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The Classroom

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She stood facing the wall as instructed, hands clasped behind her back, her forehead resting on the cool stone of the dungeon wall. She had removed her outer robe and stood there in her blouse, skirt and socks, the chill of the air nipping at her skin. She could hear the click of his boot heels against the stone floor as he paced behind her, the rustle of fabric as his robes swished around him.

“What I fail to comprehend, Miss Granger, is how you thought you could steal potions ingredients from the stores in my office and get away with it.” His voice was low and dangerous. “If you had been one of the stupid lower year students, I might have been able to understand your audacity. But you are a final year student! You are a Prefect, and Head Girl!”

Hermione shivered as he fell silent behind her and returned to pacing the space around his desk at the front of the classroom. She wanted to speak, to plead her case, to beg for mercy, but she knew that would only serve to incense the snarky man who paced behind her. Instead she stayed silent, shivering from the cold air and the nerves that coursed through her body at the thought of what punishment awaited her. Detention with Filch perhaps? Cleaning up the most disgusting potions ingredients imaginable? A letter home to her parents?

“If you were any other student, I would give you enough detentions to ensure you had no social life until the end of the school year. But you, Miss Granger, seem to collect detentions like Chocolate Frog cards.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she heard him stop pacing. The atmosphere in the dungeon classroom was so thick she thought she could have cut it with her rather blunt potions knife.

“Instead, Granger, a much more severe punishment is called for. Turn around and stand in front of my desk.”

Hermione unclasped her hands from behind her back, pushed herself away from the dungeon wall and turned. Her eyes rested on him sitting in the chair behind his desk. Obediently she moved to stand in front of the desk, clasping her hands in front of her and lowering her eyes, examining the scuffed toes of her school shoes rather than meet his icy gaze.

He had both hands on the desk, his long elegant fingers spread out on the worn wooden surface. He wore his customary voluminous black robes as always, his hair framing his face, falling to brush against his shoulders, his dark eyes black in the gloom of the classroom.

She didn’t move when he stood abruptly. She didn’t move as he removed his robes and his black frock coat, leaving himself in white shirt and black trousers. She didn’t move as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and unfastened the top button of his shirt. She didn’t move as he opened a drawer in his desk. She didn’t move when he took something out and closed the drawer with a thump.

She moved when she caught a glimpse of what he placed on the desk. In fact she jumped. In front of her on the desk was a cane. Long and black, with a loop of leather through one end. She gasped. Surely he wasn’t going to…

“Granger,” his voice was so quiet, yet it seemed to ring around the dungeon, reverberating through the space, the sound almost settling in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed, finding her mouth dry with fear.

“You deserve this punishment. No other student would dare to do what you have done. No other student would have the audacity to behave how you have behaved. You have earned every stroke of this cane. You will bend over the desk, Miss Granger. You will stretch your arms out above your head and you will grip the edge of the desk. Am I understood?”

She couldn’t speak, her eyes were wide. He was going to cane her? Leave marks on her skin? Cause her pain? He stood suddenly and moved round to behind her. She heard his voice close to her ear.

“You will say ‘Yes Sir’, Miss Granger. You will answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Y…yes Sir!” her voice was shaking. She stepped forward until she felt the hard wood of the desk pressing against the front of her thighs through her pleated school skirt. Bending at the waist she stretched over the desk, gripping the rounded wood of the far edge until her knuckles were white. She was uncomfortably aware that this position made her bum thrust out towards him and she blushed. Her skirt, far too small for her this year, barely covered her white cotton knickers and she felt exposed and humiliated.

She felt his booted foot between her own, nudging her feet apart to spread her legs, putting her off balance so all her weight was on the desk. Her breath caught anxiously in her throat as she waited for the first painful stroke of the cane, but it didn’t come.

Instead she felt the cold air against her backside. She gasped as strong fingers pulled the hem of her skirt up and tucked it into the waistband. Her knickers were on show and she blushed as he ran his hand over them, chuckling darkly.

“Miss Granger… white cotton? How very true to form”.

She gasped in humiliation as he withdrew his hand and stepped back. Her cheeks reddening, her almost bare backside exposed to his gaze. He stepped away from her, she felt the cool air hit her skin as the warmth of the nearness of his body disappeared.

“Now Miss Granger… time for your punishment”. She squeezed her eyes shut as he drew his arm back, anticipating the impact.


Hermione yelped. The sound of both her cries and the crack of the cane reverberating around the classroom as the sting of the first stroke spread across her backside. She bit her bottom lip to keep from whimpering.

“After each stroke of the cane, Miss Granger, you will say ‘thankyou Sir, may I have another.” His velvety voice soothed her somewhat but the pain still spread across her upturned arse.

“THANKYOU SIR MAY I HAVE ANOTHER!” She almost screamed out, anxious to obey.

“And these, Miss Granger…” He ran his hand over her white cotton knickers once again, “…are getting in the way!”

With a swift tug he pulled them down her legs, a nudge of his booted foot encouraging her to lift her feet and step out of them. He left her fully exposed, her arse jutting out, her legs spread, her pussy lips peeking between her thighs, one crimson stripe s[reading across the globes of her soft, white backside.


“Th…thankyou Sir, May I have another!” She whimpered this time, feeling a warmth spread across her arse, settling disconcertingly in her core.

“ThankyousirmayIhaveanother!!” She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the burn between her thighs that was distracting her from the pain. She felt flushed, warm, and she wasn’t sure why.


“Aaaargh! Thankyou Sir! May I have another!!”

She heard a low hum come from her tormenter, and a long finger ran up the inside of her thigh, the friction torturing her. She stifled a moan.

“Miss Granger… you are not supposed to be enjoying this! This is a punishment!”

“I’m not enjoying it Sir!” She ground out through gritted teeth, the ache in her pussy growing.

He sat on the desk beside her, grasped her chin and forced her to look at him.

“I beg to differ, Miss Granger. Your pussy is virtually dripping. You’re getting wetter every time I strike you…” he paused and inhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent surrounding him, “… and I can smell how aroused you are.”

“N…no sir! I’m sorry Sir!” she whimpered, pushing herself back towards him, craving contact.


The stroke came without warning, causing Hermione to cry out, but this time the sting of the cane landing on her exposed flesh was tempered almost immediately by the warmth of his hand, stroking and massaging her bruised skin. She moaned, arching her back to push her backside into his hand. He chuckled deeply.

“My, my, Miss Granger, what a hungry little slut you are.”

Hermione moaned at the loss of contact as he removed his hand from her arse. She wriggled against the cool air of the dungeon.


This time she didn’t hold back, she moaned her pleasure as the cane landed on her bare behind, enjoying the sting of the cane as the ache between her legs grew. Even she could smell her own arousal now and she ached for him to touch her again. She wasn’t disappointed, as his hand followed the cane, massaging her backside. One long finger dipping lower to find the pool of wetness between her thighs. She spread her legs wider and moaned at his feather light touches which stopped almost as soon as they began.

“On your knees facing me, slut!”

She obeyed as quickly as she could, dropping to her knees before him, looking up expectedly as his eyes gazed down at her, his glare piercing her soul as his hand fell to his belt and began unfastening the big silver buckle. She reached up to help him, slipping the worn leather through the heavy silver and unbuttoning his black woollen trousers to reveal black cotton boxer shorts, the bulge of his impressive hardness evident.

Tentatively, not taking her eyes from his, she reached into his boxers. Her fingertips brushed his hard cock. He gasped, but made no move to stop her. Bolder, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking his shaft.

He whispered a spell, and his clothes disappeared, leaving him naked in front of her. Another whispered spell and her blouse disappeared, leaving her breasts exposed to him, her Gryffindor school tie hanging between her ample breasts.

Not taking her eyes from his, she leaned forward and gently licked the tip of his cock, tasting the bead of moisture there. One hand sliding up and down his shaft gently. She brough her other hand up and gently massaged his balls, letting the head of his cock slip between her lips. She sucked him, and stroked him and was rewarded by a hand tangling itself in her chestnut curls.

Wantonly, she pleasured him, his hand in her hair keeping her under control. She submitted totally, let him use her mouth. She could hear him groaning, his pleasure written on his face, a slight snarl on his lips as he watched her take his cock as deep into her mouth as she could, smirking as she gagged slightly on his length.

“You’re filthy, Miss Granger.”

She continued to suck him, loving the taste of him. Stroking his thick shaft. She let one finger tease the skin just behind his balls and was rewarded with a low growl.

“You’re filthy!” He repeated, “You’re a filthy whore! My filthy whore!”

Suddenly his grip in her hair tightened and she found herself hauled to her feel. With a hungry look on his face he spun her around and bent her back over the desk.


She moaned, imagining the blush of red creep across her arse as he marked her.

Suddenly his cock was there, rubbing the head between her pussy lips, being coated in her moisture. She bucked her hips back towards him, begging him without words to fill her, to fuck her, to use her.

He obliged, filling her suddenly, his thick cock stretching her tight little pussy, bottoming out, making her almost shriek with pleasure at the sensation.

He fucked her relentlessly, hard and deep, his thrusts slamming her against the desk. Somewhere through the fog of pleasure she registered that she would be bruised tomorrow but she didn’t care. She was close. The sensation of being filled over and over, the slap of his balls against her sensitive clit, her juices dripping down her inner thighs. It was all so much.

She screamed as she came hard, her release coating both of them in sticky sweetness. She could feel him throbbing deep inside her, as his hands gripped her hips and drove deeper into her body. She whimpered under him, coming down from her climax as he reached his. He groaned, loudly as he came deep inside her. She reached back with one hand and grasped his leg, wanting contact as he spent his release deep inside her welcoming body.

Spent, he collapsed onto her, one arm wrapping around her waist, his nose buried in her hair, breathing her in deeply.

After a moment, she felt a soft kiss on the side of her neck, a spot that he knew always made her shiver.

“Thankyou, Severus. Thankyou for indulging my naughty little fantasy.” Hermione wriggled against him appreciatively. She was rewarded with a low moan from her lover.

“My pleasure, my love. Mmmm any time.”