Inell's Fanfiction Archive

The room is too warm. Sweat is already gathering around her hairline, and Hermione can feel a drop slowly dripping down her spine as she stands perfectly still. Blaise is leaning against the wall to her left, but she can’t see more than his general shape out of her peripheral. If she turns her head towards him, she’ll be punished, so she keeps her focus on the wall ahead of her. It’s so quiet that she can hear her own heartbeat, her breathing picking up speed to match the rhythm of her heart.

“Calm down,” Blaise says, his voice so low it’s barely more than a whisper. Hermione immediately starts trying to control her breathing, slowing it down and trying to match the soft inhale and exhale she can hear coming from beside her. “Good girl.”

The compliment makes her smile, but she resists the urge to look at him. “Thank you, Sir,” she whispers, slightly hesitant to speak because he didn’t ask her a question, but he usually wants her to respond to his praise.

The sound of his footsteps makes her square her shoulders, which causes her breasts to thrust out more than usual. He makes a pleased sound, for her benefit since he’s normally quiet about such things. The feel of his fingertips on her arm startles her, but she’s proud of herself for not glancing at him. The thin robe she’s wearing is pulled off her shoulders, and she listens to the whoosh of fabric as it falls on the floor at her feet. “Tonight, we’re testing your control, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against her earlobes before he straightens up.

Hermione stands there quietly as he touches her back, strokes her hip, caresses her breasts. Every touch of his hand against her skin heightens her arousal, and there’s a heat starting to build that’s not caused by the warm room. Finally, he steps in front of her, and she can see him. He’s wearing a suit, the coat discarded, his tie loosened, a glimpse of dark skin from where the top buttons of his shirt have been unfastened. His gaze is intense when he looks at her, and she shivers as he licks his bottom lip.

“Lie down on the bed, arms above your head. You aren’t to move them without permission. I’m not binding you, so it’s up to you to keep them in place,” he murmurs, arching a brow. “Do you understand, Hermione?”

“Yes, Blaise.” She turns around and walks to the bed, kneeling on it and crawling to the middle before sitting down. She takes a few deep breaths before she settles down, lying with her arms above her, adjusting until she hears his pleased hum.

All she can do is look at the ceiling, so she listens to the sound of him moving around their playroom. They don’t bring this type of game into their bedroom, preferring to keep it separate because she isn’t always submissive like this. He likes it that way, when she fights him for control, biting and bruising their version of tender. But sometimes she needs this, to just give him the power and trust him to take care of her, and he always knows exactly what she needs.

The feel of cold metal against her thigh startles her. “Be still,” he whispers, gliding the metal across her bare skin. When she feels a blade press down, she bites her lip but doesn’t move. Blaise moves the knife, it must be a knife, over her body. The sharp side presses down just enough to feel but not enough to actually pierce her skin, the side of the blade still cool to touch when he ghosts it over her nipples.

She keeps her arms above her head, but she curls her fingers into her palms because it’s tempting to lower them. It isn’t a comfortable position when he pulls her up, arching her back more. He tweaks her nipples, pinching them until she whines, chuckling as he moves the blade over them again. Her breath catches when he presses the sharp tip against her nipple, and she’s almost too scared to breathe because she doesn’t want to be cut. He won’t let that happen, though, so she doesn’t tell him to stop and end their encounter.

“You have such beautiful tits, sweetheart.” He is still talking in a whisper, so low she almost can’t hear him, and she knows it’s deliberate because it’s adding a slight tension to everything as she strains to hear him. He reaches over to stroke her face, wiping the sweat gathering at her temples, brushing his dry thumb over her lips. “Suck.”

His thumb presses into her mouth, and she parts her lips, licking at the tip before she starts to suck on it. He moves his thumb in and out, the blade moving against her abdomen as she sucks. When he pulls his thumb out, she swallows the saliva that’s gathered before she opens her mouth again. This time, he’s pushing the leather handle of the knife into her mouth, and she starts sucking on it like it’s a cock.

“Get it wet. That’s a good girl. Suck it for me,” he whispers, moving it in and out. The rough leather scrapes against her tongue, the hard surface unyielding, and she’s relieved when he moves so that she can see his face. He’s still dressed, his tie hanging down and brushing against the side of her breast as he lowers his head. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. You’ll get a reward soon.”

A reward? She sucks harder at that, pressing her thighs together as he squeezes her breasts. When he pulls the handle out of her mouth, a string of saliva drips onto her chin, and she sees that he’s been gripping the blade hard enough to make a shallow cut in his palm. He must notice her staring because he offers his hand to her. She kisses the cut before he withdraws his hand. They enjoy pushing boundaries, but neither of them is that interested in blood.

Blaise spreads her legs open, praising her pretty cunny before he thrusts the handle of the knife into her. She bucks her hips off the mattress, sending the handle deeper. He chuckles, placing his palm on her lower abdomen to keep her from moving too much, then he begins to fuck her hard. She grips the blanket, twining it in her hands and tugging as she begins to move down to take more of the handle. When he pulls it out, she feels empty.

“Look at you, fucking the air like a desperate little whore.” Blaise moves so she can see him, can see the slight smirk on his face as he slowly removes his cufflink, taking his time deliberately. The clink of first one then the other on the bedside table makes her cunt constrict around nothing. He then rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, keeping his gaze on her face. She watches the way his muscles tense in his forearms, whining low in the back of her throat as she moves her down to his long fingers. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart?”

“Please, Blaise,” she whispers, arching up and showing off her breasts as a way to please him.

“What do you want?”

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

He nods. “On your knees. Present yourself.”

She sits up, rubbing her sore arms before she kneels, cheek against the blanket, arse in the air, spreading her legs until her cunt is on display. She moves her arms so she can grip the back of her thighs, her fingers brushing against her wet cunt as she shifts into presentation position. He slaps her arse, just hard enough to hurt, but she doesn’t let go or move. He kneels behind her, sliding into her cunt in one deep thrust. He fucks her hard, and she feels his thighs against her hands as he bottoms out each thrust forward.

“Such a good girl, Hermione,” Blaise whispers, licking her spine before he pins her to the bed, fucking her even harder somehow. She didn’t think it was possible, but he’s taking her deep and rough with each thrust. The buttons on his shirt rub against her damp skin, the expensive fabric sliding across her flesh, and he bites down hard at the base of her neck as she tightens around him. “Come for me.”

His words are the permission she’s been waiting for. She trembles as she comes, her orgasm making her bite her lip hard enough that she can taste bitter copper on her tongue. It takes Blaise longer, but he soon sinks deep inside her, and she feels the warm wet spilling inside her. He stays that way for a while before he kisses the nape of her neck and pulls out of her. She feels him pet her hair, and she closes her eyes, letting him take care of her.

End