Day 2 – Public/Anal

Day 2 – Public/Anal

The grand ballroom of the ancient pureblood manor was nothing like the events Hermione had attended in the past. This wasn't a typical gathering of aristocrats showing off their family wealth or power. No, the air here was heavy with something darker, something far more intimate. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, adding to the mysterious, almost forbidden atmosphere of the evening.

Hermione could feel the weight of it the moment she stepped inside, her hand tightly clasped in Narcissa's as they entered. The other witches in the room, all dressed in luxurious, dark robes, moved with an air of quiet authority. Each one had brought a partner, or as they called them, "pets," and there was no mistaking the power dynamic at play here. It was a gathering of dominance and submission, a carefully curated event where the pureblood witches held all the control.

Narcissa, as always, moved with ease through the room, her head held high, the familiar mask of cool indifference firmly in place. She guided Hermione with a firm grip, never letting her stray too far, a constant reminder of her place for the evening.

Hermione swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest as she took in the sight of the room. She had been to pureblood parties before—traditional, old-fashioned events where bloodlines were revered and upheld—but this was different. This was a world she had only glimpsed through whispers and rumors, a world where control wasn't just political or societal but deeply personal, physical.

She felt the eyes of the other witches on her, judging, assessing, as if weighing her worth as Narcissa's pet. And yet, there was something thrilling about it, something that made her heart race even faster. She was nervous, yes, but also deeply aroused by the idea of being here, at Narcissa's side, her role so clearly defined.

"Nervous, pet?" Narcissa's voice was low, almost a purr as she leaned in close, her breath warm against Hermione's ear.

Hermione nodded, unable to find her voice, her throat dry with anticipation. Her entire body was already on edge, and they hadn't even begun.

"Good," Narcissa murmured, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. "You should be."

Hermione's pulse quickened at the words, her body already humming with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement. The room around them seemed to close in, the low murmur of voices and the occasional soft gasp reminding her that they weren't alone. This was no ordinary gathering. The witches here—pureblood elites—watched, assessed, and some, Hermione realized with a sharp jolt, were overtly interested.

She could feel their eyes on her, heavy with curiosity and desire. It was impossible to ignore, the way they stared. Hermione Granger, the celebrated hero of the wizarding world, now standing at Narcissa Malfoy's side as her… what? Her pet? Her plaything? The labels felt foreign, yet the power dynamic was undeniable. There was no mistaking who held the control tonight.

Whispers spread through the room, low and conspiratorial. Hermione caught snippets of conversation, barely audible but unmistakable in tone.

"Granger, can you believe it?"

"The war hero, brought low by Narcissa… fascinating."

"She looks delicious bent to Narcissa's will."

Hermione's cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and arousal, the thrill of being talked about, of being the center of attention, sending shivers down her spine. She had always hated the spotlight, but this—this was different. This wasn't about accolades or recognition. This was about desire. And it was intoxicating.

Narcissa's hand tightened on Hermione's waist, her fingers digging in possessively as she noticed the attention Hermione was drawing. The older witch's lips curved into a satisfied smirk, her eyes glittering with something dark, something primal. She was proud, it seemed—proud that Hermione, the great war hero, had fallen so completely under her spell.

But the admiration wasn't entirely passive. A tall, elegant witch with jet-black hair and striking blue eyes approached, her gaze lingering on Hermione as if she were appraising something valuable. Her lips curled into a suggestive smile as she addressed Narcissa, though her eyes never left Hermione's body.

"Narcissa," the witch purred, her voice smooth as silk, "you've certainly caught quite the prize."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, her body tensing at the overt interest in the witch's tone. There was no mistaking the way she looked at her, as if she were considering asking to play with her. The thought sent a thrill of nervous excitement through Hermione's veins, but it was quickly tempered by the weight of Narcissa's hand on her waist.

"She's mine, Esmeralda," Narcissa said coolly, her voice edged with a hint of warning. "I'm not in the mood to share tonight."

Esmeralda's smile widened, clearly unfazed by Narcissa's possessiveness. "Pity," she said, her eyes flicking down to Hermione's lips and then lower. "But if you change your mind… you know where to find me."

Narcissa's grip on Hermione tightened, her nails digging into the fabric of Hermione's robes, pulling her closer. The message was clear—Hermione was hers, and no one else would lay a finger on her tonight.

Esmeralda winked at Hermione before sauntering away, but the encounter left a palpable tension in the air. Narcissa's eyes flashed dangerously, her usual calm veneer cracking just slightly as she gazed down at Hermione with something that bordered on possessive fury.

"They all want you," Narcissa whispered, her lips brushing against Hermione's ear as she spoke. "But they can't have you. You're mine. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her breath coming in shallow bursts as she felt the weight of Narcissa's gaze. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "I'm yours."

Narcissa's smirk returned, a dark and wicked thing that sent a shiver through Hermione's body. "Good girl."

The next thing Hermione knew, she was being guided once more toward the velvet chair at the far end of the room. But this time, it wasn't just the two of them. The eyes of the room followed them, the low murmurs growing louder as the witches realized that Narcissa was putting on a show.

The thought of being watched, of being on display for these pureblood witches, sent a wave of heat through Hermione's body. She should have felt embarrassed, mortified even, but the knowledge that Narcissa was the one in control, that she was the one orchestrating everything, made it thrilling. Dangerous.

Narcissa guided Hermione forward until she was bent over the back of the chair, her body exposed to the room, vulnerable in a way she had never been before. The velvet fabric was soft beneath her hands, but her focus was entirely on Narcissa—on the firm, possessive grip that kept her in place, on the quiet dominance that radiated from every inch of the older witch's body.

"You want them to see, don't you?" Narcissa's voice was low, almost a growl, as her fingers brushed lightly over Hermione's backside. "You want them to know how much you belong to me."

Hermione's breath hitched, her body trembling at the intensity of Narcissa's words. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Narcissa hummed in approval, her fingers trailing down, slowly lifting Hermione's robes until they were bunched around her waist, exposing her completely to the room. A murmur of appreciation rippled through the gathered witches, their eyes fixed on Hermione's vulnerable form.

The next sensation was Narcissa's fingers—slim, elegant, and utterly commanding—sliding between Hermione's thighs. Hermione gasped, her body tensing as Narcissa teased her, barely grazing her folds before pulling away again.

"She's always so responsive," Narcissa said, her voice carrying just enough for those nearby to hear. "It's delightful, really."

Hermione's cheeks burned as Narcissa's words echoed through the room, but the heat between her thighs only grew. She felt Narcissa's fingers slip inside her, slow at first, stretching her in the most delicious way.

Hermione moaned, the sound escaping her lips before she could stop it. Narcissa's grip on her waist tightened in response, a silent command to let go, to stop holding back.

"More," Narcissa whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she slid a third finger inside, stretching Hermione even further. "I want to hear you, pet. I want them all to hear you."

Hermione couldn't stop the moan that tore from her throat as Narcissa's fingers moved deeper, thrusting slowly but firmly, filling her so completely. Her body arched, her fingers gripping the chair as she tried to ground herself, but it was impossible. The pleasure was overwhelming, and Narcissa's possessive dominance only made it more intense.

"You're mine," Narcissa growled softly, her fingers curling inside Hermione, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. "And I want everyone to know it."

Hermione's body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps as Narcissa's fingers pumped inside her, faster now, harder. The sound of wet skin and Hermione's increasingly desperate moans filled the room, drawing the attention of the nearby witches.

"Look at her," someone whispered.

"She's completely at Narcissa's mercy," another voice added, almost envious.

Hermione's mind was a blur of sensation and sound. The sharp pleasure coursing through her body, the feel of Narcissa's fingers stretching her, the knowledge that they were being watched—it was all too much. She moaned again, louder this time, her body arching against Narcissa's hand as the pleasure built and built.

"That's it," Narcissa purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Let them hear how much you love this. How much you love being mine."

Hermione's breath was ragged, her body trembling as Narcissa's fingers stretched and filled her. Each thrust sent a wave of heat through her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could barely think, barely breathe, as Narcissa took her, dominated her in front of everyone, making sure that every witch in the room knew exactly who she belonged to.

"Narcissa… please," Hermione whimpered, her voice breaking as the pleasure became too much to bear. She was right there, teetering on the brink of release, but she couldn't go over. Not without Narcissa's permission.

"What is it, pet?" Narcissa's voice was teasing, dark with amusement as her fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pushing Hermione right to the edge but never letting her fall. "What do you need?"

Hermione moaned, her head falling forward as her hands clenched the back of the chair, her body shaking with need. "Please," she begged, her voice breathless. "Please let me come."

Narcissa's fingers slowed, her touch suddenly light, teasing. Hermione gasped in frustration, her body trembling as she felt the edge slipping away from her. She was so close, so impossibly close, but Narcissa wasn't going to make it easy.

"You want to come?" Narcissa asked, her voice a soft purr as she leaned in close, her breath warm against Hermione's ear. "Is that what you want, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione gasped, her body arching desperately as she tried to chase the pleasure, but Narcissa's grip on her waist kept her firmly in place, denying her any movement. "Please… please let me come."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, save for Hermione's labored breathing and the quiet murmur of voices around them. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Narcissa withdrew her fingers completely, leaving Hermione empty and aching.

Hermione whimpered in frustration, her body trembling as the loss of contact hit her like a physical blow. She was so close, her entire body throbbing with need, but Narcissa had taken it away, leaving her stranded on the edge.

Narcissa's hand moved slowly, almost lazily, as she brought her slick, wet fingers up to Hermione's backside. Hermione shuddered, her body going still as she felt Narcissa's fingers trace lightly over the sensitive skin there.

"I think it's time," Narcissa whispered, her voice low and commanding, "to show them exactly how much I own you."

Hermione's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what Narcissa was about to do. Her body tensed, a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement flooding through her as Narcissa's wet fingers pressed gently against her entrance.

"You'll take this for me," Narcissa murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction as her fingers circled Hermione's tight ring of muscle. "And you'll thank me for it."

Hermione whimpered, her body trembling with need and anticipation as Narcissa's fingers pressed harder, slowly but firmly pushing inside. The sensation was intense, a sharp pressure that made Hermione gasp, her entire body clenching as she adjusted to the intrusion.

"That's it," Narcissa purred, her voice soft but commanding. "Relax, pet. You can take it."

Hermione bit her lip, her fingers digging into the velvet of the chair as she forced herself to relax, to give in to Narcissa's control. Narcissa's fingers pushed deeper, stretching her in a way that was both painful and pleasurable, the sensation overwhelming but thrilling.

"Now," Narcissa murmured, her fingers thrusting deeper, filling Hermione completely, "thank me."

Hermione's breath hitched, her body trembling as Narcissa's fingers moved inside her, slow and deliberate. She was stretched so completely, every nerve alight with sensation, and all she could think about was how much she needed this, how much she needed Narcissa to push her further.

"Thank you," Hermione gasped, her voice barely audible as the words left her lips.

Narcissa's fingers thrust harder, her grip on Hermione's waist tightening as she took control completely. "Louder," she commanded, her voice sharp.

"Thank you!" Hermione cried out, her body trembling as the pleasure and pain mixed together, sending her spiraling closer to the edge once more.

Narcissa chuckled softly, darkly, her fingers moving faster now, thrusting deep and hard inside Hermione. "That's my good girl," she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. "You're mine, Hermione. All mine."

Hermione's body was on fire, every nerve tingling with pleasure as Narcissa fucked her with deliberate, calculated strokes. She was so close again, teetering on the edge of release, her body trembling with the need to let go. But she couldn't—not until Narcissa allowed it.

"You want to come, don't you?" Narcissa asked, her voice a low growl as her fingers pumped harder, faster, pushing Hermione closer and closer to the brink.

"Yes," Hermione gasped, her voice desperate as she arched her back, her body straining with the effort to hold herself together. "Please… please let me come."

Narcissa's grip tightened, her nails digging into Hermione's hip as her fingers thrust even deeper, stretching her completely. "Scream my name when you do," she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. "I want them all to hear."

Hermione could barely think, barely breathe as the pleasure built inside her, overwhelming her completely. She was so close, so impossibly close, and Narcissa's voice in her ear, commanding her, was the final push she needed.

"Come," Narcissa growled, her fingers curling inside Hermione, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. "Now."

Hermione's body exploded, the pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave as her orgasm ripped through her. She screamed, her body convulsing as the pleasure overwhelmed her, and as she came, she screamed Narcissa's name, her voice echoing through the room for everyone to hear.

"Narcissa!" she cried, her voice breaking as the waves of pleasure continued to ripple through her, leaving her trembling and gasping for breath.

Narcissa's fingers continued their relentless pace, milking every last drop of pleasure from Hermione's trembling body, until she finally stilled, her fingers sliding out slowly. Hermione sagged against the chair, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to recover from the intensity of what had just happened.

Narcissa's hand moved to cup Hermione's chin, tilting her head back to look up at her. Her eyes were dark with satisfaction, a pleased smile curling at her lips.

"You were perfect," Narcissa murmured, her voice soft and soothing now. "All mine."

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, her body still trembling as she nodded, completely and utterly spent. She was Narcissa's—there was no denying that now.