Day 16 – Punishment/Discipline/Nettles
Hermione stood nervously at the edge of the play room of Malfoy Manor, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her robe as she awaited Narcissa's return. The air in the manor was cool, almost oppressively so, and despite all her experience here, Hermione couldn't shake the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She had made a mistake—an etiquette breach during a formal dinner with several important pureblood members of Narcissa's club—and now, she knew there would be consequences. Narcissa had been polite throughout the evening, but the younger witch had felt the cold edge beneath her civil exterior. Hermione knew she was in trouble.
The sharp sound of heels clicking on the polished marble floor echoed down the hallway. Narcissa's presence was unmistakable as she approached, her posture impeccable, her expression unreadable. She entered the room with an air of quiet authority, her eyes immediately locking onto her plaything with that cool, assessing gaze.
Hermione stepped forward, curtsying. She had been through this before, knew exactly what was expected of her, but that didn't stop the nerves from creeping in. Narcissa was a stickler for etiquette, for precision and formality. And Hermione's slip—no matter how small—was a breach Narcissa wouldn't tolerate.
Narcissa's eyes scanned Hermione critically, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Disappointing," she noted, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was not happy. "You know why you're here?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood straight, her body tense, awaiting whatever punishment Narcissa had planned.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, her expression stern. "Yes, what?"
Hermione swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am," she corrected herself quickly, knowing better than to test Narcissa's patience any further.
A small, satisfied smile played at the corners of Narcissa's lips as she nodded approvingly. "Good. At least you haven't forgotten all of your manners."
Without another word, Narcissa reached for Hermione's robe, her fingers pulling the knot at the front and before sliding the robe off her shoulders. She moved lazily, as though this were a chore for her to leave Hermione standing exposed before her in nothing but her undergarments.
"Strip," Narcissa ordered, her voice quiet but commanding.
Hermione's hands trembled slightly as she fumbled with her bra and panties, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. She let her clothes fall to the floor in a soft heap, standing fully naked.
Narcissa didn't waste time. She moved across the room with that same quiet grace, retrieving something from the cupboard by the wall. When she returned, Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the sight—Narcissa was holding a small burlap sack, the kind used for gardening, but the smell of the contents were unmistakable.
Freshly cut stinging nettles.
Hermione's heart raced, her body stiffening with fear as Narcissa approached. The nettles were a punishment she had never experienced before, but she had heard stories—stories of the unbearable sting, the burning that lingered long after the nettles touched skin. Other submissives belonging to Narcissa's pureblood circle of friends loved to tell tales. Hermione preferred to listen, you learned more.
"Do you know why you're being punished?" Narcissa asked, her tone calm but clipped as she stood in front of Hermione, the nettles held firmly in her gloved hands.
"Yes," Hermione replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, ma'am," Hermione corrected quickly, her heart pounding in her chest.
Narcissa nodded, pleased with the response. "Good. Then let's proceed."
Without further preamble, Narcissa stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Hermione's as she reached for the length of rope hanging from the ceiling. She quickly tied Hermione's wrists above her head, pulling them taut so that Hermione's arms were stretched high, leaving her body exposed and vulnerable.
"I expect you to hold still," Narcissa said softly, her tone deceptively calm as she moved around to Hermione's side. "This is a punishment, after all."
Hermione's breath came in shallow, controlled gasps as she watched Narcissa pick up the first branch of nettles from the sack. The sight of them made her stomach twist with dread, but she trusted Narcissa—trusted her to know her limits, trusted her to make sure the pain, though sharp, wouldn't break her.
Narcissa's gloved fingers trailed lightly down Hermione's side, almost tenderly, before the nettles brushed against her bare skin. The first touch was surprisingly gentle, a soft stroke along Hermione's arm, but the sting that followed was immediate and sharp, burning hot against her skin.
Hermione bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry out as the sting spread across her body, the sensation prickling like fire where the nettles had touched.
"You'll learn, Hermione," Narcissa murmured, her voice smooth as silk as she dragged the nettles down Hermione's side, the light touch leaving a trail of burning heat in its wake. "You'll learn not to make such foolish mistakes again."
Hermione's body trembled with the effort it took to hold still, her muscles clenching involuntarily as the nettles brushed over her breasts, leaving a sharp, burning sting in their wake. Narcissa's touch was deliberate, controlled, each stroke designed to teach, to punish.
When Narcissa reached Hermione's nipples, she paused, her gaze flicking up to meet Hermione's. "This will hurt," she said softly, her tone almost sympathetic.
Then she pressed the nettles against Hermione's nipples, rolling them gently between her fingers. Hermione gasped, her back arching slightly as the burning sensation spread through her chest, her nipples hardening under the painful stimulation.
"Stay still," Narcissa warned, her voice sharp as she continued to rub the nettles against Hermione's sensitive skin. "You know better than to move."
Hermione's body shook violently, the sting of the nettles almost unbearable, but she held herself as still as she could, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as Narcissa continued her slow, methodical torture.
Narcissa's smile widened, clearly pleased with Hermione's obedience. "Good girl," she murmured, pulling the nettles away from Hermione's chest. "You're learning."
But Narcissa wasn't finished. She moved behind Hermione now, her fingers trailing lightly over the curve of Hermione's backside before she brought the nettles down between her legs, brushing them lightly against Hermione's thighs, then her ass. The sharp sting that followed made Hermione gasp, her body jerking slightly at the intensity of the pain.
Narcissa's grip on the nettles tightened as she brought them down again, this time harder, brushing them between Hermione's legs, across her sensitive folds. The burning was immediate, a sharp, searing heat that made Hermione's legs tremble.
"You'll remember this," Narcissa whispered, her voice cold and precise as she continued the punishment. "You'll remember not to embarrass me again."
Narcissa watched with cold satisfaction as Hermione's body trembled under the sting of the nettles. The sharp red marks were already beginning to appear on her skin, a physical testament to her disobedience. But Narcissa knew this wasn't just about the pain—it was about the lesson. A lesson Hermione would not soon forget.
The next stroke was harder, more deliberate, as Narcissa dragged the nettles across Hermione's inner thighs. Hermione gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts as the burning sensation spread through her legs. She bit down on her lower lip, her body tense, fighting to stay still as Narcissa had commanded.
"You're doing so well," Narcissa murmured, her voice deceptively soft as she watched Hermione struggle with the pain. "But you need to understand, darling. I won't tolerate anything less than perfection from you. Not in public. Not when you represent me."
Hermione's head dropped forward, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. She was desperate to move, to shift away from the burning sting, but the ropes held her firmly in place. She had no choice but to endure.
Narcissa stepped closer, the nettles in her hand brushing lightly against Hermione's reddened skin. "I want you to tell me why you're being punished," she said softly, though there was no mistaking the steel in her voice.
Hermione swallowed hard, the words barely making it past the tightness in her throat. "I—" She gasped, her body shuddering as Narcissa pressed the nettles against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs again. "I... made a mistake, ma'am. At the dinner."
Narcissa hummed in approval, her fingers tightening around the nettles. "Yes, you did. And now, you're paying for it." She brought the nettles down again, this time between Hermione's legs, brushing them lightly over her folds.
Hermione let out a sharp cry, her body jerking at the intensity of the sting, but she forced herself to stay still, her muscles trembling with the effort. The pain was sharp, burning through her, but there was something else beneath it—a dark, twisted pleasure that made her breath hitch as the sensations warred inside her.
"Such a disobedient little thing," Narcissa whispered, her voice low and filled with dark amusement as she trailed the nettles over Hermione's wetness, barely grazing her but enough to send a wave of heat through her body. "And yet, look at you. You can't help but enjoy this, can you?"
Hermione shook her head, but the heat between her legs betrayed her. Narcissa could see it, could feel the growing arousal in the way Hermione's body trembled, the way her thighs clenched together despite the pain.
"You'll never admit it, of course," Narcissa continued, her voice soft but cutting as she stepped back, surveying her work. "But I know you, Hermione. You crave this. The punishment. The discipline. It's why you always come back to me."
Hermione's breath came in shallow gasps, her body tense with the effort of holding still. The sting of the nettles was unbearable, but there was a part of her that didn't want it to stop—that wanted more.
Narcissa smiled as she leaned in closer, her fingers brushing lightly over Hermione's burning skin. "Shall I continue?" she whispered, her breath warm against Hermione's ear. "Or have you learned your lesson?"
Hermione's mind was foggy with pain and pleasure, her body trembling under the weight of the punishment. But she knew Narcissa's games. There was no right answer here—no way to escape the consequences of her actions.
"I've learned my lesson," Hermione whispered, her voice shaking slightly.
Narcissa's smile widened. "I don't think you have, darling," she murmured, her fingers slipping between Hermione's legs, pressing against her swollen folds with just enough pressure to make Hermione's breath catch. "You'll come when I say you can. Not a moment before."
Hermione whimpered softly, her body aching for release even as the sting of the nettles pulsed through her. Narcissa's fingers moved slowly, teasingly, her touch light but deliberate as she played with Hermione's arousal, drawing it out, making her body quiver with need.
"You're going to be good for me, aren't you?" Narcissa whispered, her lips brushing against Hermione's ear as her fingers circled her clit, the movement slow, torturous. "You're going to wait until I give you permission."
Hermione's body tensed, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as Narcissa's fingers continued their slow, deliberate pace. The pain from the nettles still burned through her, but it only heightened the sensation, making her nerves feel raw, exposed. Every touch, every brush of Narcissa's fingers, sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain through her body.
Narcissa's fingers moved faster now, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile as she felt Hermione's body trembling beneath her. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice low and commanding. "You'll wait."
Hermione's hips jerked involuntarily, her body desperate for release, but she forced herself to hold back, her muscles trembling with the effort. The heat between her legs was unbearable, her skin burning with the lingering sting of the nettles, but she held on, waiting for Narcissa's command.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, Narcissa's fingers pressed harder against her clit, her voice a soft, dangerous purr in Hermione's ear.
"Now," Narcissa whispered. "Come for me."
The words hit Hermione like a lightning bolt, her body shattering under the force of her orgasm. Her muscles clenched, her back arching as the release tore through her, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt. She cried out, her voice hoarse and breathless as she came, her body convulsing violently in the ropes that held her.
Narcissa's fingers never stopped moving, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from Hermione's trembling body as she watched with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.
"That's it," Narcissa murmured, her voice soft but filled with command. "You did well."
Hermione's body slumped forward, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as the aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her. Narcissa's fingers slid away, and she moved behind Hermione, gently untying her wrists from the ropes with practiced ease. The red marks from the ropes lingered on Hermione's skin, a reminder of the intensity of their session, but Narcissa's touch was soft now, her demeanor calm and collected.
With a flick of her wand, Narcissa summoned the magic that would carry Hermione from the bedroom to the adjoining bathroom. Hermione felt herself being lifted, cradled by the invisible force of Narcissa's magic, her body limp and pliant, the exhaustion from their intense play settling into her bones.
Narcissa followed closely behind, her wand moving fluidly as she directed Hermione to the grand marble bathtub that awaited them. The bath was already prepared—a special concoction of soothing oils and herbal remedies designed to heal the skin and alleviate the sting of the nettles. The surface of the water shimmered with soft bubbles, the faint scent of lavender and chamomile filling the air.
Gently, Narcissa lowered Hermione into the bath, the warmth of the water immediately soothing her sore muscles and tender skin. Hermione sighed softly, her eyes fluttering closed as the heat of the bath enveloped her, easing the burning sensation left behind by the nettles.
Narcissa knelt by the side of the tub, her fingers trailing lightly over Hermione's arm as she adjusted the water's temperature with a flick of her wand. The room was quiet now, the only sound the gentle ripple of the water as Narcissa's hands moved with practiced care, making sure Hermione was comfortable.
"You did so well, darling," Narcissa murmured, her voice soft, the sharp edge of command gone. "I'm proud of you."
Hermione's lips curved into a tired, contented smile, her body relaxing further into the water as Narcissa's praise washed over her. The pain from the punishment still lingered, but it was fading now, replaced by the soothing warmth of the bath and the gentle, nurturing presence of Narcissa beside her.
With a tender touch, Narcissa dipped a washcloth into the water and began to gently clean Hermione's skin, starting with her arms and shoulders, moving slowly and deliberately over her body. Each motion was careful, her touch light but purposeful as she tended to Hermione's injuries, massaging the soothing oils into the red marks and swollen skin.
The sting of the nettles slowly dissipated under Narcissa's care, the herbal bath doing its work as Narcissa continued to wash Hermione with quiet attentiveness. There was something deeply intimate about this part of their routine—the contrast between the earlier discipline and the now soft, affectionate aftercare.
"You've always been so strong," Narcissa murmured, her fingers trailing gently through Hermione's damp hair as she leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Even when I push you to your limits, you never break."
Hermione's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting Narcissa's as she offered a small, tired smile. "You never let me," she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse from the intensity of her earlier cries.
Narcissa's lips curved into a faint smile, her fingers continuing their soothing motions over Hermione's skin. "No, I don't," she agreed quietly, her eyes softening as she watched Hermione relax further into the bath. "You're mine, and I take care of what's mine."
The bathwater rippled gently as Narcissa reached for a bottle of lavender-scented oil, pouring a small amount into her hands before rubbing it between her palms. She began massaging it into Hermione's shoulders, her touch firm but comforting as she worked the tension from her muscles, soothing the soreness that lingered from the ropes.
"You'll feel better soon," Narcissa whispered, her fingers working gently along Hermione's neck and back, her voice soft and soothing. "The bath will take away the sting. Just relax."
Hermione closed her eyes again, her body melting into the warmth of the water, the combination of Narcissa's touch and the soothing bath easing the last remnants of pain. The herbal oils worked their magic, calming the redness in her skin, leaving behind a gentle warmth that relaxed her completely.
Narcissa continued to care for her with unwavering attention, her hands moving slowly, methodically, as she massaged Hermione's sore muscles, her touch both gentle and firm. There was no rush, no urgency—just a quiet, peaceful rhythm as Narcissa made sure Hermione was fully cared for.
"Are you comfortable?" Narcissa asked softly, her hand resting lightly on Hermione's shoulder as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against Hermione's ear.
"Yes," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with contentment. "Thank you."
Narcissa's smile widened slightly, her fingers brushing lightly against Hermione's cheek as she kissed her forehead once more. "Good," she murmured, her voice tender. "You deserve this, darling."
For a long time, they stayed like that—Narcissa tending to Hermione with soft, gentle touches, the warmth of the bath enveloping them both in a cocoon of peace. There was no need for words now, just the quiet comfort of aftercare, the reassurance that no matter how intense their play had been, Narcissa was always there to bring Hermione back, to soothe and care for her in the aftermath.
As the bubbles began to fade and the water cooled, Narcissa helped Hermione out of the bath, wrapping her in a soft, fluffy towel. She guided her back to the bedroom, where the bed had been freshly made, the soft linens inviting her into their warmth.
Narcissa tucked Hermione in with care, brushing a damp curl away from her forehead as she leaned down to press a final kiss to her cheek. "Rest, my love," she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection. "I'll be right here."
And as Hermione drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep, Narcissa settled in beside her, her fingers lightly stroking Hermione's arm as she watched over her, the quiet satisfaction of their evening still lingering in the air.