Chapter 8: Consequences and Truth
For the rest of the day, Hermione found it incredibly difficult to concentrate on her classes. Many times she would find her hand had strayed to the ribbon once again tied in her hair as she thought about the fact that in two days she would be on display in front of her Sir, wearing nothing but that beautiful ribbon around her neck. The very thought did so many contradictory things to her; it was maddening, even as she loved every minute of it. She was at once completely turned on by the idea of Harry being able to see every bit of her, that her Sir would be able to properly examine his property, because she did belong to him.
At the same time the idea of being so exposed, so completely vulnerable was intimidating, embarrassing, and even a little humiliating, because it made her a thing, something to be objectified and coveted, and yet somehow those feelings turned her on even more. She had to push such thoughts carefully from her mind, but after they'd left the room in order to Turn back an hour before heading off to their afternoon classes, she would find her hands straying to that ribbon, and the thoughts came flooding back, making the problem of keeping her mind on task much more difficult.
She ended up having to wait until that evening, after dinner, to try and think over the homework assignment Harry had given her. When she presented herself in less than two days, she needed to give a full accounting her mistakes. Sir had indicated that there were three things she had done wrong... and that he didn't count the Firebolt incident as one of those mistakes... so what were they? Speaking out of turn regarding the dynamic? Okay, maybe she shouldn't have done that. Bringing in things from outside? Yeah, that had definitely been a huge lapse of judgement on her part. But what was the third?
Maybe when she raised her voice to him? No… that would fall under the category of speaking out of turn.
Focus, she admonished herself as she sat near the fire in the Common Room waiting for Harry to return from his meeting with Professor McGonagall. She really wanted to have this figured out before he came back, but her attention kept wandering to what exactly was he going to do to her on Wednesday? She'd requested a physical punishment, but she wasn't certain if that's what he would actually do, and since this wasn't going to be a punishment over the Firebolt… did she still want a physical punishment?
It doesn't matter what you want, she reminded herself. If he decides to punish you with pain, then you don't have any choice in the matter... not unless you use the safeword.
She had two days to figure this out, and she wasn't called the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She could figure this out. She would. If only she could stop worrying over what was coming and focus! She very nearly growled, throwing down the book she'd been trying, and failing, to read onto the sofa next to her. Dammit, he really was getting good at this whole thing. Or did he not realize that by giving her so much damn time until her punishment, that he would be driving her crazy with worry? That her mind would conjure up one possible punishment after another, simply to torture her?
One thing she could honestly say, is the constant concern had certainly distracted her from her stressful class load. She'd completed the day's assignments without even really noticing what she was doing. Looking back over her Transfiguration essay, however, she decided that the quality was more than up to her usual standards despite her distracted state.
By the time Harry finally came into the Common Room she was certain that she looked a frightful mess. The ribbon in her hair was likely the only thing preventing it from being a frazzled cloud around her head, dark ink stains dotted her hands, and she could feel her bottom lip was swollen from the near constant worrying at it with her teeth. The minute she caught sight of him however, all other thoughts left her head as she focused her attention on her boyfriend; watching him intently as he made his way, almost casually, toward her. More than once he stopped to chat with one person or another, the longer he took to reach her the more tense she became.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously when she noticed him looking in her direction out of the corner of his eye, a small smirk twisting his lips for a moment before he turned his attention back to Oliver Wood. The boy was teasing her! He knew she was anxious to hear what their Head of House's decision had been regarding his classes, and he was purposely taking his time getting to her, just to make her wait.
Oooohh… you're lucky you're cute, Potter, she thought when he finally started moving toward her again.
"What'd she say?" she practically demanded before he even had a chance to take the seat next to her on the sofa. Harry chuckled, amused by her behavior as he sat and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his side.
"Anxious are we?" he asked, smirking at her; she swatted his chest lightly with one hand.
"You're killing me here, Harry," she whined. "Come on, this is cruel and unusual."
"All right," he laughed. "She said that I managed to improve in all my classes but one. My Potions grade still isn't what it should be, but," he added quickly before she could blow up, "she is aware that Professor Snape and I don't exactly get along well, so to be certain, she had some of my earlier essays and my newest ones looked at by an outside party over the weekend. They said they would consider my newer work to be 'of much greater quality and showing an increased understanding of the subject material.' Professor Babbling was there, McGonagall said that she called her in once she saw my grades were up high enough, and Professor Babbling gave me a short test covering some of the midterm exam material to see where I was."
"And?" she asked, her body tensing eagerly in anticipation of his answer.
"And I'm not quite where the rest of the class is, actually probably a few months behind still, but she said for only two weeks of mostly self study she was impressed, and if I could keep up that pace she thinks I could catch up with the class before too long. So I get to go to Ancient Runes with you tomorrow."
Hermione turned and suddenly threw herself at him, knocking them both over onto the couch as her mouth covered his, a pleased squeal escaping her just before their lips sealed together. It was the catcalls and wolf whistles from those still in the Common Room that got her to back off of him, her face blooming a vibrant red, and Harry couldn't keep a silly grin off his face as they both sat back up; Hermione enveloping him in a hug once again.
"'Oh, I'm so proud of you, Harry," she cried happily. "I knew you could do it. This is going to be so much fun, I'll help you study to catch up, I promise. I've been having a much easier time of it lately with my other classes and I can help quiz you so you'll be able to keep up with the class…" For several more minutes she rambled on, bouncing excitedly in the seat next to him as Harry simply sat, smiling almost serenely at her.
"What?" she asked when she finally noticed his expression some minutes later. "What's that look for?"
He shrugged, his expression remaining fixed. "I just think it's cute how excited you get about learning new things and helping other people. You have such a… a thirst for knowledge that it absolutely amazes me," he said in the calmest, most sincere tone she thought she'd ever heard from anyone before and she nearly instantly blushed under his praise.
"Nobody else seems to appreciate it," she mumbled, trying to wave away the compliments.
"Well everyone else is stupid. Your delivery might need some work at times, I'll admit. You can come off as a bit bossy, Hermione. But I think I've learned enough about you to realize that you're just eager to help, you don't mean to seem bossy but you can't always help it."
Her blush deepened and she quickly turned and dug in her bag for her Ancient Runes text.
"All right," she said, blatantly changing the subject. "Let me quiz you. We'll start with the Elder Futhark alphabet and move on from there?"
He smiled again and leaned back on the sofa. "Go for it," he said, and they spent the better part of the next two hours going over Ancient Runes before they finally headed to their respective dorms to rest. Despite her best efforts, Hermione laid awake for several hours, turning over Sir's homework assignment in her mind, attempting to find the third reason for her punishment, yet by the time she finally fell asleep, she was no closer to an answer than she had been before.
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For Hermione, Tuesday seemed to pass by in a blink. Immediately after breakfast she left with Harry to show him to the Ancient Runes classroom, so he could speak to Professor Babbling before class started. He would sit in on the classes but work at his own pace, while Hermione kept up with the rest of the class. The professor agreed to let Hermione tutor him using her notes to help him get closer to where the rest of them were. Eventually he'd have to start working with the current material but both Hermione and the professor had every confidence in him based on what he'd managed to do so far.
Harry had spent a large part of the morning blushing at the uncommonly heard praise over something he'd actually done, as opposed to people going on about something that he had no memory of, and no one could say for sure was honestly because of anything special about him. When the rest of the class had come in, Hermione had proudly introduced him to Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass. The fact that she was friendly with a Slytherin had caused a raised eyebrow, but he'd recovered quickly and the four of them settled in, chatting for the few minutes before the class officially started.
Just before leaving the class, Harry thanked Susan for mentioning to Hermione that her Aunt worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Due to Hermione's suggestion, he had actually written to Madam Bones, and she'd sent a response letting him know that she would look into it, expressing her apologies that no one had thought to do so before then. If there was anyone in the world that deserved to read those records, she'd written, it was him. Susan had seemed a touch confused by the sudden gratitude, but she'd taken it in stride and simply said 'you're welcome' before she left the room.
With how quickly Tuesday had passed her by, Hermione was more than a touch frustrated by the fact that Wednesday seemed to be dragging on slower than any day she could remember. Through every class, she could swear the Second Hand on her watch was ticking slower and slower, she was almost convinced that it would start moving backwards at any moment, without the need for her Time Turner.
She was a massive bundle of nerves and roiling emotions from the moment she'd woken up that day. One moment she was afraid, nigh unto terrified, of what was waiting for her that afternoon; the next she found herself nearly dripping with anticipation over the thought of the whole experience. Not that she felt she was going to enjoy this punishment, but how Sir had told her, the calm certainty in his eyes and in his voice, the inevitability of it; the memory of it made her shudder as she knew that today was going to be the first time he truly, completely dominated her.
Thus far there had only been moments, good ones true. Great ones, even. He'd been doing very well at distracting her from her worries and concerns, but there had still been those hints of doubt that had sometimes shown through. She'd found getting into the proper headspace easier lately since he'd started adding rules for her to follow when waiting for him at the start of each session, but she was also falling out of it at times when Harry found himself feeling a bit unsure.
The confidence that he'd shown. The absolute certainty that he would order her to submit to whatever it was he intended to do to her, and there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that's exactly what she would do… she had never wanted him more than she had in that moment.
That memory constantly distracted her during her classes as her mind would randomly throw out one possible scenario after another. She envisioned herself, quite without meaning to, with her wrists cuffed together and the chain between them looped over a hook suspended from the ceiling, her back and arse covered in red marks from her punishment. For another moment she was strapped securely to a bed, her body open and vulnerable to his whims. Other times she had a vision of herself, bent over a table, her arms stretched to the sides with her wrists restrained at the tables edge, legs spread wide with her ankles also cuffed to the table legs. Harry stood behind her and to one side carefully studying the stripes across her arse that he'd left with a thin wooden switch or a cane that he held loosely in one hand.
You just might have an interest in bondage, Hermione, she thought to herself when she realized that every idea she was coming up with had her bound and helpless in some way. More than once Harry had nudged her with his elbow during one of their shared classes and she'd find that some minutes had passed wherein she'd spaced out, wondering over what he might do to her. It was both thrilling and absolutely infuriating at the same time. Especially as each time he brought her out of a daze she'd fallen into, she'd notice a smug smirk on his lips and a knowing gleam in his eyes that fairly shouted he was well aware of what was distracting her so thoroughly.
That damn smirk made her feel so many things. She'd been shocked the day before when she'd realized that Harry had never really smirked before they'd begun this dynamic. Grinned? Yes? Smiled? Absolutely, though not nearly as often as she'd have liked. But smirked? No, she'd never seen him smirk before. Since he'd started controlling her however, his confidence seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds as he definitely appeared to enjoy the control he had over her, hence the tiny little smirk that had started to fuel the fires of her dreams.
When Arithmancy, her final class of the day, ended, Hermione had to restrain herself from sprinting her way to the Room on the seventh floor. Sir's order had been to go there immediately after class, but it wouldn't do to draw attention to herself. She walked as calmly as she could up to the seventh floor, moving past the entrance to the Tower, and found a completely different door waiting for her across from the tapestry.
Sir had explained the Room's unique properties to her, but she hadn't been entirely certain she believed it possible until now. Whereas before the door had been simple and made of a dark colored wood, it was now much more ornate, of a lighter color, and had a large brass handle set in the center. With her heart practically in her throat, she turned the handle and pulled open the door. The sitting room from Monday was gone; in its place was something entirely different. The fireplace was still there, or a similar one at least, however instead of a pair of chairs there was a small sofa against one wall, a simple wooden table set off center of the middle of the room, and in the exact center, about fifteen feet from the fireplace stood a comfortable looking chair facing the fire.
The floor beneath her feet and the walls were stone, and light was provided by a series of lanterns that hung from brackets set at regular intervals along the walls. Setting her bag down on the sofa, she noticed a small wooden chest on the floor next to the sofa itself, and from where she stood, she could see a piece of parchment laying on the table. Moving over curiously, she picked it up and read the note.
Mine-
I had to set up the room so I was here when you arrived, but I kept under my dad's cloak. Don't try to find me now because by the time you read this I'll have already left. You know your orders. You may use the top drawer in the chest by the sofa, but do not use the cushioning charm as we have been. The Room is set up so that only you or I may enter, so don't worry about someone randomly coming across the door and deciding to investigate. I will be back soon, though I won't tell you how long you have until I arrive. So you might want to get a move on.
-Sir
Finishing the note, she couldn't help but let her eyes sweep the room again. Was he really gone? Or was he standing there under his cloak, watching her? It didn't really matter, since she was going to do this either way, however a little thrill passed through her at the idea that he might be there waiting to watch her undress. She winced slightly over the idea of doing without the cushioning charm, but she couldn't deny it would be effective. Really, Sir had been very easy on her. Despite commanding and controlling her, he was still treating her with the same kind of tenderness and care that he did when he was just Harry, her boyfriend.
With another glance at the note, she reminded herself that she had no idea how long she had to get ready, so she set it down and quickly went about removing her clothes, which she placed in the plain wooden chest as ordered. She removed the ribbon from her hair and placed it around her neck, tying it carefully so that it would be snug without constricting, and also so that she avoided creasing the soft material. For a moment she stood there examining the new sensation of the ribbon wrapped around her throat, and she could only determine that the reaction it caused in her body was extremely pleasurable. She would have to try to analyze her feelings on it more later.
Moving to a spot midway between the fireplace and the chair, she knelt and carefully arranged herself in the Student pose. For a few minutes she was hyper aware of the fact that she was completely naked. The air around her wasn't exceptionally cool, but it felt so against her bare skin, especially across her breasts and between her legs. The anticipation of what was going to happen, the knowledge that at any minute, Sir was going to come into the room and see her completely open to him… she shivered in expectation. She'd been wet even before she'd undressed, and was even more so now. The air whispering against her damp flesh had goosebumps racing across her body. She shook her head, trying to ignore the sensations in her body; letting her mind wander while she waited.
While she did, she considered the Room itself, and the brief conversation that she'd had with Harry the day before popped into her head. To be more precise it was a question she'd asked him that he'd answered in a distracted state. They had been sitting on the sofa in the Common Room, both of them reading a different book, but she'd been distracted by the frown on her boyfriend's face. Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, she'd asked what was bothering him. He'd shrugged and muttered absently 'Just been thinking how the Room limits things a little'.
What had he been talking about, though? She wondered. The Room as he'd described it, and what she'd seen of it so far, seemed like it would only help expand what they could do, what they could try, where before they were lacking in certain things. This Room could probably produce items for their use that they wouldn't have been likely to get anytime soon otherwise. So what limits was he talking about? She resolved to bring that question up during their upcoming conversation and came out of her musings to realize that she'd slumped over slightly in her pose while she was thinking. Just as she straightened back into position, she heard a quiet click, when the door swung closed.
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As soon as the door opened and Hermione came fully into the Room, Harry slipped out behind her before the door had swung completely shut. Outside in the hall he removed his dad's cloak, folded it and stuffed it into one of his robes pockets before he settled in to wait. He'd decided ahead of time that he would give her twenty minutes. Plenty of time for her to prepare, if she didn't get too distracted wondering about the Room, or contemplating the orders that he'd left her.
The last two days had passed agonizingly slowly for Harry. He understood the importance of proper punishment in situations like these. At least, he understood as well as he thought he could. He still didn't get it, but he got that it was important to the sub, and a part of his role as Dom was seeing to her needs. He needed to take this seriously, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. He just hoped that he could get through this without screwing up.
The second concern that had kept him up at night had been just what to do to her? As far as physical punishments went, as far as actually causing pain, he was severely limited in what he could actually do. Well… honestly he'd checked and the Room of Requirement had been able to produce a large number of items that he could use, but that brought him back to the thought that any number of things could go very wrong with some of those items, or the ideas for punishment that accompanied them. He could honestly do serious damage if he made a mistake, and that was the last thing that he wanted.
After much consideration, he'd settled on something that would be a mixture of psychological and physical. With what he knew of Hermione, he was reasonably certain that his plan should be effective, though he realized he'd need to get past the distraction of being in the same room as his very naked girlfriend in order to properly pull this off.
She's your sub right now, he reminded himself. Not your girlfriend.
A glance at his watch told him that enough time had passed so he turned, pulled open the door and stepped through before he could start to second-guess himself. Letting the door swing shut quietly behind him, he made certain that it was fully closed and noted movement out of the corner of his eye. It looked like she was sitting up straight, as if she hadn't properly been in her pose when he entered the room. He didn't react. Instead he took off his robes and moved across the room to drape them over the arm of the sofa before he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his uniform shirt sleeves, rolling them back to his elbows.
He took his time, never once actually looking at Hermione where she was kneeling in front of his chair, well aware that the wait would drive her crazy. Eventually he made his way over and sat, finally looking at her directly. Her head was down, eyes directed at the floor between them and her long hair had fallen forward over her shoulders, mostly obscuring her breasts behind a curtain of brown curls.
"Look at me, Mine," he ordered as calmly as he could, and she slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze.
"You weren't properly in your pose when I came into the room, where you?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment, "No, Sir. I wasn't," she whispered, shaking her head slightly.
"Why?"
"I… I was thinking and got distracted. I realized I wasn't holding my position just before I heard the door shut."
He considered that for a moment before he nodded and moved over, dropping to one knee in front of her. Reaching out he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, holding her gaze the entire time.
"I'm disappointed you haven't put that same effort into this that you put into all your other studies. I'm certain you'd be perfect in no time if you did," he murmured. "You will have to work on that, and I will help you, but just know I expect you to do better and we don't need to give it any more thought than that. Understood?"
She nodded, her face clearly showing that she was upset but he didn't think it was with him. If anything she would be upset with herself.
"I asked you a question, Mine."
"Y-yes, Sir."
He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead for a moment before he straightened up again.
"Now this?" he indicated her hair. "This is my fault. I wasn't very specific with my orders." His hands shook, just slightly as he carefully pulled her hair back, letting it fall in waves nearly to the middle of her back until nothing was left to block his view of her. "Let's say, in the future, that you tie your hair back somehow before I arrive as well. As much as I love your hair, I would rather not have it blocking me being able to see you." He took great care as he worked that he didn't touch her skin directly, only moving her hair until he was satisfied with his work and returned to his seat.
For a few moments he held her gaze before he let his eyes, very deliberately, wander over her exposed body. The bright flush in her cheeks extended down her neck, broken only by the brilliant green of the ribbon wrapped around her slim throat, and across her upper chest but didn't quite reach the slopes of her breasts. He was slightly surprised to discover that her nipples and the surrounding areolae were a darker color than he'd expected, a light brown against the creamy skin of her breasts. Her stomach was trim, but not toned, likely from hiking the stairs everyday with all of those heavy books. The lines of her body and the angle of her spread knees drew his eyes further down to find a sparse dusting of wispy curls just above her wet and swollen entrance.
He took his time examining her, committing every detail he could to memory, before letting his eyes finally return to meet hers. He could see worry in her gaze, an anxious nervousness that he hated seeing in her.
"I don't ever want to hear you say that you aren't pretty ever again, Mine," he said after clearing his throat so that he would be capable of speaking clearly. "Sure, there are more beautiful women in the world, just like there are guys that are better looking than me. I think you are absolutely gorgeous, and I won't have you putting yourself down anymore."
Her flush only deepened further and her posture straightened just a little more, the worry in her eyes vanishing as a bright smile spread across her lips.
"Thank you, Sir," she said. For a moment she looked as if she were going to say something else but then her mouth clicked shut.
"What were you going to say?" he asked and she ducked her head slightly without thinking.
She shifted slightly for a moment but then quickly stilled. "I… I was wondering if y-you had anything you wanted me to change, Sir," she admitted. He cocked his head slightly to the side in confusion.
"How do you mean?" he asked, after considering the question for a moment.
"I mean my body, Sir. Or… or my hair?"
Now he was even more confused and the frown on his face clearly indicated that. Staring into her eyes, he said, "I already said I love your hair, Mine. You don't need to change it at all."
The red in her cheeks had been growing steadily darker as they talked, and she took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "I meant… I meant down there, Sir," she whispered her eyes flicking downward for a moment and instinctively his eyes followed the direction of her gaze.
A moment later realization clicked and he straightened up, eyes widening in surprise before he was able to smooth out his expression.
"Down where?" he asked, his lips twisting into a small smirk. Her breath was coming a little faster, he noted, and the muscles in her stomach and legs tightened and relaxed as she fought not to shift about in her pose.
"A-above my vagina, Sir," she squeaked out, causing his smirk to turn into a grin.
"And that leads me to something else I had planned to bring up in the near future, but since you mention it, I think we'll do it now." He settled back in his chair, crossing his right leg at the ankle over his left knee, letting his hands rest casually in his lap, as he felt himself sinking into the headspace he'd worked at cultivating. Here he controlled her. Here he didn't have the same nerves that had been plaguing him since he first looked at her. Before, he was looking at his girlfriend, and he was smitten, in awe that such a girl, such a woman, would find him worthy of her. Now he was looking at his sub, his property, and it was his right to look at her; to command her as he wanted.
"You said before that you wanted this partly so you could stop being you for a time. So you could be someone else, somethingelse, and leave all the worries you have to me. Isn't that right, Mine?" he asked in a conversational tone.
"Yes, Sir, I did," she responded.
"In your day-to-day life you're not a prude, but you are rather prim and proper. If you want to be something, or someone, different in here," he said, dropping his right leg back to the ground so he could lean forward and gently tap the center of her forehead with one finger, "then you need to act differently. So why don't you try that again, without the proper terminology? You used a different word before, when you were begging me to touch you. What was it?"
"Oh Merlin," she moaned quietly, and she lowered her head, directing her eyes at the floor again.
"I told you to look at me, Mine." Her head snapped up again at his sharp command. "You don't hide from me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir," she rushed out pleadingly, to which he offered her an encouraging smile.
"Answer me, Mine," he told her a moment later. "What hair were you referring to?"
A small whimper escaped her for a moment before her mouth opened and she said, "the hair on my… my c-cunt, Sir. I was wondering if you wanted me t-to do anything about it?"
Now that the question had been asked, Harry realized he didn't exactly have an answer. He'd honestly never really considered it before. Aside from the pictures in their books, she was the first naked woman Harry had ever seen, and he'd not yet formed an opinion on the matter.
"To be perfectly honest, I don't exactly know," he admitted as he mulled over the question. "For now, leave it. I'll decide later if I'd like for you to do anything else."
"I understand, Sir."
"Now, we need to get on to the reason we're here, don't we, Mine?"
When she answered, he could barely hear the meek murmur that escaped her.
"Mine, you need to speak up so that I can hear you," he admonished her lightly.
"Yes, Sir," she repeated in a stronger voice, her eyes holding his gaze, but he could see she was fighting not to look away. "Can… can I ask a question, Sir?"
"Of course, Mine. But we really do need to hurry so I hope its it's a short question."
She nodded. "I was just wondering… yesterday you said the Room limits things but… from what you've said about it it actually gives us more options. What did you mean?"
Harry blinked in surprise, falling right out of the Headspace he was in while he tried to remember what she was talking about. "Was that when we were reading in the Common Room?" he asked, frowning in thought and she nodded.
"Yes, Sir. You said you were thinking about how the Room limits things, a little."
"Oh! No, I didn't mean 'the Room' as in this Room and what it can change to. I mean us keeping things to in the room." He stopped and took a moment to gather his thoughts, before he looked back at her. "I was just thinking a lot about this dynamic, and what we're both supposed to be doing. You're supposed to be learning, and I'm supposed to be teaching you. But neither of us really knows what we want yet. As with your punishment, which we still need to get to. Whatever punishments you earn, they have to be something limited to the time that we're here, and some are meant to last longer, or should at least." He shrugged.
"I was just trying to figure out what the best thing to do was, and I was having some difficulty deciding on something I thought would fit, but we'll talk about this more as we go along. For right now we need to get to this discussion so we can move on. Stand up, Mine."
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Hermione carefully got to her feet, wincing slightly as her knees protested the action and she shook out a bit of numbness in her legs as quickly as she could. She could feel that her face was still burning and she had to fight the instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands. She had been the one to say it before, if anyone deserved to look at her, it was her Sir. Being perfectly honest with herself, she could admit in the privacy of her own head, that she really liked the appreciative way he looked at her body.
She'd always thought that she would hate catching someone ogling her like a thing, instead of a person with her own mind and will, but she absolutely loved feeling his eyes on her, and seeing the obvious signs of what that view did to him.
"Did you bring the contract we wrote?" he asked.
She jumped, slightly startled by the sudden question but her answer was immediate. "Yes, Sir. It's in my bookbag."
"Get it, and put it on the table, Mine," he ordered and she moved to obey.
Digging through her bag, she quickly located the roll and swiftly brought it over to lay it out upon the table. Sir came up beside her, setting a blank roll as well as a self-inking quill down next to their previous contract, before he went back to his chair which he had turned so that it was facing the table.
"So, we're going to discuss the rules we have, and decide ways to improve them, Mine," he told her as he sat and made himself comfortable. "You're going to write it out as we decide, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she said. After a quick look around however, she frowned.
"What's wrong?" he asked, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips again.
"I… I was looking for a chair, Sir," she admitted.
"That's fine, you're not going to need one. First, copy out the individual sections and then we'll go over everything." He waved one hand toward the table, indicating that she should get to work, she frowned slightly but complied.
Very quickly, she realized that this was going to be an awkward endeavor at best. The table was too low for her to be able to comfortably write while standing, but it was too high for her to kneel. In the end it took less than a minute for her to realize his plan and she couldn't help another fierce blush that swept through her. The best way for her to be able to do this would be to bend over and rest her forearms on the table, but with him sitting behind her…
Oh my God! He'll have a clear view of my…
The thought popped into her head, completely unbidden but once it was there she couldn't banish it.
"Is something wrong, Mine?" he asked from behind her and she could clearly hear a bit of amusement in his voice.
"No, Sir," she said. "Absolutely nothing."
With that, she pushed all thoughts of what he was going to see from her mind and simply bent to her task, literally. For the next hour she wrote as carefully as she could, trying to ignore the thought that he could easily be staring at her sex and anus each time she bent over the table, especially as she'd had to spread her legs somewhat to relieve the tension in her back while she worked. Pussy or cunt and arsehole, she reminded herself. Change how you think.
When she wasn't actively writing, she stood and turned to face Sir as they discussed the changes both of them felt needed to be included, then she would turn back to write down the new rules. She made sure to include his rule about her not letting herself get too stressed and tired before requesting time with him. They added a section more clearly defining the types of punishments possible for different infractions she might make, removing the ambiguity that had existed before.
Finally, she found herself back in her pose between him and the fire, while they let the ink dry on the contract. The apprehension and nervousness she'd felt over the last two days seemed like nothing compared to what she now experienced, as it hit home that she was minutes away from her promised punishment. Sir's demeanor had shifted as well. For much of the time, he'd seemed vaguely amused, with moments where he'd become sharp and serious, such as when she'd lowered her eyes after he had ordered her to look at him.
Now he seemed incredibly serious. His face was nearly expressionless, save a slight ticking of a muscle in his jaw and a tightening around his eyes that she was barely able to detect. He held himself strangely still in his chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, chin resting on his hands as he studied her for several long minutes. A shiver ran through her body at the look in his eyes. This wasn't like the appreciative looks he'd given her before. He wasn't admiring her body. He appeared to be deciding how to tackle a particularly stubborn problem that he needed to eliminate.
"How did you do on your homework assignment, Mine?" he finally asked and she fought not to wince.
"Not as well as I would have liked, Sir," she admitted.
"Oh? What was the trouble?"
"You… you indicated there were three things that I did wrong," she said, he nodded. "I could only think of two specifically. Each, possibly more than one time, but only two distinct things stood out in my mind."
"What were they?"
"First, I… I tried to bring something into the dynamic that happened not only outside it, but before we'd even started it. I understand that I shouldn't have done that. Second, I argued and spoke out of turn when you told me 'no'."
"And do you think that's all you did? That I'm wrong to think you did three things specifically, or do you believe you just haven't thought of it?"
She frowned at that, carefully considering her answer before she spoke. "I don't know," she said after a time. "Both are possible and I'm not certain which is more likely."
He was silent for a minute before a small smile curved his lips. "I'm proud of you, Mine," he said and she jerked slightly, surprised by that reaction.
"Sir?" she asked.
"You admitted that you weren't sure about something. You could easily have decided that I was wrong, but you didn't go with the easy solution. I'm proud of you."
She flushed again, a warm feeling of pride blooming in her chest, and her posture straightened even further as she unconsciously drew herself up as that sensation filled her.
"The third thing that I believe you did wrong," he then said, causing some of that feeling to dissipate, "is that you were trying to control our session. When I told you 'no', that should have been the end of it. But you pushed. You demanded something from me, and that was not your place. If you want to renegotiate our contract again, giving you more control we can consider that," he said, gesturing to the contract on the table. "Is that what you want, Mine? Do you want to be in control rather than be controlled?"
"NO!" she blurted out, then shrank back slightly when she realized how loud she'd been. "No, Sir. That's not what I want at all. That's not what I need. I don't know why I did that... I was… I was just so upset… I thought it could help me and I didn't think it through."
"Then you agree that is the third mistake that you made? You tried to take control from your Sir?"
She thought it over carefully again, a heavy sense of shame falling over her as she realized he was right, that was exactly what she'd done, and the fact that she really hadn't meant to didn't mean anything.
"Yes, Sir," she finally whispered, her eyes on the floor again. "I agree. I deserve to be punished for that."
"And what have you done wrong so far today?"
"I didn't keep my pose while I was waiting for you. I looked away after you ordered me to look at you. And I hesitated when it came to writing out our contract," she said almost immediately. "I also raised my voice but I'm not certain if that would be doing something wrong."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"I… I wasn't raising my voice at you, Sir. It was a reaction to what you said, (comma) and I was simply expressing that I disagreed, I don't want more control. I… I want less, Sir." An idea started to form in her mind as she turned over the last words she'd said. Did she really mean that? Less control? Less how? Less than letting him do anything he wanted to her with only a safe word for her to stop it?
"I agree." His voice brought her out of her thoughts and she tucked the idea away to consider later, returning her full focus to him. "That last bit, raising your voice was not something you did wrong. Also we already discussed your not holding your pose and that was the end of it. Disobeying an order by looking away and your hesitation. Yes, those are both mistakes you made today, but relatively easy to fix. Consider this your reprimand for those, though if they are repeated then we'll have to look at a proper punishment for not learning."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Now, as to the three things you did wrong on Sunday… would you like to know what I've decided for your punishment, Mine?"
No. No she would not like to know, but she knew she that neededto know so she slowly nodded her head and let out a quiet, "yes, Sir."
"I considered a lot of different ways that I could punish you," he admitted, sitting back in his chair again, his eyes fixed steadily on hers. "Many of the possible physical punishments I could use… well I wouldn't want to attempt them without some way to practice first. It would be too easy to really hurt you without meaning to. A simple slip and we'd be visiting Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing."
He chuckled a moment later at the horrified expression that stole over her face.
"Yeah, I figured we would want to avoid that. So I finally settled on something simple, fairly standard, really." With both hands he gestured to the chair that he was sitting in, a simple, cushioned item with no arms. "You are going to lay across my lap, and you're going to get a spanking, Mine. Ten strikes for each violation. You are going to count each one out loud. If you stop counting at any time we start over. Do you have any questions?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise when she heard the word 'spanking' leave his lips. A spanking? she thought. I've neverbeen spanked before. Not even my parents ever gave me a spanking! Honestly, she wasn't certain whether or not she was insulted that he was treating her like an… an unruly child! Or if she was mortified that he was treating her like a child! Laying across his lap… it was humiliating! It was insulting! It was…. It was exactly what he was going for, she realized. The physical pain likely wouldn't be too terrible, but the psychological effect would have a far more lasting impact, and making her count out each strike, making her an active participant in her own punishment…
"Mine, I asked you a question," he said in a harder tone of voice and she blinked, realizing she'd spent far too long thinking and had, once again, hesitated to respond to him.
"I'm sorry, Sir," she apologized. "I was trying to think over everything. Do I have any questions?" she asked for clarification and when he nodded she considered it quickly. "Will this be… how will you be… what will be hitting me, Sir?" She stumbled over the question but finally managed to get it out. The smirk that turned his lips at that did little to reassure her in any way.
"Well… when I requested this room, it actually provided me with a tool," he said. Summoning the chest from beside the sofa with a wave of his hand, he pulled a beautiful cherry wood paddle that had the words 'Ms. B. Havior' carved into it from the lower drawer. "I considered it, but decided that really for the first time here it would be better to keep things more personal, so I'll be using my hand to redden your beautiful arse, Mine."
A small whimper escaped her when he put the paddle away and returned the chest to its' previous place. She honestly couldn't have said whether it was a sound of dismay or desire. Her head and her body were completely at odds with each other. Her head was telling her this was going to hurt. This was not going to be fun in any way at all, and she was so embarrassed and humiliated to be in this position to begin with. She was ashamed of herself for messing up so spectacularly, breaking one of the most important rules she'd insisted on when writing their original contract.
But her body absolutely hummed at the very thought of what was coming. maybe not the pain she was going to experience, but something about the way he was treating her simply filled her with desire and anticipation. Several times he'd been pleased with her, and she felt so elated to have done something to please him. She felt as if she were losing herself. Hermione Granger was fading away, Mine was supplanting her and she had no idea when that had started, how to stop it, or even if she wanted to. She could literally feel a drop of her excitement dripping down her skin to wet the floor under her.
"Do you have any other questions, Mine?" he asked and she shook her head. Leaning forward again, all trace of his amusement gone as he stared intently at her. "Do you agree to this punishment? You don't feel this is going to be too much for you?"
Her answer was immediate and without any hesitation. "No, Sir. I don't think it's too much at all, and I agree completely. I earned this, Sir, and if this is how you wish to punish me..." She trailed off but her meaning was clear, and after a moment he nodded and sat back again, patting his thigh with one hand.
"Come here then, Mine."
She almost leapt to her feet, moving over to him quickly, determined to accept her punishment, and show Sir just how much she wanted this. Carefully, he helped her to lie across his lap; as she did so a low footstool appeared on his left side, placed so that she could rest her arms on it to support herself. She almost let out a quiet groan when she felt the hard length of his erection against her hip, but her attention was quickly drawn away when she felt her hair being moved. There was a light tugging sensation against her throat and she realized he was untying the ribbon from around her neck. Moments later her hair was gathered and tied into a low ponytail, letting it all fall over her right shoulder, baring her back to him, yet keeping her hair from falling into her face.
"Mine?" he asked.
"Sir?"
"I need you to tell me your safeword."
Startled she looked back over her shoulder at him.
"I mean it. I understand this is fairly simple, but I just want to be sure you remember, just in case."
Quietly, she muttered the safeword they'd agreed to and he gave her a nod. "Good girl," he said, smiling gently and she turned back to face forward.
A moment later his left hand rested gently on her back between her shoulder blades as his right hand came down to cup her arse; she was momentarily startled to realize that was the first time he'd actually touched her since coming into the room. A shudder ran through her body, and she tried to force herself to relax but her muscles kept wanting to tense in anticipation of the first strike
"Don't forget to count, Mine," he whispered into her ear.
"Yes, Si- AAAHHH!"
She hadn't finished speaking when she felt the muscles in his body shift and a startlingly loud crack echoed through the air; a sharp pain burst across her right cheek. Her entire body jerked in a mixture of pain and surprise. She would have fallen off of his lap and onto the floor if he hadn't still had one hand on her back, holding her in place.
Holy shit, that actually hurt!
"O-one, Sir!" she cried out.
Another crack, seemingly louder than the first, rang out and her left cheek was suddenly on fire.
"Aahh! Two, S-sir!"
He put several seconds between each strike and for the first few, he didn't hit the same place twice, shifting where they landed across her arse, even moving lower to just above where the curve of her cheeks met the back of her thighs. Those first few strikes definitely stung like a bitch, but eventually he started hitting flesh that had already been struck and the pain became considerably worse.
"T-t-twenty… S-Sir," she sobbed out. She realized tears had started to fall somewhere around strike number ten, she couldn't stop them. Not great gasping sobs, but she was certainly crying and, almost against her will her body tensed again, waiting for the next strike to land. After several seconds passed and it didn't, she blinked several times. A gentle touch brushed across her heated skin and she flinched for a moment before she realized that Sir was very gently rubbing her arse as if attempting to soothe the pain.
No, she groaned mentally. He can't be stopping.
"I'm not certain we need to continue this," she heard him say.
She squashed down hard on her initial reaction to demand that he not stop. She would not behave in the same manner that was part of her punishment to begin with. But… how to get him to understand that she was okay to continue? That it was okay, period.
#####
Harry was at war with himself. He kept swinging, almost violently back and forth, in and out of the headspace he needed to see this all through. Having the table at a height where her best solution to write on it was to bend over had been an intentional attempt to distract her from what was coming. He'd given her two days to stew, to drive herself crazy, to torture herself with the thoughts of what could be coming, and he'd felt that a reprieve was needed. Of course, he hadn't accounted for the fact that he'd be torturing himself just as much, watching the way her body bent and moved, the way her breasts swayed as she shifted, the view he had of the full swollen folds between her legs glistening in the light of the lanterns, and the tantalizing glimpse of that puckered opening above.
By the time he had her draped across his lap, he was holding onto that headspace with an iron grip, determined to see this through. He'd thought he understood. He'd thought he had it figured out, the purpose of a punishment. When the tears started, he lost any grip he might have had on the proper headspace, and every following strike left him feeling disgusted with himself, until by the twentieth strike he just didn't think he could continue.
Hermione suddenly looked back at him over her shoulder, tears staining her cheeks. "Please Sir... can I have some more?"
There was a desperation in her voice that was completely at odds with the tears he could see streaming down her face, "I'm not sure I can do this..."
"Sir?" The word escaped her in a pleading tone, less a question and more a frantic request.
He shook his head. "It's… this is wrong... isn't it?" he muttered.
Hermione was silent for a moment beyond a few sobbing hiccups that escaped her before she finally addressed his question. "Can I stop it at any time, Sir? If I wanted to, I can stop this, right?"
He blinked, startled by the simple question. "Well... uh..."
"You made certain I remembered my safeword, Sir. If I said it... would you stop?"
"Yes, of course I would… but..."
"Have I said the safeword?"
"No. No you haven't but… but... you're my girlfriend… this just doesn't feel right."
"Sir... Harry... I'm both your sub and your girlfriend... I want this. I promise you, please."
I'm both your sub and your girlfriend.
What did that mean? Harry wondered, confused that, despite how upset she appeared, how much this was hurting her, she wanted him to continue. He studied her face carefully, finally seeing something that resonated somewhere deep within him, something he was really only just beginning to understand. She didn't wantthis, she needed it. It was clear in her eyes, in her pleading expression, and her statement only reminded him of what he was thinking outside in the hall when he was waiting for Hermione to ready herself. A part of his role as her Dom was seeing to her needs, and this was something she obviously needed. Just because he didn't understand it, didn't change that fact. He only hoped she would be able to explain it to him later.
The headspace he'd lost, found him again. Not as fully as he'd experienced before, the mindset necessary for the dynamic they were in, but he reminded himself that there really was very little that he wouldn't do for his Hermione. He took a deep breath, letting it slowly out as his expression smoothed into calm confidence.
"Mine?" he asked.
"Sir?" confusion clouded her eyes for a moment, but he could see it written plainly there as her own headspace was fully established, the confusion cleared and she was ready for him to continue as her Sir.
"Did I just hear you use my name a moment ago?"
Tear filled eyes widened for a moment before she ducked her head, letting out a quiet, "Yes, Sir."
He kept one hand on her back between her shoulder blades, the other never ceasing gently caressing the heated skin of her arse as he considered the options available to him for a moment. Reach out he pulled a lock of her hair that'd come loose from the ribbon and tucked it behind her ear, holding her gaze the entire time.
"Eyes front, Mine. You still have ten to go. Don't forget to keep count."
Hermione's head snapped forward and she lowered her forehead to her arms where they were crossed on the footstool in front of her. "Yes, Sir… Sir?"
"What is it, Mine?"
"Am I… am I starting my count back at one, or do I just continue where we left off?"
"Where we left off," he told her after a moment's thought.
Placing his hand on her back again, he lifted his other hand and felt her body suddenly tense an instant before his hand met her flesh loudly.
She let out a strangled sounding cry, and her body shook slightly before she stammered out, "T-twenty-one, S-sir."
He frowned, something about her reaction tickling the back of his mind as he swung again, aiming for her left cheek. That time she released a strained grunt and quietly muttered, "Twenty-two, S-Sir."
That he recognized from personal experience and he immediately placed his stinging hand on her lower back.
"Mine," he said sternly. "Don't hold back if you want to cry or yell. I won't have you hiding anything from me, especially how you're feeling. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."
"Don't be sorry, just don't do it again."
Before she could respond, he pulled back and swung again; that time when the loud crack of his palm striking her cheek echoed around the room, her head came up and she practically screamed, "Twenty-three, Sir!"
Her body shook as she let the tears fall, and by the time he finished the last stroke she was sobbing openly. He gathered her carefully into his arms until he was cradling her in his lap, then stood, grateful that she didn't weigh more, and carried her over to the sofa; sitting against the left side and the corner, in the crevice between the back and the arm, as her body curled into him, her arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.
With the moment over, Harry felt the same guilt come rushing back as she sobbed against his chest, but he simply held her as gently as he could, running one hand soothingly up and down her back. It took a few minutes before he realized that, between sobs, she was saying something, the words muffled against his chest, and he tilted his head slightly to try and hear her better.
"... thank you, Sir… thank you…"
#####
She really wasn't sure how long she sat there, curled up safe and secure in his arms. Eventually though, her tears subsided and the unending litany of gratitude that poured from her mouth finally stopped and she was able to pull herself together. With her arms still wrapped around his shoulders she lifted her head and pressed her tearstained face against his neck.
"Thank you, Sir," she whispered again, kissing his neck several times. "Thank you, so much." Gods, this man, she thought. She was well aware how difficult punishing her must have been for him, but he did it, and for that, for everything he'd been doing... she didn't know how she would ever be able to repay him.
"I don't understand."
She froze at the note of disgust in his voice.
"I don't… how can you thank me for hurting you."
Hermione sat up slightly, lifting her head so she could look him in the eyes. "You did not hurt me, Sir," she said, her voice earnest and sincere.
His only response was to arch a brow at her doubtfully as he lifted one hand to wipe a few tears from her cheek with his thumb. She winced slightly as the pressure stung her skin.
"Okay," she admitted, "… yes, you hurt me. That hurt. My arse is still burning. But I think... you're still confusing what this is with what you experienced, Sir."
"You told me. Choice. But that still doesn't make any sense to me and… I'm having some trouble with this," he muttered.
Hermione let out a long sigh, her brow furrowed as she struggled to organize her thoughts. Her mind felt… sluggish… focus was hard to come by; Somewhere in a far corner of her brain she realized that she was struggling with coming out of the headspace of her sub headspace to focus her attention on this serious discussion so soon after that fairly intense experience. Intense for her, at least. She was reasonably sure that, if Harry could continue with her, she would one day look back on this and wonder over the fact that she had once found a simple spanking to be such an experience.
"Sir?" she whispered, laying her head back down on his shoulder as she clung tighter to him, holding onto him like a lifeline.
"What is it?"
"We need to… talk... about all this… but… can you be patient with me, please? I'm… focusing is hard right now, so I might need a little time."
"Of course. I'm sorry-"
"No sorry," she murmured, cutting off his apology. "You don't need to be sorry. You did exactly what I wanted you to do, Sir. What I needed from you." She took a deep breath, the scent of his skin filling her nose then let it out in a long slow breath as her body relaxed against him, her muscles going slack.
"Talk to me?" she whispered.
"What about?"
"Tell me… tell me what's bothering you? Let me hear it and I'll try to help. We have to talk to each other… remember, Sir?"
She felt his body move against her, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath.
"I… I just don't get how this is supposed to help. I… how is hurting you not going to end in anything but you resenting me? How is it not… why is what I just did not abuse?"
She could hear the pain in his voice and mentally cursed herself. She knew this would be difficult for him, but she hadn't completely understood just how hard it would be. She hadn't completely connected that it would hurt him just as much, if not more than it hurt her. Her pain was cleansing, while his was… it was just pain. Pain without purpose or direction. How… how could she make it clear to him?
"Have you… have you ever done something wrong and felt bad about it?" she murmured against his neck.
"Yeah, of course I have. I never really meant to but I still felt bad about it."
"And wouldn't you… do you think you would have felt better if you could have made up for it… somehow?"
He seemed to consider that, falling silent for a time before she felt him shrug the shoulder she wasn't lying against. "I guess, yeah," he finally admitted and she smiled.
"That's what you just did for me, Sir. I… earlier, when we laid out the mistakes I made before, especially my trying to take control from you… I felt… I have never felt so ashamed of myself. I… I didn't mean to do that, I wasn't trying to do that, but I still did it. Now… I feel lighter than I think I ever have. I feel… I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me. For the last couple of days I've been carrying around this load. Guilt and shame and… it's all gone now, I feel so much better for it."
She lifted her head again and looked into those intense green eyes that she loved so much, sorrow filling her at seeing the pain and confusion that was so clearly expressed in them. "You let me make up for my mistake. The pain will fade, but I'll always remember this. This is a lesson for me, to learn that my mistakes have consequences. I don't resent you at all, Sir, and I can't remember the last time I felt so clean and free. That's what you did for me. You didn't hurt me, Sir. You freed me from the guilt and the shame that was weighing me down. And taught me that I need to avoid making those mistakes in the future."
He didn't seem entirely convinced, but she was on a roll, her thoughts moving forward and she just let them out in a stream as they occurred to her.
"What makes this different, Sir, is that I know you care for me. You've done this to me, seen me like this… in a way no one else ever has and you still feel that way." Her hand came up to stroke his cheek.