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“Miss Granger? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, twirling it between finger and thumb and hitching the fabric up past her knee.
She took a deep breath. “Pleasure is actually what I’m here to discuss, Mr Malfoy,” she said, with only the slightest quiver to her voice. She ground her teeth behind pursed lips and her jaw twitched.
Lucius Malfoy hadn’t looked up when she entered his office, but now he turned his attention on her, deliberately replacing his quill in its silver holder as he steepled his fingers above the imposing mahogany desk.
“Back so soon?” he smirked. “My, my. Such a glutton for punishment.”
The only response Hermione managed was to audibly gulp. She balled her fist in the soft cotton of her skirt, digging her nails into her palm through the material. At her side, her other hand clenched and a prickling tension spread upwards, seizing her arms and shoulders.
Lucius watched her without even a splinter in his cool demeanour. His icy grey eyes scrutinised Hermione, lingering on her crinkled hem and the exposed flesh of her lower thigh.
“You should be more careful,” Lucius sneered, drumming the pads of his fingers together as Hermione shifted under his inspection. “We don’t want to risk sullying your golden girl reputation, do we?”
Releasing her skirt, Hermione folded her arms over her chest. “You know I don’t care what you think of me, Malfoy,” she sniffed. “So don’t trouble yourself with my ‘reputation’. This isn’t—”
“Oh, I wasn’t speaking of me, dear girl,” Lucius countered, leaning back in his chair. His hands gripped the arm rests and he pushed himself up to standing. “No, no. I’m already intimately familiar with exactly the person you are.”
He circled his desk and Hermione took an involuntary step back as she was dwarfed by his towering frame. His characteristic billowing cloak hung from a hook on the wall, but his black suit was all sharp lines and clean edges. In close proximity, Hermione could see how it clung deliciously to his trim figure; the definition of his lean muscles pressing through the undoubtedly expensive fabric.
Let it not be said that Lucius Malfoy hadn’t kept himself in good shape.
“No,” Lucius continued, stroking a finger over his smooth, chiseled jaw, “what concerns me is how others will view these little visits you make to my office.” He peered down his nose at Hermione who, despite having retreated a small way, was now staring at him with fire in her chocolate eyes.
“We both work at the Ministry,” she replied casually, but the distracted chewing of her bottom lip belied her tone. “It isn’t unreasonable that I would need to consult with you on… matters.”
Lucius huffed a laugh through flared nostrils. “To most of the imbeciles here, that narrative would suffice.” He closed the gap between them and, when Hermione stumbled backwards again, crowded her against a wall. “But what do you think will happen when somebody realises that one of our lead Unspeakables has very little need to consult with the Head of Finance for the Department of Magical Games and Sports?”
Hermione swallowed. “Like you said, I’m an Unspeakable,” she murmured. “I doubt anyone will question why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
Lucius raised one eyebrow and fixed her with a searing glare.
“But,” Hermione went on, “if you’d rather I not come here anymore, you need only say.”
She made to shuffle to the door, but Lucius’ open palm struck the wall next to her face, his strong arm blocking her egress.
“I never said that,” he hissed. His other hand came up to cradle her face and he ran a thumb along her bottom lip. “Nor will I. I only meant that your impertinence cannot go undisciplined.”
A full-body shiver racked Hermione and she sagged against the wall to keep from collapsing over weak knees.
There was an irregular gruffness to Lucius’ voice as he whispered, “I know how much you want to be a good girl for me,” before pressing his thumb into her mouth.
Though Hermione whimpered and wobbled, her instinctive physical response was to hollow her cheeks as she sucked. Her tongue swirled the pad of Lucius’ thumb and she grazed her teeth over his knuckle.
“Didn’t I tell you that I know exactly who you are?” he mused, and he removed his thumb in favour of roughly pinching her chin. He tilted her face up to his, knocking her head against the wall as he did so. “You are a needy little slut,” he spat, “and that’s all you’ll ever be to me.”
Hermione’s groan was swallowed by Lucius as his lips met hers in a filthy kiss. It was all twisting tongues and teeth clamping lips—a further act of beating her into submission by mouth alone.
Not that Hermione needed any encouragement to surrender to Lucius Malfoy.
His fingertips bruised her hips as he wrenched her forwards, crushing her core against him as she squirmed fruitlessly in his grasp. She could feel the bulge in his trousers nudging her stomach, and she impulsively rocked her pelvis.
“Now, now, Miss Granger,” he chided, slotting a leg between her knees and pressing up against her sodden knickers. “This isn’t how we do things. You need to take your punishment first.”
Hermione ground herself on Lucius’ firm thigh, shamelessly rubbing along his trousers as she chased the friction she so fiercely craved.
“God,” she muttered, the jerky roll of her hips building in speed.
“No talk of your muggle deities, thank you,” Lucius chastised. “If you want to moan anything, my name will do nicely.”
“Lucius,” she breathed. “Please. Please, I don’t want to stop.”
“Look at you—riding my leg like some sort of animal,” he said. “Is that what you are, Miss Granger? Are you an animal?”
“If I s-say ‘yes’,” Hermione stammered, “w-will you let—fuck!—let me c-come?”
Lucius sucked a bruise into the tender flesh behind her ear. “That would be too easy,” he sighed, the elongated syllables of his last word gusting over Hermione’s neck. “And we both appreciate my penchant for doing things the hard way.”
Snatching one of her wrists, Lucius angled Hermione’s hand to palm him through the straining crotch of his trousers. He didn’t have to manipulate her for very long before she took over, flexing her fingers around his swollen cock and pumping him slowly. He braced his forehead against the wall as a shudder ran down his legs.
“Good girl,” he purred, tangling a hand in Hermione’s riotous curls. “Keep this up and maybe I’ll be gentle with your punishment.” He tilted his head and locked eyes with her, their noses mere millimetres apart. “Though I think you prefer it when I’m rough with you.”
Hermione’s eyelids fluttered shut as she whined, the sound abruptly cut off by a gasp as Lucius bit down on her bottom lip. Her hips snapped back and forth across his thigh, and a distinct wet patch glossed the dark fabric. One hand gripped the back of his neck, tickling the stray white-blond hairs that had escaped his usually immaculate ponytail. Her nails scratched red marks into his pale flesh until he growled.
“How close are you, you grubby little whore?” Lucius asked as Hermione pushed heavily against his leg.
“Very,” she groaned. “Very close. I—God, fuck!—I need to… Please, please let me—”
She staggered forwards as Lucius hastily withdrew from between her knees, the weight that he’d supported almost toppling her as she struggled to take it on her own feet.
“Wha—?”
“I told you not to invoke your ‘god’,” Lucius drawled, smoothing down the creased, damp material of his trousers as he stepped away. From where it was propped against his desk, he retrieved his long, black cane, twirling it between his fingers. “Now you leave me no choice but to reprimand you harshly.” He gestured with the silver snake’s head, tapping it against the desk top. “Hands here, please, Miss Granger. You know what to do.”
On shaky legs, Hermione crossed the office and planted her palms on the sleek mahogany. The action naturally bent her at the waist, but she went up on tiptoe and squashed her breasts down against the desk, accentuating the lift of her arse in the air. Peeking up at Lucius through her curly fringe, she muttered, “happy?”
Lucius let out a loud exhale. “Happy, what?”
Their was a brief pause as Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. “Happy, sir?” she relented.
“Oh, I will be,” he taunted, a wicked smirk curling one side of his mouth.
He took position behind Hermione, bunching the fabric of her skirt in one fist as his other clutched his cane. When he folded the cotton on to her back—uncovering her drenched knickers—he chuckled, low and menacing. “Sweet Salazar, you are soaked for me,” he cooed, hooking the snake’s fangs around saturated material and twanging it against Hermione’s hip. “Does it sicken you to contemplate how easily you get off on this?”
Hermione huffed through the sting of elastic on skin but held her posture. “Only because it’s you,” she admitted.
“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” Lucius said. Without further hesitation, he whacked the cane against one of her exposed buttocks, causing Hermione to yelp and lurch forward into the unforgiving edge of the desk. “But it helps to remember how much I make you hate yourself after every one of our encounters. That, Miss Granger, that is what gets me off.”
The next smack was across her upper thighs, catching both of them in the same stroke. Hermione momentarily crumpled at the knees as she cried out, but she recovered quickly. The solid lip of mahogany bit into her palm as she white-knuckled the desk, her grip strong enough that she’d have gouged nail marks in the surface had it not been spelled.
Thank goodness for magic, she supposed.
“Tell me why you think you deserve to be punished,” Lucius proposed, slapping the cane first against one hip, then the other. “Why am I doing this to you?”
Through ragged breaths, Hermione answered, “because I’m a bad girl, sir. I’ve been naughty.”
Whack. The backs of her knees.
“How have you been naughty?”
“I… I’ve been reckless… in coming here. To you.”
Smack, smack. Both arse cheeks in quick succession.
“And why do you come here?”
Slap. Her lower back.
“Fuuucckk. For this. I like it,” Hermione confessed. “I need it.”
“You like taking my cane?”
Lucius pinched the black rod in the crook of his elbow and used his freed hand to stroke himself.
“I love it, sir,” Hermione clarified, chest heaving as she panted into the desk. She was dripping down the insides of her thighs, and she rubbed them together out of desperation.
Lucius permitted himself one squeeze of his throbbing cock as he considered her, reclaiming his cane and dragging it over the gusset of her knickers. “So I’m punishing you for coming here, but you’re coming here to be punished?” he questioned. “It sounds like you’re wasting my valuable time, Miss Granger.”
Whack. An upwards strike against her cunt. It wasn’t particularly forceful, but Hermione’s knees buckled all the same, and she collapsed fully on to the desk.
Regardless, she couldn’t help the moaned “yes” that fell from her lips.
“You’re still enjoying this too much,” Lucius observed. “Perhaps I should stop and send you on your way.”
“No!” Hermione cried. “No, please!”
“Please, what?”
“Please, sir!”
“You don’t deserve my attention,” he seethed.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. Both hips and across her thighs.
Hermione keened. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her whole body trembled.
“Please,” she rasped. “Please. I’ll be so good for you. And I can… I can make you feel good too.”
Lucius paused, cane poised over her buttocks. “How do you propose to do that?”
Swallowing deeply, Hermione said, “you could fuck me, sir.”
With a swift flick, Lucius unsheathed his wand from the outer shell of his cane. He prodded the elm wood between Hermione’s legs and spasms shook her.
“You’re suggesting I degrade myself with your muddy cunt?”
Hermione pushed herself back on to Lucius’ wand, the tip of it impressing into her knickers and forcing the fabric past her folds. “You have before,” she said. “And you know how good I feel. So tight. So hot. So wet.”
From where the elm poked into Hermione, Lucius cast a non-verbal contraception charm. Hermione tried not to let out a sigh of relief, disinclined to antagonise him further. Replacing his wand in the cane, Lucius leaned it against his desk and tugged Hermione’s knickers down past her knees. He unfastened his trousers and flipped his thick cock out through the gap in the fabric—an easy enough task having forgone underwear as he so often did.
“Just know that I’m only using you as a means to an end, Miss Granger,” Lucius hissed, and he slipped into her in one, smooth motion, stretching her deliciously and immediately bottoming out.
His pace was aggressive from the start; brutally pounding Hermione into the desk as his hips repeatedly knocked against her buttocks. Hermione lost the support of her hands and fell face-first into the mahogany, frantically scrabbling to regain purchase as Lucius shunted her forwards and back.
“Is this what you wanted, you dirty slut?” he asked. He released his hold on her skirt and wrestled with both of her twitching hands, wrenching them behind her back and pinning her wrists together in the grip of his long fingers. With one palm free again, he smacked her arse; the red stripes from his cane overlayed with pink handprints.
“I asked you a question.” He whacked her again, harder this time. “Is.” Smack. “This.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted?” SMACK, SMACK.
“YES!” Hermione screeched. She had begun to drool and saliva puddled beneath her cheek where it rested on the desk. “Yes, sir! Please don’t stop. Please.”
Her cunt clenched and fluttered around Lucius’ cock and she felt the telltale tensing of her core—the fire in her gut flaring with every ruthless thrust. She writhed in Lucius’ painful grasp until he suddenly stopped.
“Beg me to let you come, Miss Granger,” Lucius snarled, holding himself impressively still, buried deep inside her. “Beg for it now, or I’ll pull out and finish myself all over the back of your pretty blouse.”
“PLEASE!” Hermione implored. “Please, please, please. Let me come. Please, I’ve been so good for you.”
Lucius tightened his grip on her wrists and wrapped his other hand in her wild hair, using it to yank her upright, her shoulder blades flush with his lower chest.
“Well,” he whispered, lips grazing the shell of her ear, “since you asked so nicely.”
It only took three further thrusts for Hermione to shatter, waves of euphoria crashing into her as Lucius fucked her through it. Her cunt clamped down on his cock and she felt his movements become increasingly erratic as he approached his own climax. His hand in her hair had moved down to her neck, and he flexed his fingers to close around her throat.
“I’m going to fill you,” he grunted, fingertips bruising her delicate skin. “And you are not to scourgify yourself afterwards, or use any non-magical means of cleaning.” He bit her earlobe and she screamed. “You will spend the rest of the day with my cum dripping into your knickers and down your legs. And you… will… like it.”
He punctuated his last sentence with vicious jerks of his hips, emptying himself into her on the final one. The burst of his hot load triggered the pulsing of Hermione’s cunt, ramping it back up again until she was cresting the peak of another orgasm. She squirmed against Lucius’ torso whilst he continued to pound her, rubbing against the oversensitive flesh as she whined.
When he abruptly withdrew from her, Hermione slumped on to the desk again, wheezing noisily as she fought to calm her breath. She spread her arms across the shiny mahogany.
By the time she was able to stand unsupported—albeit unsteadily—Lucius had tucked himself back into his trousers and fastened them. Judging by their pristine state, he had also cast a quick scourgify. He smoothed a palm over his platinum hair and fixed Hermione with a grimace.
“If that’ll be all, Miss Granger,” he said, coolly, “I’m a very busy man.”
Hermione shimmied her knickers back up and straightened her skirt as best she could. She gave Lucius one curt nod, barging his shoulder as she passed him on her way to the door. Her fingers were on the handle when he called out to her.
“Same time tomorrow, please,” he said. “I believe we’ll have more to consult on by then.”