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Mouthy Miss Granger	By : darker_than_before Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 49732 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JKRowling and others. I do not own it or its characters and I don't receive any money from writing this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Mouthy Miss Granger
- 1
Story Warnings: Graphic language, graphic sexual situations, public humiliation, spanking, BDSM, and improbable situations. If these are offensive to you, please don't read. Otherwise enjoy!
Story is set post-DH, but both Dumbledore and Snape are alive.

“Miss Granger, how many times must I tell you not to whisper instructions to Mr. Longbottom. Brewing is to be a silent occupation with your full concentration and your mouth shut.”
Hermione’s mouth closed with a click, and she focused her attention on the table in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Neville shoot her an apologetic look.
Professor Snape was extremely strict with his seventh and eighth-year class, more than usual even, and Hermione seemed to bear the brunt of his criticism and displeasure.
“As it appears you cannot learn this lesson through point loss and detention, I will have to resort to older, more persuasive punishments. Extinguish the flame under your cauldron and come stand in front of my desk.”
She swallowed, wanting to argue that her potion would be ruined if she stopped at this stage, but she recognized the futility and potential danger of disagreeing with the angry Potions Master. Dread settled heavy in the pit of her stomach as she followed his instructions.
She could feel the stares of the other students burning like lasers into her back as she made her way up the center aisle of the room to Professor Snape.
She couldn’t bear to look up at him, choosing instead to focus on the arms he’d crossed over his chest.
“Strip.”
“What?” she gasped, looking up at him.
A ripple of reaction spread across the room as students neglected their potions to see if their professor was kidding.
“You heard me, Miss Granger. Strip.” Clearly he was not kidding.
“You can’t make her do that!” Harry yelled. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was drawing his wand.
Professor Snape didn’t even look in Harry’s direction, his eyes still locked onto hers. “I most certainly can, Mr. Potter. That will be 20 points from Gryffindor for interfering and it will be another 100 points if you do not put your wand away this instant. Anyone else who has the desire to share in Miss Granger’s humiliation is welcome to speak up now.”
There was silence in the classroom aside from the bubbling of cauldrons and scrape of stirring spoons. Her heart was racing so fast, the sound of her rushing blood was almost deafening inside her ears.
After a long pause, the Potions Master reiterated his command. “Strip.”
“Please,” she said, her voice reedy. “Those archaic punishments haven’t been used for a century—” Corporal punishment had been common place at Hogwarts at one time. Sexual degradation too. Hogwarts, A History had documented the practice and also mentioned the rules had never been changed to outlaw them.
“Strip now, or I will exact this punishment in the Great Hall at supper in front of the entire school and all of your professors. Of course you do have the option of leaving my classroom forever and taking a Troll for your final grade. It’s your choice.”
It was no choice and they both knew it. Her career options would go down the drain if she had a Troll on her Hogwarts transcripts, even if she did sit and pass the Potions NEWT. It was going to be hard enough to make a difference in the Ministry as a Muggleborn without being stuck in the Sanitation Department.
As he drew breath, either to repeat his command, or to increase the severity of her punishment, her fingers moved to the buttons holding her robes closed. They fumbled as if numb, but she was finally able to remove her outer robes.
The black fabric slid from her nerveless fingers to pool on the ground.
“Proceed, Miss Granger,” he growled when she paused. “I haven’t all day.”
Emotion clogged her throat, making breathing difficult, but she managed to unbutton the Oxford shirt that she wore beneath, reluctantly sliding it from her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. Witches didn’t wear bras as a rule since there were charms which accomplished the same goals with much less discomfort.
Her face was radiating heat, she was blushing so strongly, and her eyes fixed on Professor Snape’s robes to avoid his cold inspection.
After a deep breath, she unfastened the row of buttons at the side of her plaid skirt, allowing the weight of the fabric to pull it over hips and to the ground. There was a murmur of reaction in the classroom behind her, but it was silenced by a glare from the professor.
All that remained now were her tiny, black knickers, white knee-highs, and high-heeled Mary Janes.
“You may leave your shoes and socks,” he said as if granting her some sort of favor.
Because at this point, being barefoot would be such a hardship.
She pushed down the knickers, carefully stepping out of them and then used her foot to push them to the pile of clothing at her side.
She knew her body was not perfect. Her hips were too curvy; her legs were too short. Standing there in front of the classroom and her professor in nothing but her socks and shoes, was the single most mortifying moment of her life to this point, including the time she was tortured to the point of losing control of her bowels on the Malfoys’ priceless Persian carpet.
She fought the urge to cover herself, balling her hands into fists at her sides.
Professor Snape stepped to the side. “Bend over and place your hands flat on the desk.” Her feet were a few feet from the desk, but when she went to move closer, he made a guttural noise forbidding it. To reach the desk from her position, she was forced to bend farther, her ass thrusting out more prominently.
With her eyes trained on the surface of the desk, she tried to pretend her naked ass was not being scrutinized by every member of her class and that the Slytherins weren’t glorying in her humiliation. The thought that Pansy Parkinson was witnessing this was enough to make a sob wrench from her gut. She bit her lip to keep it from escaping.
After what felt like an endless wait, Professor Snape moved from her side, picking up the wooden spoon sitting on his desk.
“For repeatedly defying my authority and disregarding my classroom rules despite multiple warnings, you will receive 20 blows and will remain in this position for the rest of the class period as an example to your classmates. Do you understand, Miss Granger?”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice.
“Please speak up. I cannot hear you.”
“Yes, Professor,” she repeated, a bit louder.
“You will count them aloud.” Without further warning, the wooden spoon landed against the flesh of her ass with a loud crack.
She sucked in a breath at the stinging pain and breathed, “One.”
The spoon fell again, this time on her opposite cheek.
“Two.”
Again, in the same spot, this time with more force. Tears sprung to her eyes.
“Three.”
The fourth landed on that same tender spot and she couldn’t hold in her cry before counting. “Four.”
This was child’s play next to the Cruciatus—truly, the pain was insignificant in comparison. But the hurt in combination with the mortification was excruciating.
“Five.”
He dealt three blows in quick succession and her tears would not be contained. With a sniff she said, “Six. Seven. Eight.”
Her knees buckled with the next, which landed on the bottom curve of her ass. “N-nine.”
“If you move again, Miss Granger, I will add five more.”
She didn’t respond, but she locked her knees and tensed in preparation for the next blow. It landed with a loud thwap on the fleshiest part of her ass. “Ten.”
With the next stroke, Professor Snape bent toward her and murmured, “You have a luscious ass, Miss Granger, especially when it’s cherry red.”
Her knees almost buckled again from the suggestive comment. She swallowed several times before she managed to say, “Eleven.”
Now each time the wooden spoon landed, the professor accompanied it with a comment, uttered in his silkiest, sex-soaked voice, only loud enough for her to hear. “I can smell your pussy, Miss Granger.”
She groaned, wanting to wriggle, the pain fading as her arousal surged. But she didn’t want to earn five more strokes. “T-twelve.”
“I bet your friends don’t realize you’re such a dirty, little slut.”
She whimpered before saying, “Thirteen.”
“Do they know how much you love to be paddled?”
“Fourteen.”
“I bet your precious Mr. Potter would be shocked to know how wet you are from showing off your cunt and arse to the class.”
She took in a shuddering breath, her arms beginning to tremble from supporting her weight, her thighs slick for all the reasons he’d mentioned. “Fifteen.”
“What would they say if they knew that the good-girl exterior is just a show and that you’re really a pain loving cunt?” The spoon fell three times in quick succession to emphasize his last words.
She sobbed, her body quivering with pain and pleasure, teetering on the edge of orgasm. “Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.”
“How would your friends, your classmates, and your other professors react if they realized you begged your Potions professor to hurt you…to humiliate you…to fuck you?”
With the nineteenth blow, she cried out again before counting as he’d commanded. “Nineteen.” In a whisper she added, “Please, Master.”
Her professor leaned even closer, his robes brushing her mostly naked body, his breath tickling her ear. “You will come now, my dirty slut, in front of all your clueless, little friends.”
He landed the final stroke high on her inner thigh and it was just enough to push her body over the edge. With an inarticulate cry, she came, every cell of her body blazing with pleasure. When it was finished, she barely managed to gasp, “Twenty.”
Severus Snape, her professor and Master, set the wooden spoon on the desk.
Her body was overcome with lassitude, but she concentrated on maintaining her position until he commanded otherwise. She was not certain she could endure more strokes right now.
“Right cheek on the desk, hands behind your back,” he ordered quietly. “You will stay like this for the remainder of class so everyone can appreciate your shameful red bottom and soaked cunt.”
Though the desk was damp with the tears she’d shed, it was still a relief to rest her arms. Her face was turned toward the wooden spoon that had brought pain and pleasure, humiliation and release.
He returned his attention to the class, announcing that the half-hour long simmering and stirring period would soon be ending and it would be wise for them to focus on finishing their potions if they didn’t want a failing grade for today’s work.
The students had been quiet, engrossed in her mortifying punishment, but his comment reminded them of their tasks. From her position, she could see a few were still distracted by her display.
The end of the class arrived swiftly, and she remained bent over in front of them. The professor ordered her classmates to place their completed potions on his desk, making her endure one final humiliation as each student walked up next to her to deliver their flask.
She could feel the scrutiny, the leers, the desire, the derision, though she kept her eyes trained on the bowl of the wooden spoon. A few made comments either mocking her or asking if she was all right.
Hermione remained silent throughout. When Harry wouldn’t let it go, repeating his question, the professor interceded. “It appears that Miss Granger has finally learned her lesson and is keeping her mouth shut in my class. I suggest you leave her. Unless you’d like her to speak out of turn and get more punishment?”
Harry paused at her side, but finally he walked away, muttering that Snape was a monster as he went.
He dismissed the class but didn’t release her from his command to remain. Books and belongings rustled as the students packed and then escaped the dungeon classroom more quickly than usual, no doubt eager to spread the tale of the know-it-all Gryffindor’s degrading punishment.
A few students lingered.
“You have been dismissed. If you do not wish to lose more House points and join Miss Granger in detention, I suggest you leave now.”
“I’m going to Dumbledore. You can’t get away with this,” Harry said.
“I assure you I’m well within my rights as a professor to punish unruly students. Tell him, Miss Granger.”
Without moving from her position, she said, “He’s right, Harry. It is an old practice, but it is still allowed. Go. I’ll be fine.”
When Harry still lingered, her professor said, “If you are not out of my sight in five seconds, I will have you in detention for a week, Mr. Potter.”
Finally, she heard footsteps retreat and the door slam shut. Hermione remained as she was, her cheek resting on the cool wood of the desk, her legs braced, feet slightly parted and her hands clasped behind her back. Professor Snape ignored her, cleaning up his demonstration cauldron and workstation, examining the rack of student potions, and noting a grade for each in his ledger.
After several long minutes, she felt him step up behind her. Without warning, he shoved his thick cock into her cunt, rocking her forward with the force. One hand dug into her hip to steady her, and the other grasped her clasped hands at the small of her back, using them for leverage as he pounded into her clutching, wet pussy. He took her hard and fast, just as she preferred…just as he preferred.
His strokes rekindled the fire within her, each one reminding her of her tender bottom as his pelvis smacked into the reddened flesh.
She squealed when his hand came down on her already sore arse cheek, but it was exactly what she needed to take her to the brink. “Please, Master,” she gasped as he filled her relentlessly.
“Come for me, my dirty slut.” His hand came down again, and she came with a scream as blinding pleasure radiated from her center to the tips of her fingers and toes.
He rode through her climax and then slowed as she recovered, still hard and huge. When her breathing calmed, he pulled out, making her whimper at the loss.
“Mouth,” he commanded and she turned toward him, dropping to her knees. Her mouth opened, and his cock, glistening with her essence, pushed between her lips. His hands cradled her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, and he held her still so he could pump his length into her.
Practiced at taking his cock like this, she relaxed her throat and allowed him to fuck her mouth, working her tongue along the underside, sneaking breaths as he withdrew.
It took only a few strokes for him to surge deep into her and hold her there, nearly choking her with his seed. He sighed deeply as he withdrew, allowing her to lap up all traces of their combined fluids from his softening cock before he tucked it away.
The smile on his face as he caressed her head was reserved for her alone. No one else was able to bring him such joy, and she took pride in that fact. She nuzzled the hand that cupped her cheek and returned the smile.
“Thank you, Hermione, for fulfilling my fantasy.”
“Our fantasy, Master. And Happy Birthday.”

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Mouthy Miss Granger