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Hermione groaned as she regained consciousness, her eyes fluttering as her headache abated. Looking around, she began to panic as she realized that she was naked and trussed up in a bedroom of some sort decorated in red and gold, her limbs restrained to the wall facing the bed. She then tried to call for help but was muffled by a gag inserted into her mouth. As tears began to streak down her face, she wondered why she would be tied up like this, only for one specific name to come to the forefront of her mind.
“Dumbledore!” she shrieked into her gag, remembering how Neville told her that the old bastard had finally discovered that she knew how he was treating Harry. Hermione tried to muster her inner resolve, but it was no use. She had no choice but to wait for the inevitable.
Running out of tears, Hermione had almost given up hope when the door to the room opened. Realizing that she might be rescued after all, the Sixth-Year Gryffindor turned her head as much as she could to discover Minerva McGonagall, who was walking towards her.
“Professor?” she asked, although her gag muffled most of the sound.
“Miss Granger,” Minerva greeted brusquely, leading Hermione to realize how naive she had been, “Of course she’s Dumbledore’s puppet!” she thought to herself, the pit in her stomach growing ever deeper.
“You have been a very bad girl, you know,” the elder professor said as she began her lecture, “You could have stayed silent for the Gr-Common Good,” she said, her words slipping, “But instead you had to betray our cause. Don’t you know that Ron only had Harry’s wellbeing, money and fame in mind when he reported on him to the Leader of the Light?”
“No!” Hermione responded, fire in her veins, “Ron is a fat, greedy pig! Lord Potter-Black is a Head of a Most Noble and Ancient House, and he owns this school by divine conquest. Unhand me at once!”
Hermione watched as the woman that she had once admired laughed to a joke that she was not sure existed. She needed to figure out a way to escape, and quickly.
Desperately attempting to avoid resigning to her fate, the once-perky Prefect was forced to watch as Minerva came ever closer, “Now dear, don’t cry. In fact, within a few days, you will never want to cry again. You see, you will be joining our cause through the use of a special potion that will ensure your obedience. The thing is, a key ingredient is your ejaculate, which Professor Snape has tasked me with producing,” the professor explained in her usual prim-and-proper manner.
“Oh, and look at this,” Minerva added on as she pointed to a magical mirror, “Ron is watching us right now. He wanted to make you cum himself, but Professor Dumbledore thought it imprudent to have him do so.”
Hermione’s tears began to fall again. “Bastard! ” she thought, wanting to rip his pathetic balls off the next time that she saw him. However, she was interrupted by Minerva, who began to caress her.
“Oh, dear,” Minerva said once more, flashing a smile at her bound change, “You seem to be wet already. My, do you want to become Mister Weasley’s mudblood pet?”
“No!” Hermione screamed harder than she had ever screamed before in her life, causing the straps on her gag to break, “I WILL NOT SUBMIT TO YOU, YOU BITCH!”
“Oh, if only you knew,” the older woman whispered to nobody in particular, whispering a “Silencio” as she did so.
Hermione tried to yell, but nothing came out. She was well and truly helpless.
“Well then, Miss Granger, let’s get started,” Minerva commented as she produced a previously unseen feather whip from under the covers of what appeared to be her bed, before running it up and down Hermione’s thighs.
“That’s it,” she said huskily, “Submit to my pleasure.”
Hermione tried to resist it, but it was no use. Even her own body had betrayed her. As her core heated up, she watched as Minerva began to gently pull on her nipples. In fact, she realized that she had worsened the situation, as the tugging of the straps led her closer to her impending orgasmic downfall.
“My, my,” Minerva responded as she trailed the whip along Hermione’s breasts, “I didn’t think that we would get to this point so quickly. In fact, I thought that we would be up so late that I called off our lunch with Ron tomorrow,” she said, before her expression changed, “In fact, he can have his new little pet tomorrow morning since we will be done so early!”
“In fact, Hermione,” Minerva said, “I think that you like this,” she added, further cementing the young Gryffindor’s humiliation, “My little painslut.”
At this moment, Hermione broke. If Harry could have rescued her, he would have arrived by now. Waiting for the inevitable, Hermione nodded and fell slack into her bonds. In fact, she suddenly felt attracted to the woman in front of her, silently wishing that she could have her instead of Ron.
“Good girl,” Minerva said gently, “It seems that you are coming around to our way of thinking after all.”
Hermione agreed, nodding her head in shame. She vaguely remembered having sex with Harry, but whenever she tried to recall details of her relationship with him, it slipped from her mind.
“I think that you are ready for the next step, Hermione,” Minerva said, using her given name for the first time in the conversation, “Come to bed with me.”
The bushy-haired brunette silently questioned Minerva’s sudden change in behavior but was interrupted by her bindings being loosened enough to allow the older woman to pull her out of them and towards the bed. Watching Minerva as she removed her clothes with a single nonverbal spell, Hermione admired her lithe figure and sharp cheekbones.
After being laid down on the bed, the young woman waited for Minerva to join her. Once she did, Hermione felt a small bottle being pushed just below her pussy. If she needed to be enslaved, this was how she wanted it to happen.
“You are being very obedient, honey,” Minerva whispered into her captive's ear as she removed the Silencing Charm, running her hand over her small, perky tits as she did so, “As a reward, I would like for you to bring yourself to orgasm using the bottle.”
“As a dildo, Minerva?” the defeated girl asked.
“Yes, Hermione,” Minerva replied warmly, “Since you love it so much.”
Hermione wondered how Minerva knew how she liked dildos, but the thought flew away when she felt the bottle rub against her pussy once more. Slowly brushing it against her slick folds, Hermione rubbed it in over and over again, each time bringing her closer and closer to her downfall.
“Keep going, Hermione,” Minerva said as she brought the Charmed mirror closer, “You are so pretty when I break you like this~”.
Hermione didn’t hear Minerva’s comment, instead being consumed by her pleasure as the moment of her doom at the hands of her pussy juice came ever nearer.
“Now honey,” Minerva began as she lifted up Hermione’s face; green eyes staring into brown, “I am going to slap your breasts in a moment. When I do, you are going to cum into that bottle and give yourself up to me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Minerva!” Hermione moaned, her brain shorting out from the pleasure.
“Yes, what?” the older witch asked, running her hand through Hermione’s hair.
“Yes… MISTRESS!” Hermione shrieked, the thought that Minerva was her Mistress suddenly popping itself into her head.
Minerva waited for a moment, before speaking one more time, “Good girl! Now CUM!”.
Suddenly, Minerva smacked Hermione’s pert tits with her hand, her flesh bouncing as the reverb from the impact flew across her body. Knowing what she needed to do, Hermione took the final step in her surrender, smacking the small bottle into her one last time in a final show of submission. As her orgasm began she felt Minerva hold her down, each contraction reinforcing that she was a mere slave to her betters.
While this was happening, Minerva lowered her free hand to her hairy pussy, idly stroking as Hermione gave up drop after drop of her juices. “Very good, Miss Granger,” she muttered, almost as if they were back in class.
Her orgasm complete after nearly a minute, Hermione collapsed back onto the bed as she felt Minerva remove the bottle from her pussy. Daring to take a look at the potions ingredient that would signal her doom, Hermione gasped as Minerva produced a glass dildo out of her pussy, which clearly lacked any sort of compartment for her cum.
“Minerva?” she asked after a long silence.
“Yes, Hermione?” the elder witch replied, a smile forcing its way onto her face, “Are you wondering why I didn’t collect your juices?”
“Well, yes,” Hermione said simply, too perplexed to do anything further.
“Well, since you asked, Miss Granger…” Minerva began, “Confundus Reverso!”.
Hermione gasped. No longer was the woman next to her an evil agent of Dumbledore. Instead, she was her lover of four years. Her memories rushing back to her, Hermione recalled how they had negotiated her bondage and asked for a video to watch together later, and how Minerva had kissed her girlfriend one last time before she cast the spell that had initiated the rape fantasy. Suddenly, Hermione started to laugh.
“Yes, Hermione?” Minerva asked.
“Minerva, did you really Confound me to believe, and I quote, that ‘Lord Potter-Black is a Head of a Most Noble and Ancient House, and he owns this school by divine conquest’?”
“Yes,” the older woman replied, “It was actually Dumbledore’s portrait who suggested that.”
“The only thing that is owned by divine conquest is me, Minerva,” Hermione purred, “Make love to me.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Minerva said, before pulling Hermione closer, not letting go of her warm body until after midnight.