-Goodness
- 3-Pleasant
- 4-Compulsion
- 5-Absolutely
- 6-James
- 7-Fade
- 8-Yours
- 9-Come
- 10-Relentless
- 11-Mirror
- 12-Pink
- 13-Date
- 14-Patience
- 15-Perfect
- 16-Belong
- 17-Gift
- 18-Magic
- 19-Everywhere
- 20-Shatter
- 6
- 7
- 8
The fire in the hearth of Grimmauld Place’s drawing room crackled, casting long, dancing shadows. Hermione sat perched on the edge of a worn velvet sofa, her posture perfect. Harry sat across from her in an armchair, his expression relaxed, open.
“I thought a change of scenery might be beneficial,” she said, her voice smooth. “Somewhere you associate with safety. With comfort. It should help the suggestions integrate even more… seamlessly.”
Harry nodded, a warm smile touching his lips. “It does feel better. Less… clinical. Thanks, Hermione.”
“Of course.” She let her gaze travel around the room, as if assessing its therapeutic value. Her heart beat a steady, eager rhythm against her ribs. This was better. More intimate. More hers. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Always.”
She didn’t need the rod here. Not for this. His training was complete. She simply leaned forward, capturing his bright green gaze with her own. “Then watch me, Harry. Just watch my eyes. And listen. Listen only to me. Let everything else… fade.”
His focus snapped to her, sharpened. The ambient sounds of the old house—the creaking wood, the pop of the fire—seemed to mute. His breathing slowed.
“Down you go. So easy. So familiar. My voice is the only sound. My eyes are the only thing you see. You are falling into that wonderful, heavy, good feeling. Deeper with every breath.” She watched the alertness melt from his face, replaced by a placid, empty calm. His shoulders slumped. “Good. Very good. You are so deep. So obedient. You are mine.”
A soft sigh escaped his parted lips.
Hermione’s own lips curved. Time for the new tool. She kept her voice low, a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, Harry… there’s a friend in your mind. A helpful friend. He’s been waiting to come out. To help you feel even better. To take care of things for you. His name is James.” She paused, letting the name hang in the warm air. “James, come out to play.”
The effect was instantaneous.
Harry’s body didn’t move, but his eyes… they changed. The glassy blankness of deep trance sharpened into a different kind of focus. The green was still empty of Harry’s conscious personality, but it now held a quiet, eager intensity. A patient readiness. His head tilted, just a fraction, awaiting instruction.
“Hello, James,” Hermione purred.
A slow, serene smile spread across his face. It was Harry’s smile, but… not. It was darker. Hungrier. “Mistress,” he breathed, the word full of reverence.
“I want to play a game, James. An obedience game. You remember your purpose, don’t you? To serve. To obey. To feel that deep, sweet pleasure for your mistress.”
“Yes.” His voice was a low hum.
“Good. Stand up for me, James.”
He rose from the chair, his movements fluid, confident. He stood before her, waiting.
“Now kneel.”
His knees met the rug between her legs without a sound. He looked up at her, that serene, hungry smile still in place. His hands rested on his thighs, palms up. A perfect offering.
Hermione’s blood sang. This was power, pure and molten. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. He leaned into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment in bliss.
“You are going to pleasure me now, James. With your mouth. You are going to lick my pussy. You are going to eat my cunt until I come. And you are going to love every second of it. You are going to show me how good you can be. How perfectly you can obey.” She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers and knickers, pushing them down her hips and off, kicking them aside. She spread her knees, opening herself to him. The firelight gleamed on her wet curls. “Look. This is all for you. All this wetness… it’s because of how good you are.”
James’s nostrils flared. His gaze dropped, devouring the sight. A low groan rumbled in his chest.
“Taste me,” she commanded, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.
He didn’t need telling twice. His hands came up to grip her hips, his fingers digging in, and he buried his face between her legs with a desperate, starving sound.
The first hot, flat swipe of his tongue from her opening to her clit made her back arch off the sofa. “Fuck!” The word was torn from her. He wasn’t hesitant or clumsy anymore. This was James, and he was a man on a mission. His tongue was wicked, precise.
“Yes, just like that,” she gasped, her hands flying to his hair, fisting in the black strands. “Use your tongue, James. Fuck me with your tongue.”
He obeyed, spearing his tongue inside her, fucking her with deep, penetrating strokes before swirling back to her clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, applying perfect, rhythmic pressure. The sounds were obscenely loud—wet, slurping, desperate noises that mixed with the crackle of the fire. Hermione’s hips rolled, grinding against his face, seeking more.
“You love the taste of my pussy, don’t you?” she moaned, looking down at the top of his head. “Tell me you love it.”
He pulled back, his chin dripping. “I love the taste of your cunt, Mistress,” he said, his voice thick with her arousal. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Then he dove back in, his tongue lashing at her with renewed fervor.
“You’re my good boy. My perfect, fucking obedient boy. This is all you were made for. To be on your knees, eating me out. Right there! Don’t stop, fuck, just like that!” Pleasure coiled, a white-hot wire tightening in her belly. She could feel the orgasm building, a terrifying wave. “Make me come, James. Make your mistress come on your fucking face. Now!”
His mouth became a weapon of pure devotion. He sucked and licked and fucked her with his tongue, his nose pressed against her, his entire being focused on the single goal of her pleasure. Hermione’s world shattered into bright, blinding fragments. A raw, screaming cry ripped from her throat as the climax detonated, coursing through her in violent, pulsing waves. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him prisoner as she shuddered, her body convulsing against his relentless mouth.
He didn’t stop. He drank her through it, lapping up every drop, until she was weakly pushing his head away, oversensitive and trembling.
James sat back on his heels, breathing hard. His face was slick and shining, his lips swollen. He looked up at her, his green eyes blazing with a satisfied, animal triumph. He licked his lips slowly, savoring her.
Hermione could barely move. She was liquid, spent, her core still throbbing. She looked down at him, at the beautiful, messy proof of her absolute control.
“You…” she panted, “…were perfect.” She reached a trembling hand out, wiping a streak of wetness from his cheek. “Now, James… listen carefully. You will go back to sleep. Deep in Harry’s mind. You will take the memory of this with you. Harry will not remember. He will only wake feeling incredibly satisfied, relaxed, and… horny. He will have a powerful, unexplained urge to kiss me. He will think it’s his own wonderful idea. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy. Sleep now.”
His eyes drifted shut. His head bowed.
Hermione took a few moments to catch her breath, to let the aftershocks subside. She pulled her clothes back on, then gently guided the kneeling man back into the armchair. She cast a subtle cleaning charm on them both.
She knelt before him, looking into his peaceful, tranced face. “Harry, listen. On the count of three, you will awaken. You will feel amazing. Rested. Incredibly turned on. And you will have a wonderful, impulsive idea. One… waking up. Two… feeling so good, so aroused. Three. Awaken.”
Harry’s eyes opened. He blinked, a dazed, happy smile spreading across his face. He shifted in the chair, and his gaze dropped to his lap. A thick, obvious erection strained against his trousers. He looked from it to Hermione, his cheeks flushing, but his eyes were dark with a confused, urgent desire.
“Wow,” he breathed, his voice rough. “I feel… fuck. I feel amazing. But I also feel… I don’t know… like I really, really want to…” He trailed off, his eyes locked on her mouth.
“Want to what, Harry?” Hermione asked softly, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
He stood up, a little unsteady. He took a step toward her, his gaze intense. “I just… I need to kiss you. Is that… is that okay?”
- 6
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Come to Play