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Getting Personal	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 38185 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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- 2
A/N: Well, today is my birthday, and in celebration I'm going to post this first chapter. I've been working on this story for a few months, and I know I'll just obsessively edit it unless I get it out there. So, I hope you all enjoy.

In case you can't tell from most of my other stories, I'm a hopeless spankophile, and this story is no exception. I stick with what turns me on. I want to warn you that while the first chapter is sort of fun and hot, the rest of the story is pretty serious. Hermione has post-traumatic issues, and Snape has changed and is trying to figure out who he is now that he's free to live his own life.

I have finished the first draft of all 14 chapter (plus the epilogue), and I intended to post a new chapter every week as I edit them. I've never tried to edit/post my work in such a fashion, so we'll see how it goes. Bear with me.

1 — They Did The Monster Mash
Severus scanned The Daily Prophet with half an eye as he drank his morning coffee. He preferred to arrive in the Great Hall before the throng of students, taking his breakfast in relative solitude. His brain couldn’t withstand the ruckus of babbling children before the sweet thread of coffee stitched his brain back together. Their constant chattering grated his nerves like fingernails on a blackboard.
He snorted as his eye ran over the personals.
  Widowed witch seeks mature man. No beards please.
   Professional wizard, 57, seeks friendly, intelligent female. Experienced duelers preferred.
   Young, pretty witch seeking long-term partner. Male or female. Not Both. Not again.
   Male Dragon Trainer, 25, seeks smoking-hot witch. Must know first aid.
Snape was already turning the page when he noticed the last entry.
   27 y.o. witch seeks disciplinarian/dominant/sexual relief. Must be experienced and available nights and/or weekends.
Severus stroked his lower lip. It had been quite some time since he’d turned a witch over his knee. He missed that thrill of control, that flush of color on a well-spanked bottom, that glint of dew shining between her petals.
Lately his fucking had become perfunctory. It was a means to an end. And to be honest, it wasn’t happening all that frequently. When his sanity seemed at a breaking point, he relented and found a willing partner. The sex was good for both parties, but it was just that: good. He hadn’t really played with anyone in years . . . or decades. Dear Merlin, had it been that long? What was he waiting for? He wasn’t getting any younger.
The contact name under the ad read BookGirl79.
Hopefully that meant she enjoyed reading and was, therefore, not an idiot. As the first clumps of students began to arrive, Severus tore the ad from The Prophet and disappeared back to the dungeons, where he could consider the pros and cons of responding in the peace of his room.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
BookGirl79,
I’ve never answered a personal ad before, but your request sparked my imagination. It has been a number of years since I last took on the role of disciplinarian. Life seems to have led me on a winding detour away from myself. Your ad made me realize how long I’d been wandering. I appreciate the rescue even if unintentional.
I don’t know what you want to know about me, so I’ll keep my description brief. I’m 46, single (never married), 6’2, thin (too thin), pale skin, black hair and eyes. I won’t lie to you, I’m not an attractive man; but I have had extensive experience with dominant/submissive sexual pairings and discipline.
If my appearance and age are not offensive to you, please feel free to write me back. It would be helpful if you gave me a clear idea about what, exactly, you’re looking for; then I’ll know whether my strengths suit your needs. (I would be willing to refer you to someone more appropriate should we find ourselves incompatible.)
—Sir60

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Dear Sir60,
Thank you for your honest and civil response. It was a breath of fresh air in a fog of frighting and uncouth replies. Whittling down my possibilities to three hasn’t been difficult. Between the vulgar threats and horrendous spelling, the pile of discards has overtaken my rubbish bin.
Your age is not disagreeable to me at all. If anything, I prefer older men. (And you’re not that old.) As for your appearance, I’ll withhold my judgement. I’m far more interested in what you’re like as a dominant and what you’re like as a man. I prefer intelligence over good looks.
I’m not completely sure how to describe what I’m looking for. I’ve never been in a dominant/submissive relationship before. I’ve never even been spanked. But the fantasies are starting to intrude on my real life. When I’m alone, it’s all I think about.
It’s a relief to explain this in a letter rather than face to face. I haven't even told my friends yet.
I would say the majority of my fantasies are schoolgirl punishment themed (spanking, caning, paddling, slippering, standing in the corner etc.). But I need it to be sexual too. I need someone with control who can shag me properly. I don’t want to wind up with my bum blistered masturbating in the loo. If you’re only into the punishment side of things, I understand, just please tell me now so neither of us wastes our time.
Also, I don’t like pretending to be bad. I don’t like being in trouble. I know that sounds contradictory coming from someone who wants a spanking more than her next meal, but I want to make sure you understand me up front.
I’m terrified of trying all this (especially with a stranger), so finding someone who can be authoritative without being scary is my first goal (and I wouldn’t want to sleep with someone mean).
If I don’t sound completely batty to you now, and you think you can help me, please write me back.
I hope to hear from you soon.
—BookGirl79
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
BookGirl79,
I’ve read your letter several times now, and I believe I understand what you want.
You want a lover who wears many hats. He would be both your knight in shining armor and the perverted headmaster who fingers your bottom after a good caning, the Romeo who reads you sonnets and then ties you to the bed to tease you for hours on end.
I am no one’s knight in shining armor. And while I do enjoy Shakespeare, I have never whispered his verse in a lover’s ear. I am just a man. I have faults. A hard life has left me acrimonious and caustic. I can’t pretend to be otherwise any more than you could suddenly take on the role of bratty bad girl.
A resolution of circumstances in my past has changed my demeanor to some degree. Age has softened my sharper edges as well. While I am still considered sardonic by most, I don’t believe anyone would classify me as cruel. Intimidation is necessary in some instances, but if requested, I could rein it in. I doubt there would be much need for it with someone so eager to please.
Let me guess, you have a demanding career where you are in command. You work overtime constantly. Pressure and success are your driving forces. Am I right? Do you ever get to bed before midnight anymore? When was the last time you took a holiday?
What you need and what you want are two different things. I believe I can supply what you need.
I have no issue with blending punishment and pleasure. In my experience they complement one another. Turning a naughty bottom red will cleanse the soul, but willing obedience is obtained though mental and physical satisfaction. Rest assured, the witches I bed are not left wanting. (Occasionally they are left limping, but only on request.)
If you’re still interested in pursuing this, I look forward to your reply.
—Sir60

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Dear Sir60,
I’ve been thinking about your last letter. A lot. How did you know I was a workaholic? And what led you to believe I’m eager to please? I’m not denying either of these labels; I just can’t imagine how you guessed.
And you were also right about wanting a lover who wears many hats. While I have an ideal in my mind, I'm not averse to variations. I don’t expect anyone to be perfect. We all have faults. Just be aware that if you verbally abuse me, I will leave. I won’t put up with cruelty.
Sonnets are nice, but that’s not what I want in bed. I just need someone to take me in hand when I’m tense and hold me when I’m broken. And he needs to be able to tell the difference. I need order and passion (and maybe a good dose of perversion).
Does your diagnosis match mine?
Eagerly awaiting your reply,

BookGirl79

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
BookGirl79,
It wasn’t any one thing you said that revealed your personality traits. It was the combination of schoolgirl punishments, wanting to be dominated sexually, and your denial of being a bad girl. The whole tone of your letter was forthright. You’re a good girl and, therefore, like to please. You come from a nice middle-class family where praise was lavished on your achievements. (Only child?) Now you need that praise and order, but in the real world, praise is in short supply. You rely on the order to maintain your sanity, but you long for the success of childhood. That freedom and playfulness you once thrived on has been replaced by bills and deadlines, responsibilities and expectations. Being the repentant schoolgirl liberates you from life’s pressures. Someone else will be in charge. I suspect you're also quite hard on yourself (for reasons real or imaginary). You think you're deserving of the punishment you seek.
There is more I could conjecture, but it would be pure speculation. Your aversion to “mean” and “scary” adds another layer to the picture. I’ll reserve any further analyzation for a later date.
I think your diagnosis is fairly accurate (perhaps a pinch more perversion). I won’t be able to fully assess the situation until we meet. Sometimes what a witch needs most isn’t clear until we’re face to face.
If you would like to meet somewhere public to vet me further, I’m willing to submit to your scrutiny.
Let me know,

Sir60

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Dear Sir60,
I’m a little disturbed by your ability to pinpoint my past with such clarity. Am I that transparent? You’re bound to find me an absolute bore if we go out. I’ll tell you I want a white wine, and you’ll know the name of my childhood cat based on the year I choose.
I think I would like to know you even outside the bedroom. You seem intelligent and insightful. I don’t understand you at all. You tell me you’re unattractive and sarcastic, but then you write things that make me wetter than the English Channel; and now you seem to know my motives better than I know them myself.
I would very much like to meet you. If you’re up for it, the Ministry is hosting a fancy dress masque at Earlgrave’s Hotel on Halloween. I’m going with a few friends. (I haven’t decided as what yet.) If you promise you’re not a serial killer, tell me what you’ll be dressed as, and I’ll find you. That way if we don’t get on well together in person, we can just go our separate ways without revealing our identities.
Don’t interpret anything from this,

BookGirl79

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
BookGirl79,
I won’t be able to get there until ten due to an unavoidable previous commitment. I’ll be the pirate in black.
All words are revealing,

Sir60

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione eyed the ballroom doors, only half listening to Ginny and Luna guess the identities of the other guests. It was one minute to ten. She didn’t want him to sneak by when she wasn’t looking. Her Marie Antoinette costume was hot, and she kept using her prop fan for its actual purpose.
Ginny poked her in the arm. “What is up with you tonight? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Hermione needed to tell them. It would be safer if they knew. “I’m . . . uh . . . sort of waiting for someone.”
Luna and Ginny glanced at each other.
“Who?” Luna asked with an airy smile.
Hermione sighed. “I’m not sure.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not sure? You’ll just know he's right for accosting when you spot him?”
Hermione smiled. “No. I . . . I put a personal ad in The Daily Prophet. We’ve been owling each other for a couple of weeks.” She knew she was blushing.
“You put an ad in The Prophet? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ginny grinned. “So you really don’t know who he is?”
“No idea. I told him to meet me here tonight, and we’d see how things went in person.”
Ginny started searching the crowd, an excited gleam sparking behind her superhero mask. “How will you know it’s him?”
“He said he’d be here after ten, wearing a black pirate costume.”
“And you haven’t seen him yet?”
“It’s just now ten.”
Luna scratched at her butterfly mask, her expression serene. “There’s a black pirate by the punch bowl.”
Hermione spun around, her heart thudding. She spotted the wizard and sighed, turning back to Ginny and Luna. “No, that’s Dean. I mean he’ll be wearing all black. Besides, he’s older.”
Ginny smirked. “How much older?”
“Mid-forties.”
Ginny’s laughing eyes went back to the main doors. “Dirty girl.”
Hermione pulled her wand from the hidden sheath in her dress and cast a cooling charm on herself. “Is it just me, or is it absolutely sweltering in here?”
Luna sipped her punch. “I’m fine.”
Ginny snorted. “I’m fine too. You’re just nervous.”
Hermione scratched under the edge of her wig. “No, I think it’s this dead Manticore on my head.”
All three of them were watching the doors now, peering through the milling throng of partygoers.
Ginny snagged a glass of champagne as it floated by on a silver serving tray. “How many men have you met so far?”
“This is the only one. I got lots of replies, but this one was my favorite.”
“This is so romantic,” Luna said dreamily.
Hermione blushed. Was meeting a dom supposed to be romantic? That didn’t sound right. She was just excited.
“There he is,” Luna said, nodding toward the doors.
Hermione’s heart wasn’t just pounding, it was louder than the thumping bass of the music. The whole hall was going to hear her soon. It was him; Luna was right this time. He was head to toe black: boots and breeches, billowing shirt and mask. His black hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. He looked like the Dread Pirate Roberts. His eyes weren’t visible from this distance, but the rest of his description fit.
Ginny grinned and pushed her forward. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Hermione stayed rooted to the floor. Now that he was there, she was even more apprehensive. This man knew more about her than most of her friends. He knew that she wanted her bum smacked. He knew that she needed a good shagging. He knew too much.
Her eyes followed him as he made his way around the periphery of the room. He was subtly searching the crowd, his stride slow but sure, making his way toward the punch bowl. A few witches smiled at him as he passed, but he just nodded at them in a way that was neither friendly nor unfriendly.
Ginny pushed her shoulder again. “Go on. He looks decent enough. Nice arse.”
Hermione glanced at his bum. It was hard to miss in those tight trousers. She blushed again.
“Nice sword too,” Luna commented.
Ginny snorted. “Yes. Go ask him if you can touch it.”
Hermione laughed and took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes. Do I look all right?”
Ginny and Luna both studied her for a few seconds, and then Ginny nodded. “Yes. Marvelous. Just don’t bend over, or your tits are gonna pop out.”
Hermione looked down at her cleavage. The bodice was tight and the neckline low. She was going to make one hell of a first impression. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Luna said.
Hermione wove through the crowd, her heart increasing to a brisk jog the closer she got. He was filling a cup with punch when she got there, and she stared at his black back for a second before her voice started working. “Sir sixty?”
He turned to her and gave her a once over. “Book girl?”
She nodded.
Severus sighed. “You’re stunning,” he said evenly.
Hermione smiled. “Thank you.”
“I was hoping you’d have a giant hairy mole on your face or buck teeth or something. Then I’d at least stand a chance.”
Hermione mashed her lips together over her teeth, thinking how she once did. “Don’t be silly. You look wonderful.”
Snape snorted and handed her the punch. “You haven’t seen me without the mask yet."
“I like your costume. Very dashing.” She smiled, sipping the punch and checking out his arse while he poured himself a new cup.
“These trousers are cutting off my circulation,” he growled. “I’ve suddenly remembered why I despise fancy dress.”
“I know. I feel as if I’m in a fabric sauna.”
“I can barely hear you here. Let’s move this someplace quieter.” His hand went to her lower back, and he guided her away from the crowd surrounding the refreshment table. When they were wedged in a dark corner, away from the melee, he glanced around the room. “This is more elaborate than I expected. The decorations are a nice touch.”
Hermione nodded. She knew he was trying to put her at ease. “Yes. I don’t think they were expecting this many people.”
He motioned at the crowd. “Are your friends spying on us from somewhere?”
Smiling, she pointed them out. “The superhero and the butterfly woman.”
Snape raised his cup to the red-headed, caped avenger and her floaty companion. They both grinned and waved back. “Will we have a retinue all night, or will I get you alone at some point?”
Hermione downed the rest of her punch; her throat was parched. “I don’t know yet.”
Severus took her cup from her. “Would you like more?”
She shook her head. “Not just now, thank you. I don’t want to have to try and navigate the loo in this dress.”
Smirking, he set their cups on a passing tray. “They didn’t wear knickers in the eighteenth century . . . which made chamber pots easier to maneuver.”
“You’re starting to make the loo sound much more simple.”
He laughed. “Have you arrived authentically attired?”
Hermione’s face flared with heat. “Not to that degree.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, moving in closer, stroking the side of her soft cheek with one finger. “Perhaps we should submerge you in the historical experience.”
Her heart tried to drop into her stomach. The rumble of his suggestion penetrated every layer of her clothing, targeting her clit.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked.
Hermione nodded, her face blank but her mind whirring and confused. Weren’t they just talking about costumes and punch? How did it become sexual so quickly?
“Then let’s take off your knickers and get out on the floor.”
Her eyes went wide. “Take off my knickers?” she repeated in a quivering voice.
Severus smirked and nodded. Turning his back to the crowd, he blocked the room from her view. “Are you going to be a good girl, or do I need to spank your naughty bottom here in front of everyone?”
Hermione was going to hyperventilate. She was terrified of both suggestions, but if her slit got any wetter she was going to leave a puddle on the floor. “I . . . I don’t know. I mean . . . no, I don’t want you to spank me in front of everyone.”
Severus could feel the heat radiating off her face. He just wanted to give her a taste, not make her pass out. Leaning in even closer, he saw her eyes go dark behind her gold mask. “No one’s watching us—except your friends. Do you want to do the honors . . . or shall I?”
Hermione knew she was breathing too hard; her chest was visibly rising and falling as she processed his question. “I . . . you . . . I . . . You want to take off my knickers? Now?”
Snape nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Turn your back to the room. We’re doing it right here.”
He guided her to switch places with him, the room spinning behind her in a blur. When he was in the corner, he gave her a small smile and knelt down. Every organ in her body started trembling. Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione didn’t see anyone staring at them. If someone did see, they might just think he was fixing her shoe or adjusting her stockings or something. His hands disappeared under the hem of her skirt, and his fingertips glided up the backs of her legs, tickling her behind the knee and then crossing over the final expanse of her hamstrings. He held her gaze the whole time, never blinking. His eyes were star-flecked black holes, and she was getting sucked into them.
Severus grazed the base of her bum, keeping a straight face as she jolted in his hands. Her voluminous skirts hid everything, but he didn’t need to see what he was doing. Her silky stockings had stopped at her thigh, leaving the lower half of her round bum delightfully bare. Trailing up to her hips, he found the top of her knickers and began to ease them down. Her breathing became labored, and his eyes flickered from her face to her precariously stacked bosom. If her neckline were any lower, he’d be able to see her areolae. And she was about to breathe herself out of her bodice.
Her gusset caught between her legs. Hermione's labia seemed unwilling to let it go. He smirked at her and pulled them free, easing them down to her ankles without ever really touching her again.
“Step out of them,” he murmured.
She did, watching with bated breath as he revealed his lacy prize.
Severus would have to be blind to not notice the transparent blot in the center of her knickers. “It’s a good thing I got you out of these, young lady. They’re drenched.”
Her face went crimson as he inspected her underwear. If she had known her knickers would be scrutinized, she would have worn a sexier pair. There was lace around the trim, but otherwise they were rather plain: simple white microfiber.
Severus stood and looped the material into the scabbard at his hip. It was unlikely to be identified by any casual observer, but she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. “Much better. Now let’s see if that frees up your feet.”
Hermione let him lead her out onto the dance floor. She felt as if she were having a dissociative episode. This couldn’t be real. You don’t meet a man one minute and then let him remove your knickers the next. His hand went to her waist while his other held her fingers loosely. She automatically rested her hand on his shoulder and stared at him in bewilderment as he smoothly swayed her in a small circle. He wasn’t pressed up against her; he was dancing with her as if they were on a normal first date, as if he didn’t have her wet knickers adorning his sword.
Severus watched her carefully as they danced. She looked lost. It was a bit much to spring on her all at once, but this was why they were meeting. Either she liked his style or she didn’t.
Hermione tore her eyes from his and glanced to the side. Ginny and Luna were grinning at her from the crowd, giving her the thumbs up when she saw them. Her mouth twitched in an unsure smile. Did they not see her knickers dangling from his hip? How could they have missed him stripping her in the corner? Swallowing hard, she met his eyes again. He seemed totally calm and, unlike her, unruffled. What was one supposed to say after a wizard commandeers your knickers? The only reply she could come up with was “thank you.” But that didn’t seem quite right.
When the next song was too fast for his taste, Severus led her over to the doors that opened to the courtyard. The outdoors were lit with odd orange and violet lights, casting an eerie glow around the garden. Other guests were out, milling around, getting fresh air, talking. It was considerably quieter, and he hoped her fearful silence would be remedied by the ability to hear. Following the curving brick path, he steered her toward one corner where a stone bench offered a place to rest. “Please, sit.”
Hermione sat down with a grateful sigh. Her confidence in her own knees was waning. She’d been knocked for a loop and wanted to get her bearings back. He sat beside her, his sword clanking against the stone seat. Their contact was restricted to his leg touching hers through their multiple layers of clothing.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
Hermione wasn’t sure. “A bit dazed.”
He nodded. “Have I met your expectations?”
Her mouth opened and closed a couple times before she spoke. “I had no expectations.”
“That’s wise. Is there anything you’d like to ask me? I know you must have questions.”
She couldn’t think straight. If she’d been smart, she would have made a list before leaving her flat. “How many witches have you done this with?”
He pinched his lip. “If you mean how many times have I been in a one-on-one dominant relationship with someone, I’d say seven or eight. If you mean how many times have I been in a dominant sexual situation with a witch, the answer is considerably higher. More than a hundred.”
She blinked. “You’ve slept with over a hundred witches?”
“No. I said sexual situation. There have been many times that I’ve been requested to punish or tease a witch with no intercourse involved. I would consider any instance where a witch was nude or wet a sexual situation.”
“Oh.” She had to process that. “In your letter you said you hadn’t done this in a while. When was the last time?”
“Roughly twenty years ago.”
“Why the long stretch?”
“Life got in the way. I didn’t have the time or desire for such games.”
Hermione nodded. “Are you going to start . . . offering your services again?”
Severus smirked. “I don’t think so. I don’t really have the time to 'service' more than one witch right now.”
“So it would just be you and me? Like we’re dating but . . . with bondage?”
He studied the way her fingers nervously picked at her fan. “Have you never had a lover?”
Hermione had to think about how to answer that. “Um . . . I’ve had a couple one night stands and boyfriends, but I wouldn’t call any of them a lover.”
Severus considered that. “What we would be doing would be more of an arrangement. We would both come to a mutual agreement about what we want from our meetings.”
“What do you want from all this? You already know what I want.”
Covering her hand with his so she would stop playing her fan, he answered her carefully, “Just as you want to be punished, I want to mete out that punishment. Whatever fantasies you have about being dominated, I have the mirror desire to dominate.”
“What about . . . the sex? How will that work?”
His lips twitched into an honest smile. “The normal mechanics.”
Hermione smiled too. “Yes, I assumed that. I meant, how do we go about it? Do I send you an owl saying I’d like a slippering and a fucking? Like I’m placing an order?”
The smile on his face felt unfamiliar, but not wrong. “No. We’ll set up meetings, and I’ll give you whatever punishment I think you need. If that leads naturally to orgasm or sex, then so be it.”
That sounded like a decent plan to her. “What if I suddenly need you to spank or shag me, but we don’t have a date set up?”
Severus pinched his lip again, pulling the grin off his face. “Then you send me an owl, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.
“When can we start?”
Severus laughed, not recognizing his own voice for a second. “Have I become a finalist in your search?”
“You’re in the lead.” She didn’t want to tell him the other possibilities had been forgotten after his second letter. If he knew there was no competition, he’d have her over a barrel.
“We can start tonight if you like.”
“Tonight tonight?” She was suddenly doubting herself.
“If you’d prefer more time to consider it, I understand.”
Despite her trembling nerves, Hermione was ready for him to start immediately. “What are you going to do to me?”
Her willingness was being smothered by her fear. Severus quickly made up his mind about how to proceed. “I’m going to dance with you.”
She was sure she’d misheard him. “Dance with me?”
He stood and held out his hand to her. “I lead. You follow. It’s simple. Take my hand.”
Hermione slipped her hand into his, and he helped her from the bench. Instead of taking her inside, he pulled her against him right there in the courtyard. The music was easily heard through the wall and open doors, and he rocked her in a slow circle to the beat. The song wasn’t really slow, but it wasn’t fast either. When that song concluded, the band started a soft ballad that was more suited for couples. Her dark pirate pulled her closer, pressing his lithe body against hers. It was hard to feel him through her dress, but from the tits up, she felt almost naked. His shirt was cool against her breast, but underneath it he was warm and hard.
When she relaxed and put her face against his chest, Severus smiled. She was new to this; he’d have to get her more comfortable before anything too intense took place. Keeping the sway of their dancing slow, he held her close, watching her body for signs of tension. The song melted into another tune that wasn’t too fast, and he continued their gentle, repetitive circle in the moonlight. Her arms went from mannequin stiff to pliable and living. He had no intention of stopping until that rigid pole in her back had been extracted. As the next song started, he felt her clench, but when he made no signs of letting her go, she sank in relief and sighed into his shirt. By the song’s bridge, her back was no longer constructed of steel cables.
The soft shuffle of their feet on the bricks could barely be heard over the jabbering guests and the loud music. Severus brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Your hands are like ice.”
Hermione was glad her blush was hidden by the night and his shirt. Her toes and fingers were always the first indicators of her level of anxiety. He obviously knew how frightened she was. “I’m scared out of my mind.”
“Perhaps we should postpone tonight’s activities.”
“NO!”
Severus smirked at her vehemence.
“I mean,” she said, regaining control of her voice. “There’s no sense in delaying anything. I’ll be nervous no matter when we do it.”
Despite her calm explanation, it was clear how desperate she was for this. “How long has it been since you were last with a man?” he asked quietly.
Turning her head to the side, glancing across the courtyard at a small group of laughing partygoers, Hermione tried to breathe normally. All that came out was a tight sigh. “It’s been a few years.”
“That seems like a lengthy dry spell for such a young and beautiful witch.”
Hermione smiled. Compliments like that usually made her roll her eyes, but she knew he was trying to put her at ease with the sweet words. She needed all the help she could get. “I’m too busy. Plus . . .” she paused, deciding whether she should say what she was thinking. “I’ve never really been with anyone experienced. I didn’t want to waste my time. I thought . . .” her words fell away with a blush.
“What?” he asked, looking down at her.
Turning her face back into his chest, she decided hiding anything from him was pointless. He was there for the most lascivious reason imaginable, and embarrassment didn’t seem to be part of his makeup. And he didn’t even know who she was. What did she need to hide? “I thought it rather futile. If I’m going to spend the night getting myself off either way, I figured it would be easier if I just stayed home.”
Severus glanced down at her white wig, wondering not only how inexperienced she was but also what she would look like splayed out on a bed, her fingers exploring her juicy slit. He squashed the image immediately. Their was no room in his trousers for that line of thinking. “I see. How many partners have you had?”
“Four.”
“None of them satisfied you?”
“Orgasm-wise, no. Don’t get me wrong, they were all extremely sweet; and one of them was quite fun. But any orgasms I had with them were my own doing.”
“Were they all young?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you said you were attracted to older wizards.”
“I am.”
“But you’ve never slept with one?”
“Not yet.”
His smirk returned. It seemed she was ready to explore that route with him—immediately. Pulling her closer, he put his lips above her ear. He needed to wow her tonight. This was a job interview, and he wanted the position even more than he’d thought. “I think it’s time you got over my knee, young lady. I want that bottom nice and red before I watch you cream my hand.”
Hermione missed a step, trodding on his toe as the words sank in. Blinking and swallowing were no longer priorities. Her brain was too busy picturing that suggestion to be concerned with such frivolous bodily functions like breathing. “Where?”
Her willingness was a good sign. “Well, we are in a hotel. I’m sure I can find us a suitable room somewhere. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If you’re going to meet strangers for sexual purposes, safety should be your first concern. I think it would be best if you told your friends what you intend to do and ask them to wait for you.”
That did make her feel better. He wouldn’t tell her to involve her friends if he intended to harm her. He was doing everything he could to make it a positive experience. “Are . . . are we going to have sex?”
Severus took note of the tremor in her voice. She was terrified yet hungry for him at the same time. The game was afoot. He had to plan his strategy carefully. The first objective was to secure his foothold. If she chose him, he would have plenty of opportunities to bed her. She was going to choose whomever she felt safest with. “Not tonight. If you find our time together satisfactory, contact me and let me know. If you don’t, our identities will remain a mystery, and we can go our separate ways none the wiser.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Although still scared, she was no longer petrified.
“Come along. We both have to work tomorrow, and I want as much time with you as possible.”
He took her hand, and Hermione followed him back into the ballroom. She spotted Ginny and Luna near the punch and squeezed the pirate’s hand to let him know. He nodded and leaned down to her ear so she could hear him.
“Tell them I’ll have you back down here by one. I’m going to go talk to someone I know about finding a room. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. Stay with your friends so I can find you.”
Hermione nodded.
He could see how pale she’d become behind her gold half-mask. Leaning down, he kissed her temple. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
He disappeared into the crowd before she could reply. Hermione made her way over to Ginny and Luna, replaying the evening in her head. He was an odd man, a strange mixture of dominance and kindness. It was unclear whether he was just doing that for her or if that was how he was naturally. His letters claimed he was less than sociable, but so far he’d done nothing that proved that. Was he just playing her? Was he going to wait until they were alone and then attack her? The sweet kiss he’d given her before parting had actually calmed her quite a bit. It wasn’t sexual. It didn’t seem likely that he would reassure her in such a manner if he planned to decapitate her upstairs.
“Have you been outside all this time?” Ginny asked, handing her a cup of punch.
The saccharine sweetness of the fruity liquid tasted like heaven on her parched tongue. She hadn’t noticed how dry her mouth had become. “Yes.”
Luna smiled. “What was he like?”
“Um . . .” she had to think about that. “He seemed nice.”
Ginny pulled her closer so they could hear. “Was he a good dancer?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, actually, he was.”
Ginny grinned. “You know what that means.”
The redhead’s lewd expression was partially hidden by her mask, but Hermione snickered at the visible smile. “That’s what I’m hoping. Listen, are you two going to be here a while?”
Ginny shrugged at Luna. “Yeah. Why?”
“I . . . uh . . . I’m going somewhere with him, but I want you guys to be here to make sure I get back in one piece.”
If Ginny’s grin got any wider it was going to split her face. “Go somewhere with him? You bloody perv! I’m so proud of you.”
Hermione blushed but couldn’t keep a straight face. “We’re just going to get to know each other.”
Luna snorted into her punch.
Ginny shook her head, laughing. “I want a detailed report when you get back. I hear pirates can really hoist the mizzenmast.”
Hermione choked back a guffaw. “He said we’re not going to shag.”
Ginny gave her a disbelieving look. “Really? What are you going to do? Pet his parrot?”
“I . . . uh . . .” Hermione looked around, wishing there weren’t so many people about. “I’ll explain later.”
Luna sipped her punch. “He’s talking to a man over by the main doors.”
Looking over her shoulder, Hermione spotted him talking to a man dressed as Henry VIII. The man handed him something, and her pirate made some parting comments and then started toward the refreshment table.
“Here he comes,” Ginny whispered. “Find out if he’s keeping his peg leg in his trousers.”
Hermione’s heart suddenly revved to overdrive. This was really going to happen. She was going to go somewhere with a man she barely knew and let him do things to her she’d never let another man do. She set her cup on the table and pulled at her costume, trying to make more room for her lungs to expand.
Luna touched her arm. “You look scared.”
“I am.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Hermione let out a shaky laugh. “No thanks, Luna. I think this is something I have to do on my own.”
She turned to face him, and Ginny and Luna flanked her in a protective manner that gave her a boost of courage.
Luna leaned in to her. “Are the knickers on his belt the new pirate fashion?”
Hermione turned a deep shade of red.
Ginny squinted at him as he approached. “Hermione, are those your knickers? What on earth did you do outside?”
Hermione whipped out her fan and tried to keep her face from bursting into flames. “Don’t say my name when he gets here. We’re staying anonymous for tonight.”
“Those are your knickers,” Ginny stated with a growing smile.
Severus found his Marie in a tight wall of protective witch. The superhero had a smirk on her face, and the butterfly was studying him with a serene smile. He nodded at them both before holding out his hand to the frightened-looking monarch in the middle. “Are you ready?”
His fingers felt warm around hers. She nodded.
“I’ll have her back here by one.”
Ginny gave him a warning look. “I know the entire Auror department extremely well. If anything goes wrong, they’ll hunt you down like a dog.”
Severus smiled softly. He appreciated a loyal (and threatening) friend. “That sounds fair.”
Ginny smiled. “Then I’ll see you later,” she said to Hermione. “Details,” she hissed in her ear before letting her go.
Luna tipped her head sideways, eyeing the dark pirate. “Yo ho ho.”
Severus narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure her out. “Nice meeting you both.”
Weaving through the dancing guests and roaming drunks, Severus got her out into the hotel’s sprawling entryway. She looked terrified, but she clung to his hand as if she were more afraid of being parted. He squeezed her bloodless hand and led her to the lifts. They rode to the fifth floor with two boisterous couples who barely noticed their presence. They stayed on till the seventh floor, where he led her out and down the hall. She was dead silent the whole way, and he could feel her hand shaking in his.
He used the charmed key on room 713 and let her enter first. She stayed by the door, watching nervously as he began unbuckling his belt. Severus took in the room. There was a low bed on the opposite wall and a writing desk with a chair to the right. The door to the bathroom stood open next to her frozen form. The walls were dark blue, which added an elegant, calming air to the room. It wasn’t a huge room, but it wasn’t bad.
Setting his scabbard on the desk, he did his best not to laugh at her skittish posture. He went to the bed and sat on the edge, facing her. “I think you’ll be more comfortable if you take off your wig.”
Hermione raised one hand to her head as if she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “Okay.”
“Would you like help, or can you manage?”
She glanced at the bathroom door. “I can manage. I’ll, uh, just be a minute.”
Severus nodded and waited while she prepared herself.
Hermione ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a sigh. This was far more nerve-wracking than she’d thought. Pulling her wand from the hidden sheath in her bodice, she prodded her wig and caught it as it tumbled down. She set it on the counter and pulled the cap from her hair. It all looked smashed and insane. After smoothing it out a bit, she rolled it and piled it into a curly fountain atop her head then used her wand to pin it in place. It would fall out in a few hours, but she should be home by then. It actually didn’t look too bad. Sometimes she lucked out and her hair decided to do what she wanted it to.
Checking herself in the mirror, she nodded. It was now or never. Creeping back out into the bedroom, she stared at his boots, wondering how to proceed.
Severus blinked a few times, processing her change in appearance. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “You look even better as a brunette. Why on earth did you wear that wig?”
She smiled and shrugged. “It was part of the costume.”
“Are you ready for your spanking now?”
Hermione squirmed. She’d waited far too long for someone to say that. Now that she finally heard it, her stomach was jumping up and down in excitement. I’m going to be sick. “Yes, please.”
His lips twitched. The way she held her hands over her stomach was a clear sign she was trying to still her nerves. She inched toward the bed as if she were sneaking up on it. “Don’t be frightened,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s your first time. I’ll take things slowly.”
Doing her best to swallow, Hermione nodded again. As she drew closer, she felt her insides quiver. “Whose room is this?” she asked quietly.
Severus stayed still, watching her approach with interest. He wondered how long she could delay her arrival. “A friend is staying the weekend here. He’ll be at the party until the early hours of the morning.”
“What if someone hears us?”
“That’s unlikely. The walls are thick, and we’re at the end of the hall. Besides," he said, smirking, "if any complaints are made, they won’t know it’s you. The room is in Edgar’s name.”
She was standing toe to toe with him. There was no more time for stalling.
Keeping his eyes on her face, he reached down and lifted her skirts to just below her knees. “I don’t want your dress to get caught when you bend over,” he explained. “Just lie across my lap and rest your head on the bed.”
He turned at a slight angle, and Hermione eased herself over his thighs. Just getting into position was terrifying. His body was warm against her left side. His crotch would be right against her hip. Was he turned on by this, or was this just routine for him? She couldn’t feel if he was hard or not through all their clothing. He must have seen hundreds of bare bums in his life; Hermione doubted hers was anything special. Maybe this was nothing to him. But it was everything to her. Everything. She’d had fantasies even back at Hogwarts. Acting out such a long held idea was both horrifying and arousing. If this didn’t go well, she’d be lost. Her recurring fantasies would vanish, and she’d have to seek out some new obsession.
Severus made sure the front of her skirts bunched over his knees so he could easily lift the back. As slowly as he could, he drew the voluminous layers up over her hips. The sight was glorious. Her white stockings stopped at her upper thighs, held in place by charmed garters. Tiny pink bows adorned the backs of the stretchy bands. Sweet. But not as sweet as the creamy globes of her buttocks, round and bare in the soft lamplight. They were like mounds of snow. He stared at them as he draped her skirts over her back. The shadow of her crevice teased him with unseen delights. Her legs stayed together, hiding her sex. Everything would be explored before he finished with her that night.
She jumped when he grazed his fingers along the strip of bare thigh above her stockings. Severus held in his chuckle and continued his journey. She was soft as satin. Running his fingertips up over the hill of her left cheek, he wandered over every inch. When he traced her crack before crossing to the other hemisphere, she jerked under his hand and made a soft strangled sound into the bed. He smiled and continued his examination. Her derrière was lovely. So round. He let his fingers wander down to her right thigh and tickle at the edge of her stocking.
Severus slid toward her inner thigh, and she immediately opened her legs more, giving him a peek at her buried treasure. Stroking the soft inner flesh of her legs, he purred some praise at her willing exposure. “That’s it. Open wide for me.”
Hermione hid her face in her arm. She knew she was soaked already. Ever since he’d taken her knickers, she'd been on the verge of drenching her dress. And now that she was arse-up on his lap with his fingers drawing the most obscene alphabet over her backside, she was sure the entire hotel would be able to smell her.
Using the back of his fingers, Snape brushed over the curve of her bum. If he had all night, he could probably pet her to orgasm. He’d keep that in mind for a future encounter. Smoothing his hand along the cool skin of her cheeks, he cupped her bum and gave it a good squeeze. She gasped and squirmed, displaying more of her dark slit. He caught a glimpse of her shining folds and smiled to himself. Just a little longer.
Hermione moaned softly as his stroking became more of a massage. Both of his hands rubbed her bum, kneading her flesh with gentle pressure. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she arched her back to give him more to work with. His hands felt amazing.
Severus spread her cheeks apart, inspecting her brown whorl. If her breathing was any indication, she was loving it even more than he was. That was hard to believe. He was in heaven. Her little pucker was adorable. The tiny dark hairs adorning her pussy wandered back to that shadowed entrance, decorating the depths of her crevice with downy fur. He was going to stroke that soft valley later that night, but for right now, he was content to just gaze at her hidden charms.
Slipping his hands lower, he held open her pussy. Her inner lips were red with engorgement, clear lubrication shining over every fold. She wasn’t just wet, she was glistening. The sight was magnificent. He hadn’t even spanked her yet. How the wizards she’d been with couldn’t get her to come was a mystery. She was beyond responsive. This was a presentation.
“Look how juicy you are,” he teased. “Are you ready for that spanking now?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered without hesitation.
Severus managed to stifle his laugh, but he smiled broadly at her enthusiastic “sir.” She’d practiced that before. “I have no intention of making this too intense, but for your own peace of mind, I want you to pick a safe word. If things get too rough, you say it, and I’ll stop immediately. However, if you say it, the evening will be over. Don’t just use it because you’re nervous. I have never had a witch use a safe word with me in my entire life.” He wouldn’t elaborate on why he was so adept at knowing other's limits.
She’d thought about it before. “Quaffle.”
“Quaffle? Are you a Quidditch fan?”
“Sort of. But it’s not something I’m likely to blurt out accidentally.”
He chuckled. “Excellent point. All right then, Quaffle it is. Now, before I spank a witch, she has to ask me for it nicely.” He stroked her bum as he spoke, watching her shiver with anticipation. “I want you to say, ‘Please spank my naughty bottom, sir.’”
Hermione smiled in embarrassment, glad he couldn’t see her face. “Please spank my naughty bottom, sir.”
He patted her right cheek, watching it jiggle. “You’re doing very well tonight.”
The first four hits were just taps. Hermione relaxed and waited for them to get harder.
Severus let his pats grow to slaps. He watched her leg muscles for tension. He kept the pace slow, giving her ample time to process each hit. By the time he got to thirty, she was whimpering into the bed. He would only go a little harder, but not yet. Rubbing her pink skin, he let her rest for a bit. “How was that so far?”
Hermione nodded. “Good.”
“Your arse looks wonderful,” he purred, kneading her right cheek. “Would you like to try it harder?”
“Yes, sir.”
They were going to get on swimmingly. She already knew how to play the game without any prompting. “All right. Just ten or so harder ones; then I’ll give you a break.”
Hermione dug her fingers into the bed in preparation for the blow. His hand cracked against her backside, which made her jump. The sting was intense, morphing immediately to a deep warmth. He kept it slow so she had time breathe and deal with the sensation after each hit. He stopped after ten and went back to rubbing her bum. Sighing in relief, she arched her back for more.
“Do you want to try it harder?” he asked. Her skin had a lovely heat to it, and the color was deepening to a nice crimson in some places.
“Yes, sir.”
Severus was surprised. That had seemed awfully intense for her. “You don’t have to do it for me. I’m honestly asking.”
She wiggled, hoping to make his hand accidentally touch her pussy. “I want to see if I can take it, sir.”
Her daring seemed incongruent with her earlier hesitation. “Just say stop if it’s too much.”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus gave her six good whacks. They were at what he would consider a serious punishment intensity. If he laid them on faster, she might be in tears. Crying wasn’t his goal tonight. This was just a test drive. He’d watch her for any indications of being overwhelmed.
She grimaced through each hit, hissing and grunting at the heat. The immediate pain was unbearable, but as soon as it died down, she was ready for more.
“Harder?” he asked with a smile.
Panting at the bed, she shook her head. “Maybe if you give me a minute.”
He was impressed. Her cheeks were dark pink now. There were a few spots where his fingers had left a small strawberry bruise. He rubbed her backside until her body went slack with abandon.
“Okay. I think I’m ready,” she said in a shaky voice.
“This is going to hurt,” he warned her. “I’ll only give you four. If you can’t take four, say so. This isn’t a requirement.”
She nodded and braced herself for impact.
Severus shook his head. She wasn’t going to enjoy this; he didn’t know why she was pushing herself so hard.
Smack!
“OW!” The pain was shocking. “Bloody hell!”
He waited several seconds and smacked the other cheek.
“OW! Okay, okay. Please stop. I can’t take it.”
He nodded. So she did know her limits. “All right. Just relax. Tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll explore speed rather than strength.”
Hermione dropped her face to the bed with a deep exhale. He kept gently stroking her, which was good since her bum was still screaming from those last two hits. When she felt her breathing was back to normal and she wasn’t on the verge of crying, she reached back and felt her own backside. She’d spanked herself many times, so the warmth wasn’t a surprise; but the degree of the heat was. Wonder what it looks like. “What color is my skin?”
“It’s just beginning to turn from deep pink to red.”
She folded her hand back under her chin. “I’m honestly not fishing for compliment, but . . . do you think it looks good?”
The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “Yes, I do. Your bum is delightful, and it looks even better red.”
“Thank you, sir. Okay. I’m ready for more.”
He swallowed his chuckle and patted her right cheek. “I’m going to start again, but I’m going to speed up the pace. Even though I’m not hitting you as hard, it will be more intense. You won’t be able to recover from the last blow before the next falls. If it gets to be too much, just ask me to stop.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered and dropped her forehead onto her hands.
Severus started with just a couple seconds between each slap. He let her get used to it then turned up the heat. He gave her a nice quick, steady spanking. Her cheeks bounced and shook with the impact, and she started to wiggle with discomfort.
There was a big difference between slow and fast when it came to pain. Before, it had been like a spark that flared and died. Now it was like a growing forest fire. The heat was building on itself, leaving her bum a smoldering lump of charcoal. She tried her best to be quiet, but after a minute of that throbbing burn, she was groaning and shouting through the heat.
Severus gave her one more notch on the pain scale, increasing the force back up to “real punishment.”
“This is what naughty girls get from me,” he said, pulling her tighter as she started to thrash. “If you misbehave with me, this is what you have to look forward to.”
Hermione shouted louder. No words, just noises. Just when she was about to call him off, he stopped and slid his fingers between her legs. Her eyes went wide, and she spread her thighs apart so he could reach. Her cries faded into shocked moans as he lightly traced her dripping slit with one finger.
“Would you look at all this,” he taunted. He suspected she trimmed her pubic hair; for a brunette, it didn’t seem very thick. It made it easy to feel that juicy goodness. He’d get a better look in just a bit. “Someone took her first spanking very well.”
Hermione’s face was just as hot as her backside. None of her previous partners had ever said anything remotely suggestive. The best she’d gotten was “I’m gonna come” seconds before they released in her mouth. Now she was in a hotel room with a stranger, and all he had to do was say “spanking,” and she was ready to knock him to the ground and unsheathe his sword. Becoming a wanton harlot was a much quicker transition than she'd previously thought.
“Look at this little clit,” he said with a hungry growl. “I think you’re ready to come.” He pulled his finger from her folds and licked it clean. She tasted of musky sex, and he wanted to bury his nose in her crotch. He shifted her around so she was straddling his left thigh and facing the headboard. “Go on,” he murmured, swatting playfully at her brick red bum. “Let’s see you dance.”
The pressure of his thigh against her clit was perfect. Her bum felt like a frying pan, but he wasn’t hitting her too hard. The mild sting and resulting warmth came with no pause for recovery; it made her rock against him, seeking her relief in the hard muscles of his thigh.
Severus watched her grind against him, smirking as she let out a shocked moan. She was going to blow any moment. He checked the clock on the desk. They still had another hour. He was going to make her come again after a short respite. He let his fingers slap a bit closer to her pussy.
“Ah!” The pleasure overtook her, spreading through her sex in time with her grinding. Her eyes closed, and she rocked into him until her muscles stuttered in exhaustion. When the feeling passed, she couldn’t stop moving her hips. Little shocks of residual orgasm fluttered between her legs as she came down.
Severus massaged her backside, smiling to himself as she caught her breath. “All right. I want you up and kneeling on the bed.”
She slowly climbed off his leg, and Severus gathered up her skirts around her waist as she moved into place. “Rest your chest against the bed . . . that’s it.” He turned sideways and took in the most delicious view of her pussy. “Legs a bit wider. I want to see everything.”
Hermione’s face was burning from embarrassment and her last orgasm. It felt as if she had a fever. He started to gently prod and push, lifting her cheeks and then spreading them.
“This looks excellent,” he told her. “Your bottom will still be red tomorrow. You took your spanking beautifully.”
Hermione smiled. It was nice to hear from a professional.
“Let’s check your pussy too.”
She moaned as he spread her open with his thumbs. She’d never been so on display before. Ron had eaten her pussy, but he’d never just opened her up and took a gander. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Part of her was embarrassed to be inspected so thoroughly, but another part of her was excited by his attention, flattered by his appraising gaze.
Severus was speechless. Her pussy was exquisite. Pink had bloomed to deep red. Her opening was a chalice of cream. He wanted to drink from her. The shine was brilliant, like cut crystal. He spread her wider and turned his head, getting a good look at her happy little clit. It had pulled back some, retreating in satisfaction; but he would bring it back out. The smell of her filled the air, the scent of arousal permeating the room. He leaned in closer and inhaled the fragrance.
Hermione’s face turned crimson. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him and feel the whisper of breath like an air current through her folds. Was he sniffing her? The thought made her smile wobble to the edge of a giggle. He must have thought she smelled okay, because he stayed there and took another deep breath.
Bloody hell, he was going to have to unzip his trousers. This was just torture. He used the rest of his fingers to spread her cheeks. Her entire furrow was bared for his viewing pleasure, and he heard her shaky gasp of excitement.
“Look at this naughty bottom,” he muttered.
Hermione couldn’t keep still. She could swear her pussy was already preparing for another go.
“Is something the matter with you?” he teased.
“No, sir.”
“Are you incapable of remaining still?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Reach back here and hold yourself open for me. I need to see how wet you are.”
Hermione swallowed hard and reached back to assist. Her bum was sore, so she aimed for just below her cheeks as an anchor point.
Severus waited for her to get situated then he sank one finger into her creamy cunt. The heat was outstanding. He slid in with no resistance. Her wetness was almost supernatural. He pumped in and out of her for a minute, imagining his cock in its place. Fucking her would be phenomenal. He slid down and tickled her clit with his wet finger, grinning when she started to writhe. He kept at it, barely touching her, pulling away when she’d try to lean into him.
When she started to pant, he went back to her entrance, giving it a few more strokes to test her response. The clitoral play had restarted the waterworks. How can she possibly be wetter? He curled his fingers around and found her g-spot, choking back a snicker when she shouted into the bed. He kept it slow, teasing her. She arched her back even further and pulled herself open wider. Those wizards she’d slept with must have been idiots. She was dying for it. He was barely doing anything to her.
He let his curling fingers get a little firmer and set up a nice rhythm. He still kept it slow. He didn’t want her to come yet. Waiting until she went tense with need, he removed his fingers and let her simmer on the edge. He went to her perineum next, teasing the short spacer of skin.
“Uh!”
Her hips rolled, and he almost burst out laughing. This was too easy. Alternating between her pussy and perineum, he worked her back up to a fever pitch.
Her fingers tightened, pulling herself wider. Severus couldn’t believe this witch was single. Pretty, hardworking, intelligent, desperate for someone to fill her. He was going to do whatever it took to make her pick him. Even if she turned out to have a lazy eye and half a nose under that mask, she was still the most worthy catch he’d encountered in decades. Physical beauty was fleeting. He needed someone who wanted what he had to give and had something give him in return.
He tickled her burgeoning clit with one finger while his other hand continued its perineal torment. “All you need do is say something. Just say please, and I can give you what you need.”
Hermione licked her lips and tried to slow her breathing. She forced her mouth to speak the word. A breathless “please” finally escaped her lips.
“Such a polite witch,” he purred.
His fingers slipped up her slick channel, giving her muscles something to clench against, something to fill that hungry hole.
“Unh!” Her thighs started to shake. If he put just a touch more pressure on her clit, she could come. “Please, sir,” she gasped.
As soon as he upped the speed on her straining nub, she shouted. He watched the show, rapt with fascination. Her whole body appeared to be trembling as she climaxed; whether from exhaustion or ecstasy, he couldn’t tell.
As the contractions faded, Hermione let go of her bum. Her arms got caught up in her skirts, but she was too tired to pull herself free. “Thank you, sir.”
Severus smiled. She was more than ready to play his game. “You’re welcome.” He pulled his fingers free and sucked them clean. “I’ve had a lovely night, but I think we should get you ready to return to your friends.”
“Don’t you need to come?”
She couldn’t see him with her head still buried in the bed like an ostrich, but he nodded in pleasure. She did have an urge to please. And she wasn’t selfish. He didn’t know if he could have found a better witch if he’d made a formal request. “You can lie down now,” he said, petting her bum. “And I believe I’ll be just fine.” Maybe a bit more creased than usual. “I appreciate your concern.”
Hermione collapsed onto her side, facing him. “I’d really like to see your dick.” She didn’t know how else to say that. It seemed a bit rude, but he didn’t seem to have any boundaries.
“Are you saying that because you feel guilty about things being one-sided or because you want to see what I’m working with before committing to anything?”
Hermione hadn’t considered that. Mostly it was just curiosity. “Both.”
He sighed and thought for a few seconds then figured it might be just what he needed to push himself into first place. Unbuttoning the placket of his breeches, he let his cock fall free. He wasn’t rock hard, but he was still three quarters there. It should be enough to impress her.
Hermione stared at his dick, unable to find words to mark the occasion properly. She moved in closer, trying to turn in her flurry of skirts. “May I?” she asked, her hand itching to wrap around him.
He nodded. She reached out, and her fingers drew across his shaft, causing him to harden further. Her exploration was soft and reverent but not timid. She was no blushing virgin. He wondered how many times those wizards who couldn’t satisfy her in bed had asked her suck and stroke their cocks.
He was growing in her hand, swelling even larger than he first appeared. Hermione was becoming alarmed. The four guys she’d slept with before had all been of varying sizes. For the most part, she found them all equally pleasant. But this was a whole new game. She wasn’t a particularly spacious witch, and she was pretty sure he was going to push her past the point of critical mass. Of course she’d stretch; she always did. It just made her wonder if someone could strain their vagina. Did mediwitches know how to heal a cervical sprang? (Or possible fracture.) She couldn’t deny that she wanted to play with it though—suck on it (if it fit in her mouth). It was too interesting to just stare at.
Severus gritted his teeth as she pinched his foreskin. She was starting to stroke him now, and his cock jumped to the call. He’d gone from pliable to granite in less than a minute. And he certainly enjoyed what she was doing. One of her hands idly stroked him while the other circled the crown of his corona. It was maddening. His tip was already weeping.
“Push your trousers lower. I want to see your balls.”
He barely managed to swallow his laugh before it escaped. He wasn't dense enough to argue with that kind of order. Leaning on one hand, he lifted his hips and pushed down his clothes. He’d forgone underwear in light of the close confines of his costume, and now he was glad he only had one layer to maneuver.
“Your cock is beautiful,” she muttered.
“I’m getting too close,” he grunted through his teeth.
“I want you to come. I want to see it.”
He hadn’t had time to knock one off before he'd left Hogwarts that night. He was too pent up to last. If she wanted to see, she was going to get an eyeful.
Hermione watched his sac pull tight the closer he got. Except for his breathing, he stayed quiet. She wanted to hear him groaning and begging for it. Or at least grunt. How was she supposed to know if he enjoyed what she was doing if he didn’t make any sounds?
Severus was torn between stopping her and just sitting back and letting her finish. Coming so quickly could be considered a minus if she started comparing possible candidates. Normally he’d have better control, but the night had strayed into long forgotten territory. His body seemed to be well aware that he’d spent the evening with a witch over his knee (and apparently that could push him over the edge faster than hours of actual sex). He couldn’t remember if the same thing had happened when he was younger. Those memories had blurred into obscurity. “Stop. It’s going to get all over my clothes.”
No, it won’t. Hermione leaned over him and covered the head of his cock with her mouth, ready to catch his release.
Snape’s hips almost jolted off the bed. The slick warmth of her tongue and lips shot him past his limit. His cock throbbed, and he growled as his balls contracted, pulsing out the pleasure with his seed.
Hermione swallowed his cream. Not bad. Semen wasn’t at the top of her favorite flavors list, but he certainly wasn’t as unpleasant as some she’d had. The musky taste of his cock was excellent though. Before he could get his wits about him, she buried her face in his sac, getting a sample. They were just as nice as his dick. Albeit a bit furry. She didn’t mind. That just made petting them more fun, and aesthetically, she preferred it.
Severus stared down at her in shock. She was just full of surprises. He let his hand rest on the back of her neck, urging her to come up for air. He had to clear his throat to level out his voice before he spoke. “Next time warn me before you do something like that.”
She smiled and gave his soft balls one last pat. “That was fun. I haven’t made anyone come in a long time.”
His own lips twitched at the lilting delight to her words. He tucked himself away and started to re-button his breeches. “We need to talk before I take you back to your friends.”
Hermione took his hand when he offered it and let him help her out of the bed. Her skirts were a mess, but he sat on the edge of the bed and calmly started to straighten them as he spoke.
“First I’d like to say that while I greatly appreciate what you just did, it was unnecessary. You are not obligated to provide me with orgasm. I have been in numerous situations where I brought a witch to climax without finishing myself. I am no longer a tempestuous man of 25 who needs to empty his balls at every occasion.”
Hermione laughed at his description even though he appeared quite serious. “I fancied it.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. That boded well for him. “Next, I want to make sure you understand that if we continue to meet, things will be different than they were tonight. I did this solely so you could experience a spanking with little stress involved. This was a simple chance for us to get to know one another. If I were really punishing you, your cries for leniency would go unheeded. Your climax would be at my discretion. You would call me sir at all times, and there would be consequences for failure to do so. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes, sir.” She smiled as he turned her and untangled the under layers of her costume.
He smirked at her answer. She’d picked up on that hint quickly. “I want you to think about what we did tonight. Your backside will be sore for a bit. I want you to consider that while you’re at work tomorrow. If we start seeing one another, you could be sore for days at a time. Think carefully about whether you’re ready for that. When you come to a conclusion, owl me and we’ll work out what to do next. If you decide you don’t wish to pursue this, that’s perfectly fine—turn again—just let me know. If there is something you need that I cannot provide you, I can introduce you to someone who might fit you better. No hard feelings.”
That was pure poppycock. He would bend to fit her mould. He didn’t want to let this go.
“I’ll write you when I get home from work tomorrow,” she said, holding up part of her skirt so he could see what he was doing behind her.
“Take as much time as you need.”
“When can we meet again?”
“I want you to think about this first. If you decide I’m what you’re looking for, we can set something up later.”
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you go fix your hair while I straighten up out here,” he said, smoothing down her skirt.
Hermione nodded and turned to him. “Thank you.”
“Skirts aren’t too complicated,” he said, waving her off.
“I meant for the whole evening. The spanking. The orgasms. Everything. This might be the best night of my life.”
She was certainly an honest witch. He nodded. He didn’t want to read too much into her words. She might praise him now, but she could change her mind or meet someone else in the next couple of days. “I’m glad. Let’s give it a chance to sink in for a bit first. You might feel differently in the morning. Go on,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “I don’t want you to be late.”
Hermione smiled and started for the loo.
“By the way, your nipple is showing,” he commented.
She stopped and looked down at her cleavage. Her entire right nipple had migrated above her neckline. Pulling at her bodice, she shifted around until it was hidden again. She’d never even seen his eyes wander that low. “Thanks.”
She went in the bathroom and closed the door.
Severus rose and straightened the bed. The room reeked of sex. He wouldn’t air it out. Edgar and his wife would get a kick out it. Fastening his belt at his hip, he pulled her knickers from the scabbard and shook them out. He’d return them before they parted ways.
She came out after about five minutes; her hair was straightened, but her wig was under her arm.
“Forgoing the full effect?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s too hot.”
“Come over here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed again. “Your knickers are dry now.”
Not for long. Hermione smiled and steadied herself on his shoulder as he held out her knickers for her to step into. What they’d done in the ballroom was happening in reverse. He slowly slid her knickers back up her legs and smoothed them into place. She thanked him softly, and he smirked at her as he pressed her gusset into her folds. With one hand at the front and one at the back, he pulled them up higher so the pressure on her clit was breathtaking. They rose against her perineum, reminding her how he’d touched her earlier.
“Leave those just like that until you get home.”
Hermione gave him an embarrassed nod of agreement.
Severus took her hand. “All right. We’re ready. Let’s go find your ladies-in-waiting.”

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Ginny and Luna had their eyes glued to the main doors. The party was still in full swing.
“There she is,” Ginny said, pointing.
“He shagged her wig off,” Luna observed.
Ginny snorted. “I definitely want to hear about that.”
The pirate led Hermione back to them and whispered something in her ear that made Hermione blush. Ginny was about to burst with curiosity. “There you are. Are you all right?”
Hermione couldn’t stop smiling. She nodded and looked away so everyone wouldn’t see how red she was getting. “I’m wonderful.”
The pirate lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I look forward to your owl.”
He was gone just as quickly as he’d arrived. Hermione stared after his disappearing black silhouette. Her skin was still warm where he’d touched his lips to her knuckles.
“Well?” Ginny said impatiently. “We’re dying here, Hermione. What happened? What did he do to you? Was it good? Are you seeing him again? Tell us!”
Hermione tried to bite the smile from her lips, but it remained. “We played a game of show and touch. He showed me his sword.”
Ginny grinned and got her a cup of punch. “How was it?”
That was impossible to put into words, but she did her best. “Woof.”
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