Hermione Granger in an Unused Classroom with a Christmas Cracker Title: A Letter of Thanks Author:dingochow Character: Hermione Granger Location: an unused classroom Object: a Christmas cracker Other Characters: ???? Rating: NC 17/ quite porny indeed Warnings: suggestions of a D/s relationship, canon freely ignored after about Book 5 or so Word Count: @ 2,900 Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. Author's Notes: Does the oh-so respectable Head Girl have a secret lover?
Beloved:
I must write to you tonight to thank you for the little … item you so kindly added to the contents of my Christmas cracker.
It was quite a surprise when I felt it slip into my palm. So sleek, and firm, and smooth, and warm, already oozing a slick, soft lube. I snuck a peek at it, holding it in my lap under the tablecloth in the cradle of my hand; it really is very pretty, soft green with gold veins and little sparkles running through it. I squeezed it; it's so very, very slightly soft.
I looked across the room and you were watching me. You nodded at me and smiled your tiny, secret smile. I knew then precisely what you expected me to do, and I knew that I would do it. But it would have to wait.
I had to drop my new toy quickly into my bag, and concentrate on my legitimate cracker prize, the clever little magnifying lens set in necklace. If you had anything to do with selecting it , thank you for that, also. It's a lovely thing, and will be very useful in library research.
A feast never seemed so long. I kept thinking about that …object in my bag, and what I knew you wanted me to do with it, and how you would want me to make a full report, and (I will admit) how firmly you would discipline me if I refused … I'm afraid I had to leave the table. I know you saw me go, and I must reassure you. I didn't lose all my hard-won self control and wank in the loo. But my clit was already aching and I was absolutely soaking wet; I just had to take off my knickers.
I know you'd strongly prefer that I never wear knickers at all. It excites you, the thought of me naked underneath my pleated uniform skirt, rough wool against the soft skin of all my tenderest places. And then there's always the risk that a stray breeze or a minor accident would lift my skirt, revealing the Head Girl's pale rump and the thick brown hair around her cunt to the entire school … You know I love the fantasy and the slut I'm learning to be for you, but I just can't bear it. Not every day. Not yet, my love.
But I took them off for you tonight. It would have been a genuine spectacle if my skirt had flown up, since I was so wet I'm sure everyone in the Great Hall would have seen absolutely everything I have. But I sat down quietly and finished my meal in as ladylike a way as possible.
You know that Harry and Luna were seated on either side of me. The seventh years are allowed champagne, for the toasts, and everyone was merry … what if one of them had put a hand on my knee and, playfully, of course, slid their palm up my leg only to find himself or herself touching, not the crotch of my plain cotton knickers, but the lips of my steaming cunt? Which of them would be more likely to do that, do you suppose? Which of them do you most wish had done it?
And what would you most like to have seen happen next? An explosion of shock, with my naughty secret exposed to everyone?
Or would you rather he or she had continued to explore, circling my clit, then slipping one finger, then two, into my wet hole? Maybe you wish that they had both done it, at the same time, one hand on each plump thigh, meeting at my center and making me spread my legs as far as they go while they finger fucked me wide open?
But of course that was never going to happen. I'm the Head Girl after all, studious and upright, all about the rules. No one would ever dare to put his hand, or hers, under my skirt, nor would it occur to anyone that there might be anything interesting to find if he or she did so. You, who are the only one who knows differently, are off limits for now. Nothing was going to touch my throbbing clit this evening but the luscious little object you'd somehow snuck into my Christmas cracker.
Finally dinner was over. Everyone wandered off, in groups of friends intent on pranks or gossip or more drinking, and in pairs, or sometimes more, looking for private places. I looked for one too. A simple dormitory bed, even one that's well equipped with privacy charms, is hardly a suitable setting for what I know you expect from me.
The Room of Requirement was my first thought. I was not the only one, and I began to encounter disappointed countenances when I was still several corridors away. People were looking at me oddly, since I was alone, so I ducked into what I knew was an unused classroom. And realized that I had found the perfect place. A few swishes and flicks and the room was solidly soundproofed and warded, another banished the dust and I was ready to play.
I stood in front of the desk and lifted my skirt high, while looking at the floor in mock shame. "Yes, Professor, I know I'm walking around the corridors without my knickers. Shall I report to detention so you can cane me for being a very bad girl?" I held my skirt around my waist and bent over the first student table. "My plump little bottom's already bare, Professor. Do you want me to count the strokes?"
Or maybe I am the teacher? I hopped up onto the edge of the desk, skirt still up, and sat facing the imaginary class. I thought a moment and conjured a mirror on one of the tables so I could watch everything I was doing.
"Today, class, I am going to demonstrate several advanced techniques for self- stimulation. These will, obviously, be of great interest to any female student who lacks a regular sexual partner. But pay attention even if you are sexually active, since your partner may not be available or willing every time you are randy and require release from sexual tension. And remember you can also share these activities, either by masturbating together or, if your partner has voyeuristic tendencies, by masturbating while he or she watches. Are you ready? Then let us begin."
I spread my legs wide and enlarged the image in the mirror. I've masturbated in front of mirrors before, of course. It was one of the early assignments you gave me, when you first began to train me and I was still too timid to even say the word, or many other words, out loud … But I'd never seen my cunt look so wet and red, or my clit stick out so far from between the lips. I let the classroom fantasy float away as I let my fingers trail through my wet pubic hair.
No, I decided, I was not going to touch it with my fingers, no matter how much it twitched. I'd promised myself the only thing that would touch my hard little clit tonight would be your lovely present, and you know that I always keep my promises. "Accio" fumbled through my bag, and the green toy slapped gently into my hand.
I couldn't resist taking a closer look at it, however eager I was to shove it deep into my cunt with one push. You know very well what it looks like; I don't know whether you transfigured it yourself or bought it at "one of those shops" (maybe the Wizarding equivalent of the one in Muggle London where we bought those thick leather restraints you like so much?) but you know my tastes very well. It's the perfect size, just a little longer than my hand, thick as three fingers on one end and tapering to just about two at the other, and the perfect texture, very firm, yet not too hard … a toy for both touching and penetration, big enough to pleasure my cunt while small enough to slide easily up my arsehole. (Not that I would do that, of course, not without your specific instructions and direct supervision. I well know what pleasures you reserve for yourself.)
But what delights me most is how it feels. It's so warm, and it lubricates itself so well, without being the least bit slippery to hold. Smoother, slicker than a finger or the tip of a prick, strange enough to be exotic and thrilling, but familiar enough not seem crude and unnatural. Such a sophisticated bit of magic, and all for me, so I can lift my skirt and spread my legs and wank myself silly like the filthy slut that I am.
I hiked my skirt up high enough to bare my lower belly, and watched in the mirror as I slid my new toy down the center line of my body, into my pubic hair and onto my clit. I'd intended to slide right over it and slip the green thing into my cunt, pushing it deep and squeezing it tightly, just to feel something there, something inside me …
But as soon as it touched my clit, I knew that would never do. This wasn't a night for penetrating myself, for thrusting, for pretending you have me stretched over a desk or table so you can move one finger very slowly in and out of my cunt, gauging my state of arousal while you describe, in meticulous detail, all the things that you are going to do to me.
My first instinct at dinner had been right. This was a night to focus my attention, to touch my clit and only my clit, pursuing the most intense possible sensations in the smallest possible area of the body. I giggled as I watched the organ in question twitch, hard, just at the thought. You have tortured me with that particular pleasure many times; I sincerely hope I am pleasing you by attempting it by myself.
I chose the smaller end of the toy, and began by stroking the sides of my clit, following the root of it deep down into the nested folds at the top of my cunt. It was you who taught me how long and thick my clit really is, that the part that is easy to see and touch is only the head, and that the entire shaft can be stimulated, must be stimulated, if I am to orgasm as hard as I possibly can. And I want to do that, so much …
My clit was getting harder and harder, impossibly hard. I kept stroking up and down as long as I could, a stroke or two on each side, then lifting the toy and move to the other side without touching the head. I didn't fantasize very much, just an occasional flicker of image or idea: Luna on a leather couch, fully nude and touching herself in the same pattern with the very tip of her wand, what it would feel like to masturbate this way with one of the big seed pods of the Fireflower vine in Greenhouse Five, and, always, you watching me. I know how much you enjoy supervising my acts of masturbation.
But I'm still a little girl, still a dirty little girl, so I couldn't keep myself under such strict control for long. Soon I was rubbing the toy over the head of my clit each time, still stroking the shaft, but swirling and twirling over the little swollen head after each pass. My clit wasn't red any more; it was purple, fully engorged, and at least twice as big as it normally is. I was feeling intense pleasure, but a kind of pain too, my touches too teasing light against the drum-tight, swollen nub.
If you had pinched it, hard, the way you like to do, I would have come screaming.
As it was, I needed more if I wasn't going to drive myself mad. I remembered something you'd told me once, about blood and gravity, and I quickly changed positions, kneeling on the top of the teacher's desk, facing away from the door. I pulled my skirt up around my waist and went down on my hands and knees, then lower still, my face and breasts pressed against the hard surface and my arse in the air, what in you so lovingly call "the attitude of sexual presentation". You adore the way I look when I present myself like that, equally ready for a punishment or a hard fucking, or, deliciously, for both … I felt like a quivering little bitch in heat, eager to be mounted by any stud that came through the door.
I toyed with the idea of dropping my wards … maybe somebody would come in, see the Head Girl's bare arse, her swollen cunt, her twitching arsehole, and climb up on top of her to fill up either hole, or both … but I am still too timid, not without you there.
I spread my knees wide, setting a quick Friction spell to keep them from sliding any further on the polished wood. I didn't want my clit to be pressed against the desk, I wanted it to dangle free. It did, and gravity did its work. Even more blood rushed into the hard little organ. I conjured another mirror, on the desk between my thighs … oh Merlin, it was swollen almost as big as the tip of my thumb, dark plum purple and visibly twitching with every beat of my heart. I didn't think I was capable of feeling such intense arousal, and I was sure I was going to come, untouched, just from the position and the situation and the throbbing of my blood.
But I soon calmed down enough to grasp the toy and, supporting myself on my cheek and my other arm and shoulder, get my free hand between my legs and begin stroking my clit again. I chose direct stimulation this time, stroking up from the base across the tip and back again, using a firm pressure. I couldn't possibly tease myself any more. To my surprise I didn't come right away, but somehow reached another plateau, higher than any I'd reached alone before. It was like I was starting over from the point of almost-orgasm, building up to some kind of super climax.
Again, my mind wandered through scraps of fantasy: a crowd of boys in the doorway, trousers open and pricks in their hands, waiting in line to take a turn fucking the Head Girl, then some variations on the bitch fantasy, as the smell of my heat draws all sorts of Beasts and Dark Creatures to sniff me, and lick my dripping cunt, and finally mount me, a transformed werewolf, a huge dog animagus, a dragon … then you, of course, sitting at one of the student tables, watching my every move and ordering me to pause for a count of twenty each time I was sure I was going to come, driving me higher, ever higher. Then, oddly, Harry, of all people, climbing up onto the desk beside me, whispering to me to keep going, keep fondling myself, don't stop, while he rubbed a finger again my cunt lips to slick it up, then pushed it slowly into my arsehole, deep, deep into my tight little back door that only you are allowed to touch.
That did it. I abandoned all pretense at correct form and rubbed the toy hard, back and forth, directly on my clit, once, twice, three times, and I came. Came so hard … came so good, just for you. I kept stroking myself all through it, with the toy, sliding it gently through all the lube and juice, until my still swollen clit was so sensitive that I had to bite my own arm to keep from screaming from overstimulation.
I rolled over onto my side, well, collapsed, really, and lifted one leg to slide two fingers into my cunt. It was incredibly wet, and I felt the contractions of orgasm still squeezing my fingers. They continued for almost five minutes by the classroom clock. I thought, rather sadly, of how you always do that, after you make me masturbate for you … insert a finger and time how long it takes me to stop coming. I hope my written report provides enough information for you to properly evaluate my performance.
Now it's after midnight. My clit still aches, from the intensity of my orgasm. I have a bruise on my arm from where I bit myself. I won't heal it until you've seen it, as proof of my story. I'm fairly confident you will summon me soon, since I'm sure you will want to discipline me quite strictly for orgasming to a fantasy about Harry.
Is it very, very slutty of me to say that I'm looking forward to it, or that I intend to sleep tonight with my new toy thrust deep inside my cunt?
Thank you again for the lovely Christmas cracker. Sleep well, beloved.