Theo
"So, you work at the ministry?”
“What is Harry Potter like?”
“Did you really break into Gringotts?”
“Should we head to mine?”
Hermione loathes dating.
Surely this couldn’t be what Ron had meant when he said she should see more of the world.
In fact, she's certain it isn’t what he had meant.
Only, she wasn’t sure how to go about finding the missing thing that she can’t even put a name to.
She hasn’t seen Ron in a month. Which means she hasn’t seen his family in a month.
Harry had welcomed her into Grimmauld. Giving her the entire third floor to use as her own. But he was home less than a travelling vacuum salesperson.
He and Pansy Parkinson have recently started a rather intense affair. Last Hermione knew, Harry had been pretty serious with his old Quidditch teammate Oliver Wood. And Ginny before that. All of this to say that Harry was busy living his life.
Not that he doesn’t try to include her in his plans.
They eat dinner once a week together. During which Harry often tries to help her determine what she is missing.
“If you hate it, you can leave,” he offers, still trying to convince her to visit Luna Lovegood’s new club, Cyprus.
“I was kind of planning a quiet night in.”
Harry gives her a disappointed look.
“Quiet night in? Because you didn’t have any quiet nights in with Ron? Because a quiet night in is the thing Ron wants you to experience before you can actually be together?”
She could hex her very best friend.
“Fine. What’s the dress code?”
“Excellent. Um, Pansy can pick something out for you,” Harry’s cheeks pink a bit.
Pansy is a designer for a brand on the Alley and she loves to tell Hermione how horrible her taste in fashion is.
When Hermione had shown up on Harry’s doorstep, she hadn’t been sure about Pansy and Hermione’s ability not to kill each other.
A month in, things are way better.
“And the garters,” Pansy instructs through the closed door.
Hermione growls and mutters under her breath about the mortifying outfit Pansy had laid out for her.
A red slip of a dress with black lingerie that peeks out from the plunging neckline and black garters.
“If you let me in, I’ll do your makeup,” Pansy calls.
Hermione glances at a mirror. She wasn’t planning on wearing makeup.
She was having an excellent hair day, her curls a mass around her, soft and glorious.
“I’m almost ready. I’ll be down in five,” she replies, hoping Pansy leaves the door.
“Wear the garters, Granger,” Pansy says again.
Hermione pulls the garters on and stares at herself in the mirror.
It isn’t an outfit she’d have picked for herself.
Sexy, short, revealing.
Hermione loves it.
Stepping into the three inch red bottoms Pansy had charmed to be “as comfortable as those mousy tennis shoes,” Hermione can’t help but appreciate her reflection.
They apparate to Cyprus, Pansy on Harry’s arm and Hermione pulling her pashmina tight around her shoulders. Pansy had objected but there was no way Hermione was going to walk the Alley wearing nothing.
That was how the red dress felt. Like nothing. So thin and tight to her form.
She’d find her confidence inside.
“Lumos,” Harry says, casting the spell and illuminating a copper circle on a tall black door.
It glows past the extent of the spell and then swings open on its own.
Hermione follows them inside, down a long hallway with walls that look like a forest of what she thinks are cypress trees.
The hallway leads to a wide open foyer with a beautiful stone counter, behind which stands Luna Lovegood.
“Hermione, I wondered when I’d be seeing you here,” Luna greets.
She’s wearing a lot of leather. Or more accurately, all she is wearing is leather and there isn’t that much of it.
Her boots cover more flesh than the rest of her outfit combined.
She looks incredible though.
Nothing like she did in school.
“Mione’s come to check the place out,” Harry says, giving Luna a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Maybe find a date who doesn’t have her coming home and preventing Harry and I from fucking,” Pansy adds, clarifying things that certainly didn’t need to be clarified.
“Oh I’m sure we can offer you something that satisfies your hunger,” Luna assures her.
“I’m new to all of this,” Hermione clarifies. “I don’t plan on doing anything tonight apart from drinking and maybe staring at tall men with big hands.”
She’s rambling.
Embarrassing herself in front of people who are way more secure in their sexualities and don’t lie awake at night thinking about the one time their partner had called them a slut.
“We’ll start with the tour then,” Luna loops her arm through hers and pulls her towards a door.
Harry and Pansy don’t join them as they enter what resembles a muggle nightclub, except of course for the floating orbs and eternal flames and magical touches that make the room seem like everything in it is moving.
There are people everywhere, on sofas, on a dance floor, at the bar, and even flying through the air.
Hermione’s eyes go wide as she takes in the amount of bare flesh and heat being generated by gyrating bodies.
Some couples are in the early stages of sex where others are swinging riding crops and wooden paddles through the air.
She’s almost certain the couple across the room is actually having intercourse in front of a small crowd.
“Is it always like this?” She asks over the music, not sure she can handle more than thirty seconds in this hoopla.
Luna turns with a smile to nod, but it fades when she catches what must be a horrified look on Hermione’s face.
She escorts Hermione right back out of the chaos.
They go down the hall to another door, one that leads into a blissfully silent room that must act as Luna’s office. There is a huge tree in the corner filled with what Hermione thinks are bowtruckles. A real tree then.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Luna says, sitting on a long chaise and moving her blonde braid interlaces with black cords over her shoulder.
“This place is amazing, Luna. I’m so happy for you,” Hermione says, sitting down.
Luna talks a bit about starting the club while Hermione looks at a wall covered in sexual positions involving rope.
Her eyes catch on one where the woman is entirely suspended in the air, one leg above her head and the other bent at the knee.
“Interested?” Luna asks.
“What?” Hermione asks, feeling badly for zoning out.
“In shibari.”
Hermione’s heard of it before but she isn’t sure where she falls on anything she’s seen tonight.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you like to find out?”
She nods without thinking about it.
“I just don’t know how to go about… finding out?” She shrugs, completely unsure of herself.
Luna smiles wistfully and stands up, crossing to her white stone desk and grabbing a piece of parchment.
“You’ll fill this out and then I will cross your responses with the doms on file and you will be paired with someone anonymously. Matched based on your common interests and kinks. Then you’ll be able to choose whether or not you’d like to meet them or have a scene or what have you.”
So simple.
And the most sense Luna Lovegood has ever made to Hermione Granger.
“Okay.”
So she fills out the forms and lets Luna match her and jumps in with both feet.
A week later she finds herself walking back into Cyprus, ugly tennis shoes and tight jeans making her minutely more comfortable with the whole situation. She’d spoken to Luna twice during the week, and she was ready for this.
There would be no loud club floor. Just a private room for her to get her feet wet.
She checks in at the front desk and then is escorted to a room where she is told to wait.
Except for the whips and leather and intimidating pieces of furniture that Hermione has no idea how to use, it is fairly simple.
Hermione contemplates sitting but then doesn’t. There is a chair against one wall but she doesn’t think it is intended for her. A submissive.
It feels so strange, but also a little exhilarating.
She just stands there waiting instead.
It doesn’t take very long for the door to open and Theo to step through.
He’s more handsome than she remembers with his dark hair and solemn brow.
She wonders what exactly had paired them together. What dark desires they share.
“Hello,” she smiles, suddenly shy.
She’d never even spoken to Theo before, at least not for anything other than school.
“Miss. Granger. Welcome to Cyprus. While we are here, I ask that you refer to me as Sir. Many of the other doms would allow use of their surname as a sign of respect, but I prefer not to be reminded of my family while here.”
His tone sets her heart beating faster and she reminds herself to trust the process.
“Alright,” Hermione nods, understanding his reasoning.
Theo arches a brow and Hermione realises he means now.
“Sorry, Sir,” she corrects herself, feeling a bit silly.
He gives a slanted smirk.
“Now I know you’ve spoken with Lady White about the rules, but do you have any questions for me?”
She has a hundred questions. But most of them have to do with having control over the situation.
Lady White, Luna’s dominatrix moniker. Merlin, this all feels very surreal.
“Do you have safe words?” She asks, thinking of how grateful she is to have her own.
“The same as yours. Nox for everything to stop. Sonorus to slow down. I’ve read your intake form. And please, don’t forget your manners,” he says sternly.
She can feel her eyes widen.
It’s been years since she’d used an honorific and it had only ever been for professors or professionals.
“Any other questions?”
She shakes her head.
“Use your words.” His tone is harsher, commanding.
It runs a thrill up her spine.
“No other questions, Sir,” she blinks and looks at the floor. Her heartbeat is quickening and she can’t seem to stand as still as she had just a minute ago.
Theo steps closer and lifts a hand to her arm, pressing his digits around her elbow.
“Already pleasing me, little dove. When we are in a scene, I ask that you keep your eyes down unless I tell you otherwise. It will help you sink into your submission. I’m going to get acquainted with your body now, remember your words,” he brings his other hand and sets it on her hip.
“Yes, Sir,” she nods.
She can handle this.
Theo isn’t gentle, nor is he rough.
His touch is firm. Deliberate. He moves his hands over her form, as though placing the finishing touches on a sculpture.
When he reaches her chest she inhales and stiffens in his arms.
“When you are in this room, you are mine,” Theo says.
In a way it is comforting. To know that she can just give into it. Into him.
Her body is humming, both from nerves and anticipation. She tries to soften to his touch.
Theo walks around her and stands so her back is pressed to his chest.
“Time for some of these layers to come off,” he says, reaching down to grab the hem of her jumper.
He pulls it up over her head, dropping it on the bench along the wall.
Then he cups both of her breasts in his hands. Over her bra and tank top she can’t feel much more the pressure of his grip.
“Perfect, little dove.”
She doesn’t hate the term of endearment coming from his lips. Nor the feel of his touch. The praise feeding the kindling in her heart.
But she feels like she is waiting on the edge just hoping for something more.
He pulls the tank top off next, and then steps back to unclasp her bra.
She brings her hands up to hold the small piece of clothing to her chest.
Theo tuts, like a disappointed parent.
Then, without warning, he spanks her lightly on her left arse cheek. There it is. The something more.
And she loves it.
“Ow,” she steps forwards and turns around.
“Don’t hide from me, pet,” Theo says.
She prefers little dove over pet.
Still, she lowers her hands and he takes her bra and tosses it aside as he had her other garments.
Hermione can hardly believe that she is standing topless in front of Theo Nott.
Even more unbelievable is how good it feels.
His attention makes her feel sexy, desired. And her mind is so present. Not racing ahead or staying stuck in the past. It is a marvellous feeling.
“Look at how hard your nipples are, little dove. So ready for me,” Theo reaches forward and Hermione just watches as he takes her left nipple between his fingers and pinches.
Her nipples are hard and sensitive and she can’t help but push her chest out, wanting more of his touch.
“Stand still, pet. Don’t move,” he orders.
And then he walks away.
She opens her mouth and then shuts it, confused but obeying his directive.
Theo is somewhere behind her, opening one of the panels on the wall she assumes.
When he comes back, he’s got a thin silver chain in his hands. Hermione can’t help but admire his hands. He has the same long fingers as Ron, with a gold ring on his thumb. They’re not rough like Ron’s, nor as tanned, but they are just as enticing.
She can tell that he is aware of how to use them.
“These are called nipple clamps. I’m going to place them on your nipples and once I have you are going to say thank you, is that understood?”
She almost nods before catching herself.
“Yes, Sir.”
He plays with her breasts for a moment until both of her nipples are extended and then he quickly places two biting metal clamps onto them.
She arches away from his touch at the biting pain but manages to keep quiet. It is a bit unbelievable, what is happening at this moment. And to her small mortification, the quick pinch fades to pleasure.
“We’re going to have to work on your manners, Pet.”
Right. She’s meant to say thank you. Her sole focus is on the pain in her breasts.
His hands are pulling at the silver chain that connects the clamps to each other.
“Thank you, Sir,” she pants.
He drops the chain.
“I want you to take your hands and cup your breasts, as if presenting them to me,” Theo orders.
Hermione glances up at him, as if expecting him to laugh.
But he’s completely serious, and she’s now broken a rule.
Looking down at herself, she does as he asks, lifting her breasts and feeling another wave of pressure move through to her nipples.
“Good. How do they feel, Pet?”
“They hurt, Sir,” she replies honestly.
“They’re meant to,” Sir- Theo replies.
Even though it is humiliating and difficult for her to accept, she can feel pleasure below her stomach.
He pulls at the chain again and she gasps lightly.
“Look at how sensitive you are. And wet too I’ll bet,” Theo lifts a hand and brushes her hair back over her shoulders, smug.
How could he tell?
Was it written in her facial expressions?
Or did he infer it from her pebbled nipples and the quickening rise and fall of her chest?
“Hermione Granger is a dirty slut, who’d have guessed?” Theo asks the air, grinning at the indignation she is sure flashes on her face.
“Do you deny it?” He asks. “Look at you. Letting a near stranger tell you what to do. Stripping your top off for him and showing him your perky tits. Don’t you think that makes you a slut?” He pulls the chain harder and a yip falls from her mouth.
He’s right. She’d asked for all of this. Is enjoying it too.
“I asked you a question,” he taunts.
“Yes, Sir,” she exhales.
Theo gives a low chuckle and drops the chain.
“Yes, Sir, what?”
She knows what he wants.
He wants her to use her words.
“Yes, I think that makes me a slut, Sir.”
She presses her thighs together, hardly believing she’d just said that. It should be humiliating but it isn’t. She feels so seen.
“Good girl,” he says, taking a step back. “Now take off the rest of your clothes.”
She is grateful to move her hands from her tits- breasts.
Hermione tries to clear her mind as she lowers her hands to her waist and pushes her jeans down her legs.
They bunch around her ankles and she realises she should have taken her shoes off first.
She is grateful when Theo doesn’t laugh or tease her for it, instead watching silently as she pulls off each tennis shoe followed by each sock.
She hadn’t dressed for this sort of interaction. She hadn’t been instructed to. Thinking back, she’d worn what she had as a last rebellion against the idea that she might enjoy submission.
Does Theo mind her practical articles?
“Are your knickers wet, slut?”
Okay, she definitely prefers little dove over that one. Right?
A thrill runs through her at the dirty word. A thrill she is growing used to.
Perhaps it isn’t as bad as she thinks.
“When I ask you a question, I expect a prompt response.”
She straightens, her thumbs hooked in the waist of her white underwear.
“Probably, Sir,” she answers his question.
“Hand them to me.”
She wasn’t sure he’d have her totally naked during their first session.
There would be no sex. Not even oral. That was agreed upon.
So why was being naked in front of him so humiliating?
She takes off her knickers and holds them out to Theo.
He takes them and she watches through hooded eyes as he brings them up to his face and smells them.
“Why am I not surprised?” He chuckles darkly and then tucks them into the pocket of his trousers. “Standing there naked like a filthy little whore while I watch. Of course they are soaked.”
It is then that she really takes in the fact that he is fully clothed. Sleek black lines that show how long his legs are and the grey jumper that shouldn’t seem so sinful.
“Move your feet farther apart, show me your wet cunt, little dove.”
It is disarming. The way his words cut and calm her at the same time.
She shifts her legs so they are shoulder width apart, feeling the cool air between her legs.
What was he thinking?
She stares at the tips of his black shoes and waits for further instruction.
Theo circles her, reaching out every once in a while to tweak the clamp on her nipple or squeeze her flesh.
He stops behind her once more, his hand squeezing the fleshy part of her arse.
“I think you need a bit of colour,” he says. “Do you see that bench over there that looks a bit like a pommel horse? I want you to go and drape your lovely body over it. I want your arse and cunt exposed to me.”
His language shocks her, so filthy yet so electrifying.
“Yes, Sir,” she nods more for herself, convincing herself that she is ready for whatever he has deemed comes next.
It startles her, the realisation that she hasn’t made a single decision since they’ve started.
He’s taken over her body and allowed her mind to relax.
She takes a step, but then feels Theo’s hand around her elbow.
“Wait. I forgot something,” he smirks.
He lifts the silver chain and presses it into her mouth.
“Bite down.” She does. “Good. I don’t want you to spit that out until I tell you to. Now go.”
She makes her way over to the bench. It has a cushioned centre that she straddles, making sure that her arse is right over the end of one side.
It is long enough that she can rest her chest on it, though the pain in her nipples is reignited as she settles onto the soft leather.
She grits her teeth around the chain and tosses her hair to one side so that she can still see where Theo is.
He’s got another panel open.
There are at least a dozen different implements hanging on the wall.
She closes her eyes, imagining how it might feel.
A shiver runs through her body.
“You aren’t cold are you?” Theo asks, apparently having seen her shiver.
“No, Sir,” she reassures him around the chain in her mouth, the words coming out garbled. Not that he’d sounded like he’d particularly cared.
“You can spit out the chain now, little dove. Just excited then. I’ll start slow. But after I’ve warmed you up a bit, I’ll expect you to count each stroke and thank me for this discipline. I’ll tell you when, pet.”
She inhales and exhales, waiting for him to hit her with whatever paddle he’d chosen.
Reminding herself that she wanted this she braces herself on her hands, even though her weight is on the leather of the bench.
But he doesn’t start with the paddle. First he just kneads her arse with his hands, then runs his nails over her flesh, scratching softly.
And then, smack! He spanks her bottom with his hand.
It comes as such a shock that she gives a small yip.
“Oh, come now my little slut, that didn’t hurt at all,” he scolds.
He’s right. She had just been surprised.
She nods, not quite able to find her words.
“Someone needs to work on answering their dominant,” Theo says, smacking her again.
The sting is sweet and she can’t help but lift her bottom towards him.
“Sorry, Sir!”
One of his hands settles on the low of her back and he delivers three firm smacks in a row.
Then his hand is rubbing her skin and she can feel the heat there. She presses her knees together and has to stop herself from moving her mound against the leather of the spanking bench.
“I want you to count for me now. And don’t forget to say thank you, pet,” he says, keeping a hand on her lower back.
She nearly nods in understanding but catches herself and stammers out a quick, “Yes, Sir,” instead.
“Better,” Theo says and then he brings down the paddle for the first time and all Hermione can do is feel it. The force is surprising, but she had been expecting the blow so it didn't jolt her. Plus Theo’s hand is rather calming against her spine.
“One. Thank you, Sir,” she exhales and curls her toes behind her, painfully aware of how wet she is.
Smack!
“Two. Thank you, Sir,” she shouts, the pain of the first one catching up with the second and making her squirm.
“Only three more,” Theo says.
She can take three more.
Probably more than that even.
But she is grateful for this metric, because she is very disoriented.
Smack!
“Three. Thank you Sir!”
That one was harder than the first two, she is sure of it.
It moves her entire body and she presses her thighs to the leather of the pommel, wishing for some form of relief.
“My little slut needs someone to play with her needy drippy pussy, doesn’t she?” Theo asks, pressing the wood of the paddle against her arse cheeks.
“Yes, Sir,” she arches her back and hears the whine in her voice.
Smack!
“Ow!” She yells, the pain running through her and forcing her chest to move, pulling at the clamps on her tits.
“Count, slut, or we’ll have to start over.”
“Four. Thank you, Sir.” She certainly doesn’t sound thankful.
Theo’s hand moves from her spine and slips down between her legs.
“Fucking soaked,” he says, two of his fingers delving into the folds of her pussy. “Getting spanked like a naughty little girl made you even wetter than getting naked for your Sir.”
She arches again, hoping he will play with her clit, bring her to orgasm.
Do anything more than just gently prod at her skin and remind her of how soaked she is.
One finger pushes into her pussy and there is a quiet squelching sound that makes her face go red from embarrassment.
“You're dripping on the leather, little dove. Such a perfect pink pussy you have. Would you like to cum?”
“Please, Sir!” She keens.
He uses his fingers expertly and she can feel an orgasm coming.
How could such little stimulation have her so ready to cum?
Theo’s hand moves faster and starts to play with her clit, the motions just constant enough for her to reach the peak. Its stronger than anything she could manage herself and maybe even better than when she is with Ron.
“Oh, fuck,” she moans more to herself than him and bucks against the pommel horse, feeling herself cum even as he pulls his hand away.
Smack!
She shrieks as the paddle comes down hard against her arse and the waves of her orgasm set her entire body alight.
“Count, slut,” Theo says, spanking her gently with his free hand.
“Five, Thank you, Sir.” She sounds more than thankful.
And she is. That was incredible. She’s never cum so fast before.
“You lost focus, slut. Though you came beautifully. And your arse takes colour well,” Theo notes.
Hermione is grateful he hasn’t asked a question as she is still catching her breath.
“Stand up.”
She shifts off of the bench and does as he asks, her legs weak and her bum hot.
Theo takes off the clamps from her nipples and the rush of blood makes her mewl under her breath. His fingers massage at her chest and soothe the sting from the clamps.
“We are almost done. Come with me,” Theo says, pulling on her nipple until she is forced to take a step forwards.
He leads her over to a chair pushed up against the far wall of the room.
She notices that there is a length of rope on the chair.
This was the part she had been most nervous about. Bondage. Handing over so much power and trust to someone.
“Give me your hands, little dove,” Theo says after undoing the length.
She holds her wrists out and he moves her hands so they are pressed flat together.
She watches mesmerised as he wraps the rope around her wrists and knots them expertly.
Then he pulls her by the rope over to a spot beside the chair. She hadn’t noticed it earlier but there is a hoop hanging above her.
Theo loops the rope through the hoop and then pulls it tight until she is pulled straight beneath it, her arms stretching deliciously towards the ceiling.
He keeps pulling until she is pulled onto her toes. Then he ties it off and steps back, his left hand skimming over her hip. Then up her stomach to her breasts, then over her clavicle until he cups her jaw. He holds her so that she can’t look away from his face.
“This is called a stress position. You’ll only be doing five minutes for me today and then the scene will be over. This is not meant to be reflective. That will come after. I want you to think about your body. The stretch in your arms, the tightness of the rope against your skin. Think of the warmth in your freshly punished arse and the heat of your cunt. Measure the weight on your toes and the muscles working in your body. Be present in your body. Five minutes of quiet, slut,” Theo instructs.
“Yes, Sir,” she affirms. She can do five minutes. It isn’t even that hard to stand still.
In fact, there is a sort of serenity.
“Focus on your body,” he reminds her, giving a gentle squeeze of her breasts, still tender from the clamps.
Though, a part of her misses the concentrated pain.
He sits in the chair beside her and she waits for him to retrieve a book or pull out his wand.
Instead, he sits with his hands resting on his thighs, his legs spread comfortably wide.
She can’t help but stare at the bulge of his trousers.
He’d stayed dressed the entire time.
What would it be like to be fucked by him?
What would he look like, naked as she is?
“Your body, Slut,” he reminds her.
It is like he had peered into her mind. Though legilimency is strictly forbidden in Cyprus.
She exhales, trying to do as told.
Her feet are already tired from the arch and weight.
She tests the feel of relying on her arms but it pulls harshly on her wrists and she knows that her toes are the better option.
Her legs are tired and she has to remind herself that she hasn’t done very much of anything today.
For her spanking she’d been laying down, though her muscles had been tight throughout.
She stares down at her nipples and is pleased to find the resulting prints of the clamps she had borne for most of their session.
She wishes Theo would play with them now. So tender and receptive. Even the cool air in the room is enough for them to harden.
Pressing her thighs together, she thinks about how wet she had been from being paddled.
She thinks that she could cum again with very little urging. Perhaps she could ask Theo for another.
The thought is strange. Not one she would have foreseen before this.
She sways on her toes a bit and picks up one foot, then the other.
It is a good thing he had tied up her wrists. It would help the blood flow away from her needy pussy.
She likes his dirty words.
Enjoys the feel of being seen as such a sexual being. Someone who is accepting of what she needs.
Her shoulders are starting to get sore and her feet hurt.
Just when she thinks about asking Theo to loosen the rope, he stands.
“Lovely, little dove,” he says, letting her down and removing the knots.
“Thank you, Sir,” she says slowly, pressing her feet into the ground to ease the stress there.
“Would you like to get dressed for aftercare or would you like to wait?” He asks.
She peers up at him, understanding that the scene is over.
She is Hermione again and he is Theo.
Too exhausted to think about getting dressed she tells him she’ll wait.
He nods and takes her hand, pulling her out of the playroom and across the hall.
There is a beautiful white bed with crisp cool sheets.
“Go lay down and I’ll get you some water,” he says.
She does as he bids, less out of submission and more because it is the only logical thing to do.
Crawling onto the bed she arches against the comforter and inhales the comforting scent of sandalwood.
She settles and then twists so she can lay against the pillows at the headboard.
Theo returns and hands her the glass.
She is thirstier than she thought and finishes the glass.
It had escaped her notice, but Theo had taken off his shoes and shirt, now bare chested in front of her.
He climbs onto the bed beside her and pulls her against his chest. He takes her left wrist and massages the reddened skin there, more gentle than she thought him capable.
“How do you feel?” He asks.
“Sated. And exhausted. Like I've just run a marathon.”
He takes her other wrist and massages it. Just as caring.
“You were incredible. I wasn’t expecting you to be so pliant. Thought for sure I’d have a brat on my hands.”
“A what?”
“It’s a type of submissive. They like to misbehave and earn funishments. Push the buttons of their dominant.”
Hm. Hermione doesn’t think she could be that sort of submissive. It feels too good to know she is pleasing someone. To let herself be guided through the scene.
“Roll over and I’ll rub some lotion on your bottom,” he says.
She does as he asks, positioning a soft silk pillow under her chest and hissing slightly at the reminder of what he’d done to them.
“You liked the clamps, didn’t you?”
She nods.
“I was surprised they were so high on your intake sheet.” He doesn’t ask her to use her words.
And then he does as he’d said, cooling her inflamed skin.
It’s so wonderful, having his hands massaging her skin with such care.
“You should rest for as long as you need. Even take a quick cat nap. I’ll let Luna know we are all set with the room,” he says, climbing off of the bed.
She doesn’t want him to leave.
Wishes he’d stay and let her sleep on his chest.
Though she supposes that isn’t within the parameters of their relationship.
“I had an excellent time, Hermione. I’d love to see you again.”
She nods, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“Me too,” she whispers.
He leaves and she stretches once more before letting every one of her muscles go limp.
She wakes up, mouth dry, body sore without any idea what time it is.
Her clothes are folded and waiting for her on the corner of the mattress.
There is a note too.
When you wake up, come find me. We’ll have dinner.
It’s signed by Luna.
Hermione can’t help a pinch of disappointment that it isn't from Theo. Though she supposes they both got exactly what they asked for out of the situation.
She stands up and flips through the stack, not finding her knickers.
The memory of his tucking them into his trousers pocket makes her skin flush.
Pulling on her trousers without anything underneath is a bit of a rush, though she wishes she’d known he’d take them. They were a very nice pair.
Once dressed, she makes her way out of the lovely room and backtracks down the hall to Luna’s office.
She’s lounging on the chaise with a book in her hands.
“Oh hello. I wondered how long you’d be out,” Luna greets her, closing the book.
“How long was it?” Hermione asks, still waking up a bit.
“Not too long at all. Just over an hour I think,” she says.
Hermione can’t help but yawn and then chuckles.
“I had no idea it could be so… intense.”
“Did Theo take good care of you after? It’s his least favourite part, but probably the most important.”
Hermione nods, thinking first of how gentle he’d been as he massaged her body and then about his abrupt exit.
“And you’d do it again?”
Once more she nods.
“I’m really happy you decided to try this, Hermione. I think you needed it more than you could have known.”
Luna is right.
Hermione had finally found the thing that was missing in her sex life. The thing that makes her come alive. And cum, hard.
Yet, there is still something missing.
They go to dinner, some small restaurant in the Alley, and she tries to forget the doubt in her mind.
She and Theo meet up once or twice a week. It takes them nearly a month before they have any sort of penetrative sex. It is intense. She grows more comfortable with him and he helps her through her list. Kinks that had piqued her interest early on. Actually living them is incredible.
Blindfolds and hot wax and hogties and double penetration and canes and degradation. Anything she goes to Theo and asks for, he gives her. As she gets more comfortable she gets more daring. More filthy. Everything sex can be, Hermione is getting to experience.
Hermione falls more and more in love with submission as the time passes by. She starts to wear a day collar- just a simple necklace with a silver O hanging from it- and practices submissive poses to better perform during scenes. Her praise kink, which is what it is, gets fed every time Theo calls her his little dove.
She takes up yoga with Luna and Pansy at their insistence that flexibility opens up an entire other realm of sexual possibilities. Which it does.
Finally, sees Ron and is pleased to find that she doesn’t feel guilty about any of it. He’s using their time apart to spend time with Bill and Fleur’s baby and he joined a chess club.
They are both working on figuring themselves out. Who they are as individuals.
But eventually, she has to admit that there is still something wrong.
Theo senses it too, because after three months he suggests she try another dominant.
At first, she was worried she’d failed him somehow. Or made him uncomfortable.
But he had insisted that she play the field. That there was so much more she could experience if she only made herself open to it.
So she’d agreed. They’d go on hiatus. Though Theo promised that in another three months, if she hadn’t found a dom perfectly suited to her needs and desires that they could resume their relationship.
It had felt very clinical and Hermione knew that he was right. She was missing something.