Chapter 4: Kreacher Comforts Part 4
The hidden door’s mechanism grumbled in protest as Hermione tugged on the spine of Hot Springs Paradise . After a few moments, the secret bath house was revealed once more. Hermione looked around, half-expecting that Kreacher might defy her orders and appear to harangue her once more but the master bedroom remained silent and empty. Hermione nodded, satisfied that Kreacher’s enforced loyalty exceeded his determination to defend Walburga’s secrets. She walked inside, running her hands along the smooth black marble tiles. The window that filled the entire Northern wall revealed the same view it had before, although now it was early twilight and she could see birds flitting happily from tree to tree. It was a beautiful view and after so many weeks squirreled away in the gloomy halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, the view was like a soothing balm for Hermione’s soul and for a moment she just stood in the doorway, drinking it in. A chilly draft from the bedroom’s cracked window snuck its way beneath the bathrobe she was wearing and brought Hermione back to the present. She was naked beneath the robe and the rickety old mansion was too cold to just stand around like that. “Kreacher, come here.” She called out, hoping the house-elf hadn’t caught on to what she was doing in his former mistress’ bedroom. The anticipation of his shock and distress brought a smile of cruel satisfaction to her face. The air cracked with the sound of Kreacher apparating behind Hermione. She kept her back turned, seemingly unconcerned by Kreacher’s presence, but her smile widened at the house-elf’s choking growl. “Y-y-you were told!!” Kreacher stammered. Hermione couldn’t see his face but she imagined that it was quickly turning a beautiful shade of indignant purple. “Mistress’ bath must stay clean! Clean! No filthy mudbloods-” “Be silent, Kreacher.” Hermione finally looked over her shoulder, shooting a look of pure, ice-cold disdain at the tiny elf. Kreacher’s eyes widened and he barely avoided biting his own tongue as his jaw snapped shut with a loud click . Fuming impotently and unable to speak, Kreacher balled his hands into tiny fists and glared up at Hermione. “There, isn’t that much nicer?” Hermione’s voice was sugar-sweet as she bent down (coming perilously close to spilling out of her loosely tied bathrobe) and tapped the hooked tip of Kreacher’s nose with her wand. Her grip on the wand tightened and her face and voice grew colder. “Now, let me make something clear, you miserable little whinging sod...I don’t care what that puckered old hag Walburga would approve of, understood?” Kreacher’s jaw worked soundlessly. He couldn’t speak, but Hermione could imagine the screeched curses he was imagining right now. “Nod if you understood, Kreacher.” She commanded, pressing the tip of her wand harder against the house-elf’s nose. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave a curt, angry nod, although he continued to silently mouth insults at her. “Good!” The sweetness was back as she straightened up and slipped her wand into the pocket of her bathrobe. “Now, I’m going to take a bath. A nice, long bath and so I need you to get this old thing working again...you can speak again by the way.” “-cow-brained, manky slag!” Kreacher’s words burst out like water from a dam. “Kreacher can’t turn on bath. Can’t do it! Awful mistress should jump in a puddle, not mess up nice clean bath!” “Can’t...or won’t?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Which is it Kreacher?” “...” Kreacher’s beady eyes shifted quickly from side to side. “Kreacher...Kreacher doesn’t know how...doesn’t remember. Kreacher is so old...poor poor Kreacher.” “I don’t believe you, Kreacher.” The lack of insults made it clear that he was lying. Hermione tapped her wand against the marble wall, striking several large, bright sparks. “Here’s what’s going to happen...you’re going to run me a lovely, hot bath...and you won’t do a single thing to ruin it. You won’t make the water too hot or cold...won’t fill it full of leeches or frogs or anything of the sort. You’re going to treat me like Walburga herself...do you know why, Kreacher?” The house-elf shook his head warily. “Because…” Hermione drew her wand across the marble wall again, producing another line of sparks. “If you aren’t on your absolute best behavior, then I am getting rid of that awful, hideous old portrait downstairs.” “Can’t!” Kreacher hissed. “Stupid, fat-headed mistress can’t undo the sticking charm!” “ Incendio.” Hermione snapped, sending a gout of flames over Kreacher’s head. The house-elf took a step back, stumbling over a discarded cushion and tumbling to the floor. Hermione loomed over him, flames flickering over her wand. “I don’t need to unstick the painting to get rid of it. A wall covered in ashes will be unsightly, but it’ll still look better than that crone’s miserable old face.” Kreacher went pale, shaking his head in horror at the thought. Before he could say anything else, Hermione turned her back on him and walked briskly into the hidden bathhouse. After a moment’s hesitation, he rose to his feet and loped after her. “Did that jog your memory, Kreacher?” Kreacher mumbled something unintelligible and probably deeply insulting as he walked past her, into the bath, but Hermione ignored it. In the past, Kreacher’s abuse used to infuriate and embarrass her...it was like all of her awful, bigoted classmates and teachers had been compacted into a single, ugly, vile little man who existed only to shriek abuse at her. But now that she was no longer afraid to tell him what to do, it hardly seemed to matter...she was the one in control and his spiteful invective no longer seemed to distress her. She crossed her arms over the fluffy bathrobe, colored Gryffindor red and gold, and watched as Kreacher clambered over the bath. He inspected every drain and pipe carefully, probably searching for some sign of decay or infestation that might convince Hermione not to soil the place with her presence. However, it seemed like the sealed entrance (or perhaps some lingering enchantment) had preserved this room far better than the rest of 12 Grimmauld Place and Kreacher could find nothing amiss. Grumbling to himself, Kreacher crawled over to a small series of knobs and valves set in one wall. They were unlabeled but Kreacher seemed to have no trouble recalling their function as he twisted and adjusted them. There was a deep, groaning noise somewhere in the bowels of the mansion’s plumbing and a distant hiss of steam. Hermione didn’t know what non-Euclidian pipework allowed hot water to flow into a room that, technically speaking, didn’t properly exist. Kreacher twisted a larger, brass-plated valve and steaming streams of water began to flow from the gargoyle-shaped pipes. The pool filled quickly, fed by the pipes in the ceiling and several hidden jets of water located in its walls. Soon the entire room was filled with clouds of steam and Hermione was growing uncomfortably warm inside the thick, terry cloth bathrobe. She could feel droplets of water, either condensed steam or sweat, tickling along the bare skin beneath the robe, flowing along the curve of her breasts or the arch of her back. “Bath is ready.” Kreacher practically spat the words out. “But there is no soaps...not that it would make a difference for nasty mistress...not when the filth is on the inside. “ Everte Statum.” Hermione muttered, catching Kreacher in the face with the spell and knocking him head-over-heels into the steaming water. Okay, maybe I’m not quite as over his insults as I thought I was. Several bubbles rose to the water’s surface, followed by Kreacher’s unpleasant grimace. He bobbed in the water, apparently as buoyant as a piece of wood. Hermione smirked down at him, enjoying the look of sodden misery on Kreacher’s face. “ Vapor Vestimenta” Hermione waved her wand through the steam-filled air while she undid the belt of her bathrobe with the other hand. As the robe fell to the floor, clouds of thick steam collected around her body, forming an opaque barrier to protect her modesty. ...for the most part. Looking down, she noticed that the steam-spell didn’t cover quite as much as she had expected. Rather than a diaphanous robe of fog, it was more like a bikini made of mist, with thin wisps of steam just barely clinging to her breasts and hips. It didn’t exactly leave a lot to the imagination...but she also wasn’t about to give Kreacher the satisfaction of watching her fumble for a new modesty spell. This would have to do. To her surprise, Kreacher’s reaction to her new appearance was a visible wince of pain and he lowered his face into the water. Bubbles rising from his mouth and nose and only his beady eyes and wrinkled scalp could be seen above the surface. She briefly considered banishing Kreacher from the bathhouse, feeling more exposed and naked in her vaporous clothing than she had expected. Even blurred by the clouds of steam rising from the pool, she could feel his eyes on her and the memory of catching him in her closet was still fresh. No...this is part of his punishment. I want him to watch me take a dip in Walburga’s bath. Let him see the mudblood in her secret sauna. That was it. Spite was definitely the only reason why she didn’t tell Kreacher to leave. And the liquid slowly trickling down her inner thigh was definitely only condensed steam. Definitely. Forcing herself not to think too hard about it, Hermione kicked off her slippers and approached the edge of the pool. The sensation of the hard, cold marble floor beneath her feet was a delicious contrast with the thick, wet heat filling the sauna. She lowered herself slowly into the piping hot bath, sighing with delight as she descended into the steaming water inch-by-inch. Her muscles relaxed instantly as they slipped beneath the water, dissolving tight knots and aches she didn’t even realize had been bothering her. It felt so good that when her breasts and shoulders descended into the liquid she couldn’t help but let out a drawn-out groan of pleasure. The sound was much more erotic than she had intended but she was too relaxed and light-headed to summon up any shame. The pool was wide and deep, allowing her to lay back and float in the pleasantly heated water, arms and legs spread wide. Her hair formed a dark halo around her head and the steam-spell she had cast formed into swirling spirals of thin vapor over her breasts and waist. She let herself simply float for a while, hot water lapping against her flanks and legs as she allowed the heat to soak into every joint and muscle. With half-lidded eyes she stared at the ceiling, watching the pink-and-yellow light of sunset stream through the steam in fascinating patterns. Hermione wasn’t sure how long she was floating there, until the sound of splashing brought her back to her senses. She had completely forgotten about Kreacher, who was currently dog-paddling over to the edge of the pool, looking remarkably similar to a hairless, waterlogged rat. Reaching the edge of the pool, Kreacher pulled himself out of the water and waddled over to the valves and knobs, checking a small gauge set in the wall before making small adjustments to the settings, presumably to keep the temperature from rising to uncomfortable levels. Hermione squinted through the clouds of steam, noticing that Kreacher was moving oddly. He was limping with each step, visibly pained as he plodded across the floor. She considered ignoring the house-elf’s obvious discomfort, but the soothing bath was already washing away her anger and irritation. She was still quite cross with Kreacher, but she was also starting to worry that she might have badly hurt him when she knocked him around earlier that day. With a swirl of steam and water, she kicked herself over to the edge of the water. She ran her hand through her hair, pulling the dripping strands out of her face. Standing by the pool’s edge she was just tall enough to rest her elbows on the rim. She shivered slightly as the flushed skin of her breasts and arms touched the still-cool marble tiles. “Kreacher, are you alright?” “Alright?” Kreacher looked over his shoulder at Hermione and she could definitely see pain mixed into the default expression of annoyance and disgust he always wore. “Of course Kreacher is not alright. Kreacher is forced to serve an awful, filth-hearted mistress. Kreacher has to keep the water fresh so she doesn’t muddy the Black’s bath with her filth. “That’s not what I’m talking about, you miserable little shite.” Hermione sighed, her goodwill already fading. She picked up the wand she had left on the edge of the pool and used it to gesture Kreacher to come closer. “You’re walking oddly. Did you get injured? I should be able to mend it with some healing charms.” “Kreacher...Kreacher is not injured.” Despite his statement, it seemed like his movements were even more awkward and pained as he limped towards her. “That’s not what it looks like to me. What’s the matter?” “Kreacher cannot tell...terrible, cruel mistress will just get angry with Kreacher.” “I’m not going to get angry at you. I just want to know what the problem is.” “No, no, no…” Kreacher murmured, shaking his head. “Kreacher will be savagely punished, even if it isn’t Kreacher’s fault. Poor, Poor, Kreacher.” Hermione was already regretting bringing up the topic, as trying to convince Kreacher to let her help him was quickly eroding the relaxation she felt from the lovely bath. But now that she had, there was no way she’d drop the subject without finding out what Kreacher was trying to hide. “ Dicerno Egritudo. ” She flicked her wand, invoking a flickering globe of light from midair. The diagnostic charm buzzed cheerily as it zoomed around Kreacher who eyed the pulsing spark with suspicion. Finally, it settled near Kreacher’s pillow-case loincloth, still soaked from his dip in the pool. It flashed brightly and a bolt of green light flashed out, arcing over Kreacher’s groin. Before either she or Kreacher could react, the makeshift needlework holding the loincloth together flickered and evaporated into drifting motes of light. Unbound, the loincloth unraveled, dumping a bucket-full of water on the floor (confirmation, if any were needed, that Kreacher’s clothes were enchanted with some kind of house-elf Extension Charm) but Hermione hardly noticed because it also unbound Kreacher’s monstrously large cock once more. It was erect again (or still?) and it leapt from the confines of Kreacher’s loincloth like a spring-loaded snake from a can of nuts. Kreacher was barely standing within arm’s reach but now the knobby tip bounced up and down scarcely an inch from Hermione’s face. She was too shocked to pull away and could only stare, transfixed by the gently bobbing cock-head close enough that she could see every throbbing vein decorating the length of its shaft. Kreacher cleared his throat uncertainly, breaking Hermione’s trance. She pulled back, water splashing around her, pointing her wand at Kreacher. The house-elf threw up his arms to cover his face, the violent movement causing the ridiculously oversized cock to wobble back and forth. “Awful! Awful!” Kreacher screeched. “Kreacher did nothing, but still awful, bitch-mistress punishes him!” Hermione hesitated...what he said wasn’t technically incorrect, after all. It had been her spell that had revealed his...condition. “That’s still no call for you to be in such a state!” Hermione lowered the tip of her wand but didn’t completely stand down. “Can’t you keep yourself under control for fifteen minutes?” “Stupid!” Kreacher gestured at his crotch. “What else can Kreacher do, stupid woman? Kreacher was punished! Told to leave it like this!” That’s when Hermione noticed the state of his testicles. Much like his cock, they were far larger than normal for his size but they were visibly swollen and colored a mottled shade of blue, like the face of someone choking on a meatball. “Wait...what?” “Muck-brained excuse for a mistress!” Kreacher snarled. “Doesn’t know anything about elves! Kreacher can’t go down without relief!” “You’re telling me that you can’t...you’ll stay erect forever if you don’t...um...don’t…” “Come! Kreacher will explode if he doesn’t! Don’t you even know that much?” “Of course not! Why didn’t you tell me?” “Kreacher tried to, you daft cunt!” The house-elf stamped one diminutive foot, setting his still-throbbing erection wobbling up and down. “This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you weren’t a creeping little pervert!” Hermione was shouting back at him, pulling herself half-out of the water to glare at him at eye-level, barely aware of the rigid shaft between the two of them. “Wouldn’t have happened if Kreacher’s fat-headed brazzy mistress hadn’t burned all of Kreacher’s clothes!!” “I was trying to help you, you ungrateful, ass-faced little rat!” Their voices were echoing against the marble tiles. “And don’t even think about trying to talk me into helping you with that awful thing!” “Stupid, ugly mudblood wouldn’t even know what to do! Kreacher can do it himself!” “Ugly? Didn’t seem to think so when you were peeking at me from the closet. If I’m so ugly then why are your balls ready to burst?” Kreacher opened his mouth to return the insult but the words turned into a strangled sound of shock when Hermione’s hand closed around his cock, just below the tip. Hermione was hardly less shocked by what she had just done, staring down at her fingers wrapped around Kreacher’s shaft then back up at Kreacher’s face, then back down to her hand. She could feel the thick veins beneath her fingers and the rapid pounding of Kreacher’s heartbeat hammering through them. It twitched in her hands. Time seemed to slow and she knew that there were two choices...she could let go, play this off as an accident and send Kreacher off to take care of himself like he had asked. Or she could… She could keep going. Obviously, the first choice was the right one. Kreacher was a horrid little beast, ugly inside and out. Why in the world would she want to do anything with or for him? She just acted without thinking...she didn’t really want to do anything with the terrible little elf. But even if she backed out now then Kreacher would know it. He would have seen her flinch...and even if she ordered him to keep the secret for the rest of his life the two of them would know. She’d see it behind his eyes every day, assuming she could even bring herself to look him in the eyes ever again. The humiliation would be unbearable. Kreacher let out a throaty, rattling growl and she realized that her hand had started to move on its own, her fingers sliding up and down the damp length of Kreacher’s enormous prick. In the end, it seemed that her subconscious and her body had cast the decisive vote, bypassing her pride, dignity and logic entirely. Her hand started moving faster and with greater conviction. She couldn’t have pulled away if she wanted to. Looking down, she could see her fingers (which could barely fit around Kreacher’s girth) working up and down the damp, gray skin of Kreacher’s shaft. Her other hand joined in, cupping the bulbous tip and rubbing in tight circles. Her eyes flicked back up to meet Kreacher’s and for a moment the two just stared at one another. She could feel him jerk and twitch against her palm. “M-mistress…?” “Just to be clear, I’m not doing this for your benefit.” She snapped, hoping her self-assured tone hid the slight quaver in her voice. “You just...interrupted me and ruined my personal time earlier. So, obviously, it’s only right that you make it up to me. And if you do good, then maybe we’ll also take care of your problem.” To her horror, Hermione realized that she had just proposed much more than a simple handjob, but the boulder was already rolling downhill and there was no stopping it. Even if she hadn’t said anything she could tell that her body was already thrumming with taut, eager energy. The weeks without physical contact...the intriguing books decking Walburga’s shelves...her interrupted masturbation earlier...everything that had been building up was longing to break free. She wanted this. Needed it, in fact. “Don’t just stand there like a dunce, move closer.” She let go of Kreacher’s cock, although her palm still tingled where their skin had touched. She was breathing heavily now, dizzy from the steam and arousal. Sweat and condensed steam were dripping down her face and chest, dripping into the heated bath. Kreacher obediently waddled closer, still favoring his swollen testicles, and Hermione lifted herself a bit further out of the water. The movement caused his cock to sway from side to side, wobbling comedically. The marble tiles were slick from cooling steam and one foot slipped slightly, causing Kreacher to lose his balance. Whack! Hermione held up a hand to her cheek, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. Kreacher’s slip-up had sent his cock arcing wildly, causing the tip to smack her in the face. It hadn’t hurt at all...on the contrary, the sudden contact had sent an electric pulse through her whole body...but the shock left her momentarily speechless as Kreacher’s cock bounced up and down against the hot, wet skin of her chest. “You clumsy little twat, you nearly put my eye out!” Hermione finally snapped out of the trance, covering her true reaction with indignance. “Don’t you know how to handle yourself? Don’t tell me you’re a six-hundred-year-old virgin? Should I worry about you coming the moment I touch it?” “Kreacher knows more than stupid mistress whose only been with clumsy ginger cunt.” Hermione had to fight the urge to giggle at that description, keeping her face stern. “Kreacher has serviced proper mistresses many times. Many, many times.” For some reason, it had never occurred to Hermione that Kreacher had fucked the women of the Black family. Was that a thing with the rich pure-blood families? Were they all fucking their house-elves? Maybe that’s why so few of them wanted to be freed. I suppose it’s no surprise, given the equipment house-elves seem to be packing. “Well just sit down here on the ledge, I’ll handle things so you don’t give me a bloody concussion.” Kreacher grumbled but obediently sat on the rim of the bath, his spindly legs dangling just above the steaming water. Droplets of water ran down the curve of his massive erection and dripped from its shiny tip. This close, Hermione couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She pressed herself forward, her firm nipples chilled by the moderately cooler tiles lining the rim of the steaming bath. Closing her eyes and casting her dignity aside, she nuzzled her face against the house-elf’s cock, feeling the veiny length pulse against her cheek. This is happening...I’m really going to fuck Kreacher. Kreacher let out a rattling groan as Hermione lowered her head to lick his swollen, blue balls, running her tongue over the taut, rippling skin of his sack. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, she tried to suck one but it was like trying to fit an entire orange in her mouth and all she could do was run her lips and tongue over the swollen orb, slurping the thin sheen of warm water that covered them. “A-ah! S-tupid, know-nothing mudblood!” Kreacher hissed. “Be careful, Kreacher is sore.” Hermione did her best to glare up at Kreacher with his massive cock covering most of her face. “Don’t forget who’s in charge, you thick-headed wanker. I’ll do what I want and you’ll damn well like it!” To prove her point she made another valiant attempt to inhale his balls, licking and slurping with renewed vigor. Despite his protests, Kreacher’s eyes rolled back into his head and she could see his toes curling only inches from the water’s surface. She stuck out her tongue, pressing it flat against the underside of his scrotum, feeling the weight of his testicles against it. Slowly, she rose out of the water and moved upwards, tongue gliding over the house-elf’s ballsack and then pressing against the base of his penis before sliding up that thick, pulsating ridge running along the underside of the shaft. As her tongue approached the tip, Kreacher’s cock twitched violently, jumping up an inch or two before slapping back down onto Hermione’s face and open mouth. Then it did it again, the spasm lifting it up and then dropping it, smacking her in the face with the weight of the house-elf’s erection. Kreacher hissed as he came, his cock pulsating as it shot a jet of cum straight into the air, arcing over Hermione’s head like an erotic water feature. Another clench sent a second jet of cum splashing into the bathwater right behind Hermione. “Did I say you could jizz already?” Hermione angrily gripped his cock around the base, shaking it angrily and causing the drooping length of his cock to waggle like an uncooked sausage. “Now what am I supposed to do, huh, greedy asshole?” “Kreacher isn’t like your stupid ginger.” He snapped his fingers contemptuously and Hermione’s fingers spread apart as his cock instantly swelled back to its full size. Within a second, she was holding a firm, throbbing erection once more. “Bloody hell…” Hermione gazed in awe at the thing, its tip still dribbling cum. If I had known he could do that I might have tried this sooner… Kreacher snickered, earning another dirty look from Hermione, but she was too intoxicated by the experience to think about stopping or slowing down out of spite. Standing to her full height in the bath, she came to eye-level with Kreacher. To her shock, the house-elf leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth. She was too surprised to pull back and, before she knew it, their lips were locked together. Kreacher’s cock was between them, resting against Hermione’s chest and shoulder as she pressed forward to deepen the kiss. She felt Kreacher’s tongue flick against her lips. With a soft moan, she allowed the elf’s tongue to part her lips, gently sucking to pull it into her mouth. She tasted Kreacher as their tongues lapped and curled over one another...a musty, papery taste...almost the way an old book smells. Not unpleasant, but distinctive. She pulled back, teeth gently clamped onto Kreacher’s lower lip, pulling it softly and releasing it. They kissed again, soft, light pecks this time, lips and tongues just barely touching before being released again. As they kissed, she ran her hands up and down the length of Kreacher’s cock, pressing it against her body. The vapor spell still clung to her chest, wrapping Kreacher’s cock in a thin cloud of warm mist as she pressed her breasts against it. With her hands on both sides, she pressed her breasts firmly together, enveloping him in her warmth even as their mouths came together for another long kiss. She rubbed herself up and down the length of him, her breasts stroking against both sides of his cock and tickling it with wisps of steam. Finally, their mouths separated, Hermione pulling back and lowering her head to hungrily wrap her lips around the head of his cock. It was round and wide, shaped much like the head of a mushroom (the color was similar as well) and she could feel her jaw ache as she struggled to fit the entire thing inside her mouth. Kreacher’s heartbeat was like a tiny jackhammer against her tongue, each twitch and jerk tickling the back of her throat. With a soft slurping noise, she began to bob her head, working the head of his cock in and out of her throat as she tried to take as much of him into her mouth as she could. It was a struggle, due to both girth and length, and she could feel herself struggling to get a full third into her mouth. “This must be the best a mud-blood can do.” Kreacher grinned, licking his lips as Hermione gagged on his cock. “Mistress Walburga could get much further.” Hermione could only manage a muffled, angry growl as she redoubled her efforts, relaxing her throat and jaw and pushing as hard as she could, feeling the tip of Kreacher’s fat cock pressing into her throat. “Ah, mistress, let Kreacher help!” A startled mmmph! was all that Hermione could manage as Kreacher grabbed two fist-fulls of her wet hair and yanked her head down. The steam seemed to thicken as Hermione’s vision dimmed, but she gamely sucked Kreacher deeper, her body tingling all over as she felt him pulsing inside of her throat. He came a second time, filling her throat and stomach with his cum. All the while, he kept a tight grip on her hair, making sure every drop made it inside of her. After what seemed like an eternity, he released her and she pulled back, feeling the softening cock sliding out of her throat. Finally freed, she coughed and gasped for air, the taste of Kreacher’s cum thick in her mouth. It was like tapioca pudding...not metaphorically...it actually tasted of tapioca, with a hint of cinnamon. “Kreacher, you…*gak*...you tit...I never said you could do that!” She glowered, but she was also licking her lips clean, swallowing the droplets that spattered her chin. “If you think I’m going to let you near my pussy behaving like that then you’re even more of a nutter than I thought!” “Aaaw...Kreacher forgot his mistress was a weak little mud-blood girl.” Kreacher grinned smugly, spreading his hands out. “Mistress is right, little old Kreacher is too much for her...she should go back to playing with the stupid ginger prat.” Hermione’s mouth tightened, but it was obvious to both of them that she wasn’t going to back out now. She hadn’t come yet and her pussy was throbbing so hard that each twinge sent a tiny spasm through her pelvis. Her hips were literally shaking with the desire to get something inside her. “Fine. Then get it up already!” Kreacher obediently snapped his fingers as Hermione ascended the submerged stair-step platform, emerging from the hot bath with steam rising from her skin and coalescing around her waist and chest. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the steam-spell, causing the condensed vapor to waft away and revealing her body, glistening in the dim light from the window. She lifted herself up onto the rim of the bath, kneeling on the edge with her knees straddling Kreacher’s tiny form. As his cock re-inflated to its full size it slid up her body, slipping over wet skin and coming to rest with its tip pressed to the underside of her left breast, prodding against the firm nub of her nipple. “Just remember, if you don’t do your job right I’m big enough to crush you, alright?” With that, she grabbed Kreacher under his skinny armpits and pulled him up for another kiss, her long, wet hair forming a curtain around them as she sucked his lips and tongue before continuing to plant kisses across his face and the top of his bald, wrinkled head. Kreacher returned the favor, burying his head between her breasts, licking and sucking until he found his way to one of her nipples. She hissed as his jagged little teeth pinched gently against her firm nipple, pressing ever-so-lightly against the darker skin of her areola, just enough to leave tiny dents in her flesh. His cock still throbbing against her stomach and chest, Kreacher’s fingers slipped between her legs. Hermione had become thoroughly wet, between the steaming hot bath and her own sexual frustration there was no friction left at all as Kreacher’s fingers slipped over and inside the puffy lips of her vulva. The tip of his thumb stroked the thin stubbly growth of her pubic hair before settling against the pulsating swell of her clit. Hermione could only moan and shake as his other fingers delved inside her. His hands were small but his fingers were long and spindly and they probed deeply, finding her G-spot with pinpoint precision. Hermione trembled, almost collapsing on top of the tiny house-elf as her pussy was massaged inside and out. Kreacher continued to lick and suck her nipple, gently pulling at it with his lips and teeth until it was swollen and sensitive, every touch sending pulses of pleasure through her body. She could feel the hot, slick walls of her pussy trembling and tightening around Kreacher’s fingers as they insistently circled her G-spot. She had never felt like this with Ron or even with her trusty wand...like she was standing on top of a cliff with a vast ocean below, its crashing waves of ecstasy ready to rush over the top and swallow her up. Then...it stopped. Kreacher pulled his fingers away, leaving her pussy aching and dripping as her muscles clenched around nothing. The delicious pressure on her clit vanished as Kreacher’s thumb pulled back as well. With one final lap of his gray tongue, he stopped playing with her nipple as well. “Wh-what do you think you’re doing...you fucker...keep going!” Hermione pressed herself against Kreacher, practically ready to beg for more. The rigid length of his cock was the only thing that pushed her back. “Kreacher was just getting mistress ready. Doesn’t mistress want it inside?” He licked his fingers, lapping up the glistening pussy-juice that coated them all the way to the knuckle. “Kreacher’s nasty mistress tastes of mud-blood.” “Prick.” Hermione wasn’t quite sure if that was an insult or a demand, because her body was starting to move on its own, rubbing up and down the length of Kreacher’s improbably long shaft. She was leaning further forward, forcing Kreacher to lean back on his elbows as she pressed against him, spreading her knees so that she could run her slick pussy along the length of Kreacher’s cock. “Shut up and fuck me already, Kreacher. That’s an order!” She didn’t wait for him to comply, pressing one hand against his bony chest and forcing him down onto the ground. As he lay below her, she lifted herself higher on her knees, pulling his long cock against her, trying to gain the height needed to slip him inside. Her eyes rolled up as she felt the tip of Kreacher’s cock against her eager pussy, pushing apart the glistening lips as she started to lower her body onto it. There was a moment of resistance, an instance of trembling tightness and pressure as some sane part of her body finally woke up and realized what she was trying to fit inside herself. And then he was inside. It happened all at once, a moment of intense, eye-watering pressure against her hips. A glorious mixture of ache and ecstasy...and then almost all at once she was filled. Stretched. Opened. Impaled on a thick, hot stake of trembling ecstasy. One second she was trembling against the tip, the next it was inches deep inside of her. Deeper than any normal human could have managed. Already primed by Kreacher’s fingertips, she was on the verge of orgasm the moment he penetrated her. When the tiny house-elf began to pump his small hips, she was pushed over. Consumed by the waves of pleasure as his cock pressed tightly against every wall of her pussy, it’s rippling veins flickering against the underside of her clit as Kreacher’s ferocious pumping slid his giant cock in and out of her body. “F-fuck! Aaah...ooaaah...d-don’t stop! Harder!” She pressed down, trying to fit more of Kreacher into her body as he pumped faster. Like the sun cresting over the horizon, she could feel another orgasm coming...and another...and another. Multiple climaxes blended together but she was still struggling, pushing to try and get more of that huge cock inside, her pussy hungry to swallow it whole. As her pussy strained against the girth of Kreacher’s cock, she felt pressure building behind her eyes and her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She bit her lip, rocking her hips wildly as she reached the limit of her body, barely half-way down the fat, vein-riddled cock. She leaned over Kreacher, lowering her head for another kiss, another joining of tongues as she felt aftershocks of pleasure rolling over her. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Leaning on one hand, she reached the other down, reaching behind her sweat-dappled ass and down to the still-swollen blue testicles jiggling at the base of Kreacher’s cock. Her fingers cupped them gently as she rocked back and forth above Kreacher’s body, still unable to take his entire cock inside. “Kreacher...Kreacher thinks...this isn’t bad...for a mud-blood. Of course, this is all Kreacher’s worthless mistress can take.” The house-elf hissed, gasping as Hermione pressed him to the ground from the pressure on his cock, pinning him in place like a butterfly. “F-fuuuuck you, Kreacher.” Hermione gasped, willing her body to relax, to take everything the little bastard had. “Just s-shut up and come already!” With that, she tightened her grip on Kreacher’s balls. Kreacher’s eyes widened, his eyes crossing and pupils dilating until they were just tiny dots, as she mercilessly squeezed his swollen testicles. He came like a firehose, the jet of cum hitting the inside of her pussy with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs. Her body shook with another climax, squeezing every last drop from Kreacher’s shaft, sucking it up like a water pump. The heat of his cum filling her was noticeable even in the oppressive warmth of the sauna. The spreading warmth filled her, relaxing her muscles even as she felt Kreacher’s cock softening. Hermione’s lungs sucked in the hot, humid air as she panted eagerly, releasing Kreacher’s testicles and pushing herself down on his semi-hard shaft. Even half-soft he was thicker and firmer than anything else she had experienced prior to the last half-hour and the deep, glorious ache as she filled herself with him was enough to bring tears to her eyes, biting her lip to keep from crying out as she felt the lips of her pussy brush against the base of his cock. The entire thing was inside of her. “K-Kreacher…” She gasped, eyelids fluttering as anticipation built inside of her. “ Kreacher, snap...oh fuck...snap your fingers...make it big again.” “I-is Mistress sure…?” Kreacher’s eyes snapped from Hermione’s trembling hips up to her flushed, sweat-drenched face. “Kreacher might-” “Just...ngh...just do it!” She hissed. “Do it, you...aaah...fucking maggot!” Kreacher nodded and raised his fingers again. Blue-green magic sparked across his knuckles as he snapped his fingers. Layers of old oak floorboards and thick shale wall stood between the two of them and the bustling street of Grimmauld Place. Threaded through the structure were several layers of privacy enchantments, sound-dampening spells and look-away charms designed to ensure that hundreds of Muggles walked and drove by the ancient Black residence every day without ever noticing the decaying structure, let alone hearing what went on inside its walls. A dozen Death Eaters could fling explosive spells and thunder hexes inside and it would go entirely unnoticed out on the streets. A young couple walked by the elderly building, eyes slightly fogged as the enchantments on 12 Grimmauld Place went to work, making sure that they saw nothing in it’s darkened windows, and never realized there was any gap between number 11 and number 13. They weren’t even capable of noticing the oddity of the missing number 12 address. Despite this, the young woman looked up, clouded eyes slowly blinking. “Did you hear something, honey?” She murmured, absently. “Probably a bird dear.” Her partner replied just before they passed the property line of 12 Grimmauld place and both immediately forgot the odd sound that they had just, ever-so-faintly, heard. The last echoes of Hermione’s voice faded in the bath chamber, where she still knelt over Kreacher’s prone form, her entire body shivering in the throes of unspeakable ecstasy. One, two, four, ten...more? She couldn’t have said how many times she came as Kreacher had swollen inside of her. The climaxes were in such rapid succession that they seemed like one, rolling peal of orgasmic thunder that just went on and on while arcs of pleasure flashed through her mind. Kreacher had fared much the same, his body arcing as his whole cock was taken for the first time (despite his bragging to the contrary). He had come almost instantly, only to snap his fingers again, coming once more and then snapping again until he didn’t have the strength left in his aged knuckles. Thick, white streaks of cum were splattered on the base of Kreacher’s cock, across Hermione’s inner thighs, across Kreacher’s waist and the floor he lay on. Hermione had been filled to overflowing, the excess squirting out in a hot, sticky wave every time she pulsed with a new orgasm. “Fuck...that was...that was…” Hermione’s voice was raw and she barely had the strength to keep her eyelids open. It felt like her entire body had been forced through a wringer, leaving her limbs as limp and weak as boiled pasta. One of Kreacher’s saw-blade snores broke the silence. Blearily, she looked down to see the house-elf had collapsed back onto the floor, his cock still half-inside her body. He was fast asleep, his snores rattling against the damp tiles. With incredible effort, Hermione pulled herself up, shivering as she felt Kreacher slide out of her. More cum came with it, dribbling along the inside of her legs as the fat tip of his cock pulled free with an audible pop , like the cork being pulled from champagne. Exhausted, she allowed herself to lean back, slipping into the warm embrace of the steam-bath once more. Laying on her back, she drifted there...letting the steaming water soak into her aching muscles and letting the thin streamers of Kreacher’s jizz dissolve in the hot water. “Well…” Tilting her head slightly, she looked over at Kreacher’s snoozing form. “I hope you enjoyed that, you rat-faced git...it’s the only...the last time, do you hear?” Never again. She swore, thinking about how crazy what she had just done was. Never going to touch a thing like Kreacher again and that is final.
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