Dominate!Hermione
The theme of today’s quiz is dominate!Hermione. As in a Hermione who takes the lead in the bedroom. These stories are adult rated and feature BDSM fun and games if you are underage please go away. To the rest of you ((cracks the whip)) READ!
Thanks to our sweet little septentrion1970 who suggested this theme.
The first fangirl who posts a perfect score will get to choose the next quiz.
This week's quiz was chosen by voxangelus the fastest crazy!snape poster around.
Match the story to the quote:
Dominating Potions by Amber Snape (abandoned)
The Garden by darkheartwalsh (WIP)
Leather by wartcap
Needs Must by melusin_79 (WIP)
Fun with the Headmistress by angelmischa
What She Wants by Kali
Christmas Goose by Flyingegg
Seducing Severus Snape by Miss
Sense of Sex by MistressMalfoy a/k/a pinkwands
Discipline by Bunny_Wigglesworth a/k/anormaljean1968
Wrapped Around her Finger by jade_orchid42
Agentes et Patientes by Bonnie Viva
Bound to Answer by ladyofthemasque
1. The moon chooses that moment to come out from behind a cloud, illuminating me in the archway, emphasising my nakedness. The goddess’ pale light makes my skin look ghostly, and I glance nervously over my shoulder. Feeling ugly and uncomfortable, I beseech her forgiveness for my effrontery. I can’t remember the last time I said a prayer of any sort, but the action calms me as I take the number of required deep breaths. My nerve endings tingle, and I brush my fingertips over my body, relishing the prickly sensations. Briefly, I consider masturbating and getting it over with, but I am standing three feet away from the spot where I killed Dumbledore, and I quickly dismiss that sacrilegious thought.
The moments pass; my trepidation fades a little more with each exhalation, as does the guilt for enjoying something I shouldn’t. I have passed the count of ten but feel no inclination to move. It is a beautiful night for star-gazing. The sky at night has always made me feel aware of my insignificance - a tiny speck in the infinity of the cosmos. Tonight is no exception. Almost regretfully, I turn around and unhurriedly walk back to my cloak, feeling only a strange sense of pride that I have managed to accomplish something I considered impossible a few short hours ago. My nakedness seems inconsequential; I am but a man, alone in the universe, trying to make sense of his place in it and maybe, just maybe, starting to find some peace.
2. Once he does, he walks into the bedroom, stopping in the center of the room. "And where would you like me?" he asks. I know he's expecting, hoping, I'll say the bed. Hoping this will be quick. Sadly for him I'm not so inclined at present.
I gesture to the wall. "Over there. Face me. Arms up, legs apart."
He looks apprehensive. But he complies.
I secure him to the wall with the spell again. I found out pretty early in these sessions that if I just ordered him to be still, the cruciatus could kick in with even a small movement. Better to bind him. He tends to move as much as he can.
I cast a warming charm on him. Once he's no longer shivering I sit on the foot of the bed, just staring. The knowledge that I can do anything I want to him is more intoxicating than absinthe could ever be. I feel heady with power and a rush of desire to reprove him for provoking me earlier.
He closes his eyes. "Can't you get on with this?"
3. "HERMIONE! YES! HERMIONE!"
Then it is quiet. All you hear is her calmed breathing with your own and the
mingled heart beats. Her head is leaning on your chest though she has not moved off you. Her shaky body calms and her sweaty, hot hands let go of your shoulders. She pulls off your blindfold, kissing your eyelashes and eyelids, then she removes your bindings, kissing your wrists sweetly, groggily. You look at her. She looks so sweaty, hot and spent but her eyes and face hold a glow that is brighter than any candle. She looks very happy, satisfied. You pull her into your arms and hold her, kissing her softly.
You're sitting in a chair.
Your lover in your lap.
4. In an entirely fair universe, you would be dead, you would be rotting in Azkaban, you would be unemployed, friendless, impoverished, begging for scraps or whoring your magical talents in Knockturn alley.
Fortunately for you, the universe isn't the least bit fair, although it is undeniably perverse. And thus, somehow, your reward for being an all-around amoral prick in your young adult years is this:
This life.
This woman.
This serious and talented scholar. This well mannered young woman and dutiful spouse. Who is, just beneath the polished veneer of respectability, a kinky little vixen who would gleefully suspend you from the dining room chandelier and fist you senseless if given half a chance.
Thank Merlin for that!
"Pay attention, dear," she says, tweaking each of your nipples in turn. "Wool gather on your own time. You're here to service me. Or have you forgotten?"
You most certainly have not forgotten and a bone deep thrill surges through your body. She squeezes her thighs against your sides hard enough to make your ribs creak.
"So. You wanted me to recap the agenda." She takes hold of your cock in her fist. "Well, first, I'm going to stiffen you up a bit."
As if you weren't already. But nonetheless, four fast strokes later and your head falls back on the pillow, your mouth drops open stupidly; you moan.
5. Her instructions that he wear the tap pants and cock ring all day had been tempered with her permission to wear them under what ever he felt he needed to wear to work.(they had wordless agreed not to discuss what either of them did for a living yet). This permission showed a willingness on her part to make him uncomfortable yet not humiliate him in public. The contract they had both signed the week before had included an agreement that public humiliation, among other things would never be used, or demanded. She however was defiantly going to make sure he was willing to obey her. There had been a spell on the leather that would let her know when she saw it how long he had been wearing it. He had toyed with the idea of waiting until after dinner to put it on just to see what her punishment for disobeying her would be. He had decided that she might see that not as a test but as a sign of reluctance on his part and he wanted her to understand that he was very willing. Punishment could be earned later with a hesitation or misdeed.
6. "Did I say to take your trousers off?" Hermione asked authoritatively. "I did not. I said around your ankles and I meant around your ankles." She smacked the paddle against her hand again. "Turn around and bend over."
"So, this is to be my punishment? A plebian paddling?" Severus asked as he turned around and placed his hands on the bed.
"Oh, not just any paddling, Severus, dear." Hermione leaned across him to whisper in his ear, one hand gently caressing the pale skin of his legs. "This is a paddling with a Gryffindor paddle."
Turning his head, Hermione saw the confusion in his eyes. Good. He'd never seen one of these before. She'd made the prototype for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and they were only now coming into production.
"Five of the finest, I think?" Hermione mused, purring like a cat. "Or shall we make it ten?"
Severus kept his mouth closed, even when the slightly nubby surface of the paddle came in gentle contact with his arse and caressed down the back of his legs. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but getting spanked was not how he imagined he would be spending his Christmas Eve.
"Five, I think, and if I don't like the fervor of your results, five more." Hermione made sure his shirttails were well out of the way and the first blow landed square between his cheeks.
"I love Gryffindor," Severus blurted, startling himself.
7. Panting, he burst through the main entrance, ignoring the puzzled glances of the other clients as he ran at full pelt down towards her office. The wooden floor was slippery beneath his boots and he stuck his hands out for balance, trailing the left down the wall as he ran. A stitch slowed his pace, but he didn’t stop, too afraid.
Reaching the end of the corridor, he skidded to a halt, almost slamming bodily into her door. Sweating and more than a little red in the face, he knocked on her door, waiting with bated breath for her reply.
----
‘Enter.’
Severus flinched. She did not sound pleased.
His head bowed, he opened the door, shuffling inside in what he hoped was an apologetic sort of stance. He clasped his hands behind his back to disguise their shaking. He didn’t have to be Sybil Trelawney to guess what was about to happen.
‘I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.’
8. She audaciously opened her eyes. It seemed to take a moment for her to register what she was seeing. “Oh my!” she gasped.
“I could Obliviate you,” he warned in a cautious whisper.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said succinctly. Releasing the book, reaching out to touch his lapel, she pulled him closer. “I’d like to remember this - you look wonderful.”
His throat felt tight, parched; it failed to respond to his attempt at speech.
“So Baroque,” she purred, “Where have you been hiding away this wanton side?” She unbuttoned his coat and cast an appraising glance over his bare chest and leather trousers. “I think there's something you need to tell me, Severus.”
Unable to speak, he sank to his knees, looking up at her with open longing, need and desire. “There’s more,” he croaked.
Resting her hands on his shoulders, she spread her feet either side of his knees, applying just enough pressure, encouraging him to continue. “Is there?”
He looked down at the torn book, where it lay forgotten on the cold, stone floor. Swallowing hard, he looked up again into her defiant brown eyes. She gave him a warm smile and used the back of her hand to stroke his jaw line. Turning her hand over, she cupped his chin firmly and tilted his head up.
Her expression hardened. “I asked you a question. Is there more you need to tell me?” she scolded.
Excited and aroused by her show of power, he released the words he had dreamed of saying for so very long.
“Yes, Mistress.”
9. Taking a step back suddenly, she turned half around and gestured toward the bed. “Lie down, Sev.”
The abrupt change in attitude and the unauthorised shortening of his name caught him by surprise. The challenging, impetuous look in her eye told him just how seriously he had misjudged the situation. He returned her gaze with a firm one of his own, but she suddenly took a step towards him and reached around him, giving him a sharp slap on his backside. It smarted, and he couldn’t help starting forward. This woman meant business. He turned toward her again and lay down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and observing her with great interest. She had begun to undo her own buttons, and he felt his cock, which had been starting to get a little confused about how interested it really was in the situation, jump into action again.
She made short work of her buttons but did not discard the shirt. Instead, extracting her wand from a pocket of her skirt, she gave a few waves and mutterings and Transfigured it neatly into a black leather, halter dress, which cut down to just below her belly button and had a skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Not short enough for his liking, but it was definitely the most attractive thing he’d seen in a long time. Particularly when it was on her. How did she know he enjoyed leather?
10. Hermione.... please....
"Now that's more like it," she said, stepping back a moment to view her handiwork. "You should be begging right about now." She looked at his crotch and saw the rapid beginnings of an erection. Miss Granger bent over to touch him there, and smiled when his cock leaped like a trout swimming upstream. She started to fasten one set of the small leather strips around the base of his scrotum. It tightened at the touch of her soft, firm hands, and his cock made another trout-like leap.
"You've always needed to let your guard down, but you've never found anyone with whom you can. You've always needed to surrender... but never found the right person."
Severus could feel the last shreds of his control, and his sanity, sliding away.
What... what makes you think that you're that person?
"Oh, everything," Hermione replied, looping the leather around the base of his shaft.
Thanks to our sweet little septentrion1970 who suggested this theme.
The first fangirl who posts a perfect score will get to choose the next quiz.
This week's quiz was chosen by voxangelus the fastest crazy!snape poster around.
Match the story to the quote:
Dominating Potions by Amber Snape (abandoned)
The Garden by darkheartwalsh (WIP)
Leather by wartcap
Needs Must by melusin_79 (WIP)
Fun with the Headmistress by angelmischa
What She Wants by Kali
Christmas Goose by Flyingegg
Seducing Severus Snape by Miss
Sense of Sex by MistressMalfoy a/k/a pinkwands
Discipline by Bunny_Wigglesworth a/k/anormaljean1968
Wrapped Around her Finger by jade_orchid42
Agentes et Patientes by Bonnie Viva
Bound to Answer by ladyofthemasque
1. The moon chooses that moment to come out from behind a cloud, illuminating me in the archway, emphasising my nakedness. The goddess’ pale light makes my skin look ghostly, and I glance nervously over my shoulder. Feeling ugly and uncomfortable, I beseech her forgiveness for my effrontery. I can’t remember the last time I said a prayer of any sort, but the action calms me as I take the number of required deep breaths. My nerve endings tingle, and I brush my fingertips over my body, relishing the prickly sensations. Briefly, I consider masturbating and getting it over with, but I am standing three feet away from the spot where I killed Dumbledore, and I quickly dismiss that sacrilegious thought.
The moments pass; my trepidation fades a little more with each exhalation, as does the guilt for enjoying something I shouldn’t. I have passed the count of ten but feel no inclination to move. It is a beautiful night for star-gazing. The sky at night has always made me feel aware of my insignificance - a tiny speck in the infinity of the cosmos. Tonight is no exception. Almost regretfully, I turn around and unhurriedly walk back to my cloak, feeling only a strange sense of pride that I have managed to accomplish something I considered impossible a few short hours ago. My nakedness seems inconsequential; I am but a man, alone in the universe, trying to make sense of his place in it and maybe, just maybe, starting to find some peace.
2. Once he does, he walks into the bedroom, stopping in the center of the room. "And where would you like me?" he asks. I know he's expecting, hoping, I'll say the bed. Hoping this will be quick. Sadly for him I'm not so inclined at present.
I gesture to the wall. "Over there. Face me. Arms up, legs apart."
He looks apprehensive. But he complies.
I secure him to the wall with the spell again. I found out pretty early in these sessions that if I just ordered him to be still, the cruciatus could kick in with even a small movement. Better to bind him. He tends to move as much as he can.
I cast a warming charm on him. Once he's no longer shivering I sit on the foot of the bed, just staring. The knowledge that I can do anything I want to him is more intoxicating than absinthe could ever be. I feel heady with power and a rush of desire to reprove him for provoking me earlier.
He closes his eyes. "Can't you get on with this?"
3. "HERMIONE! YES! HERMIONE!"
Then it is quiet. All you hear is her calmed breathing with your own and the
mingled heart beats. Her head is leaning on your chest though she has not moved off you. Her shaky body calms and her sweaty, hot hands let go of your shoulders. She pulls off your blindfold, kissing your eyelashes and eyelids, then she removes your bindings, kissing your wrists sweetly, groggily. You look at her. She looks so sweaty, hot and spent but her eyes and face hold a glow that is brighter than any candle. She looks very happy, satisfied. You pull her into your arms and hold her, kissing her softly.
You're sitting in a chair.
Your lover in your lap.
4. In an entirely fair universe, you would be dead, you would be rotting in Azkaban, you would be unemployed, friendless, impoverished, begging for scraps or whoring your magical talents in Knockturn alley.
Fortunately for you, the universe isn't the least bit fair, although it is undeniably perverse. And thus, somehow, your reward for being an all-around amoral prick in your young adult years is this:
This life.
This woman.
This serious and talented scholar. This well mannered young woman and dutiful spouse. Who is, just beneath the polished veneer of respectability, a kinky little vixen who would gleefully suspend you from the dining room chandelier and fist you senseless if given half a chance.
Thank Merlin for that!
"Pay attention, dear," she says, tweaking each of your nipples in turn. "Wool gather on your own time. You're here to service me. Or have you forgotten?"
You most certainly have not forgotten and a bone deep thrill surges through your body. She squeezes her thighs against your sides hard enough to make your ribs creak.
"So. You wanted me to recap the agenda." She takes hold of your cock in her fist. "Well, first, I'm going to stiffen you up a bit."
As if you weren't already. But nonetheless, four fast strokes later and your head falls back on the pillow, your mouth drops open stupidly; you moan.
5. Her instructions that he wear the tap pants and cock ring all day had been tempered with her permission to wear them under what ever he felt he needed to wear to work.(they had wordless agreed not to discuss what either of them did for a living yet). This permission showed a willingness on her part to make him uncomfortable yet not humiliate him in public. The contract they had both signed the week before had included an agreement that public humiliation, among other things would never be used, or demanded. She however was defiantly going to make sure he was willing to obey her. There had been a spell on the leather that would let her know when she saw it how long he had been wearing it. He had toyed with the idea of waiting until after dinner to put it on just to see what her punishment for disobeying her would be. He had decided that she might see that not as a test but as a sign of reluctance on his part and he wanted her to understand that he was very willing. Punishment could be earned later with a hesitation or misdeed.
6. "Did I say to take your trousers off?" Hermione asked authoritatively. "I did not. I said around your ankles and I meant around your ankles." She smacked the paddle against her hand again. "Turn around and bend over."
"So, this is to be my punishment? A plebian paddling?" Severus asked as he turned around and placed his hands on the bed.
"Oh, not just any paddling, Severus, dear." Hermione leaned across him to whisper in his ear, one hand gently caressing the pale skin of his legs. "This is a paddling with a Gryffindor paddle."
Turning his head, Hermione saw the confusion in his eyes. Good. He'd never seen one of these before. She'd made the prototype for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and they were only now coming into production.
"Five of the finest, I think?" Hermione mused, purring like a cat. "Or shall we make it ten?"
Severus kept his mouth closed, even when the slightly nubby surface of the paddle came in gentle contact with his arse and caressed down the back of his legs. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but getting spanked was not how he imagined he would be spending his Christmas Eve.
"Five, I think, and if I don't like the fervor of your results, five more." Hermione made sure his shirttails were well out of the way and the first blow landed square between his cheeks.
"I love Gryffindor," Severus blurted, startling himself.
7. Panting, he burst through the main entrance, ignoring the puzzled glances of the other clients as he ran at full pelt down towards her office. The wooden floor was slippery beneath his boots and he stuck his hands out for balance, trailing the left down the wall as he ran. A stitch slowed his pace, but he didn’t stop, too afraid.
Reaching the end of the corridor, he skidded to a halt, almost slamming bodily into her door. Sweating and more than a little red in the face, he knocked on her door, waiting with bated breath for her reply.
----
‘Enter.’
Severus flinched. She did not sound pleased.
His head bowed, he opened the door, shuffling inside in what he hoped was an apologetic sort of stance. He clasped his hands behind his back to disguise their shaking. He didn’t have to be Sybil Trelawney to guess what was about to happen.
‘I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.’
8. She audaciously opened her eyes. It seemed to take a moment for her to register what she was seeing. “Oh my!” she gasped.
“I could Obliviate you,” he warned in a cautious whisper.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said succinctly. Releasing the book, reaching out to touch his lapel, she pulled him closer. “I’d like to remember this - you look wonderful.”
His throat felt tight, parched; it failed to respond to his attempt at speech.
“So Baroque,” she purred, “Where have you been hiding away this wanton side?” She unbuttoned his coat and cast an appraising glance over his bare chest and leather trousers. “I think there's something you need to tell me, Severus.”
Unable to speak, he sank to his knees, looking up at her with open longing, need and desire. “There’s more,” he croaked.
Resting her hands on his shoulders, she spread her feet either side of his knees, applying just enough pressure, encouraging him to continue. “Is there?”
He looked down at the torn book, where it lay forgotten on the cold, stone floor. Swallowing hard, he looked up again into her defiant brown eyes. She gave him a warm smile and used the back of her hand to stroke his jaw line. Turning her hand over, she cupped his chin firmly and tilted his head up.
Her expression hardened. “I asked you a question. Is there more you need to tell me?” she scolded.
Excited and aroused by her show of power, he released the words he had dreamed of saying for so very long.
“Yes, Mistress.”
9. Taking a step back suddenly, she turned half around and gestured toward the bed. “Lie down, Sev.”
The abrupt change in attitude and the unauthorised shortening of his name caught him by surprise. The challenging, impetuous look in her eye told him just how seriously he had misjudged the situation. He returned her gaze with a firm one of his own, but she suddenly took a step towards him and reached around him, giving him a sharp slap on his backside. It smarted, and he couldn’t help starting forward. This woman meant business. He turned toward her again and lay down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and observing her with great interest. She had begun to undo her own buttons, and he felt his cock, which had been starting to get a little confused about how interested it really was in the situation, jump into action again.
She made short work of her buttons but did not discard the shirt. Instead, extracting her wand from a pocket of her skirt, she gave a few waves and mutterings and Transfigured it neatly into a black leather, halter dress, which cut down to just below her belly button and had a skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Not short enough for his liking, but it was definitely the most attractive thing he’d seen in a long time. Particularly when it was on her. How did she know he enjoyed leather?
10. Hermione.... please....
"Now that's more like it," she said, stepping back a moment to view her handiwork. "You should be begging right about now." She looked at his crotch and saw the rapid beginnings of an erection. Miss Granger bent over to touch him there, and smiled when his cock leaped like a trout swimming upstream. She started to fasten one set of the small leather strips around the base of his scrotum. It tightened at the touch of her soft, firm hands, and his cock made another trout-like leap.
"You've always needed to let your guard down, but you've never found anyone with whom you can. You've always needed to surrender... but never found the right person."
Severus could feel the last shreds of his control, and his sanity, sliding away.
What... what makes you think that you're that person?
"Oh, everything," Hermione replied, looping the leather around the base of his shaft.