Coming Out on Top *adult* Hermione/Blaise
Title: Coming Out On Top
Author: idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own or control nothing. Shocker, huh?
Pairing: Hermione/Blaise
Summary: It wasn’t goodness of heart, it was self-preservation
Warnings: Light bondage/spanking
Author’s notes: smutty_claus entry for millieweasley.
It had to be in the office somewhere. Hermione had performed a million different searches, magically and manually, on his home once he had left that morning for work. It wasn’t there. Not hidden in a closet, not concealed by a spell, not transfigured into a teacup - it simply wasn’t there. By the time she had finished searching she had been frantic, having been so sure he wouldn’t have taken any chances moving the object from his heavily warded ancestral home.
His office at the Ministry of Magic was the only place left she could think of to search, although it was hard to believe even he would be so audacious as to hide the painting here. It had taken some tricky apparition to enter unnoticed while he was presumably away for lunch, meeting his mother and stepfather number twelve.
“Looking for something pet?” Hermione nearly jumped a foot in the air when Blaise drawled the words from the open doorway behind her.
Her mind quickly formed the denial, but she realized it was useless when she noticed the state she had left his office in, and her hand was currently rifling away through his filing cabinet. There was no plausible escape without going through him.
“Where is it?” she demanded, knowing her voice sounded hoarse as she wetted her lips nervously. “Just tell me where it is.”
He didn’t reply, simply stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him, pulling out his wand to lock it, but hesitated before casting the spell. “Where is what?” he finally asked as he turned back to her, apparently unconcerned he had turned his back to her for so long. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific as to why you put my office - and I am guessing my house - in such disarray.”
“You know bloody well what I’m talking about!” Hermione nearly shouted the words, not caring if anyone heard her, in fact preferring if somebody did; she had not told anyone of her self-imposed mission. “The portrait of Riddle - Voldemort. The same bloody painting your family has been keeping guard over - one of the last remaining horcrux’!”
“Ah,” Blaise replied, but didn’t continue as he stepped closer.
“Ah what?” she snapped, making sure her fingers were wrapped tightly around the wand stuck into the back of her jeans. “Make this easy on yourself Blaise, just turn it over right now, and nobody has to get hurt.” She would pit herself against him in a fair fight; but not in his office, not right then, not when she couldn’t even fully defend herself because they needed him alive to tell them where the horcrux was.
“Ah…..” He emphasized slowly. “Why am I not surprised that there was more to your seduction of me last night?” She had to admit that he didn’t sound surprised, or even particularly disappointed.
That was why she hadn’t told anyone of her plans to get into Blaise’ house, nobody would have agreed to it. Harry, Ron, any of the other members of the Order would never have agreed to her little impersonation of Mata Hari, although it was one of the few ways that Blaise would invite anyone in, bypassing the rather unbreakable security of the Zabini family home.
“Just tell me where it is,” Hermione tried to fill her voice with more confidence than she felt, knowing that showing weakness would solve nothing. She didn’t have the stomach for torture, but he didn’t have to know that. “If you like I can hex you when I leave, to make it look like you put up the proper effort in resisting my attempts to reclaim the painting.”
“I don’t have it, Hermione,” he rested his hand on the desk, not an inch from where she was standing, but she refused to move back. “And trust me, if I were putting in the ‘proper efforts’ to protect anything, you wouldn’t be standing here alive in this office right now.”
“We know you have it,” she snapped. “Voldemort wouldn’t trust your mother with his favourite pet, let alone an incarnation of his soul. We know he gave it to your family to protect, so unless by that same logic you are going to let me believe you just let somebody waltz into your home and steal it, it’s somehow in your possession.”
She slowly drew the wand from the back of her pants, determine not to continue unarmed, but before she could even complete the motion his hand clenched tightly on her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain as he forced her to loosen her grip on the object. As it fell to the ground, he kicked it under the desk. “Let’s keep this civil, shall we?” was all he said mildly, releasing the pressure on her wrist, but not his grasp.
Hermione wrenched her own arm away, and he let her go without forcing the issue. “If you bothered to stop and think for a moment,” Blaise began, settling back against his desk, “you would know that I wouldn’t be hiding anything for Voldemort, beyond the fact that I’m a good little employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Even he seemed amused at that idea. “To put it quite simply Hermione, I don’t like to be on the losing side.”
“We are hardly the winning side,” she ground out before she realized it was hardly the aura of confidence she should try to project. Although they were making ground in the fight against Voldemort, he was far from gone. When she had gone hunting the remaining horcuxes with Harry and Ron their last year of school, they had only managed to locate and destroy one horcux. Upon returning, they had given up all hope of finding the remaining ones, until they had received inside information regarding the painting being held by the Zabini’s.
Blaise shook his head, “Hermione, where is the self-confidence you used to project whenever you waved your annoying little hand in class? Where was the self-assurance that came in handy last night when we, I’m sure oh so coincidently, met up at the Three Broomsticks.”
“I don’t have time to play games Zabini,” she replied in frustration.
“ ‘Zabini’ now, is it?” he raised his eyebrows. “That certainly wasn’t the name you were using last night, pet. And if I remember correctly, someone certainly had time for games then…..”
“I did what I had to do,” she retorted. “It was the only way to get into your place, and in a situation where you would leave me alone in the morning when you left for work.”
“Sleeping with me, maybe,” he agreed. “Although we both know you wanted it. But you didn’t let me fuck you twice in the middle of the night out on the balcony as means to an end. That rather delectable way you went down on me had nothing to do with gaining access to my home, nor did the way you begged me to fuck you in the a…..”
“Shut up,” Hermione hated that that was the most intelligent response she could formulate. “What happened has no bearing on what’s happening here, right now. Whether or not we screwed one or twenty times in any way disrupts my ability to crucio you to get what I want.”
She could almost believe he could hear her inner thoughts when he stared at her so intently. “You couldn’t torture me Hermione, even if you had your wand,” he glanced pointedly to her empty hands. “But that isn’t the point really, considering I’m not even in possession of the item you’re looking for.”
By that point, Hermione was almost tempted to believe him, if only for the practical reason than she knew there was no possible way that it was at his home. And she had to admit, his argument made sense. Although they were still far from defeating him, they had weakened Voldemort enough of the past few years to ensure he wasn’t in a position to be doing favours for his influential allies - the only way to ensure their loyalty.
She was willing to admit their info, which had come from a former Death Eater under torture, was sketchy at best.
Hermione knew he could see her starten to weaken when he slid a little closer. “Beginning to see the light?” he asked with a smirk, letting his hand trail along her leg.
She couldn’t just believe him like that, not when there was no proof to left her know he was telling the truth, and every factual indication he was lying through his teeth. “I need better than that,” she managed to grind out, putting her hand on his to stop it from sliding further up her thigh.
“How does someone prove a negative?” Blaise wasn’t to be deterred, letting his other hand slide up to cup her breast. “I can only supply the logic you should be willing to believe. I may not have your Gryffindor sensibilities, true, but I’ve stayed away from Voldemort for the simple reason of my self interests.” He leaned over and gently nipped her ear with his teeth. “I can show you my bare forearm if that will help things along.”
Even that was inconclusive evidence, but she was beginning not to care as he let his finger toy with her breast through the thin material of her blouse. She consoled herself in the knowledge that if he were truly aiding Voldemort, he would have easily dispatched with her the night before at his home, with nobody being the wiser.
“One last time,” she sighed, answering the question he didn’t even ask, and she could feel his chuckle against her neck as he nibbled at the skin there.
Hermione reached her hands up to skim under his suit jacket, only to find him pulling away out of her grasp. “I thought we were starting…..” she began, only to have her speech cut off when he grasped her arms, flipping her over so she was face down on the desk, her arms spread wide, and she grasped inadvertently at the edges to keep herself from falling backwards.
“Umph!” was all she managed, trying to bring her arms in to push herself up and off the desk. But he had pulled out his wand, the only one within reach, and cast a spell, binding her arms to the desk itself. “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to move, but failing entirely.
“You didn’t think it was going to be just that easy, did you pet?” Blaise asked, letting his hand drift across the skin at the small of her back, bared by her shirt riding up. “Just fall right back into things, fucking across my desk here in the office?”
“Yes,” Hermione interjected, “from the way you had slid your hand up to my breast, I had had gotten an inkling that was where we were headed.” She struggled at the bonds again, but they were still unbreakable. She began to worry a little, despite the fact he hadn’t locked the door or cast a silencing spell. Positioned like this, she was completely at his mercy.
She could feel his hand, sliding into the waistband of her jeans, but not delving deeper, just sliding a finger along the top edge of her knickers. Despite her misgivings, she arched her hips at his indication, bracing on her tiptoes on the floor, allowing his nimble fingers to unbutton her jeans, and slide them down to her knees, dragging her underwear along the way.
“Not quite that easy,” he remarked in a casual tone that she wasn’t the slightest bit fooled by. “You doubted me, fooled me, and more importantly than that - you ransacked my office and home without the slightest effort to put things to right.” He leaned forward, and she could feel his erection through his pants, pressing against the crook of her now bared bottom. “I think that calls for a bit of a punishment, don’t you Hermione?” His voice wasn’t more than a breath in her ear by that point.
“Punishment?” she hated that the word came out as little more than a squeak.
His one hand slid down her back to the right cheek of her arse as he straightened. “Maybe not the best word,” Blaise replied, dragging his finger over to slide down the cleft. “My hand warming up your arse to a delightful shade of pink is far from a hex, isn’t it?”
She was about to object, deny the fact his very words were making her wet, when she felt the first smack come down on her right cheek. And she let out a sharp cry at the impact, trying to angle her head back to look at him, before she felt his hand fall again on the opposite side, and she tried to buck her hips to move away.
“It will interest you to know,” he remarked, pressing his other hand to the small of her back, pushing it into contact with the desk, “that I haven’t cast a silencing or locking charm on the door. Chances are the rest of the department is out for lunch, but who knows? Maybe some intrepid little ministry drone is having lunch at his desk, working overtime, his ears ready to pick up any signs of misbehavior.”
Hermione wanted to rail at him, but she was too busy biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out as he brought his hand down again. “Bastard,” she muttered when the initial sting had passed, keeping her voice low.
His only response was to smack her arse again, right in the same spot, causing her to dig her fingers into the desk as a response to the pain. “I can keep going for quite awhile,” he practically purred the words, even as he slid his fingers down to play with her clit, teasing her before moving his hand away . “And,” he added as he brought his hand down again, “I have this spare wand just lying under my desk. Perfect to use if I want to relieve the sting on my hand.”
This shouldn’t be arousing her. The sting radiating throughout her bottom shouldn’t be coupled with the wetness between her thighs. She should be indignant, threatening to hex him into oblivion, not waiting in anticipation for the next strike.
“What do you think Hermione?” he asked as next his touch was lighter, almost more a caress than anything. “Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”
She took a shuddering breath, deciding there was something fundamentally wrong with her that she should be so turned on. “Really?” she forced herself to keep her voice casual, even as her normally prissy conscience demanded to know what the hell she was doing. “Is that all you’ve got?”
His last strike was hard enough to practically send her over the front of the desk, bound arms or not. “Better?” she could practically hear the smirk in his question as she pried her teeth from where she had bit into her tongue to keep quiet.
Before she could reply, he had already slid a finger into her folds. “Wet, aren’t you pet?” he asked as he slid in a second finger, making her want to moan even more loudly than the spanking had. She assumed the question was rhetorical as even she could feel how aroused she was.
“Release the spell,” Hermione gasped out, arching back into his fingers. “For Merlin’s sake, Blaise…..”
“I don’t think so,” she could hear his chuckle even as she heard him yank down the zipper on his pants, obviously practiced at doing it one handed as his fingers were still pumping slowly in and out of her. “I rather like you like this. Spread out across my desk, completely at my mercy. Unable to cry out because somebody might become curious and come to investigate. And Hermione, I have this sneaking suspicion that you like it too.”
It was hard to deny his statement when there was plenty of evidence to support it. She could feel her nipples hardened into tiny little pebbles, sensitive to friction even through her shirt as she squirmed against the desk.
“I never knew this side of you Hermione,” Blaise kept his voice conversational even as he arched her hips with his hands, replaced his fingers with his much larger cock. Her toes couldn’t even reach the floor, and she grabbed the front edge of the desk with her hands to keep in some semblance of the proper position, “Although I suppose I always hoped. Who would believe me if I told them that you liked to be spanked, to be bent over my desk and fucked raw, and were able to seduce me for more mercenary gains.”
How he could be so calm when he was slamming into her drove her insane. She felt like she was about to come apart at the seams. “Just shut up and fuck me,” she gasped as he drew out slowly.
“Such language,” he scolded, mockingly, even as he let his one hand drift between them to fondle her clit as he slid roughly back in.
When she came, Hermione had to tilt her head awkwardly to bite down on the skin of her upper arm to keep from screaming. With her luck Arthur Weasley would have heard her down in his department and come running to check out the situation. When she finally came back to her senses, she could hear Blaise grunting out his release behind her, and could feel the stickiness of their combined cum between her legs.
“Happy now?” she asked lazily as he pulled out slowly, leveraging her hips back to their original position on the desk. She let her head continue to rest on the wood, not having the energy to lift it even an inch.
“Not as much as you are,” he replied behind her, drawing his wand and casting the appropriate cleaning charms. “Or are at least about to be.”
“Hmm?” she inquired when he didn’t continue. “What are you talking about?”
Hermione still couldn’t move as she heard him zip up his pants behind her. She was expecting him to take the sexual encounter to another level, but he arched her hips again, this time dragging her knickers and jeans up her legs, covering her completely.
“What are you talking about Blaise?” she asked again, beginning to get a little nervous.
Blaise leaned up beside her, his body molding to hers. She was confused when she heard a clink beside her, and maneuvered her head to see a single silver key placed beside her left ear. She was about to ask, but he pressed his lips to the side of her neck before lightly biting the sensitive skin there.
“I always come out with the winning side,” was all Blaise said as he straightened up, backing away from her completely.
She wanted to demand he end the spell, and tell her what the hell he was talking about, but she didn’t have the chance before he began to speak again.
“When you find a way to release yourself,” he began, “you’ll want to check out the locked bottom drawer on the right side of the desk. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”
She was still looking for the appropriate response when she heard the door click shut behind him.
The End
Author: idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own or control nothing. Shocker, huh?
Pairing: Hermione/Blaise
Summary: It wasn’t goodness of heart, it was self-preservation
Warnings: Light bondage/spanking
Author’s notes: smutty_claus entry for millieweasley.
It had to be in the office somewhere. Hermione had performed a million different searches, magically and manually, on his home once he had left that morning for work. It wasn’t there. Not hidden in a closet, not concealed by a spell, not transfigured into a teacup - it simply wasn’t there. By the time she had finished searching she had been frantic, having been so sure he wouldn’t have taken any chances moving the object from his heavily warded ancestral home.
His office at the Ministry of Magic was the only place left she could think of to search, although it was hard to believe even he would be so audacious as to hide the painting here. It had taken some tricky apparition to enter unnoticed while he was presumably away for lunch, meeting his mother and stepfather number twelve.
“Looking for something pet?” Hermione nearly jumped a foot in the air when Blaise drawled the words from the open doorway behind her.
Her mind quickly formed the denial, but she realized it was useless when she noticed the state she had left his office in, and her hand was currently rifling away through his filing cabinet. There was no plausible escape without going through him.
“Where is it?” she demanded, knowing her voice sounded hoarse as she wetted her lips nervously. “Just tell me where it is.”
He didn’t reply, simply stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him, pulling out his wand to lock it, but hesitated before casting the spell. “Where is what?” he finally asked as he turned back to her, apparently unconcerned he had turned his back to her for so long. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific as to why you put my office - and I am guessing my house - in such disarray.”
“You know bloody well what I’m talking about!” Hermione nearly shouted the words, not caring if anyone heard her, in fact preferring if somebody did; she had not told anyone of her self-imposed mission. “The portrait of Riddle - Voldemort. The same bloody painting your family has been keeping guard over - one of the last remaining horcrux’!”
“Ah,” Blaise replied, but didn’t continue as he stepped closer.
“Ah what?” she snapped, making sure her fingers were wrapped tightly around the wand stuck into the back of her jeans. “Make this easy on yourself Blaise, just turn it over right now, and nobody has to get hurt.” She would pit herself against him in a fair fight; but not in his office, not right then, not when she couldn’t even fully defend herself because they needed him alive to tell them where the horcrux was.
“Ah…..” He emphasized slowly. “Why am I not surprised that there was more to your seduction of me last night?” She had to admit that he didn’t sound surprised, or even particularly disappointed.
That was why she hadn’t told anyone of her plans to get into Blaise’ house, nobody would have agreed to it. Harry, Ron, any of the other members of the Order would never have agreed to her little impersonation of Mata Hari, although it was one of the few ways that Blaise would invite anyone in, bypassing the rather unbreakable security of the Zabini family home.
“Just tell me where it is,” Hermione tried to fill her voice with more confidence than she felt, knowing that showing weakness would solve nothing. She didn’t have the stomach for torture, but he didn’t have to know that. “If you like I can hex you when I leave, to make it look like you put up the proper effort in resisting my attempts to reclaim the painting.”
“I don’t have it, Hermione,” he rested his hand on the desk, not an inch from where she was standing, but she refused to move back. “And trust me, if I were putting in the ‘proper efforts’ to protect anything, you wouldn’t be standing here alive in this office right now.”
“We know you have it,” she snapped. “Voldemort wouldn’t trust your mother with his favourite pet, let alone an incarnation of his soul. We know he gave it to your family to protect, so unless by that same logic you are going to let me believe you just let somebody waltz into your home and steal it, it’s somehow in your possession.”
She slowly drew the wand from the back of her pants, determine not to continue unarmed, but before she could even complete the motion his hand clenched tightly on her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain as he forced her to loosen her grip on the object. As it fell to the ground, he kicked it under the desk. “Let’s keep this civil, shall we?” was all he said mildly, releasing the pressure on her wrist, but not his grasp.
Hermione wrenched her own arm away, and he let her go without forcing the issue. “If you bothered to stop and think for a moment,” Blaise began, settling back against his desk, “you would know that I wouldn’t be hiding anything for Voldemort, beyond the fact that I’m a good little employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Even he seemed amused at that idea. “To put it quite simply Hermione, I don’t like to be on the losing side.”
“We are hardly the winning side,” she ground out before she realized it was hardly the aura of confidence she should try to project. Although they were making ground in the fight against Voldemort, he was far from gone. When she had gone hunting the remaining horcuxes with Harry and Ron their last year of school, they had only managed to locate and destroy one horcux. Upon returning, they had given up all hope of finding the remaining ones, until they had received inside information regarding the painting being held by the Zabini’s.
Blaise shook his head, “Hermione, where is the self-confidence you used to project whenever you waved your annoying little hand in class? Where was the self-assurance that came in handy last night when we, I’m sure oh so coincidently, met up at the Three Broomsticks.”
“I don’t have time to play games Zabini,” she replied in frustration.
“ ‘Zabini’ now, is it?” he raised his eyebrows. “That certainly wasn’t the name you were using last night, pet. And if I remember correctly, someone certainly had time for games then…..”
“I did what I had to do,” she retorted. “It was the only way to get into your place, and in a situation where you would leave me alone in the morning when you left for work.”
“Sleeping with me, maybe,” he agreed. “Although we both know you wanted it. But you didn’t let me fuck you twice in the middle of the night out on the balcony as means to an end. That rather delectable way you went down on me had nothing to do with gaining access to my home, nor did the way you begged me to fuck you in the a…..”
“Shut up,” Hermione hated that that was the most intelligent response she could formulate. “What happened has no bearing on what’s happening here, right now. Whether or not we screwed one or twenty times in any way disrupts my ability to crucio you to get what I want.”
She could almost believe he could hear her inner thoughts when he stared at her so intently. “You couldn’t torture me Hermione, even if you had your wand,” he glanced pointedly to her empty hands. “But that isn’t the point really, considering I’m not even in possession of the item you’re looking for.”
By that point, Hermione was almost tempted to believe him, if only for the practical reason than she knew there was no possible way that it was at his home. And she had to admit, his argument made sense. Although they were still far from defeating him, they had weakened Voldemort enough of the past few years to ensure he wasn’t in a position to be doing favours for his influential allies - the only way to ensure their loyalty.
She was willing to admit their info, which had come from a former Death Eater under torture, was sketchy at best.
Hermione knew he could see her starten to weaken when he slid a little closer. “Beginning to see the light?” he asked with a smirk, letting his hand trail along her leg.
She couldn’t just believe him like that, not when there was no proof to left her know he was telling the truth, and every factual indication he was lying through his teeth. “I need better than that,” she managed to grind out, putting her hand on his to stop it from sliding further up her thigh.
“How does someone prove a negative?” Blaise wasn’t to be deterred, letting his other hand slide up to cup her breast. “I can only supply the logic you should be willing to believe. I may not have your Gryffindor sensibilities, true, but I’ve stayed away from Voldemort for the simple reason of my self interests.” He leaned over and gently nipped her ear with his teeth. “I can show you my bare forearm if that will help things along.”
Even that was inconclusive evidence, but she was beginning not to care as he let his finger toy with her breast through the thin material of her blouse. She consoled herself in the knowledge that if he were truly aiding Voldemort, he would have easily dispatched with her the night before at his home, with nobody being the wiser.
“One last time,” she sighed, answering the question he didn’t even ask, and she could feel his chuckle against her neck as he nibbled at the skin there.
Hermione reached her hands up to skim under his suit jacket, only to find him pulling away out of her grasp. “I thought we were starting…..” she began, only to have her speech cut off when he grasped her arms, flipping her over so she was face down on the desk, her arms spread wide, and she grasped inadvertently at the edges to keep herself from falling backwards.
“Umph!” was all she managed, trying to bring her arms in to push herself up and off the desk. But he had pulled out his wand, the only one within reach, and cast a spell, binding her arms to the desk itself. “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to move, but failing entirely.
“You didn’t think it was going to be just that easy, did you pet?” Blaise asked, letting his hand drift across the skin at the small of her back, bared by her shirt riding up. “Just fall right back into things, fucking across my desk here in the office?”
“Yes,” Hermione interjected, “from the way you had slid your hand up to my breast, I had had gotten an inkling that was where we were headed.” She struggled at the bonds again, but they were still unbreakable. She began to worry a little, despite the fact he hadn’t locked the door or cast a silencing spell. Positioned like this, she was completely at his mercy.
She could feel his hand, sliding into the waistband of her jeans, but not delving deeper, just sliding a finger along the top edge of her knickers. Despite her misgivings, she arched her hips at his indication, bracing on her tiptoes on the floor, allowing his nimble fingers to unbutton her jeans, and slide them down to her knees, dragging her underwear along the way.
“Not quite that easy,” he remarked in a casual tone that she wasn’t the slightest bit fooled by. “You doubted me, fooled me, and more importantly than that - you ransacked my office and home without the slightest effort to put things to right.” He leaned forward, and she could feel his erection through his pants, pressing against the crook of her now bared bottom. “I think that calls for a bit of a punishment, don’t you Hermione?” His voice wasn’t more than a breath in her ear by that point.
“Punishment?” she hated that the word came out as little more than a squeak.
His one hand slid down her back to the right cheek of her arse as he straightened. “Maybe not the best word,” Blaise replied, dragging his finger over to slide down the cleft. “My hand warming up your arse to a delightful shade of pink is far from a hex, isn’t it?”
She was about to object, deny the fact his very words were making her wet, when she felt the first smack come down on her right cheek. And she let out a sharp cry at the impact, trying to angle her head back to look at him, before she felt his hand fall again on the opposite side, and she tried to buck her hips to move away.
“It will interest you to know,” he remarked, pressing his other hand to the small of her back, pushing it into contact with the desk, “that I haven’t cast a silencing or locking charm on the door. Chances are the rest of the department is out for lunch, but who knows? Maybe some intrepid little ministry drone is having lunch at his desk, working overtime, his ears ready to pick up any signs of misbehavior.”
Hermione wanted to rail at him, but she was too busy biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out as he brought his hand down again. “Bastard,” she muttered when the initial sting had passed, keeping her voice low.
His only response was to smack her arse again, right in the same spot, causing her to dig her fingers into the desk as a response to the pain. “I can keep going for quite awhile,” he practically purred the words, even as he slid his fingers down to play with her clit, teasing her before moving his hand away . “And,” he added as he brought his hand down again, “I have this spare wand just lying under my desk. Perfect to use if I want to relieve the sting on my hand.”
This shouldn’t be arousing her. The sting radiating throughout her bottom shouldn’t be coupled with the wetness between her thighs. She should be indignant, threatening to hex him into oblivion, not waiting in anticipation for the next strike.
“What do you think Hermione?” he asked as next his touch was lighter, almost more a caress than anything. “Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”
She took a shuddering breath, deciding there was something fundamentally wrong with her that she should be so turned on. “Really?” she forced herself to keep her voice casual, even as her normally prissy conscience demanded to know what the hell she was doing. “Is that all you’ve got?”
His last strike was hard enough to practically send her over the front of the desk, bound arms or not. “Better?” she could practically hear the smirk in his question as she pried her teeth from where she had bit into her tongue to keep quiet.
Before she could reply, he had already slid a finger into her folds. “Wet, aren’t you pet?” he asked as he slid in a second finger, making her want to moan even more loudly than the spanking had. She assumed the question was rhetorical as even she could feel how aroused she was.
“Release the spell,” Hermione gasped out, arching back into his fingers. “For Merlin’s sake, Blaise…..”
“I don’t think so,” she could hear his chuckle even as she heard him yank down the zipper on his pants, obviously practiced at doing it one handed as his fingers were still pumping slowly in and out of her. “I rather like you like this. Spread out across my desk, completely at my mercy. Unable to cry out because somebody might become curious and come to investigate. And Hermione, I have this sneaking suspicion that you like it too.”
It was hard to deny his statement when there was plenty of evidence to support it. She could feel her nipples hardened into tiny little pebbles, sensitive to friction even through her shirt as she squirmed against the desk.
“I never knew this side of you Hermione,” Blaise kept his voice conversational even as he arched her hips with his hands, replaced his fingers with his much larger cock. Her toes couldn’t even reach the floor, and she grabbed the front edge of the desk with her hands to keep in some semblance of the proper position, “Although I suppose I always hoped. Who would believe me if I told them that you liked to be spanked, to be bent over my desk and fucked raw, and were able to seduce me for more mercenary gains.”
How he could be so calm when he was slamming into her drove her insane. She felt like she was about to come apart at the seams. “Just shut up and fuck me,” she gasped as he drew out slowly.
“Such language,” he scolded, mockingly, even as he let his one hand drift between them to fondle her clit as he slid roughly back in.
When she came, Hermione had to tilt her head awkwardly to bite down on the skin of her upper arm to keep from screaming. With her luck Arthur Weasley would have heard her down in his department and come running to check out the situation. When she finally came back to her senses, she could hear Blaise grunting out his release behind her, and could feel the stickiness of their combined cum between her legs.
“Happy now?” she asked lazily as he pulled out slowly, leveraging her hips back to their original position on the desk. She let her head continue to rest on the wood, not having the energy to lift it even an inch.
“Not as much as you are,” he replied behind her, drawing his wand and casting the appropriate cleaning charms. “Or are at least about to be.”
“Hmm?” she inquired when he didn’t continue. “What are you talking about?”
Hermione still couldn’t move as she heard him zip up his pants behind her. She was expecting him to take the sexual encounter to another level, but he arched her hips again, this time dragging her knickers and jeans up her legs, covering her completely.
“What are you talking about Blaise?” she asked again, beginning to get a little nervous.
Blaise leaned up beside her, his body molding to hers. She was confused when she heard a clink beside her, and maneuvered her head to see a single silver key placed beside her left ear. She was about to ask, but he pressed his lips to the side of her neck before lightly biting the sensitive skin there.
“I always come out with the winning side,” was all Blaise said as he straightened up, backing away from her completely.
She wanted to demand he end the spell, and tell her what the hell he was talking about, but she didn’t have the chance before he began to speak again.
“When you find a way to release yourself,” he began, “you’ll want to check out the locked bottom drawer on the right side of the desk. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”
She was still looking for the appropriate response when she heard the door click shut behind him.
The End