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The setting sun cast a warm glow along the border between magical and muggle Granada, casting a shadow across the bridge that separated the Albaicín from the city center. The sky was austere, tapered with deep oranges at the horizon, causing the Alhambra palace at the top of the hill to glow.
Plaza Nueva was littered with both magical and muggle Spaniards, animatedly talking over their tapas and cervezas, spilling into the streets when the tables outside of the restaurants could no longer contain their high spirits. The muggles were none the wiser about the magical barrier, anyone could cross it. But upon passing the bridge, along the small creek that even the muggles remarked as magical, the air shifted. Hermione's wedge sandals glid seamlessly between the smooth checkered tiles of the plaza center to the old cobblestone where the air shifted with magic, leading to her destination. The gypsy music bounced off of the walls and into the caverns below the Alhambra.
It set the tone for her journey. She felt the magic pulse beneath her skin as the warm summer breeze blew her large curls over her bare back. The thin sundress she'd worn today was a reprieve from the heat wave that had been blasting through the southern coast of Spain; it had taken a toll on her mental state. Tonight was just what she needed.
Hermione had found herself in Spain after lobbying for the rights of Oricuernos in the Sierra Nevada. Their land had been forcibly occupied and overrun between the magical and muggle buzz of skiing tourism in the area and she wouldn't stand for it. After lobbying with the Spanish ministry for what felt like ages, she won her case allocating land for the magical beings and decided to extend her stay when she found La Mujer de Verde. The namesake of the institution was based on a female character who was a force of nature, someone who could face any challenge and overcome any obstacle. Power and magic radiated from the name alone, drawing her in on her first visit, but the magic inside was what kept her there.
La Verde, as it was locally known, was illusioned on the outside. It looked like any other abandoned enterprise lost to españa vacía. It was a private club in the basement of what was once an apartment building, but was now covered from top to bottom in dark stained wood only visible to the magical eye. Carved into the dark wooden facade were embellishments reminiscent of the tile work in the Alhambra, with windows adorning the floors above ground level reminiscent of Gaudí's work in the north. The windows that ran along the ground level provided little view into the establishment, but the green glow from within reminded her of an absinthe bottle she'd once enjoyed far too liberally with some friends in town.
A wand was your way into La Verde, keyed with the users profile, established well before the first visit. Hermione walked down the stone steps and tapped her wand to the door; it opened for her immediately. As she entered through the mahogany door, gold bracelets adorned both of her wrists and her dress transfigured itself into a strapless golden floor-length gown.
The walls of La Verde were shrouded in velvet green curtains with gold sconces lining the walls that gave off ambient light. A stage was raised on the right side of the room, basking in the low lighting before the show began. Large black and white tiles checked the floor providing an elegant splash underneath the small tables and booths situated around the large space. The bar stretched along the back wall, dark wood with green velvet barstools, backed by ceiling high golden shelves adorned with every liquor known to magical and muggle Spain. She nodded to the bartender and headed backstage to get ready for her performance.
As she moved to open the door to the back, she felt a tension build in the room. The ambient lighting dimmed and spotlights on the stage illuminated the performers. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see two of her favorites putting on a shabari exhibit, Melína and Sebastían. Their chemistry on stage was magnetic, but before she could get drawn into their intoxicating show she had to prepare for her own exhibit.
–
“¡Dorada, mi querida!” Isabela greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, rubbing her thumbs where her lips had no doubt smeared deep red lipstick. “Ready for your guest tonight?” Her thick accent made everything she said sound more romantic in nature, but nothing about this was romantic.
It was raw.
Primal.
Everything she needed after working too hard, and too long, especially in this blasted heat wave.
She was ready to let go. She'd proven her abilities over the last few months visiting the club, trying her hand at being a dom before relaxing into her role as a sub. She was the most experienced sub in the local Granada community as far as she knew, and she'd work with new doms in the area to train them in best practices. Tonight, she was working with a dom from out of town who on paper, was quite experienced and came highly recommended.
She sat in front of her designated mirror at the public vanity and began preparing her hair into a tight braid. The large bulbs surrounding the mirror glinted off of her golden bracelets and provided an ethereal glow around her. “Yes, is he here yet?” Isabela’s eyes sparkled in the mirror, meeting her gaze in the reflection.
“Sí querida, he's in room three and already has your list. He does appear, quite, what word do you use?” She looked around the room as though the bulbs surrounding the mirror or the curtains lining the wall would suddenly flash with the word she was looking for. “Ah! Fit! Yes, quite fit. Un hombre bien guapo.” Isabel winked at her in the mirror and scurried off to speak with another performer.
Hermione adjusted a few more things checking her reflection before heading to room three. Her body was relaxing into the familiarity of the space as she walked past the remaining mirrors before heading down the corridor to the meeting rooms. Each room was cast in a silencing charm for privacy, but safe words would deactivate every charm and alert security.
The rooms were always laid out with comfortable seating, a small bar with drinks and snacks, and a replica of whatever the performers would be using on stage. A practice room of sorts, to ensure comfort for all parties involved. Hermione walked into room three and was greeted by a wall of floor to ceiling mirrors, two red velvet sofas, and a wooden stand with an erected rectangular wooden pole with links on its sides that rested about waist high. She scanned the room for her guest before her eyes landed on his back.
He was facing away from her inspecting the wooden pole, tumbler of whisky in hand clinking the ice around in the glass. He was much taller than she expected, with a sleek undercut of white blonde hair. His resume and recommendations hadn't mentioned anything physical... He was wearing black slacks that hugged his bum quite nicely, and a black button up that stretched tight on his shoulders flowing loosely around his waist, clearly unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His forearms rippled as he twirled the drink. The only gleam of color on his person were silver rings adorning his fingers. Hermione's mouth watered at the size of his hands, at the way the veins moved under his skin when he tapped his long fingers along the glass. She was more than ready to see what he could do.
She cleared her throat and he froze. “Hi, I'm Hermione. I saw you prefer to use your stage name when performing, is that what you would like to use here?”
“Yes, if you don't mind.” His voice was low, but she could hear his posh British accent.
“Oh! A fellow Brit! How lovely! That doesn't happen here much. Where are you from?” Her voice was chipper. Most of her encounters had survived solely on her broken Spanish, and her matched dom's ability to understand yes and no, and the agreed upon red sparks when words weren't available. He turned to face her and her smile dropped.
He was wearing an artisanal mask that covered his eyes. It was green, with a silver serpent wrapping around the spaces covering his cheekbones and eyebrows. The silver glint in his eyes burst forth with the accents from the mask. His shirt was indeed left open and his chest was a sight to behold, littered with scars and toned muscles flexing as he strode toward her. His pants hung low on his waist and she could see the deep v in his sides leading to what she was hoping to feel, if not see, during their exhibit. Tape covered his inner forearm which didn't surprise her; the tape was normally used to conceal identifying marks for those who didn't trust a disillusionment charm to hold up during activities.
“I'd rather not discuss where we're from, if that's alright,” His lips quirked up in a half smile showing a dimple on one side of his face. “How else do you propose we connect during this time?” The wave of desire that had begun upon admiring his hands reared again at his half smile.
“Oh, okay, Mr. S-”
“Serpent is fine, no need for formalities until we start to play. Can I get you a drink?”
“Oh, no, thank you,” Hermione did not drink before exhibits as a rule. A sharp mind and clear focus were needed in this kind of space, especially with a new dom. “Care to join me?” She sat on one of the plush sofas that faced the podium replica of what they'd be using on stage. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa, pointing his knees in her direction. His arm slung along the back of the couch, the ice clinking in his drink as he twirled it mindlessly. She gave him another once over, noticing more muscles appearing as he moved. “Have you used a restraining pole before?” She nodded to the wooden beam.
“I have.” The Serpents voice was low, melodic in a way that had her drawing closer to him. She shifted her weight slightly and he noticed, leaning slightly into her space. “Are you ready for it?” His eyes were piercing hers with a mischievous glint, and she felt herself blush like a schoolgirl. Merlin, what magic was she under to have her behaving like this. She was the expert in the room! She cleared her throat and ran a hand along her plait to ground herself.
“You've read my sheet I presume?”
“Thoroughly. I do have questions though.” He leaned in closer to her, lowering his voice as he spoke. The smell of bergamot and something earthy invaded her senses, tickling her in an arousing way. She wanted to know how he tasted, how he'd feel on her tongue.
“I'd be surprised if you didn't.”
She wasn't sure how it happened, but they'd started on almost opposite sides of the sofa, and were now so close their thighs were touching. His drink had floated away at some point and she was impressed with the wandless magic he'd cast without her noticing. The mask enhanced the way his eyes bore into hers. Her breath was quickening and she felt a heat growing in her abdomen. She normally didn't get this aroused before a performance, but there was something in the way her magic responded to his. Something in the way his voice drawled, in the tone as it growled out of his chest.
“I didn't see anything about degradation on your sheet. Does that mean it's a hard limit? Or is it something you're not used to?” His hand had wandered from the back of the couch to run his fingers lightly along her braid where she'd touched it before, gently caressing the small curls that had sprung free.
“Hmm, I could be open to it if we agreed on terms to use, provided that they were used with praise as well.” She had to squeeze her thighs together at the thought. What was happening to her? She hadn't had anything to eat or drink here, so a lust potion was out of the question. Was this simply pheromones creating the addictive feeling that was radiating throughout her body?
“What term would you like to hear most?” He tugged at the end of her braid and bit his lip, trying to fight back a smile at the gasp he elicited from her.
Hermione felt herself flush. She was normally so confident in these situations, knowing exactly what her limits were. This was a new partner, and her hormones were not helping her think clearly.
She took a steadying breath, averting her eyes to the pole, then back to his penetrating gaze. “How about I make you a deal? We can practice a few of your choices here, and if I don't like them, then we won't use them on stage. I assume you have a few that you'd used in previous encounters?”
He smiled at her wickedly, “A few I'd love to try.” The masked man gestured to the platform with an extended arm allowing his shirt to open further exposing a snake tattoo along his side. She found it interesting that he hadn't taped it, but figured his shirt would keep it mostly covered. “After you, mi dorada.”
She smiled at him using her stage name. “Golden girl” was a little on the nose, but she liked the way it equated to the mythical land of El Dorado, but of course, the feminine in Spanish.
Her heels clicked loudly as she made her way to the podium. She placed her golden bracelets on the edge of the pole and was immediately attached to the apparatus, forcing her to bend at the hips with her feet spread wide. He watched her settle into position from the sofa, looking her over with the same intensity he had while she was sitting beside him.
“Comfortable?” he asked while smirking at her compromised position.
“It'd be nicer if the pole was a little higher.” She looked at him with doe eyes, feigning innocence as to what was about to happen.
“Hmm,” he grunted as he rose to his feet, moving toward her to circle her slowly, landing at her hip facing her. She could see their reflection in the wall length mirrors and flushed at the sight as his hands reached out to grasp her, and then retreated, “but that would defeat the purpose of the whole game, wouldn't it?”
“I supposed you're right.” A light smack landed on the back of her thigh and she jolted against her bracelets bound to the pole, “Yes, sir.” She immediately corrected herself, turning her head to look back at him over her shoulder. He had a half smile on his face, his eyes still cast at her backside. His profile was breathtaking even with the mask on. It accentuated his high cheekbones and strong jaw. His eyes sparkled as he rubbed a soothing hand over the area he'd just struck.
“Mmm, that's a good girl.” She wiggled under his gaze at the praise, and felt her skin prickle with heat.
“Will you be wearing this on stage?” He paused for a moment too short for her to respond. “I think not?”
“No, sir.” She twirled her fingers within the cuffs that held her wrists to the pole and her dress slowly disappeared like water flowing over her bent body, leaving a sheer strapless bra and thong that were adorned with golden sparkles. She loved the way pale colors and gold sparkles highlighted her bronze skin, it always made her feel more magical, more powerful.
“Oh my,” his voice drawled as he gently traced his fingers up the curve of her thigh to glide around her bum and to her lower back, avoiding the lacy garment, only barely tracing her skin. “This is spectacular. Did you design this yourself?”
“Yes, sir.” Hermione wiggled again, reaching for his touch.
“Aren't you a needy little slut, trying to get more than I'm giving.”
Oh.
Oh.
Hermione froze and a flush crept over her face, down her chest, and from where she felt the prickling in her skin, probably all the way to her shoulders. Shame and arousal swirled beneath her skin. She liked that degradation it seemed. “Yes, sir. I'm a - I'm a -”
He bent low, so closely she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear, “Say it, princess. What are you?” The gruff in his whisper left no room to do anything other than to acquiesce.
“I'm a needy little slut.” She gasped on a moan.
He ran his large hand up her back between her shoulders to the nape of her neck, grabbing her braid and wrapping it around his fist, jerking her head back so that she was looking him in the eye. His face was upside down from this angle, but hunger was present across his features. Her arms extended but clanked against her shackled wrists. Unable to stand fully, the tension pulled all along her body and a deep groan escaped her throat. Charcoal had overtaken the brown of her eyes. She felt herself trailing the perimeter of sub space, ready to please him and do as he asked. He smirked at her and with his free hand gently ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. The juxtaposition of the rough tug and soft caress had her preening under his gaze.
“Please.” She whimpered, struggling to speak with her neck pulled back.
“Hmm, do we want to do a run through before we go on stage? I quite like not knowing what your reactions are going to be.” He smirked at her.
“PLEASE!” She all but cried, straining her vocal chords against their overextension in her throat.
“So needy. Just a tease couldn't hurt, could it?” He smirked down at her and let his tongue escape his mouth to wet his bottom lip.
“Thank you, sir.” His hold released her braid and she bent forward, resting her forehead on the pole.
As she readjusted her pose so that her feet were spread to the edge of the podium, the bracelets clanked in time with her heels. Hermione felt his fingers gently slide down from the back of her neck, across the expanse of her shoulders, and back to trail down her spine. She shivered under the featherlight touch, feeling a rush of heat to her core and a chill across her body. He lifted his fingers from her skin and she bucked her hips back in search of his touch.
One hand grabbed firmly at her hip, securing her in place. “Hold still for me Dorada. You'll get what you want, I promise.” His voice was low, hissing with sin. If Hermione didn't know any better she'd swear she'd learned parstletongue and he was using it on her right now. The haze of her mentally adjacent sub space left her senses on high alert but her mental clarity waning. “Tell me you understand.”
“I'll hold still.” The voice came from somewhere that Hermione couldn't locate, but she knew it was hers. She heard his groan of approval and his grip tightened on her hip once before releasing her. She gasped at the loss and rolled her head to the side, resting her cheek on the pole.
“Now, we can't ruin you before the show, but I can give you a taste of what's to come.” His voice was hypnotic, pulling her under and soothing her. She was lost in space, ready and waiting for any sensation that he was willing to give her. Caught in the sweet spot of her brain where pain and pleasure mixed into euphoria, she was called back into the present with a much firmer smack to her backside. “Tell me you understand, Dorada.”
“I'm sorry, sir, can you tell me again?” Her words were muffled with her cheek on the pole, drool slowly pooling out of her mouth.
“You're going to come for me one time before we leave this room. We have five minutes. Do you understand?” His tone was clipped and his hand was still firmly placed on her backside, rings digging into her flesh.
“Five minutes. I understand, sir.”
His finger trailed lightly down the seam of her thong down to the gusset, feeling for her core. “Hmm, such a needy little slut, already dripping for me.”
“Yes, sir.” She leaned back slightly to find more pressure, before feeling another smack land solidly in the same place on her backside. She groaned at the impact.
He let out a sigh, “Remind me, slut, what are you supposed to be doing?”
“Holding still.” SMACK
“Holding still, sir!” She was delirious with euphoria. The pain from the impact was radiating in her core in a way that pulled the coil tight in her stomach. She might be able to come just from the impact if he kept at it.
He leaned over her to cup her face gently, “Now, if this next part gets too rough, you know your safe word. If it gets too hard to speak, you know to use sparks. Can you show me that you can make them now?”
Hermione groaned at being asked to do anything that wasn't orgasmic in nature, but rolled her head forward and with a flick of her fingers red sparks appeared.
He bent down to meet her at eye level as she rolled her head back to rest her cheek on the pole and he smiled at her. “I'm going to try some new terms, and if you don't like any of them, you can tell me to stop. If you don't tell me to stop, I'll keep using them, okay?”
The heat reignited in her core after the small lapse. She loved how caring the Serpent was and how attuned he was to her responses. She catalogued his attentiveness and knew she shouldn't test any bratty behavior with him, lest she receive more than a spank.
The Serpent stood back to his full height with his crotch firmly in her eyesight. The bulge made her mouth water more than it already was and a groan escaped her without notice. He chuckled deeply, palming himself in front of her and watching her eyes grow wider at the sight. “See something you like?”
“Yes, sir.” She whispered, hypnotized by the size of him.
“Remember, slag, good girls get rewarded when they behave.” She hummed in approval as he moved to circle behind her. His hands grasped at both sides of her arse, spreading her wide as he perused her backside. She felt the platform raise and gasped at the change in height. “Perfect.” He was now eye level with her cunt, and sounded like a man starved. The Serpent reached up to the base of her thong at the strap around her waist and lifted the thin material from her skin, trailing his fingers down the strap along her backside and pulling it tight against her clit. She moaned at the friction and fought the urge to wiggle into it. He pulled the strap to the side and trailed the pad of one of his fingers through her slick folds, circling her entrance and then dragging it down to her clit, giving an experimental press against the bundle of nerves. She moaned, fighting the urge to press into his touch, but it was getting difficult not to thrust into the sensation.
“More, sir. Please.” She let out a muffled whine with her cheek pressing more firmly into the pole.
“Hmm, four minutes left. Are you going to be a dirty whore and come on my fingers?” The word dirty had her eyes shooting open wide. The sound landing deep in her stomach, releasing a primal desire that wouldn't be sated easily.
“Yes, yes, sir!”
“An eager little slut, aren't we?” He tentatively swiped his finger at her entrance again, pushing two fingers on either side of the opening. Not pushing in, but teasing her in the most excruciatingly pleasurable way. “Okay Dorada, let's get you going.” The pressure his fingers provided made her cunt flutter trying to grasp onto something. She moaned at the pressure and held still as best she could. Her legs started to shake and her knees almost buckled at the sensation. “That's my good girl, ass up for me. Don't drop it.” Hermione basked in the praise and locked her knees back into place. After her shift he rewarded her with an experimental finger entering her. With his palm facing down he could easily curl his fingers searching for the right spot while his thumb pressed tight circles around her clit. A deep moan escaped her as he curled his finger pressing the magical spongy flesh inside her. His free hand came up to tweak at one of her nipples, squeezing it almost to the point of pain as he inserted another finger, widening her and adding a consistent thrust with his wrist. The sensations became overwhelming. She pulled against her shackles to hold her body steady, seeking a grounding force as her soul levitated from her body. The clanking sounds and pressure from the cuffs weren't enough to keep her tethered to this plane.
SMACK.
“Stay with me, you greedy thing. Three minutes. Almost there.” He ground out through his teeth, clearly as affected as she was by the pressure building in her core. She whimpered at the contact and at the command in his voice, sighing into the sting and pleasure he was inflicting on her.
He added a third finger and Hermione's jaw went slack. He was alternating between scissoring his fingers against her front wall, and curling them deliciously along the spot that radiated warmth all the way up her spine. The coil in her belly pulled tight and felt as though it were on fire. The wet sounds from his fingers in her cunt were obscene. She was dripping for him.
“Please, please, please,” She began mumbling into the small wooden surface of the pole, lost in the sensation that was pulling tighter as his fingers continued their delicious torture.
She was about to come.
She was about to come without permission.
"Sir!", her voice was becoming frantic, “Please! Sir! Can I come, PLEASE!” She was chanting deliriously as the fiery sensation spread throughout her body.
He lowered the platform slightly to hover over her, pressing his chest to her back while continuing the movements with his fingers. He leaned down further, placing his mouth down to the shell of her ear he began whispering. “Do you want to come for me, you filthy wore? Are you ready to show me how tight this cunt can get on my fingers? Ready to drench my entire wrist like a good girl?”
“YES, YES, YES, PL - PL -” Hermione was losing control and it was evident from the way her body was reacting, her back was arching up and down, trying to hold still as she lost her breath. He brought his free arm to curl under her, holding her body still, close to his chest. She relished in The Serpents tight hold. He began thrusting slower, but firmer this time, pressing in the exact spot to send tingles from her toes to her scalp.
“Come for me, Dorada.” He growled in her ear, and Hermione's eyes rolled so far back in her head that she saw stars. She heard, more than felt, her release gush from her, landing on the platform below as she left her physical body to enter an alternate orgasmic plane. His groan accompanied hers and ricochetted through her core. Hermione's body shook violently in his hold before going limp as she gasped for air, still experiencing an out of body high.
He wandlessly removed her bracelets from the pole and scooped her up in one swift motion, holding her tightly to his chest. He carried her to the couch where they sat just moments before and cradled her in his lap. When she opened her eyes and returned to her body, she was covered in a soft blanket and he had a glass of water ready for her. She gulped it down greedily and then nuzzled into his chest, enveloped in his heat and earthy smell. He held her tightly and then sighed, looking up at a tempus charm he'd cast before they began their activities, they still had two minutes left.
“Did I break you?” He asked into the crown of her hair, squeezing her in his hold.
“Hmmmm.” She hummed contentedly and nuzzled him again, “No, but I'd love to see you try.”
“Steady on, Dorada, we have a whole exhibit to get through and I believe they've got us on stage for a full twenty. Think you can handle that?” His words were muffled by the top of her head. She felt his deep timbre vibrate through her skull, tickling through her body where they were pressed together.
“I can be your good little slut.” She looked up at him and smiled brightly.
“Liked that, did you? I have another one I didn't get to try out, but maybe we can try it on stage? If you hate it, sparks fly, we end it, and I'll take you for some proper aftercare.” He had a faux sternness about him, but it was genuine nonetheless.
She squinted her eyes at him with a smirk. “Could we negotiate for that proper aftercare regardless?”
“That's my good girl.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and she sighed into the tenderness.
“With takeaway shawarma from that terrible place in the plaza?”
“Who am I to deny La Dorada?”
A voice came over a small speaker in the corner of the room, “La Dorada, El Serpiente? ¡Es la hora!”
Hermione made to move from his lap, but he pulled her tight against him, “One request before we go out there?”
She looked at him curiously with furrowed brows. Last minute requests weren't normally part of the arrangements. “Yes?”
“Can you do the dress reveal on stage like you did in here? I'd love to see that again.” His eyes were alight with desire behind his mask. A request that simple made her stomach feel warm all over again. She twisted her fingers in a similar manner to before, and the dress reappeared in reverse. Rather than dripping off of her like water, it rose around her like the tide coming into the shore. “Beautiful.” He whispered, and then stood to place her gently on the ground.
—
The stage was dark when Hermione's heels echoed through the crowd. Her eyes were downcast as she made her way to the pole situated on a raised golden platform. She assumed her position, linking her bracelets to the pole just as she'd done in the practice room and planted her feet in a comfortable spot. Well, comfortable enough.
She smelt The Serpent before she heard him. The cologne he wore wafted onto the stage, possibly from magic or a draft from the back stage door. The sound of leather shoes scraped across the stage at a leisurely pace as he approached from behind her and circled to stand in front of her. From her limited view, she could see that his shirt was gone but his snake tattoo remained visible. A thought formed in her head as to why, when his hand cupped her jaw to lift her gaze. She sucked in a gasp at the darkness of his eyes. The silver she once saw behind the mask had transformed into commanding black voids. He'd transitioned fully into his role, and she felt her wetness grow exponentially.
“Ready to get started?” he whispered to her.
“Yes, sir.” She smiled up at him, and he winked at her good behavior.
“That's a good girl.” He gently lowered her chin to rest on the pole and trailed his fingers up the side of her face. His hand never broke contact with her as he trailed back around her body, gently caressing her just as he did before. He tapped her a few times on her bum. “This can go now.”
Her fingers spun just as before and her dress melted off of her body. Gasps echoed across the crowd at her reveal, and The Serpent squeezed at her hip in approval. A small hum echoed from her chest at the praise. She'd be sure to leave him a raving review for wherever he went next, he followed her list to the letter. The physical and verbal praise, the soft exploration of boundaries, it was everything she needed tonight. The mindblowing orgasm from before definitely helped.
Her eyes were still trained to the floor, as she heard him trail around her, mimicking the same moves from the room. Her body anticipated the same orgasm as before while she mentally prepared to hear more filth spill from his mouth. She'd definitely be adding degradation to her list moving forward.
The same play-by-play commenced, with him teasing her with her lacy underwear. However, instead of pulling the string to the side, he ripped the thong clean from her body. “So perfect,” he growled from behind her. She flushed with the complement and wiggled slightly. Smack.
She straightened again, doing her best to hold still with his new improvisation.
His fingers trailed differently now, starting at the back of her knees and then gently up her inner thighs. A moan escaped her unwillingly as she fought the urge to pull away from the ticklish sensation. When his fingers met the apex of her thighs he skipped over her core and trailed up her back. She let out a frustrated puff, not realizing she'd been holding her breath.
“Are we feeling needy already, slut?” His fingers continued lightly tracing along her body, up the center of her back before he unclasped her bra to drop to the floor. He trailed his touch down her sides to reach under her to tweak a nipple just on the other side of pain. She whimpered and her back arched with the sensation. SMACK. “Hold still, princess. We're just getting started.”
Wetness trailed down her inner thigh from the anticipation alone. His gentle strokes contrasting with the painful tweaks and spankings were becoming intoxicating. Goosebumps rose across her body and a flush followed their path as filth continued spilling from his mouth.
“You're mine for the next,” he paused to look at the tempus hidden back stage, “nineteen minutes. We're going to aim for five tonight. You'll be my perfect little slag won't you, princess?” Her eyes bulged at the question, though he couldn't see her face. Apparently, she'd waited too long because another smack roused her from the surprise.
“Yes, sir.” Her head bobbing with her chin still planted on the pole as she spoke.
16 minutes later
“Last one, Dorada.” He huffed into her ear. She'd lost herself completely to sub space by this point, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and come. She floated within her body, aware only of his voice and the sensations he'd put her body through to this point. “Tell me you can do it.”
“I can do it.” Her voice was hoarse now, raw from the moaning and screaming from the pleasure that he'd rung from her body. Hermione was gone. Her full consciousness levitating just beyond her reach as her body pulsed with orgasmic bliss. Fatigue threatened to overcome her bones
SMACK
“I can do it, sir.” A whimper escaped her throat as she answered his command.
“That's my good little whore.” He gave her a tight squeeze on the bum in warning before dropping his fingers back to her center. The Serpent knew how to put on a show, he was degrading her publicly for the audience to hear, and whispering soft praises for her ears alone. “So open and ready for me, such a perfect cunt.”
After a beat, Hermione realized that The Serpent's touch had disappeared. She groaned at the absence before she heard a faint buzzing sound.
Her ears prickled with the new noise and she knew what was coming next. The rings on his fingers were vibrating. His gentle caress was gone now. Firm hands ran down her body exposing her to the new sensation, lingering in places where he knew he'd get a reaction from her. His palms trailed roughly down her sides and then held her breasts, letting the rings rest on her nipples, vibrating with alternating intensity and frequency. Her chest arched into and away from the sensation, almost thrashing in response. He moved one hand away to place it firmly on her back, holding her in place as he continued the tortuous grip vibrating against her chest.
Her body, already spent from the four orgasms before, was hyper sensitive almost to the point of pain. She cried out on strained vocal chords as his hold tightened on her breast, pinching her nipple firmly between two rings with alternating vibrations.
Lightning ricocheted around in her stomach in search of the heat that had dissipated in the aftershocks of her last orgasm. The hand on her back slid downward to cup her core, not yet entering, but tapping the rings against her, letting her know what was next. She half shrieked, half moaned at the sensation as the fire reignited in her belly. The Serpent chuckled at the responses she was giving him, no longer commanding her to be still, but allowing her body to move in the limited capacity that it could. The bracelets clanked against the pole violently as she pulled, trying to move in some way. Her brain couldn't comprehend the varying sensations enough to pull away or push toward the vibrations, instead stuck in a thrashing limbo hoping to find relief or escape.
The coil tightened again before he'd even inserted a digit, and she knew this final orgasm would wreck her. The Serpent leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Sparks if you need them, Dorada, I know this next one will be tough.”
His hand on her breast abandoned its post to wrap around her throat, pulling her as upright as she could go, while his fingers pushed at her entrance. The vibrations echoed from her throat to her cunt and she felt herself tighten immediately. His thumb ring pressed against her clit with a steady slow vibration that had her writhing and screaming against his grasp. She was almost flush with his chest as he stood behind her, and his hand held more firmly to her throat, pressing on the sides of her neck to alternate the blood flow and oxygen to her brain. She was getting lightheaded and felt the orgasm building to a crest. “That's it princess,” he coaxed her through the sensation. “Come for me, you filthy mudblood.”
Hermione orgasm broke a hole in the space time continuum with a gush that fell solidly to the floor. In the next moment she was shrouded in black, unable to distinguish between up or down, past or present, dream and reality. In the echoes of her mind she heard someone call out her name. Not her stage name, but distinctly she thought she heard someone screaming, “Granger!”