[ FanFiction ] Harry Potter -- I must learn to control myself
Title: “I must learn to control myself.”
Author: fairytaleaddict
Word Count: 2671
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Delores Umbridge
Genre: PWP
Rating/ Warnings: NC-17. Dub-con, BD, language... the pairing.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting obviously don't belong to me. They are the property of JK Rowling and she’ll have them back once I’m done traumatizing them.
“Come in.” The sickeningly sweet voice ringing through the closed door made her wince and she had to take a deep breath to calm her temper before pushing the handle down. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the assault of pink thrown in her face and she blinked once before she could get her eyes to register the nuances and sort out the details, the decorative plates hanging from the walls, the doilies and dried flowers.
“Have a seat Ms Granger.” Refusing to look at her Professor, Hermione’s gaze defiantly searched the room for the offered seat instead. It fell onto an odd sort of contrapment standing in front of a lace clad round table. It did somewhat resemble a chair, except the seat was oddly misshaped and rose up on the sides around it where the user’s thighs would almost be enclosed. With a certain sense of resignation, Hermione had to look up at her Professor in order to make sure this was indeed the place where she was expected to sit. Professor Umbridge just raised a brow as if daring her to ask. Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione refused to give her the satisfaction and instead carefully took her seat, feeling her back straighten in shock as the seat seemed to press against her crotch.
“You will be doing some lines for me this evening Ms Granger.” Umbridge said as she stood from her own seat, waving her wand at the table where a long piece of parchment, a quill and ink appeared. Hermione didn’t notice, she was still starring at her professor. This didn’t feel quite right. “Something the matter dear?” The Professor asked her sweetly and Hermione shuddered in disgust at the tone, which made her shift against the seat of the chair, bringing a whole new sensation to her body.
“This chair…” She started, but trailed off as Umbridge furrowed her brow in a confused sort of way. “Nothing.” She revised and took the quill in her hand glancing up at her professor. Even Umbridge wasn’t that twisted, she thought as she moved slightly in her seat to lessen the pressure. “What do you want me to write?”
“I must learn to control myself,” Umbridge ordered as she looked down at her, tilting her head to the side. “We can’t have you running about stirring up trouble, can we?” She continued and flashed that syrupy smile that made Hermione’s stomach flip over in disgust. She clenched her jaw.
“Yes ma’am,” she said through gritted teeth and watched Umbridge return to her seat before she turned her attention to the parchment in front of her.
“I must learn to control myself,” she scribbled angrily against the parchment. Her back arched and she held back a gasp at the jolt that went through her body from the chair. But as soon as it had come it was gone and she couldn’t understand what had happened. Her body was shaking and she shifted in her seat only to realize that the chair had changed. There was a raise in the wood now, a sort of lump right between her legs. She shifted slightly and felt it brush against her, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from gasping.
Hermione closed her eyes and slowly, gently, moved her crotch to just rest against the lump in the chair, sighing in content at the steady pressure.
“I can’t hear writing,” Umbridge sang from her desk, the sound of her voice enough for Hermione to forget about the throbbing between her legs. Loathsome evil old toad.
She lifted her quill, hesitated for a second before pressing it against the paper. I must learn to control myself, I must learn to control myself, I must learn to…. Oh god. She closed her eyes and her fingers closed hard around the quill to silence the moan threatening to escape her. The jolt emanating from the lump in the chair sent waves tickling over her insides, up between her legs, up into her stomach and then back down the same way. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, open and on Umbridge. What sick, twisted game was she playing?
But Umbridge wasn’t gloating, wasn’t even looking at her. Hermione frowned, wondering if the woman even knew what this seat of hers did. Not that she was going to ask. “Oh professor, did you know this chair is rubbing my pussy every time I move?” Not happening.
She bit her lip. Maybe Umbridge didn’t have to know.
She could feel the pooling between her legs, feel the raw nerve endings as she shifted on the chair, the lump in the seat helpfully finding the right spot and pressing against it. She leaned over the lace clad table, forcing her hand down onto the parchment. I must learn to control myself, I must learn to control myself, she repeated again and again and again, as she rocked her hips against the lump in the chair. She was having trouble breathing, her hips rocking harder and harder against the seat. But then the jolts stopped coming and she moved a little harder, wrote a little faster, trying to bring them back, but the lump was growing smaller as well. She felt the panic start to rise in her chest. She couldn’t think, couldn’t wrap her mind around anything but the throbbing ache between her legs. She had to hurry. Shifting in her seat, she crossed her arms on the table, allowing her hand to brush against her shirt covered nipple as her hips jerked against the vanishing lump. She let out a quiet growl of frustration as she had to change positions again to get it to rub against her clit.
“Is there a problem Ms. Granger?” A firm voice asked from across the room. Hermione’s head snapped up and her cheeks turned pink. She’d completely forgotten about Umbridge.
“Oh, no professor, sorry,” she said quickly, silently pleading with the woman to look away so she could get back to what she was doing. Umbridge looked at her for a moment and then turned back to her work.
Hermione let out a sigh of relief and thrust her hips forward to find… nothing. She tried again. It was gone.
“Shit!” She hissed and tried to stand up. The chair had locked her thighs in place, just far enough apart not to touch. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t press her legs together. And Umbridge was now looking at her again. Umbridge was getting to her feet. Umbridge was walking over to her.
“What is the problem Ms. Granger?” She asked, tilting her head to the side as she stood in front of her, the round lace covered table between them.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Hermione told her and was rather shocked at how thick her voice had become.
“You’re a filthy little girl Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said, her eyes narrowing.
Hermione’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped. How dare she?! What the hell was going on? She was about to open her mouth and ask all this but a guttural groan escaped her instead as a lost jolt of pleasure shot up between her legs and left a searing path through her body.
“Did you like that?” She heard Umbridge’s voice through the haze. She didn’t dare open her eyes, didn’t dare look at her. She was mortified and disgusted and if she didn’t open her eyes, this wasn’t real.
“Did you?” She could hear the table move and Umbridge getting closer before she felt plump, short sausage fingers curl around her chin like claws, forcing her head upwards.
“Get off me,” she tried to push her away but suddenly she couldn’t move her arms. She opened her eyes and looked down, seeing her arms lying neatly on the arms of the chair but when she tried to move them, nothing happened.
“What have you done? Let me go! Right now!” She snapped up at Umbridge, throwing herself forward as if to lunge at her but instead falling backwards whimpering as the lump in the chair returned and pressed up hard against her wet knickers.
“Seems you haven’t learned anything at all Ms. Granger,” Umbridge cooed as she walked around the chair. Hermione leaned backwards, her eyes closed, her hips jerking against the lump on their own.
“You pervert, you can’t do this,” she hissed the second the lump vanished. She starred right in front of her, her gaze indignant when she didn’t have to face the woman who had just seen her humping the chair.
“Me?” Umbridge stopped behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “You’re the one who’s being inappropriate Ms. Granger,” she said calmly as her hands slid down her shoulders, her chest to cup her breasts.
“Get off me,” Hermione snapped as her back arched into the touch and she whimpered as chubby fingers pinched and twisted her hardened nipples.
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet, Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said calmly as she walked back in front of her and picked up her wand. “I would hardly say this qualifies as controlling yourself, would you dear?” She asked with a raised brow and then shook her head. “I thought not.”
As she flicked her wand, Hermione felt the chair change beneath her. Her legs spread wider, the middle part of the seat vanished, her torso tilted backwards slightly. She gasped and watched in a mix of horror and fascination. It wasn’t until the chair had stopped moving that she noticed her white uniform shirt was unbuttoned.
“What are you going to do to me?” She finally asked, looking up at Umbridge, her stomach turning over as she saw the toad like eyes glide over her body.
“Depends on what you ask me to dear,” she said sweetly and walked closer. Hermione gasped as her movement caused cold air to flicker across her crotch. The seat had vanished underneath it, her legs were spread wide so the only cover was the thin material of her knickers along with her skirt, but the latter seemed to be falling upwards over her thighs as she watched, leaving her hips covered in nothing but pink flowered cotton knickers.
“Oh god,” she gasped and closed her eyes as she felt Umbridge’s thick hand brush against her lower stomach.
“I saw you before, rubbing your nipple when you thought I couldn’t see you,” she heard Umbridge coo above her. She didn’t open her eyes as she felt her cheeks and neck burn. “Humping the chair,” she continued and Hermione’s hips bucked as Umbridge’s fingers traced the hem of her panties. There was a sharp sting of disappointment in Hermione’s stomach as the hand was moved, but she relaxed when she felt her shirt being lifted from her body, exposing her full breasts and aching nipples.
“Touch yourself.”
She frowned, still not daring to open her eyes. She knew she couldn’t move her arms and as she tried to move her hips, there was nothing there to bring pressure.
She opened her eyes in confusion and wished she hadn’t when she saw Umbridge standing in front of her, licking her thick, pink lips. She shuddered in disgust and pulled away. Her arms left the armrest. For a moment she was so surprised she just starred at them. Then she tried to move out of the chair. That didn’t work. With a slight disappointment burning in her stomach, she opted for the second best alternative. She didn’t look at Umbridge as she moved her hand to between her legs. It stopped mid way.
“What did I say about self control Ms. Granger?” She heard Umbridge’s voice from out of her line of vision.
“But you said…” Hermione started and looked up at her. It hit her when she saw where Umbridge’s gaze was resting.
Her checks and neck turned fiery red; her chest blushing as well as she moved a hand up to her breast and cupped it. She closed her eyes and winced as she heard a girlish moan from the other end of the room. She swallowed hard and then ran her thumb over her nipple, shivering at the contact.
“That’s a good girl, give it a little tug,” Umbridge ordered and Hermione did as told, whimpering at the mix of pleasure and pain running through her overheated body. “Again,” Umbridge ordered; her voice lower, firmer. Hermione obeyed, moving her free hand to her other breast and continuing the assault, whimpering, moaning, head tilted back as every new drop of wetness between her legs made her hips buck. She needed the release, craved it but there was nothing but air around her. She could feel the restraints of her knickers vanishing, the wetness building with every tug and caress of her nipples. She shook, tried again to gyrate her hips towards something solid, tried to move her hands to where she needed them but was met only by the invisible barrier. Tears started pushing their way from behind her eyes, soothing her burning cheeks. It was too much, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Now doesn’t that feel good?” Umbridge asked sweetly and Hermione could only nod her head, eyes closed, throat thick.
“Please,” she pleaded after a moment, her fingers tugging hard on her nipples as if she was trying to pull them off. “I can’t…”
“Please what, Ms. Granger, speak up,” Umbridge’s sweet voice was close; she could feel the heat from her stout body.
“I…” she bucked her hips. “I need…” she couldn’t say it.
“You need your little pussy fucked?” Umbridge offered helpfully and Hermione both shuddered and shivered, half in disgust, half in arousal. “Well?”
“Yes,” she admitted after a long moment, her face flushing with embarrassment, eyes screwed tightly shut.
“Say it,” Umbridge ordered and slid a hand down Hermione’s stomach.
“Please, just…” Hermione bucked again, she needed Umbridge to touch her, needed something to release her. A small sob escaped her lips and she leaned her head back, submitting to the inevitable.
“Say it!”
“I… I need my…” another sob, the frustration making her voice quiver beyond recognition, “…little pussy… fucked,” she pushed the words painfully from her lips, face turned against her shoulder, skin burning in humiliation.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it,” Umbridge cooed in her sugary voice as she placed a thick hand between Hermione’s legs.
Hermione gasped and bucked upwards, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. Her hands moved harder against her now sore nipples as she tried rubbing herself against Umbridge’s hand.
“Look at you, wanton little hussy,” she heard Umbridge hiss before two chubby fingers slid between her folds. Hermione whimpered and arched, needing more, needing them inside. “Spread out and begging for it,” she continued and Hermione let out a deep grateful sob as two stubby fingers forcefully pushed their way inside her with a wet slapping sound.
“Was this what you wanted?” Umbridge whispered into her ear as she pulled her fingers back out, making Hermione whine in disappointment and then moan when they were thrust back inside.
“Yes,” she gasped, not caring anymore as long as she didn’t stop.
“You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you Ms. Granger?” She whispered as Hermione tugged hard on her own nipple, bucking up to meet another thrust inside her.
“Yes,” she whimpered as the thrusts became faster, harder, the slapping sound the only thing she could hear but for Umbridge’s voice whispering into her ear. Her breath coming in pants, the tension building so fast her body wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but push harder and harder against the fingers fucking her. “Yes!” The world went white as her back arched into the air, her body stiffened, shook and jerked, a cry torn from her throat.
She left Professor Umbridge’s office a few minutes later, a burning ball of shame in her stomach and a new detention the following night.
Author: fairytaleaddict
Word Count: 2671
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Delores Umbridge
Genre: PWP
Rating/ Warnings: NC-17. Dub-con, BD, language... the pairing.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting obviously don't belong to me. They are the property of JK Rowling and she’ll have them back once I’m done traumatizing them.
“Come in.” The sickeningly sweet voice ringing through the closed door made her wince and she had to take a deep breath to calm her temper before pushing the handle down. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the assault of pink thrown in her face and she blinked once before she could get her eyes to register the nuances and sort out the details, the decorative plates hanging from the walls, the doilies and dried flowers.
“Have a seat Ms Granger.” Refusing to look at her Professor, Hermione’s gaze defiantly searched the room for the offered seat instead. It fell onto an odd sort of contrapment standing in front of a lace clad round table. It did somewhat resemble a chair, except the seat was oddly misshaped and rose up on the sides around it where the user’s thighs would almost be enclosed. With a certain sense of resignation, Hermione had to look up at her Professor in order to make sure this was indeed the place where she was expected to sit. Professor Umbridge just raised a brow as if daring her to ask. Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione refused to give her the satisfaction and instead carefully took her seat, feeling her back straighten in shock as the seat seemed to press against her crotch.
“You will be doing some lines for me this evening Ms Granger.” Umbridge said as she stood from her own seat, waving her wand at the table where a long piece of parchment, a quill and ink appeared. Hermione didn’t notice, she was still starring at her professor. This didn’t feel quite right. “Something the matter dear?” The Professor asked her sweetly and Hermione shuddered in disgust at the tone, which made her shift against the seat of the chair, bringing a whole new sensation to her body.
“This chair…” She started, but trailed off as Umbridge furrowed her brow in a confused sort of way. “Nothing.” She revised and took the quill in her hand glancing up at her professor. Even Umbridge wasn’t that twisted, she thought as she moved slightly in her seat to lessen the pressure. “What do you want me to write?”
“I must learn to control myself,” Umbridge ordered as she looked down at her, tilting her head to the side. “We can’t have you running about stirring up trouble, can we?” She continued and flashed that syrupy smile that made Hermione’s stomach flip over in disgust. She clenched her jaw.
“Yes ma’am,” she said through gritted teeth and watched Umbridge return to her seat before she turned her attention to the parchment in front of her.
“I must learn to control myself,” she scribbled angrily against the parchment. Her back arched and she held back a gasp at the jolt that went through her body from the chair. But as soon as it had come it was gone and she couldn’t understand what had happened. Her body was shaking and she shifted in her seat only to realize that the chair had changed. There was a raise in the wood now, a sort of lump right between her legs. She shifted slightly and felt it brush against her, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from gasping.
Hermione closed her eyes and slowly, gently, moved her crotch to just rest against the lump in the chair, sighing in content at the steady pressure.
“I can’t hear writing,” Umbridge sang from her desk, the sound of her voice enough for Hermione to forget about the throbbing between her legs. Loathsome evil old toad.
She lifted her quill, hesitated for a second before pressing it against the paper. I must learn to control myself, I must learn to control myself, I must learn to…. Oh god. She closed her eyes and her fingers closed hard around the quill to silence the moan threatening to escape her. The jolt emanating from the lump in the chair sent waves tickling over her insides, up between her legs, up into her stomach and then back down the same way. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, open and on Umbridge. What sick, twisted game was she playing?
But Umbridge wasn’t gloating, wasn’t even looking at her. Hermione frowned, wondering if the woman even knew what this seat of hers did. Not that she was going to ask. “Oh professor, did you know this chair is rubbing my pussy every time I move?” Not happening.
She bit her lip. Maybe Umbridge didn’t have to know.
She could feel the pooling between her legs, feel the raw nerve endings as she shifted on the chair, the lump in the seat helpfully finding the right spot and pressing against it. She leaned over the lace clad table, forcing her hand down onto the parchment. I must learn to control myself, I must learn to control myself, she repeated again and again and again, as she rocked her hips against the lump in the chair. She was having trouble breathing, her hips rocking harder and harder against the seat. But then the jolts stopped coming and she moved a little harder, wrote a little faster, trying to bring them back, but the lump was growing smaller as well. She felt the panic start to rise in her chest. She couldn’t think, couldn’t wrap her mind around anything but the throbbing ache between her legs. She had to hurry. Shifting in her seat, she crossed her arms on the table, allowing her hand to brush against her shirt covered nipple as her hips jerked against the vanishing lump. She let out a quiet growl of frustration as she had to change positions again to get it to rub against her clit.
“Is there a problem Ms. Granger?” A firm voice asked from across the room. Hermione’s head snapped up and her cheeks turned pink. She’d completely forgotten about Umbridge.
“Oh, no professor, sorry,” she said quickly, silently pleading with the woman to look away so she could get back to what she was doing. Umbridge looked at her for a moment and then turned back to her work.
Hermione let out a sigh of relief and thrust her hips forward to find… nothing. She tried again. It was gone.
“Shit!” She hissed and tried to stand up. The chair had locked her thighs in place, just far enough apart not to touch. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t press her legs together. And Umbridge was now looking at her again. Umbridge was getting to her feet. Umbridge was walking over to her.
“What is the problem Ms. Granger?” She asked, tilting her head to the side as she stood in front of her, the round lace covered table between them.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Hermione told her and was rather shocked at how thick her voice had become.
“You’re a filthy little girl Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said, her eyes narrowing.
Hermione’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped. How dare she?! What the hell was going on? She was about to open her mouth and ask all this but a guttural groan escaped her instead as a lost jolt of pleasure shot up between her legs and left a searing path through her body.
“Did you like that?” She heard Umbridge’s voice through the haze. She didn’t dare open her eyes, didn’t dare look at her. She was mortified and disgusted and if she didn’t open her eyes, this wasn’t real.
“Did you?” She could hear the table move and Umbridge getting closer before she felt plump, short sausage fingers curl around her chin like claws, forcing her head upwards.
“Get off me,” she tried to push her away but suddenly she couldn’t move her arms. She opened her eyes and looked down, seeing her arms lying neatly on the arms of the chair but when she tried to move them, nothing happened.
“What have you done? Let me go! Right now!” She snapped up at Umbridge, throwing herself forward as if to lunge at her but instead falling backwards whimpering as the lump in the chair returned and pressed up hard against her wet knickers.
“Seems you haven’t learned anything at all Ms. Granger,” Umbridge cooed as she walked around the chair. Hermione leaned backwards, her eyes closed, her hips jerking against the lump on their own.
“You pervert, you can’t do this,” she hissed the second the lump vanished. She starred right in front of her, her gaze indignant when she didn’t have to face the woman who had just seen her humping the chair.
“Me?” Umbridge stopped behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “You’re the one who’s being inappropriate Ms. Granger,” she said calmly as her hands slid down her shoulders, her chest to cup her breasts.
“Get off me,” Hermione snapped as her back arched into the touch and she whimpered as chubby fingers pinched and twisted her hardened nipples.
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet, Ms. Granger,” Umbridge said calmly as she walked back in front of her and picked up her wand. “I would hardly say this qualifies as controlling yourself, would you dear?” She asked with a raised brow and then shook her head. “I thought not.”
As she flicked her wand, Hermione felt the chair change beneath her. Her legs spread wider, the middle part of the seat vanished, her torso tilted backwards slightly. She gasped and watched in a mix of horror and fascination. It wasn’t until the chair had stopped moving that she noticed her white uniform shirt was unbuttoned.
“What are you going to do to me?” She finally asked, looking up at Umbridge, her stomach turning over as she saw the toad like eyes glide over her body.
“Depends on what you ask me to dear,” she said sweetly and walked closer. Hermione gasped as her movement caused cold air to flicker across her crotch. The seat had vanished underneath it, her legs were spread wide so the only cover was the thin material of her knickers along with her skirt, but the latter seemed to be falling upwards over her thighs as she watched, leaving her hips covered in nothing but pink flowered cotton knickers.
“Oh god,” she gasped and closed her eyes as she felt Umbridge’s thick hand brush against her lower stomach.
“I saw you before, rubbing your nipple when you thought I couldn’t see you,” she heard Umbridge coo above her. She didn’t open her eyes as she felt her cheeks and neck burn. “Humping the chair,” she continued and Hermione’s hips bucked as Umbridge’s fingers traced the hem of her panties. There was a sharp sting of disappointment in Hermione’s stomach as the hand was moved, but she relaxed when she felt her shirt being lifted from her body, exposing her full breasts and aching nipples.
“Touch yourself.”
She frowned, still not daring to open her eyes. She knew she couldn’t move her arms and as she tried to move her hips, there was nothing there to bring pressure.
She opened her eyes in confusion and wished she hadn’t when she saw Umbridge standing in front of her, licking her thick, pink lips. She shuddered in disgust and pulled away. Her arms left the armrest. For a moment she was so surprised she just starred at them. Then she tried to move out of the chair. That didn’t work. With a slight disappointment burning in her stomach, she opted for the second best alternative. She didn’t look at Umbridge as she moved her hand to between her legs. It stopped mid way.
“What did I say about self control Ms. Granger?” She heard Umbridge’s voice from out of her line of vision.
“But you said…” Hermione started and looked up at her. It hit her when she saw where Umbridge’s gaze was resting.
Her checks and neck turned fiery red; her chest blushing as well as she moved a hand up to her breast and cupped it. She closed her eyes and winced as she heard a girlish moan from the other end of the room. She swallowed hard and then ran her thumb over her nipple, shivering at the contact.
“That’s a good girl, give it a little tug,” Umbridge ordered and Hermione did as told, whimpering at the mix of pleasure and pain running through her overheated body. “Again,” Umbridge ordered; her voice lower, firmer. Hermione obeyed, moving her free hand to her other breast and continuing the assault, whimpering, moaning, head tilted back as every new drop of wetness between her legs made her hips buck. She needed the release, craved it but there was nothing but air around her. She could feel the restraints of her knickers vanishing, the wetness building with every tug and caress of her nipples. She shook, tried again to gyrate her hips towards something solid, tried to move her hands to where she needed them but was met only by the invisible barrier. Tears started pushing their way from behind her eyes, soothing her burning cheeks. It was too much, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Now doesn’t that feel good?” Umbridge asked sweetly and Hermione could only nod her head, eyes closed, throat thick.
“Please,” she pleaded after a moment, her fingers tugging hard on her nipples as if she was trying to pull them off. “I can’t…”
“Please what, Ms. Granger, speak up,” Umbridge’s sweet voice was close; she could feel the heat from her stout body.
“I…” she bucked her hips. “I need…” she couldn’t say it.
“You need your little pussy fucked?” Umbridge offered helpfully and Hermione both shuddered and shivered, half in disgust, half in arousal. “Well?”
“Yes,” she admitted after a long moment, her face flushing with embarrassment, eyes screwed tightly shut.
“Say it,” Umbridge ordered and slid a hand down Hermione’s stomach.
“Please, just…” Hermione bucked again, she needed Umbridge to touch her, needed something to release her. A small sob escaped her lips and she leaned her head back, submitting to the inevitable.
“Say it!”
“I… I need my…” another sob, the frustration making her voice quiver beyond recognition, “…little pussy… fucked,” she pushed the words painfully from her lips, face turned against her shoulder, skin burning in humiliation.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it,” Umbridge cooed in her sugary voice as she placed a thick hand between Hermione’s legs.
Hermione gasped and bucked upwards, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. Her hands moved harder against her now sore nipples as she tried rubbing herself against Umbridge’s hand.
“Look at you, wanton little hussy,” she heard Umbridge hiss before two chubby fingers slid between her folds. Hermione whimpered and arched, needing more, needing them inside. “Spread out and begging for it,” she continued and Hermione let out a deep grateful sob as two stubby fingers forcefully pushed their way inside her with a wet slapping sound.
“Was this what you wanted?” Umbridge whispered into her ear as she pulled her fingers back out, making Hermione whine in disappointment and then moan when they were thrust back inside.
“Yes,” she gasped, not caring anymore as long as she didn’t stop.
“You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you Ms. Granger?” She whispered as Hermione tugged hard on her own nipple, bucking up to meet another thrust inside her.
“Yes,” she whimpered as the thrusts became faster, harder, the slapping sound the only thing she could hear but for Umbridge’s voice whispering into her ear. Her breath coming in pants, the tension building so fast her body wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but push harder and harder against the fingers fucking her. “Yes!” The world went white as her back arched into the air, her body stiffened, shook and jerked, a cry torn from her throat.
She left Professor Umbridge’s office a few minutes later, a burning ball of shame in her stomach and a new detention the following night.