Harry Potter: S*x Oriented Hogwarts

'Well, I’m guessing it’s not pussy-licking,' she thought, looking over his haul. “No, sir.”

“We’ll start with lines. When you’ve convinced me you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll give you six licks with the paddle. Remember, to become Head Girl you need to work even better. So, your punishment will naturally have to be more severe as a warning to the others.”

“Yes, sir. What should I write?”

“I think we’ll start with . . . I will not hump the classroom chairs.” Lucifer pushed the parchment in front of her and held out the quill. “Fifty times. I suggest you write quickly.”

Hermione’s face was flaming.

He was really good at this game. She hadn’t been prepared for him to be so intense.

He was playing it straight, acting like a real professor . . . who conducted the most inappropriate detentions ever.

His voice growled through her guts, making her stomach tremble.

He’d never really been super strict with her.

His spankings were always a fine balance of smacks and strokes.

And so far, all her adventures with the cane had been the same: sensual and stingy. 

Hermione wanted the naughtiness, but she wanted the rush of discipline too.

That was why she had mentioned the story.

That professor was a good mix of painful punishment and sweet sex.

She wanted the fucking a little rougher than that, but she still wanted him to take care of her.

That was hard to explain. It might sound contradictory to anyone else, but she knew Lucifer would understood.

She took the quill from his hand and set to work on her lines. 

Lucifer stood behind her for minute, taking a mental picture of her bent over so temptingly, her bum and pussy just out of sight beneath the red plaid.

He would expose her exactly the way she wanted, embarrass her with her own desires.

If she thought her knickers were wet now, she didn’t know what was coming.

That arse was his.

He'd tag it with his finest graffiti.

Flipping up her skirt, he smirked at her little cotton knickers. She’d gone for innocent over naughty.

He never knew which Hermione was going to come out to play.

Some days she’d be begging to be his good girl, wearing her hair in bunches and squirming around like an embarrassed virgin; other days, she’d be sprawled out in her bed like a princess, a wicked smirk curling her pink lips as she turned over to show him her naked arse being bisected by the black lace of her teddy.

That Hermione got on top of him and rode him like a undulating goddess.

Passionate Hermione, on the other hand, rode him like a Brahman Bull.

She’d show up out of the blue, ambushing him like a panther springing from the underbrush.

He usually had scratch marks or bruises the next day to commemorate the attack.

He found himself absently fingering each injury when he was lost in thought.

Lucifer wasn’t averse to pain when it reminded him of such pleasures.

But most weekends were dominated by Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione, who liked to stick her well-spanked arse in the air and wiggle it around until he entered her from behind and pounded against her like rolling thunder.

All those Hermiones kept him on his toes, and he adored each one.

The only one he didn’t have name for was the one who liked the fucking deep and slow while she stared into his eyes like a mesmerist on morphine.

She would stroke his face and kiss him like an angel as he rocked inside her.

Maybe that was the natural Hermione.

She made what they were doing seem less like sex and more like a melding of their souls.

No other woman had ever made him feel like that.

Lucifer fucking loved that Hermione.

He wasn’t totally sure which Hermione he was dealing with tonight, but he suspected it wasn't really Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione.

Perhaps a close cousin.

The one thing all her sexual personalities had in common was a penchant for spanking.

This one seemed to be of the same mould.

Smack! 

Hermione jumped as his hand slapped her right cheek. It left behind a warm handprint that faded where it met with the border of her knickers. 

'Smack!' Her quill left a scribbled scratch in its wake. 

'Shit.' Now her lines weren’t neat. 

'Smack!' She sucked in her breath. 

'Smack!' Did he seriously expect her to write while he was doing that?

“I don’t hear lines being written, Miss Granger.” Smack! 

“You’d better finish your assignment.” Smack!

Bloody hell. She tried to keep writing. 

'I will not hump the classro--- '

'Smack! Fuck!'

'I will not hu—Smack!'

'Double fuck!'

Every slap left a huge slash in her sentence. It looked as though a seismograph was predicting a coming earthquake. 

'I will not—Smack!' It was hard to concentrate. 

'Smack!' He was getting faster.

She tried to keep up with his rhythm, writing faster to match the pace. 

Smack! “Mm!”

“How many lines do you have, Miss Granger?” 

Hermione started to count.

 Smack! It took her three tries to come up with an answer. “Twenty-four, sir.”

Smack! “If this isn’t inspiring enough for you, I can pull down your knickers and we can do this on the bare.” 

Smack!

“No, no, sir! I’m writing as fast as I can!” Those knickers were the only thing keeping her arse from spontaneously combusting.

“Tell me when you get to thirty, and I’ll check your work.” 

'Smack!'

Hermione felt as if she were writing lines on a Waltzer at the circus. Her pulse was racing, perhaps trying to outrun the fire spreading over her backside. 

'Smack! Oh God!' Her pussy was trying to put out the fire too.

All liquid had been diverted to her sex to keep it protected from the flames. 

'Smack!' “Done, sir!”

Lucifer leaned over her, smirking when she sighed in relief. “Your handwriting is atrocious. I can barely read this. If you’re going to write like child, I’m going to have to punish you like one.”

Hermione was still reeling from the sting. She felt his fingers on her hips, and then her knickers were sliding over her arse like a sheet of heat.

He left them right below her bum, exposing her cheeks.

The cotton crotch was still absorbing her overflow.

“Just twenty more lines,” Lucifer said, tapping her parchment with one finger. “I want you to tell me every time you get four lines finished. Do you understand me, young lady?”

He cupped her fiery buttocks in one hand and gave it squeeze.

“Yes, sir.”

He waited for her write one line just to make sure she still had her wits about her.

Then he picked up the cane.

Giving his hand a decent thwack, he tested the sting. Hm. The most memorable lines were the ones that traversed a penitent bottom.

Hermione froze as he began to tap the rattan against her bare bum.

He wasn’t hitting her with it, but it felt as though the most impatient clock in the world was reminding her to get a move on.

She sped up to keep it happy. “Okay, sir. I did four!”

Lucifer measured out his aim and slashed the first stroke deep into the crest of her buttocks. 

'Swish-crack!'

“Ow!” she hissed, reaching back to cover her arse.

Lucifer grabbed her wrist. “Your hands stay on the table.” He returned her hand to its proper place.

“Good Girls take their lines willingly. Did you still want to be teacher’s pet?”

The sting slowly died, leaving behind a spreading band of warmth. “Y-yes, sir. I want to be yours.”

Lucifer smiled. This was not Schoolgirl Hermione (despite the misleading uniform); this was Submissive Hermione.

He hadn’t seen her in a long time. 

'Welcome back.'

“Then write your lines like a good girl and show me how brave you are.”

Hermione nodded and went back to her parchment. 'I will not hump the classroom chairs.'

'Tap. Tap. Tap.'

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her pussy twitching with each bump of the cane.

Swallowing hard, she did the next two lines. 

'I will not hump the classroom chairs.'

'Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.'

It was a ticking bomb, waiting to go off as reward for her obedience. 

'I will not hump the classroom chairs.' “I’m done, sir!”

'Swish-crack!'

“Unh!” She panted for a minute, staring at the scribbled lines swimming before her eyes.

 'Tap. Tap. Tap.' The metronome was back, reminding her the song wasn’t over yet.

She looked down at her parchment in a daze. 'I will . . .' She had to check the previous sentence. 

'Not hump the classroom chairs. Right. No humping.'

Hermione smiled at the quill. It might write the words, but it didn’t know her promise was all lies.

If he sat her in a chair right now, she’d probably come all over it.

“Finished, sir!”

He lined up the next lick under the first two. Her arse looked gorgeous.

Every time she sat down inside the class from now on, Hermione'd remember this very moment.

She’d remember him. 

Swish-crack! Her cheeks wobbled with the impact, and a red line bloomed over both hillsides, “Fuck, it really hurts!”

Hermione unlocked her jaw and let out a short huff of relief before resuming her writing.

She wasn’t just wet now, she was delirious with fever.

Her back was sweating and sticking to her shirt. She was glad her skirt was so breezy. “Done, sir!”

Swish-crack!

“Mmm!” She dropped her face to her hand and breathed through the sting.

He was right there behind her, tapping out a friendly “I’m still here” in Morse Code.

When the pain fizzled, Hermione started her last set of lines. 

'I will not hump the classroom chairs.' 

She wondered if the chair in his dormroom, counted as a classroom chair.

Next time she went to his room, Hermione was going to hump the hell out of it. “That’s fifty, sir!”

Lucifer marked out his last stroke and gave her a finale she wouldn’t soon forget. 

'Swish-CRACK!'

“OW!” Hermione didn’t reach back, but she dug her nails into the tabletop.

Lucifer nodded in approval. She’d kept her hands away and taken her caning without whining.

He rubbed her bum for her, feeling the welts rising and falling like braille under his fingers.

He longed to kneel down and lick away the pain for her, but they weren’t finished yet.

“Now you have enough stripes to outrank your classmates. Should I have you come to the front of the class tomorrow and show everyone how much you want to be my Head Girl?”

Hermione closed her eyes as he traced each bar. He slid up and down the scale like a carnal composer. “Yes, sir.”

Lucifer smirked. She wasn’t intimidated by fake threats of exposure. “Good. Then you also wouldn’t mind spending some time in the corner of the room . . . with the curtains open.”

Her eyes popped wide. “Uh . . .”

“But not yet,” he added with a grin. “You’ve still got the paddle. I think a good half dozen should leave a nice impression. Tell me again what lesson you’re learning.”

“I will not hump the classroom chairs, sir.”

“Are you a good girl?”

Hermione smiled at the table. “Yes, sir. Please may I have the paddle. I want to prove I’m your good girl.”

Lucifer wiped the smile off his face and leveled out his voice. “That was a very good start. I really believe you want to please me.” He set the cane on the table and picked up the paddle.

“I think you should take off your skirt. I don’t want it getting in the way.”

Hermione rose, getting her bearings after being bent over for so long.

She unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

Her knickers were still snug around her hips, framing the base of her bum in white.

Lucifer nudged her back with the paddle. “Bend over. Hands on the table. Count each one, and I want to hear a thank you after the sixth lick.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, bracing her hands on the table and preparing for the first blow.

He rubbed the leather over her heated backside, deciding how hard to hit her. 

'Her arse must be screaming from the cane....'

He’d keep it medium hard. 'Thwack!'

“Mm!” Her bum flared with heat. “One.”

'Thwack!'

“Two!”

Lucifer checked her cheeks, smoothing his hands over each globe to test the temperature.

Her skin was roasted. Getting back in place, he measured out his swing again. 

'Thwack!'

“Ah! Three!”

'Thwack!'

“F-Four!” she panted. Her arse was throbbing now, a heartbeat of heat pulsing through her cheeks.

'Thwack!'

“Five!”

'Thwack!'

“Six! Thank you, sir!”

He tossed the paddle on the table.

Palming a cheek in each hand, Lucifer rubbed away the soreness and spread her wide so she could feel the cool air caressing her crack.

“That’s my girl,” he purred, giving her what she needed most—his praise.

“I’m very proud of you. And your bum looks magnificent. I’ll let you rest now. Take off your shirt and bra and go open the curtains in room. Stand in the corner closest to the hall so I can watch you from the couch . . . and so the First-years playing outside can see how naughty you’ve been.”

Hermione blushed, but she did just as he asked, stripping off her shirt and bra.

It was a relief to get out of them; her entire body was burning up.

She didn’t know what to do about her knickers. He hadn’t told her to take them off.

Lucifer saw her hesitation. “Leave those knickers right where they are. I’ll take them off when detention is over.”

Hermione nodded and whispered, “Yes, sir,” as she half-waddled into the room.

Peeking around the curtain, through her large window, she didn’t see anyone out in the garden.

Maybe no one would look her way.

She went to the corner and curled into it.

Facing the wall like a petulant child was embarrassing, but it also gave her a chance to rest. 

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