When Redrum had first appeared in her office, Freya had been relatively certain of what she was here for. The Council was getting impatient with the progress regarding the male-
Freya paused, shaking her head.
She was better than that, or at least better than the others.
Mr. Granger.
They were getting impatient with her progress with Mr. Granger. He'd only visited the bank once, and while that had gone well, he hadn't been back since.
As a teacher, it was easy for Freya to understand, honestly. The poor boy was dealing with more 'events' than he rightfully should have to. If Ruby thought the rest of the staff didn't know about the Dragon girl they'd fished up, then she was either a fool or just willfully ignorant.
… Most likely the latter, knowing Ruby.
The Half-Giant Woman understood more than she let on, most of the time. She just had the good sense to keep her mouth shut when speaking would only cause problems.
As a teacher, she felt for the boy, truly. He had been nothing short of an exemplary student, kind to his peers, and studious. She couldn't ask for a better student, and she suspected that when the current Head Boy, a rather stoic lad by the name of Elijah, aged out, she would ask him if he would like the position.
As a goblin, on the other hand, she completely agreed.
There was a deep, hidden part of herself that snarled and bared its teeth when another student, especially a female student, spoke with the man. She held the urge back every time she saw him to simply kidnap the boy and lock him in her estate. To invite her sisters over and just-
Freya moaned aloud, blinking as she realized a hand had crept into her blouse, rolling one of her thick nipples, while the other massaged her crotch through her pants.
She looked towards the other two in the room. They'd just started their training, and she had hopes Redrum would be successful. She didn't want to risk their chances of success, so she withdrew her hand, biting her lip. Her sharp teeth dug into the green flesh, drawing red blood.
She'd been initially hesitant to cooperate with the Horde when they'd approached her. There was bad blood there. Frankly, there still was, but Goblins were nothing if not mercantile. Everything was something to be bought and sold. Nearly.
Their hatred of her, their grudge, were just part of the concessions she'd received for helping them secure Mr. Granger.
For something she was already going to do, their assistance was welcome. Having to share…
Honestly, she didn't mind it. It felt good to be part of the Horde again.
Through the year, these sides of her were constantly at war, the question of whether to be a good teacher or a good goblin contesting in her mind. She'd put off deciding as much as she could, until…
Freya glanced at the two again, before taking a handful of her breasts and mauling it, as she went back to grinding her mound with her hand.
.
----------->
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The teacher part of her wished that Mr. Granger hadn't shown up today, but…
A smile spread across her face as she gave in to her instincts, eying the boy's unmoving form.
The Goblin side of her had finally won out.
-x-X-x-
She held herself back, the first time. Not out of any sense of propriety, but because she wanted to be sure that everything was working as intended.
She'd thought Redrum competent enough to get the job done. Mr. Granger was a studious boy and skilled in magic, but ultimately, he was still a first-year, lacking years of experience.
It should have been easy for the other goblin to overpower him and implant some suggestion to help them in their task.
She'd had the other swear to avoid anything directly harmful or obvious, but something as simple as visiting the bank more often would work fine for their purposes.
But of course, Freya's faith in her own race once again proved to be a mistake. When the two came out of the trance, Mr. Granger seemed to be completely the same; meanwhile, Redrum was avoiding her gaze.
The second time, the two of them sat down, and Freya gave her comrade a look when her student wasn't looking. Redrum gave her one much the same, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.
Teaching Degree, Dueling Champion, more wealthy than many of the other goblins in the Horde, and her half-blood status still caused others to dismiss her opinions.
Instead of getting angry, though, she simply took a deep breath and calmed herself. She could figure out some sort of comeuppance later; for now, the two of them were allies.
The two went under again, and Flitwick once again found herself alone.
Only this time…
She didn't bother to hide her grin, wide, exposing sharp teeth. A low rumble rose in her throat, and she embraced the feeling of her goblin instincts taking over in the presence of a viable male. Her eyes dilated, and she could practically feel her womb lowering, opening in response to the possibility of insemination.
While those two played, Freya planned to have some fun herself.
Creeping forward, indulging herself in some minor stalking behavior, since no one was around to see.
Moving up to the boy, she crouched down, taking only a single glance to confirm he was still out before fishing out her prize.
It only took a few moments for Freya to undo his pants, his dick flopping out at full mast and twitching. The warmth of his shaft against her face, with his balls brushing against her lips, was heavenly.
The charms professor indulged herself, taking a long whiff of the aroma, feeling her mouth and pussy, water.
.
------------>
.
Human.
She didn't waste any time, opening her mouth wide, and making sure her teeth were out of the way, with ease that came from practicing on a toy each night since she'd met her student, Freya Flitwick swallowed the dick in one go.
"Oomph"
.
---------->
.
Her eyes watered as she slowly pushed herself to swallow more and more of his length. Soon enough, she her nose pushed into her students pubic hairs, and her throat was wrapped tight around his length as she did her level best to swallow him further.
It was hard to maintain any sense of decorum like this. Her goblin instincts, already inflamed, were screaming at her to get to the breeding process. To obtain the human seed. To breed.
Thankfully, the human side of her had the sense that a bit of foreplay first was in order.
Pulling back, she shuddered happily at the feeling of his length leaving her throat, before, just as the head of his cock settled on her tongue, and she suckled it happily, she dived back in, taking him all again.
The boy let out a groan, but otherwise didn't react, as his Charms Professor began facefucking herself onto his dick.
Before long, Freya could feel him twitching in her mouth, and dived forward one last time, her own thighs pressing together as she came in time with her husband student, his load being deposited straight into her stomach.
She held there for a moment before pulling back.
The feeling of his warm seed resting in her gut was heavenly, and she burped slightly, giggling as his softening cock smeared a mixture of semen and her own saliva onto her cheek. She licked it away easily, dexterous tongue ghosting over his dick as she did.
She rested there for a moment, her midsection throbbing with need. She held off, though, and instead stood, fixing his pants and her top, and moving back to her seat.
When they woke up again, Freya's happiness was dampened by Redrum's sheer incompetence.
Seriously! He was a first-year!
Freya was under the impression that this Goblin was good at what she did.
Still, the other had one more chance. Herman didn't seem to suspect her of anything as they engaged in the last round.
Freya only waited for a single moment, nibbling her lip, before giving in.
If he hadn't woken up the first time, surely he wouldn't this time.
As Freya approached, she stripped off her clothing, one piece at a time, leaving it carelessly on the floor behind her. If she were asked about it, the Charms professor might actually describe the experience as almost spiritual in nature.
To become one with her ancestry, and properly take a human male. She took off her coverings and just rode.
It felt freeing, in a way. Right. She wondered if this was what humans felt when they climbed trees.
When she finally reached her target, she got his pants off with now familiar speed, and admired her target for a moment.
Her tongue ached to taste it again, but a different set of lips called louder.
Bracing her foot on his chair, she clambered on top of the taller figure, planting her feet on his thighs and her hands on his shoulders, and looked down as she carefully aligned herself.
There was a moment of silence, where she could feel his cock head kiss her pussy lips, and shuddered. She could see the passed-out Redrum between her own legs, the full-blooded goblin's figure blocked by the dick she was about to take.
Freya grinned.
"Suck it, bitch." She muttered to herself before dropping herself onto her Human's dick, spearing herself as deeply as she could.
The instant-orgasm she had was heavenly, and a silly smile came onto her face as her goblin biology had her recover hyper fast.
"More~" She intoned with a smile before beginning to bounce properly.
The lewd sound of Freya Flitwick getting absolutely cored by her students' humie cock filled the room, and she was struck by the thought, momentarily, of what might happen should a student walk in.
That thought was quickly overruled by the thought of what might happen if he came inside her.
She bounced faster.
"Breed me, Herman. Fuck me. Put Goblets inside me. Give me children. Take me like the little Goblin slut I am." She called as she bounced, the dirty talk more for her own benefit than his.
Soon enough, any words she wanted to say devolved into perverted grunting as Freya obscenely bounced her hips, each hit having her substantial ass clap together, filling the room with wet slapping sounds and loud clapping, as she stared into her husband's face adoringly.
He was truly handsome. Perfect jawline, beautiful hair.
And his eyes were especially nice.
Wait…
She blinked.
Eyes?
Her student blinked awake, staring at her as she bounced.
She didn't stop; her body had given too far to her natural instincts at this point, but she did manage to find her voice.
"E-eh! Herman!"
-x-X-x-
Freya Flitwick watched as her student looked up at her, blinking his eyes. He looked slightly confused at the sight, and only for a split second did Professor Flitwick feel a moment of regret.
He was her student, after all. She wished she had the time to do this courting properly.
And then her Goblin side reared its head, empowered by the cock currently rearranging her insides. With the pushing of the council, Redrum's presence, and the current situation, could anyone really blame her for taking advantage?
It was just her Goblin instincts after all. Her heritage.
Vaguely, she could recall something her father once told her about her mother, but the thought slipped away as she continued bouncing.
"Professor. Are you taking advantage of me?" She heard. She refocused, but it was hard as the human pheromones flooded her brain.
She twitched; she tried to pause, but found her legs were unwilling to listen to her.
Instead, she did her best to talk as she moved. It was hard, her voice escaping her each time she felt his length bump against the back of her pussy.
"I- ah I'm just- ngh I'm sorry Herman, it's just-" She paused, slamming down as she felt an orgasm wrack her body. She tried to raise her hips again, mind blank, but was stopped when a strong pair of hands landed on her hips.
"Let's hold on for a second, professor." He said, kindly. His smile was teasing. "I'm a little bit offended that you just went and did this without even getting me flowers first." The joking tone was there, but something in his words hit through the haze, and she blinked up at him lazily.
"I'm… uh." She paused, a bit lost in her own arousal, and the sensation of having her hubandstudenthusband buried inside her. "Well…"
Behind her, Redrum slowly stirred to life, a string of drool running down her chin. She blinked awake, looking to her left and right, before spotting Flitwick and Herman's… situation.
Her reaction was… enthusiastic, to say the least.
"Huh… eh?! Freya!" She shouted suddenly, standing. "I wanted to go first!"
For some reason, the sound of Redrum's voice was unpleasant enough to cut through the fog, and Freya's back stiffened, and she turned as best she could while still impaled on her Student's dick to glare.
"Back off, you incompetent bitch." She snarled in Goblegook. Translated, it was somewhat tame, but to be called incompetent as a goblin, it was one of their worst curses, and her human side immediately felt bad for using such language in front of her student.
Redrum reared back, as if slapped, mouth opening to say something in response. Freya ignored her altogether, simply glaring before she turned back to Herman.
Despite not really feeling very sorry about her actions, she understood, as a Professor, that she may have crossed a line here.
Neither her human side nor her goblin side wanted him to hate or resent her. That'd be against all of her goals.
"Sorry for springing this on you." She stuttered out, trying her best to meet his eyes and avoid moaning, and she felt every twitch of his shaft inside her. "I just… couldn't help myself." She tried to do her best to enunciate her reasoning. He deserved that much.
"What are you trying to explain, Freya? Just keep going! Be a real Goblin for once in your life." Redrum snarked behind her, arms crossed. Freya ignored her.
She was just as Human as she was Goblin, after all.
"I… Goblin's react… strongly to human pheromones, and the council's been sending people, and I know it was messed up, but I let it happen, and I wasn't thinking straight-" She rambled. "I really should have asked first. I'm sorry- Whoah!"
Her words were cut off when Herman suddenly stood, bringing her with him, still impaled on his length, and carrying her over to the desk.
She was placed down gently and whined as he pulled himself out. His hands were still on her shoulder, though, and she looked up at him as he smiled back.
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--------->
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"I know a way you can make it up to me, Professor~," He teased her entrance. "Want to know how?"
Suddenly on the back foot and still very horny, Freya whimpered at the question.
"H-how?" She breathed out.
He leaned forward, even as Redrum watched like a voyeur, to whisper in her ear.
"Beg."
Freya blinked once, then twice, and then smiled widely.
"Please, Herman. Fuck me. Breed me. I've wanted it since I saw you that first day."
His hands tightened before he thrust his hips forward, and Freya was seeing stars.
It was once again difficult for Freya to speak, or even think properly, as she was fucked by her Husband.
Her student.
…
She'd figure it out later; the point was, with her on her back, staring up at the ceiling as Mr. Granger used his grip on her shoulders to thrust as fast as he could into her, it was hard to successfully string together words and even thoughts properly.
Not that she really needed to. Freya understood that she'd probably have much to discuss and explain with the young man after this fact, but at the moment, those professional thoughts seemed very far away.
Instead, she was mostly focused on not moaning too loudly, biting her lip as hard as she could, for fear of another student entering her classroom and hearing.
She couldn't quite remember if any of them had remembered to cast a silencing charm on the door.
Mr. Granger had originally had his hands on her shoulders, and her instincts had her expecting that grip to slowly transfer to her hips, to get a better angle for thrusting, instead, though-
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------------>
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"E-eh!?" She stuttered out as the Human's hands slipped away from her thick shoulders, drifting across her arms and leaving goosebumps. Instead of grabbing hold of her hips- 'Natural fuck handles on every Goblin '-her mind whispered, the human's hands slipped into her own, pinning her to the desk and intertwining their fingers together.
This is-
That-
Handholding?!
It felt so juvenile, yet Freya's cheeks were bright red as she did her best to meet his eyes. The feeling of his hands, large, warm, smooth, wrapped around her own smaller fingers, was different than everything she had expected.
It wasn't a pleasure. It didn't add to the mind-numbing warmth that spread through her body every time he parted her depths. The pleasure that burned through her body with each movement wasn't changed.
But the way their hands were together made things seem so much more… personal, in a way. Freya couldn't help but blush as the Human leaned in. It felt too close. Too- Too-
Too lovey-dovey couple behaviour. It felt like he was properly courting her, and the half-goblin felt her cheeks burn red at the thought. Courting! Her! Of all people.
She could barely meet his eyes.
It got worse as, while still maintaining his languid, even thrusts, he leaned in close, lips ghosting against hers, before drifting over her cheeks to her ear.
"Professor~," He groaned. The sound of his voice, filled with the same pleasure she was feeling, had her squeezing down on his length involuntarily. "You're so beautiful."
Freya's eyes widened at the unexpected compliment.
"Ever since I met you, I have been thinking about how amazing you are. Intelligent, pretty, kind. You're nearly the perfect woman, professor."
His words hit her deeply, and she could feel her body react to his words, warming even further.
"Ah- H-Herman." She stuttered.
"Professor…" He breathed again before pausing. "Freya." She froze, hearing her name from his lips like that…
He pulled back, staring her in the eyes properly. They were intense, and she couldn't help but get lost.
"I'm close, Freya." He grunted. "Where do you want it?" The question seemed like it took extreme difficulty to ask, and that thread of regret came back, but she resolved to address it later, and it soon dissolved.
"I-inside." She gasped. "Inside Herman." She managed. She didn't notice the change in name from Mr. Granger to Herman.
He sped up, their hips meeting at such a high speed that the sound filled the office.
"Freya!" He gasped, one last time, before thrusting in roughly, bashing his length against the entrance to her womb one last time, prying it open, before starting to cum.
Freya wrapped her arms and legs around her lover, shuddering as she felt her inside get painted white.
"Herman!" She gasped back, grinding her hips against his length.
The two of them stayed like that for a moment, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence, before-
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------------->
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"That was hot." She said, grinning, before gesturing down at her own on display form. Freya glares. "How about seconds, stud. I've got some fresh, unbred Goblin for you." She offered Freya's student cheekily.
-x-X-x-
You gently placed your charms professor back onto her desk, taking the time to pry her limbs off of you. It was mildly difficult, given how reluctant she seemed to be to let go. Still, you managed it, despite her sleepy protests.
The sight of the freshly bred goblin tickled something inside of you. It looked correct, like seeing a Goblin be anything BUT bred was wrong.
You smiled. You also enjoyed just how happy Professor Flitwick seemed. You'd known the woman for over a month now, and from what you'd seen, she was a genuinely good Professor, but always seemed to carry a line of stress around with her.
Sometimes it faded. Like when she was teaching, or during deep conversation, but it never fully vanished, always there, eating at her.
Now, though, looking at her happy face, legs spread wide and leaking cum, she seemed completely and utterly relaxed.
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------------>
.
Frankly, it made you want to go back in for round two. Either that or pet her fluffy hair. One of the two.
As you were admiring your professor, an impatient voice spoke up from behind you.
"Hey! Stud, over here. You've still got work to do!"
You turned to face Redrum, your face smoothing into a neutral mask at her barking. She was already half-naked and smirked gleefully at your attention. You were instantly suspicious. You'd already managed to put together that she'd done something after all.
The first two suggestions, you'd managed to stop, but the last one…
Wincing, you raised a hand to massage your head.
You couldn't recall what the last suggestion was, which likely meant that you hadn't managed to stop it. You hadn't figured out what it was yet, but you didn't want to play around in case it was something truly bad.
Still, even with your suspicion, you couldn't help but find yourself admiring the red-headed goblin's body.
She was attractive. No more than any of the other Goblins you'd seen, aside from possibly having a particularly fetching shade of red hair, but for some reason, in that moment, you couldn't help but find her particularly…
…Breedable.
You felt your lower body slowly get flooded with blood, and your dick stirred to life. Something that didn't go unnoticed by your observer, who grinned widely.
"That's what I'm talking about." She turned around, planting her hands on a nearby shelf and nearly knocking over several fragile looking decoration Flitwick had there. "Now, let's get to it, Stud. I want at least six kids, and twins!" She demanded, waving her derriere back and forth.
.
----------->
.
You studied her for a moment.
There was an intense urge inside you to breed that Goblin ass thoroughly and give her the children she was demanding, but you didn't get to where you were by giving into urges willy-nilly.
Humanity was all about having a high mind beyond our instincts, and for the time being, you ignored your instincts in favor of thinking the situation over and considering.
You looked from Redrum to Flitwick, and then back again, hand on your chin.
"Hmm. Pass." You said simply, turning away from the redhead to Flitwick's still blissed-out form. Frankly, your professor was simply more appealing in every possible way at the moment, despite the breach of trust that she'd committed by being a part of this. The headache you had from turning away from the breedable goblin was minor and tolerable.
"What!?" Redrum squawked as you ignored her entirely for the half-breed she looked down on.
-x-X-x-
You would be lying if what you did next wasn't at least a little bit out of spite.
It wasn't entirely clear what Redrum had done to you, but you did know exactly what she tried to do.
And despite your current urge to fuck the red-haired Goblin into the nearest wall until she was leaking white, you weren't entirely fond of the fact that she had tried it at all.
Honestly, you weren't overtly fond of Flitwick, either, at the moment. You'd known that Redrum would be casting compulsions on you, but you had been under the impression that the compulsion would be A. Temporary, and B. Entirely harmless and nonsensical.
You were under the impression that this experiment and practice between the three of you was a learning experience, not another opportunity to get in your pants.
Frankly, if they'd just asked, you likely would have said yes.
You grunted, ignoring Redrum literally begging behind you, in favor of getting a better angle to plow into Flitwick. The moaning Goblin's white hair was gathered up into a single clump in your right hand, which you were using just a bit roughly, to get her to arch her back just right.
Your left hand came down onto the small of her back, pushing her down into an even more contorted position. You were relatively sure that human spines wouldn't bend as far as Flitwick was bending.
One of the perks of being a goblin, you supposed.
At the new angle, you were better able to thrust down, instead of forward, letting you drill even deeper into the professor's green cunt. You didn't hesitate to do so roughly.
…Frankly, you were also quite a bit frustrated with Flitwick. More so with Redrum, but… you'd trusted Flitwick. As a professor.
You weren't leaving here without fucking one of them, though. You could feel that down to your core, and you were particularly unhappy with Redrum at the moment so…
You were taking out your frustrations on Flitwick, though, even though it seemed like she was enjoying it enough herself, each thrust that split her green depths in two causing a happy mewl to echo from the dueling mistress.
It was like a… stress ball, in a way. You were treating her roughly because it was helping you get out your own pent-up frustrations, as well as the odd urge you had inside you upon seeing either of your current companions' green skin.
There would still need to be a serious talk with her after… and… when you were thinking clearly, you'd have to grapple with the fact that your professor was essentially just party to what could be considered a form of date-rape.
…
You tried to focus on thrusting more. Those thoughts were depressing.
The office was filled with the sound of Redrum's pleas, nearly drowned out by the 'PlapPlapPlap'ing of your hips against your professor's ass.
Soon enough, you could feel your end coming on, and, with a single grunt, you filled your Professor's womb for a second time today.
Pulling out, Flitwick slumped, stuck in that same position, your slowly softening cock hanging free, glistening with her juices.
Redrum practically lunged for it, but you turned away, pulling up your pants.
"Whelp, time for class!" You chimed cheerily, doing your best not to look at the Goblin, in case it would invoke any more… urges.
"Wait- Please- Just a taste!" She begged.
"Have a nice day, Ms. Redrum, Professor!" You responded, walking out the door.
At the last minute, you turned to see Redrum's face.
.
----------------->
.
"Wait, please fuck me too-" The door shut, cutting off the noise.
Sighing, satisfied, you turned to the rest of the room.
And then realized class was currently waiting for your professor.
And all of them, all twenty-three blushing witches, were staring at you, having heard Redrum's last cry.
You sighed before taking your seat, doing your best to ignore the looks.
-x-X-x-
The next class, despite the disclosure from Redrum, went relatively normally.
There were more than a few blushing glances thrown your way, but you did your best to ignore them, and the odd tugging whenever you looked at the unsteady Professor Flitwick at the front, who tried to teach the class but was unable to look at you for more than a few seconds without squeaking.
The next class was about the same, and the one after that. You only had to narrowly avoid a bucket of a questionable green liquid from Peeves in the hall, but other than that the excitement didn't really pick up.
That is, it didn't until the last class you had that day.
As you stepped into the Muggle Studies classroom, the day began to, once more, begin to get interesting in the worst sense of the word.
And by that you meant that, upon entering the classroom, there, at the front of the room, rather than Professor Burbage, one of the most blessedly normal people at the castle, you were treated to a much different figure.
.
----------------->
.
And not exactly a welcome one either, given the way her eyes locked onto you with a glare as soon as you entered the room.
What type of person just stood in that position anyway? It couldn't be comfortable, having your hips cocked like that for an extended period of time.
You stepped further into the room, seeing no other choice that wasn't immediately suspicious. She followed you with her eyes as she did. You were the second one into the class, the only other person there being-
.
-------------->
.
"Hi Herman!" Luna chirped brightly, smiling widely at you from her seat near the front of the room.
The seat at the same table that you always sat in. Next to your seat.
Of course.
You couldn't help but sigh as you walked forward. You could potentially choose another chair to sit in, but for some reason you felt that there would be consequences to spurning the smiling blonde.
Luna sometimes felt like an unstoppable force. You figured you'd just go along with the wind, this time.
"Hi Luna." You murmured as you sat. She seemed particularly happy today, if her expression was anything to go by. "Where's Professor Burbage?" You asked, as other students began filing in.
Luna wiggled happily in her seat, already shuffling closer to you in a way that she might think was subtle. "She had an appointment today. Professor Albus decided to have Ms. Flamel be our substitute."
Really?
A bit of doubt crept into you as you eyed the tall woman, who had finally stopped glaring at you specifically, and instead transferred her ire to the rest of the class. Normally you weren't one to question teachers, but-
"Are we sure she's…" You trailed off, "Are we sure she's qualified?"
Your impression of Professor Flamel wasn't exactly that of a person who was overtly experienced with the Muggle world.
"I do assure thee, Master Granger, I am sufficiently qualified to mete out detentions and dock points for insolence—most especially unto lecherous knaves such as thyself." You looked up, and she was there already. You hadn't even seen her move. Luna didn't even flinch at the sudden appearance.
You did your best not to glare, and instead put on your best customer service smile.
"Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean any disrespect."
She didn't seem to believe you for a moment, but the bell rang, which drew her back to the front of the room to start class.
-x-X-x-
As the final students found their seats, there was a dull chatter that slowly died down as Flamel stood at the front of the room, glaring down at the students who were still speaking.
The chatter was not, evidently, dying quickly enough for her liking, and Flamel brought a hand up and snapped her fingers.
BANG!!
There was a large crack, a plume of smoke, and you turned to look where two talking girls once were, only—
.
-------------->
.
'Squeak!'
Two small yellow chicks were all that remained at the table, alongside rumpled uniforms that slowly fell to the ground where the girls once stood. The small creatures hopped around, seemingly in distress, and one made for the wand one of the girls had placed down on the table before it was picked up by Flamel, who glared down at the two.
"I shall be taking these. Thou shalt have them returned unto thee at the lesson's end." The white-haired woman seemed to smirk at the two, although, with her face mostly covered, you were going off her eye movement. "And perchance I shall also remember to restore thee to thy proper forms. Perchance. Minerva may ever do so at day's end." She turned, heading back towards the front, before pausing.
"Only… beware of any cats."
She was definitely smirking; you could just see it.
Ignoring the now-frantic chirping, Flamel instead looked to address the room.
"Good afternoon, class. For those among thee who know me not, thou mayest call me Professor Flamel. This day, I shall instruct thee in Muggle Studies." She looked from face to face, only lingering for a moment on you before moving on. "The curriculum which was left unto me was…" She trailed off. "Disappointing. I shall remedy this by introducing mine own section concerning thy study of that subspecies of wizard known as the Muggle."
That… was not a great start.
Luna didn't look perturbed in the slightest, having just been, apparently, staring at you the entire time. At your glance, she brightened but didn't say anything. Murmurs arose, but at a sharp look from Flamel, they died instantly.
The two now-avian students were still very visible.
Flamel nodded at the silence.
"We shall begin this day with a discourse upon technology. Can any among thee define this term for me?"
A few hands went up, including your own. Flamel gazed at the options before pointing at a rather stocky Gryffindor, who always seemed to wear a shirt a few sizes too small.
She stood.
"Ah, Professor Flamel, technology is the term used by Muggles to describe their inventions—"
'Bang!'
Another small chick stood before the lot of you, but Flamel didn't give the transfigured student the time of day, instead turning back to the others.
"Wrong." She turned to the board, and a piece of chalk levitated off the easel. "Technology is that which Muggles employ to imitate magic. Write it down." She gestured, and the chalk began moving. "Technology is the imitation of magic."
That… didn't sound exactly correct. You wrote it down anyway, not wanting to draw her ire immediately.
Being Muggle-born, though, you didn't like where this was going.
"Now, let us discuss what the Muggles have thus far wrought with their vaunted 'technology.'"
Flamel reached under the table and, with a huff, pulled out a large bin of objects. One specifically, she reached in and withdrew.
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.
"This is the present pinnacle of Muggle technology," she began. "They call it 'The Iron.'" The way she said it made it sound much more dramatic than it was.
If she was just going to claim a rusted manual iron, the type you had to pour water into, was the 'height of Muggle technology,' then maybe you could tolerate this.
"They employ it to eliminate the runts of their litters, which they bear each winter."
Okay, what the fu—
You held your head in your hands, taking breaths and counting between them as you tried your best to not lose your temper.
Rare was an experience such as this before you came to the wizarding world.
You were white and came from a mainly French background. The only prejudice you had to deal with was in school for the fact that you were a really skinny kid growing up.
This, though, this was new to you. Intellectually you understood what it was, but to experience it, that was a different breed.
To have something about you be openly discriminated against, something you couldn't help, something you valued. To see it openly mocked, lied about, and misrepresented.
Yeah, that burned, just a bit.
Combine that with this woman's previous actions, and the way she acted throughout, and you could feel something you didn't often have well up inside you.
A burning, hot anger, like bubbling oil, moving up from your stomach and into your throat. It made you want to yell and vomit at the same time, and you swallowed heavily as you glared.
You weren't going to let this stand. You couldn't.
You stood from the table, the chair scraping the ground loudly behind you. Your wand was ready in your hand, in case she tried the same trick she had with the other students. Its tip was pointed directly at her.
If she wanted to play that game, you could respond.
"Professor Flamel, with respect, that's not correct."
With tense shoulders, you watched as Professor Flamel slowly turned to you. She didn't seem angry that you interrupted, and there was no snap or flick of her throwing a spell your way.
Instead, she seemed happy, and that made you more nervous than anything else.
"Oh, and does our Mr. Granger have something he wants to say, to correct the lesson?" She stepped forward. "Do you truly think you are more knowledgeable on this topic than I?" She asked, tilting her head, tone condescending.
You didn't let it get to you, and instead took the bait that was offered, nodding resolutely.
"I do, Ma'am." And then, because you were a dumbass with a bone to pick, you kept speaking. "I am reasonably sure that Rome, I hope you know what that is, had technology more advanced than that-" You nodded towards the Iron, "And less barbaric than you appear to think as well. The Muggles invented the train. The thing used to get students to and from Hogwarts." Your voice had taken on a lecturing tone, and out of the corner of your eye you could see some students writing down your words.
Flamel seemed less than impressed, though, and instead laughed in a way that had your shoulders rising.
"Trains…" She spat after a moment, all traces of humor gone. "A mistake of an invention, Mr. Granger. They only exist to weaken our next generation, cause pollution, and be generally noisy. Not useful to anyone." She sneered at you. "If you had been a better student, you might have known that I was only counting useful inventions."
She held up the iron.
"This is one of the few useful things Muggles have made over the centuries. It straightens clothing, and helps them reduce their populations ethically." She turned away. "Sit down, Mr. Granger, and you might actually learn something. Or maybe not. You are a Muggleborn after all."
You wondered about someone referring to another person being beaten to death with an iron as ethical, but dismissed it.
"I disagree."
She stiffened before turning.
"Excuse me? Mr. Granger, I told you to sit down."
"With respect, Professor, no. I will be frank, Professor-" and the inflection you put on that was sharper than any other time you'd spoken with a professor. "Frankly, I am reasonably sure that some of the Muggleborns in this class can help you, if you want, to actually teach it correctly."
"And why would I need that help, Mr. Granger?"
Her voice was dangerous.
You forged on. You could be dangerous as well.
"Miss, frankly I believe that a centaur, or perhaps a Hag, may have a better grasp on Muggle technology than you." You made a show of glancing at her, scanning her up and down. "…Well… a different Hag."
That seemed to finally do it, and her wand snapped up.
"Let's see how smart your mouth is when it's making comments a bit closer to home!" She snarled.
The spell flew at you fast. And it really was fast; the speed at which Flamel had flicked out her wand towards you, a flash of blue springing from the tip and hurtling through the air, had been stunning.
You were relatively sure that she didn't even use an incantation. Magic at that speed, as much as it galled you to admit, was impressive.
Still, it only made you prouder of yourself, for the fact that you managed to whip your own wand out from where it had been stored in your robe, that being your actual wand, and not a euphemism, to catch the spell midair with the tip.
From there it was a relatively simple method to just flick it back. Flamel, despite having already caught one spell like this from you, didn't seem to expect you to be able to catch a second, at least not with the surprise attack she had sprung, alongside the speed.
That meant that she was completely and utterly unprepared as her own spell impacted her figure, causing her to stumble back a few feet.
Interestingly enough, though, she didn't seem to change in the slightest, unlike the previous spells she cast. It didn't feel like transfiguration either.
You squinted at the Professor, who seemed slightly non-plussed herself, looking down and flexing her fingers as if expecting them to change.
Your own wand, resting in your palm, pulsed with warmth. The pink rosewood seemed to contrast against your palm even brighter, despite not actually emitting any light.
There was a moment of silence, where no one said anything, and then, as if satisfied that she was safe from any effects, Flamel straightened, her wand still in hand.
She turned towards you, glare forming on her face as she opened her mouth to speak-
"When I was but sixteen I kissed the local blacksmith's squib son. At 83 I kissed his son, and we cuddled together on the bed of straw after he had ended his own father." Flamel's eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth, as if shocked at her own words.
Your own eyebrows were raised. That hadn't been what you were expecting.
"I'm…. sorry?" you said after a moment, sending a glance towards Luna.
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.
The blonde girl just gave you a thumbs up.
Flamel, meanwhile, squinted before raising her wand, waving it once, and then twice, in a motion that you recognized as the dispelling spell. There was an odd pause after she did so, and a shiver wracked her body as the spell was cast.
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There was a choked noise from her, and for a moment, she looked confused, for a moment, before seeming to brush it off and turning back towards you.
She opened her mouth again.
"I once used Merlin's staff to-" She slapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off her next words. Her eyes were wide, and for a moment she genuinely looked fearful.
After a moment, she raised her wand, waving it once.
'Each of you take an item and write me eight inches before the end of class.'
By the time the message was finished, and the chalk dropped, Flamel seemed to be having trouble staying on her feet entirely, her knees knocking together, and her body slightly hunched over. There was an audible moan this time that she wasn't able to muffle, as she dealt with the aftershocks of… whatever was happening.
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Still in your hand, your wand pulsed in time, and for a second it almost felt like laughter.
Flamel made to go back to her seat, and a devious thought came to mind.
Could you have some fun with this?
-x-X-x-
You couldn't help yourself, a grin threatening to pull at your lips as you studied the professor.
This really wasn't the type of thing that you should be doing to a professor. Really, it rather bordered on harassment, but really…
She tried to attack you; this was just self-defense, wasn't it?
The excuse sounded weak even to your own ears, but you still ran with it. It'd be enough for your own reasons, here.
You stood from your chair and raised your hand, doing your best not to look too eager. Flamel froze at the front of the room and turned to look at you. Her expression was not one of a teacher, happy and willing to answer a question.
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---------->
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You wondered why.
Still, that wasn't going to stop you from asking your question anyway.
"Professor Flamel, may I ask a quick question?" You asked brightly.
She gave a single, slow shake of her head.
You pretended, quick happily, not to notice.
"Thank you, ma'am." As you opened your mouth to speak again, you were well aware of the rest of the class watching with bated breath, including the array of small yellow chicks that had been gathered onto one desk by a helpful Slytherin.
It seemed Flamel had not made many friends among the school population.
"You mentioned something about Merlin's staff, Ma'am. Could you perhaps elaborate? I'm sure it's an interesting story."
If looks could kill, you would likely be very dead by this point, and her hand was clenched, tight, around her wand.
She seemed to think better of it, though, either because she was Zero for Two on actually hitting you with a spell, or because she didn't feel confident with her aiming ability given the 'consequences' that had happened the last time she used magic.
Instead, slowly, like a set of castle doors grinding open under the heaviest protest and resistance possible, she opened her mouth.
"You fuc-" She bit her tongue, and opened her mouth again.
"A few centuries ago, I was attending a Cursebreaking event, in the mountains, where a young woman had believed she managed to crack into the hidden abode of a great wizard."
Each word was forced, but the more she spoke, the redder her face became. Her legs gained a slight tremble.
"The young woman had managed to find a vault." She continued. "But her curse-breaking work was subpar. The moment she tried to touch the door, she would have been subjected to a rotting curse that would have her organs dribbling out between her legs like mud." She tried to scoff to the side, but instead what came out was a small exhale of air, sounding more like a quiet moan than anything else.
She clamped her mouth shut, but was unable to keep it shut for long.
"I broke the curse on the door, for her. It was good work. Inside we found what seemed to be some sort of living space, and in the back…" She trailed off, for dramatic effect, and the spell seemed to accept that as a good reason to not be speaking. "There was a staff, l-later discovered to be Merluhh- Merlin's staff." She managed.
The moan was louder this time, and she was bracing herself against the desk nearby.
"There was a curse on the staff, as well. It made whoever touched it immensely… flustered. I couldn't help myself from…" She trailed off, taking deep breaths. There was a visible glisten of juice running down her thighs.
"I couldn't help myself from taking and sticking it b- between- sticking it betw-een my legs." She struggled not to say the last part, but gave up the ghost once the word 'between' was out. "I played with it for hours." She finished, having valiantly prevented herself from cumming the entire time.
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-------->
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You stared as she shivered at the front. She was, oddly enough, not speaking in 'Ye old English '.
… Did she do that for the fun of it or something?
-x-X-x-
You moved away from your desk, the facsimile of an attentive, innocent look on your face.
"Are you alright, Professor?" You asked, taking a half-step forward.
She flung a hand out quickly.
"Come no-nngh" She began loudly, but halfway through a particularly large shudder cut her off, and stopped. You saw her hips involuntarily thrust forward, as if trying to grind against something, and you got a fantastic view of her thick thighs grinding together through her large vents in her dress.
"I'm sorry, what was that, Professor?" Another step. "Maybe I should take you to Madame Pomphrey; you're looking a little bit red." It was a mirror of your last encounter, down to the topic, and Flamel recognized it too, if the venomous look she gave you was anything.
"I-" She cut herself off, body giving a great shudder as she came in place. You could see the dark spot forming on her clothing, as she dealt with her orgasm for about twenty seconds, constant tiny, strangled moans escaping her as she did her best not to show her reaction. It was a futile effort; the entire class, Luna included, were watching with laser-focus.
Her hand on the table remained, but with you now closer, her other hand positively reached forward to land a tight grip on your shoulder, to help her remain upright.
You reached forward, placing an arm across her back.
"I think we ought to bring you to the nurse again. You seem to be having a lot of trouble, today, Professor Flamel." The innocence in your tone wouldn't have fooled a child.
Her grip on your shoulder tightened even further, and you found yourself staring into her eyes as she pulled you close. Her collar rode down a bit, revealing thick, pink lips.
"You…" She spoke, her voice husky and low with anger and something else. "Had this still been a proper age, ere folk surrendered themselves unto flights of fancy, I would have dealt with thee as unruly men are meant to be dealt with. I would break thee until thou wert meek and submissive, as all thy kind ought to be." Her words, filled with equal parts venom and something that sounded like lust, came out despite the arousal that was rising once more with each word.
"This paltry enchantment," she spat, and there was a snap, and you could smell the broken magic in the air as she finally broke the curse, "is as nothing compared with what I would do unto thee." She finally took a deep breath.
"If thou wilt beg pardon for thine insolence and sit thee down this instant, I shall feign that thou dost not exist, and thou shalt do likewise. Minerva appears to believe thee some manner of prodigy. For her sake, I shall lay no hand upon thee, provided thou dost agree."
So this went in a direction you weren't expecting. She'd managed her accent back.
You considered the offer.
A part of you, the part that wanted a quiet school life, wanted to sit down.
But… what if you poked the bear?
You could have carefully considered the possible consequences of your next actions.
You could have thought before you spoke.
That would have been the smart decision.
But you know what, for once, you were content with being impulsive.
She'd practically dared you, after all. You couldn't not poke the bear at this point.
"You do know that accent was completely made-up by playwrights, right?" You asked, tilting your head. "A Shakespeare fan, are you?"
She didn't respond for a moment, eyes shadowed as she looked down at the ground. You decided to keep pushing.
Because why not? You were already this far; might as well forge on.
"Like, I'm just wondering, ma'am-" was that disrespectful to use now? It felt disrespectful when you said it. "-whether you doing it just because you like it, or like, if you're a bit mixed up on where it came from? I know you can speak normally." Your voice was loud enough that the entire room could hear. "I'm just wondering why you choose 'Ye Ole English' instead."
More silence.
You couldn't stop yourself at this point.
"Does it make you feel-"
"Enough!" She snarled, and suddenly you found yourself unable to speak, or even open your mouth at all. Reaching up, you felt around your face, finding the section where your mouth should have been instead as smooth skin.
Ah.
You read about this curse.
You fingered your wand, recalling the counterspell, and considering that you may have pushed a bit too far when Flamel looked up again.
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-------->
.
Her pupils were split and glowing slightly, and there was a bend to her brow that communicated just how livid she was, as did the shaking in her hands, both clenched into fists, her wand in her left hand.
"Enough." She said again, lower this time. She took a few deep breaths before speaking. "Everyone, find something to work on." Her voice was notably devoid of the accent, and you would tease if it weren't for your current predicament. "Mr. Granger. Follow me. Now." She said, turning around to walk towards Professor Burbage's office.
You found yourself tugged along by an invisible force, and you nearly dropped your wand as you stumbled. Still, you found your step before managing to twitch your wand in just the right way.
Mouth reappearing, you used it to take a deep breath of air before analyzing the situation.
You… likely should just go with her.
Despite your success, you didn't want to risk her actually trying something truly harmful.
Even if you did block it, that was an escalation you'd rather avoid.
So, instead, you followed her into the borrowed office, surprisingly normal-looking compared to the other professors. As you entered, the door slammed shut behind you.
Before you could turn to look, though, you found yourself flung back, a crack echoing through the air as you were sent flying to crash against a nearby wall.
You crumpled down, groaning and more surprised than hurt, somehow. You made to stand, only to find a foot planted on your chest. An ornate, gold-inlaid blue boot.
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"Insolent man." She snarled, leaning down as she pinned you. "This modern world, so foul. In my day, people like you were corrected early. This school, it's too soft. If they won't do what needs to be done, then I will." She snarled.
The next moment.
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"I'll deal with you myself then. It's been too long since I've broken a male." Her boot drifted lower, pressing lightly against the crotch of your pants. "This should be easy, though. You'll make a good pet for a witch when I'm done with you. Don't worry-" she smiled patronizingly, "-I'll help Minerva find you a good wife. Maybe I'll even take you myself, if you're a good boy."
You could always just… let it happen.
The options, at the moment at least, were looking rather sparse. While you were certain that you could try to resist, from the magic she's displayed so far, you didn't much like your chances against her, should she try to take drastic measures.
You were just lucky you knew the counterspell to the silencing curse she used on you.
So, instead, you stayed put, as Professor Flamel, a woman that you were certain hated you with a passion, undressed in front of you.
You did watch, though; despite her rotten personality, she really did have a nice body. You could feel blood rushing towards your lower body, as you took in the sight of her smooth skin and full breasts. And those hips. Damn…
Those were some nice hips; you wouldn't lie.
Idly, you pondered what effects immortality via magic drugs had on the body.
Did she still ovulate like normal?
What were her bodily cycles like, without aging?
…How old even was she?
Before you could think more deeply on any of the questions, Flamel, who had finished undressing, stepped over to you. She seemed much more secure about herself now, if the smug grin on her face was anything to go by. You reasoned that you lying on the ground while she literally stood above you had something to do with it.
She stepped over you, positioning herself so there was a leg on either side of your hips, her arms crossed. Her wand poked out from one of her hands.
"Now… to train you properly." She said before flicking her wand. "Good boys don't need these~" Your clothing, in a snap, ripped away from your body suddenly, vanishing into a tiny speck that floated in the air, before popping.
She paused for a moment, as if to let you be in awe of her magic.
You gave her a dry look instead. "I hope you're going to pay for that uniform, or at least give it back in one piece." You answered.
Her smile fell, and her sneer returned.
"Shut up."
Your mouth was gone again.
You were already working to get it back when she began speaking again. Her slit was pink, looking tight, with a thin glistening trail of arousal running from it down her thighs.
"Boys like you make me sick." She began. "Back in my day, Males knew their place in society. Now, though, you're all disrespectful little clods. Like you. Women are worse. They've gone soft." The derision in her voice was clear. "Someone needs to teach you where your place is. On your back."
She looked down at you, and you could hear the smirk in her voice.
Suddenly, she dropped into a crouch, your length bobbing in the air below her. A bead of arousal dripped down, and she smirked.
"But before we get started, a special… training tool." She flicked her wand again.
Suddenly, an odd glow appeared around your length, and a feeling of being… limited set in over you.
"That was a controlled release enchantment. It was originally for farm animals and pets, to stop them from breeding before it was time." She smirked, "Which means it's perfect for beasts like you."
She lowered herself further, her entrance kissing your cockhead, a string of her arousal connecting the two as she shifted. "You don't get to cum until I say so."
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---------->
.
Slowly, she began lowering herself down and let out a moan, louder than she expected, evidently, as your cockhead stretched her entrance wide.
"W-whoa." She stuttered, before shuddering and shaking her head. She tried to paste back on her smirk. "You won't get to cum until I let you. I expect you to be begging in minutes, pet." And then, slowly, she began sinking herself further down, biting her lips to stop her moans from escaping.
When she was speaking, though, you were busy examining the curse.
This…
You could break this…
You could already feel it, the shapes. This enchantment was meant for animals. Which meant a wizard who knew what they were doing could break it easily…
And at will…
You didn't let the grin show, instead beginning to plan when to surprise her.
You could feel the enchantment settle into your body. It was… less than you were expecting.
Especially in comparison to her previous magic, which temporarily vanished your mouth.
That had felt ironclad, and it had taken nearly all of your wits, a good bit of brute force, and a lucky bit of know-how to break through. This, though- it was almost insulting how easy it felt it would be to break the enchantment.
Especially for something so 'important' to her plans.
While Isolde began monologuing at you, which you respectfully but thoroughly tuned out, you began considering why and how exactly this might be the case.
Step One: review the circumstances.
When she'd cast the first spell on you, it'd been out of anger. Reactionary.
The second was a premeditated action. Something intentional.
Step Two: consider the subject.
Isolde clearly held little regard for literally anything. So far, in the brief amount of time that you'd known her for, she'd shown contempt for at least eight different demographics, and that was only if you weren't counting occupations as well.
Step Three: conclude.
So why, then, was one spell more powerful than another?
…
The thought snapped into place rather easily, with all the pieces.
When she'd initially cursed you, it was out of instinct, anger. There was no thought or intention behind it, therefore, she used the full force of her abilities, which were, admittedly, rather formidable.
Not something you could deal with easily, although you'd managed it after some time.
But this spell- there was planning, intelligence behind it. So why was it weaker?
The answer was obvious.
Isolde Flamel was underestimating you.
Why was up for debate, and likely manifold. Partially as an insult, maybe. Possibly negligence.
But the chief reason, you were willing to bet, was because she simply didn't think you were capable.
Whether it was because you were male, a modern wizard, or a Muggle-born, she'd simply not put in the effort because she didn't think she had to. Isolde Flamel had dismissed you out of hand, despite your previous showings, because of her own prejudices.
You did your best not to let your smile show. You didn't want to tip her off.
There was no doubt in your mind that she intended to torment you for a long while. It was what you'd come to expect from her, from what you knew of her personality.
The only question was whether you would take advantage of this unique mix of opportunity and negligence.
Coming back to the present, just as the ancient hag's monologue was coming to an end, you focused back in on her words.
"-and that's why you, as a male wizard, are categorically unfit to make any real decisions. But boys like you don't understand that." She leaned in, leering. The accent had dropped once again, possibly because she was sick of you making fun of it. "For knaves such as thee, the lesson must needs be taught." Never mind then.
The conversation ended there, as she looked down, a hand reaching between your bodies to wrap around your shaft. Her fingers were cold, and her nails pressed against your skin, tight.
She looked at you again, a pleased, smug grin.
"Don't worry, you'll be begging for more soon." She finished, grinning.
She angled your length, and then, without any more preamble.
"Squelch!"
Dropped herself onto your dick, sinking about half, before slowing down. There was no barrier to pop. Isolde Flamel was a lot of things, but a virgin was not one of them.
The moan that left her mouth, as she reached halfway down your length before slowing to a stop, was practically an assault in and of itself.
Someone with such a rotten personality shouldn't be able to produce a sound so adorable.
Oh sure, it was just as lewd as any other sound of pleasure you'd heard, but the tone of her voice, combined with the way she seemed surprised at it herself, was adorable.
It was like a squeal of delight that she hadn't expected.
The white-haired woman paused there, biting her lip as she restrained herself from any more disallowed noises. Instead, she just hovered there, occasionally shifting a little bit downward, prompting her to freeze up again. Her eyes were wide, and she was eying you as if she were bewildered by something.
Lazily, you gave her a smirk.
"I thought you were going to teach me a lesson, professor." You pretended to check your watch. "I only have-" You weren't able to finish reading the watch you didn't have, as your hand was slammed back onto the ground beside your head by a supernatural force.
"Silence, Fool." She snarled back, shimmying her hips a little to get into a better position. You watched as the witch bit her lip again, letting out a soft puff of breath that contained the barest hint of a moan. "Savoring breaking my prey does not mean you have any sort of advantage." She continued, glaring. The sweat beading on her brow spoke otherwise, though.
She straightened her back, planting one hand center on your chest, and the other behind her as she leaned back just the slightest bit.
"Prepare yourself." It sounded more like she was speaking her own warning than one for you. With a heave, she pushed herself down another few inches, teeth drawing blood as she kept herself from making a sound.
Her body, however, was incredibly honest; her insides were tight. Extremely tight. You got the sense that it had been a long time since she'd had anything inside her deeper than her own fingers, and the way her pussy spasmed and squeezed around you proved that point.
She slowed to a halt again, now three-quarters of the way. Unbidden, another moan escaped her mouth, and she blushed vividly at the raised brow you gave her. While you had the Professor's attention, you raised a hand to your mouth, and mimed a yawn.
She growled, and without waiting to calm down like she did last time, forced herself down the last few inches of your cock. The tip of your dick bumped against the back of her pussy, and Flamel let out another, louder moan, as she leaned forward, shuddering and twitching, her hair curtaining around her face, and hiding her expression from you.
If you were being honest, it did feel good, but…
To use her own words, you weren't anywhere close to begging yet.
It was a pleasant feeling, though, the way her insides hugged you. She was warm, despite her foul and icy personality; her quim was wet, hot, and tight, squeezing you from all sides and spasming every so often.
You luxuriated in the feeling, as you waited for Isolde to recover once more and give some other loose threat that she couldn't follow through on.
But he didn't look up immediately, and instead she stayed hunched over, panting. Her eyes were hidden from view, but you could see her lips, open, tongue lolling somewhat as she dealt with the sudden rush of sensations.
She stayed like that for a while, while her pussy slowed its spasming into something more slow and precise.
It was only a moment later that you realized it felt more controlled.
She was practicing.
Up and down your shaft, different muscles in the ancient witch's midsection squeezed, tightening around your cock at precise locations, and then loosening again. She was… testing herself.
Her mouth had shut, and then bent into a smirk, and she looked up again.
.
------------>
.
Her smile was venomous, even if it twitched at the edge, and if the way her thighs squeezed your sides was more honest than her words.
"I have you, ngh, right where I want you." She panted, smile wide. "Prepare thyself, knave, mmph."
She paused, giving you time to respond. In fact, you would hazard to say that she was waiting for you to respond.
That was the thing, wasn't it?
This wasn't about her.
This was about you.
Your attitude towards her, your words, your actions.
She was angry at you and thus wanted to teach you a lesson.
This entire thing was about her doing something to you.
Which meant that you were in control here. She was looking for a reaction. For you to struggle or something.
Which was exactly what you weren't going to do.
Instead, you leaned back, putting your hands behind your head.
A more active, desperate, or interested participant may try to put their hands on her hips, or possibly her breasts. Interact in some way. That wasn't your goal.
Instead, keeping a straight face even as she, rather skillfully, controlled her abdominal muscles in just the right way to massage your dick, you affect a disinterested expression.
"So… are you going to do anything?" You asked, even as you could feel her flex muscles you didn't know the human body had to stroke your cock in a milking motion. Her velvety walls clenching around you, as if trying to pull you deeper than you already were. You cockhead ground against her womb and it felt good.
Not good enough, however, to make you break your composure.
But definitely a nice feeling all the same.
She glared.
"Ingrate." The word was said with venom. "I was going to go easy on you. But now-" Another squeeze. Was that her only trick? "-I'm going to break you!"
"Didn't you already make that threat-" You were cut off by Isolde bracing herself on your body, and pushing herself off your dick.
She rose quickly, not pulling off fully, before with an angry, vengeful motion that was undercut by the way she moaned through her teeth, she slammed her hips down against your pelvis.
'Plap!'
The noise echoed out, and even you had to bite your lip to stop from groaning a bit at the feeling. Isolde wasn't doing much better, though, if the way her eyes rolled back was anything to go by.
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--------------. >
.
She recovered quickly, though, and a spark of magic went through the air, and her face cleared.
Her ass rose again, and she met your eyes, glaring, even as her face flushed.
At your lack of reaction, she began moving once more.
Slowly at first, but eventually picking up speed, her hips began steadily rising and falling without pause, that telltale sound filling the room.
'Plap plap plap plap plap'
The impact of her bottom-heavy form impacting your own was punctuated by the lewd wet noises her pussy made, as she fucked herself on your cock, grunting and groaning all the while, fighting valiantly not to moan.
You tucked a single hand under your body, clenching it in response, but otherwise showed no outward response.
This seemed to only invigorate her further, provoking the witch to speed up. Over time, though, the rhythm changed.
He breathing became less measured. Her bouncing less even. Even her attempts to cover up her own moans were failing, and soon enough the office was filled with sounds of pleasure beyond just the impacts of flesh on flesh.
Still, she didn't stop, glaring you down all the while.
You were, honestly, becoming rather impressed by her determination.
Not only had she managed to continue the pace of fucking herself onto your dick for upwards of ten minutes now, and there was almost certainly another class waiting just outside the office by now, but she'd also kept lucid enough, despite the occasional moan that would escape, to maintain eye contact in a glare all throughout.
It was, honestly, admirable.
You could even feel your own orgasm slowly rising, beginning to strain against the enchantment.
It wasn't to the point of uncomfortableness yet, but it was certainly growing closer.
'Plap! Plap! Plap!'
And boy was she really giving it her all.
Isolde was sweating at this point, and panting as she raised herself up and down, spearing herself on your dick over and over again.
There was a thin sheen of sweat across her naked form as she worked. Both of your crotches were practically covered in natural lubrication, strings of her arousal connecting your body as she raised and lowered her hips. The floor of poor Professor Burbage's office, her carpet, specifically, was ruined.
You would have felt bad if it didn't feel so good.
(You still did feel bad. Later that day you would go back and do your best to charm it clean.)
Her ass was red from the constant impacts. She was panting, and you could feel her insides, the spasming and squeezing from her cunt, becoming less intentional and much more a bodily function.
Unfortunately for your professor, even with her own, very impressive, stamina, she did not have an infinite well, and eventually, even she began to wane.
Her rising and falling slowed, her panting increased, and the sheen of sweat eventually made her hands slippery enough that, the next time she was to push down on your chest, to raise herself, her palm slipped, and instead she fell forward so that her breasts pressed against your chest, flattening into large circles, and putting her lips only inches from your own.
This movement also had the effect of shifting your cock to an angle where the tip of your dick ground against one very specific spot in her pussy.
The effect on her was… substantial.
"MMMPPH!"
.
----------->
.
She pounded a fist against your chest once, pressing her face into the crook of your neck as she came explosively for the first time, blushing and moaning as she humped her hips weakly against your own.
When it was finally over, she looked up at you with a bleary glare.
.
---------->
.
You grinned.
"Is that all?"
She growled, but before she could respond, you figured it was finally time to make your own move.
"Well then, I guess it's my turn, isn't it?" You said cheerfully, reaching forward to take hold of her hips at the same time as you flexed your magic just so, to break the enchantment.
An effect she clearly felt, if the way she suddenly stiffened, eyes wide, and turned to look at you was anything to go by.
"Wait, what?"
Before she could get out any words other than that, though, you pushed upward from your position on the ground, the sudden movement jostling your length, still buried inside her, pressing it even harder against the specific spot.
The sudden movement and friction caused her to gasp, body trembling through the motion, unaware of what was happening until you put her back to the carpet, her legs still locked around your waist.
"Granger, you insignificant fool, stop this at once-" She cut herself off with a choked sound, as you suddenly withdrew yourself from her needy quim, the tunnel grabbing at your length lovingly as it left.
"Sorry, professor, what was that?" Even as you asked, you began thrusting into the ancient bitchs oversensitive pussy, still feeling the effects of her previous orgasm. The combined sensitivity, alongside the fact that you'd discovered her weak spot, meant that whatever Isolde Flamel was going to say was cut off as you began, in earnest, taking her.
Your hands found her hips and thighs, grabbing onto them with the pleasure of someone who's been wanting to do that since you'd first seen them. They made the perfect handholds to angle her just right, so that you were able to thrust as deep as possible, each one hitting the back of her love tunnel like a hammer.
"GraANGGEERRRR!" Your name from her mouth became much higher pitched, as you bottomed out inside of her once more.
Or, perhaps, like a drill.
"What was it you said, Professor?" You shook your head. "Sorry, you're not really a professor, are you. What were you saying, Isolde? You were going to break me?" You were panting as you spoke, putting your all into maintaining a brutal pace. You reached a single hand forward to grope at one of her freely wiggling breasts, taking pleasure in the way the soft mound contorted in your hand, squeezing out from between your fingers as you played with it.
"That I was weak." Another hard thrust, this one hitting directly against the entrance to her womb. "How about you tell me about it again." Another thrust.
Plap!
"About how weak I am-"
Plap!
"-because I'm what, a Man?"
Plap!
"Or was it because I was a Muggleborn?"
Plap!
"Not of royal blood?"
Plap!
"Not meeting your stupid middle-"
Plap!
"-ages standards. Tell me again!"
Plap!
You ranted, briefly, at the alchemist, even if, from the look on her face, tongue hanging out, eyes rolling back, she wasn't really understanding any of it. It was more for your own venting than for her to hear, after all.
"...'M'sor….'Mor'…" The answering gurgle you received, as your professor, who was evidently weak to pleasure, or at least too blissed out to talk, just made noises more fit for some sort of animal than a human being. When you'd started, there were some weak attempts at flipping the situation. You'd felt some sparks of magic, heard some cut-off demands…
But by the time you got to your third thrust, she instead seemed to lose all sense of proper communication; words, noises, and grunts instead becoming the primary form of communication for the famous Isolde Flamel.
Still, she'd have to make do, you had more questions.
"And what sort of bitch-"
Plap!
"Loses the moment their opponent fights back!?"
Plap!
The last thrust was the one that finally broke through, and your dick was placed directly into her womb, much to Isoldes' vocal delight(?).
You took a breath.
"It's like you wanted to lose." You whispered into her ear. "Is this what you wanted, for one of the male, mudblood, commonfolk wizards you hate oh so much to take you. For someone to just get sick of your attitude-"
Plap!
Another loud moan, and even though she tried to hide the noise, you could feel the way her legs tightened around your waist.
"-and to take you like the bitch you are?"
Plap!
There was another long period of wet slapping noises, grunts, and moans, as you continued your fun with the temporary professor. You idly wondered how long it would take Professor Burbage to get the smell out of her office.
You leaned back, and this time spoke as if you were in front of an audience.
"Admit it! This is what you wanted, you slut. To be taken by me. This is why you called me back, right?" You felt a bit silly, monologuing, but it had sounded better in your head.
Despite that, you found your partner humping back even harder at your words. Another shift in angle had her answering you.
"…'o'r right'…" She mumbled once. Then again, louder, and more clear. "…Your right." She said.
You grinned.
"Good girl."
And with that, you picked up the pace, jackhammering into her, until finally, you felt her insides twitch, and she began to Cum again.
The white-haired witch buried her face into your neck, and you felt a pair of teeth latch onto your shoulder as she practically screamed into your flesh, desperately humping back.
At that moment, you felt your own end rise, and you chose not to delay anymore.
Instead, you began cumming directly into the ancient witch's egg room, a place that likely hadn't seen the touch of a man in centuries, getting thoroughly stuffed full of you.
It took you a few more thrusts to empty yourself, but by the time you did, you were, yourself, thoroughly tired.
You stumbled back a step, pulling out of the insensate Alchemist, a stream of white immediately leaking out of her open cunt, further ruining your muggle studies professor's carpet.
Locating your pants, which had evidently, when she vanished them, been placed onto a nearby chair, you pulled them on. Your shirt was, unfortunately, a loss, too ripped by the spell she cast to be worth anything, but your cloak served as a decent enough substitute so long as no one looked too close.
Heading towards the door, and frankly, not feeling bad about it all, you turned back to the woman one more time.
.
----------->
.
Heh.
You did good work.
You wondered to yourself how she would justify it in the morning.
(Three hours later, you would sneak back in when nobody was there to attempt to fix the carpet. You'd fail, and instead remove it entirely.)
(Burbage would notice, but would end up blaming Dumbledore, for some reason.)