Notes

Hermione hadn’t expected the spell to feel so good.

She’d known it would feel pleasant, of course. She’d created it, painstakingly, secretly, over more than a month, as an anniversary present for Ron. They’d married shortly after she finished her advanced studies post-Hogwarts, and at first they’d both been very happy. Then, slowly, Ron had started pushing things in the bedroom. Hermione knew he was more experienced than her, but some of the things he wanted, the power and control—she just couldn’t agree to that!

But she knew he was unhappy about it. He wanted more, and she wanted to give him more—but she just couldn’t enjoy the things he wanted. At least… not as she was normally. There was, she realized, a way she could make herself enjoy it. Spells to increase libido, dampen the critical faculties, enhance pleasure, reward submission. Dangerous spells, spells deep in the gray area between the fully accepted and the Unforgivable. But she’d found ways to study them, cracking the theory behind them, and slowly pieced together a spell that combined elements of all of them, a spell that would make her less intelligent, more submissive and sexually pliant. The hard part had been making sure it would wear off in a day, but she’d… something.

It was getting hard to remember. The spell was working, and it felt incredible. Her thoughts were sluggish and she was getting more distracta—a wave of lust tingled through her body. She’d put on her old Hogwarts uniform but left most of the buttons undone—Ron seemed to have a… whatsitcalled. A thing for uniforms. And tits.

Tits! She’d never think that word before. It was a naughty word! She giggled, still carefully aiming the wand at her head. The pink light flowing from it felt like it was cleaning her out, sweeping away all the bad stuff. All the nasty second thoughts and hesitations and implications and rules. She felt so good, so happy and horny, she just couldn’t wait until Ron got—

The door opened and Ron stared at his wife. “Um. Hermione? What are you doing.”

The light faded and Hermione lowered the wand. “Uhhh… I forget.” With Ron here, all she could think about was him tearing her panties off and pinning her down on their bed. She waved in the general direction of the little table by the door. “I left a note.” She giggled again.

Ron read it, his eyes getting wider as he read what she’d done, and her promise to fulfill his every fantasy for the next 24 hours. Then he looked up at Hermione. “Really?”

She smiled. “Uh-huh. Happy anni… thingy, honey!”

Ron grabbed her arm and half-dragged her to the bedroom, not that he needed to. She laughed and followed him eagerly. She squealed as he flung her onto the bed, and then spread her legs wide. “Please…” she moaned, rubbing her va—her vaj… her pussy through her panties. “Please Ron… fuck me…”

His trousers hit the floor, followed by his briefs a moment later. His long, hard cock stood at attention, and Hermione’s mouth watered at the sight of it. “How badly do you want it?” he asked her.

Hermione moaned. “Please… I’ll do anything, I need you so bad Ron..!”

Ron grinned. “Anything?”

–

They fucked four times that night. The first time was hard, animalistic, desperate, the best sex either of them had ever had. The second, Ron started by teasing Hermione, toying with her body until she thought she would explode, or would have if she could still think, and only when she was reduced to incoherent pleading did he finally take her and it was even better. The third time he made her kneel and call him Master, licking and stroking his cock until it was hard again, and then roughly ordered her to fuck him, which was better still. By the fourth time they were both tired, but he ordered her to get him hard yet again, then get on top and fuck him while chanting that she was a dumb slut and his property—and that was the best of all.

Hermione woke the next morning feeling like her head was stuffed with fuzz, which was pretty normal for mornings. But it didn’t unfuzz. She remembered the night before like a whirlwind of pleasure and sensation, vague images rising out of a general sea of bliss. She smiled at Ron’s sleeping form, but something was tickling at the back of her head.

The spell’s wearing off. It only lasts 24 hours, I cast it yesterday evening, and it’s early afternoon now. That means there’s only—
She shook her head. Whatever, that was boring. The spell was fun, she didn’t want to think about it ending, she wanted to fuck Ron some more. She snuggled against him, sliding her hand slowly down his body to his cock. Hermione gently stroked him, feeling him getting harder in her hand.

She looked up into his open eyes. “Hmm, I bet I know what you want,” he said teasingly.

“Cock?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he said. Then he took her hand and pulled it off him. “After breakfast.”

Hermione pouted. “Pleeeeaaase, Master?”

“Breakfast first,” Ron said firmly. “Then fucking.”

She sighed and slid out of bed. Obeying him felt good, but not as good as fucking him. As she walked toward the kitchen, she thought about what to make. Weirdly, she had no trouble remembering what ingredients they had or what recipes she knew.

That’s the exception for domestic tasks and roleplay, she thought. Since Ron likes French maids so much.

It was like there was another voice in her head, the smart, boring Hermione she used to be, and it kept poking through the nice fluffy pink clouds before they covered it up again.

Metaphor. I’m getting smarter again.

But the thoughts were distracting. She needed to focus on breakfast! Cracking eggs, whisking them, scrambling them. Ron watched her from the kitchen table while she cooked. He was naked and rock hard, and that was so distracting there wasn’t room for anything but that and cooking.

She set the plate of eggs and bacon down in front of him and then knelt by his chair. “What about your breakfast, pet?” he asked, and gestured to his cock.

It took Hermione’s addled brain a moment to understand, but then she eagerly rushed to obey, engulfing the head of his cock in her mouth. I didn’t used to like this, she thought, but that was silly. It felt so good, how could she have ever refused?

Ron—Master—soon came in her mouth, and she swallowed him down happily. Not much longer, she thought as she gazed up at him. “I wish I could feel like this forever,” she said.

Ron looked down at her. “You mean that?”

She nodded emphatically. “Uh-huh! This feels so good! But the spell’s gonna end soon…”

Ron stroked her cheek. “We could do this again some time.”

Nononono I hate this stuff! I’m only doing it for Ron! “No,” Hermione said. But she didn’t hate this, how could she hate something that felt so good? “Feels so good, I don’t wanna ever stop.”

Ron smiled nervously. “If… if you really mean that, if you want to keep going, we could… cast the spell again?”

No! Don’t make me stay like this longer! “Then I’ll stay like this longer! You’re so smart, Master!”

He leaned down to kiss her. “Never thought I’d hear you say that. C’mon, show me where your notes are? I might not get the theory, but I can probably figure out how to cast the spell.”

Hermione struggled to remember where she put her notes, while at the same time some other memory was clamoring for her attention, something about wanting to make this temporary. But then they found the notes, and Ron read through them.

By the time the shadows outside were growing long, he was ready. Hermione knelt in front of Ron, both naked, while he pointed his wand between her eyes. Her mind whirled as she stared up at him. This was what he wanted. It felt so good to do what he wanted! But I don’t want to stay—The sex last night was so good! She loved serving, fucking, sucking, being on her knees! But—There was some reason she should tell him to stop, but it was so hard to remember it! So hard to think about anything other than that pink light, how good it felt when it wiped her mind clean of sad, boring, smart-girl voices. So much easier just to kneel and wait while he double-checked the spell.

And then her mind cleared. Her eyes widened as she realized the spell had worn off, and Ron was about to cast it again! She opened her mouth, about to shout “Stop!” And then the pink light flowed over her from Ron’s wand and pleasure filled her thoughts. Her jaw dropped as it filled her head, the pleasure, the submission, the desire. She was supposed to tell him to stop, because, because… because why? It felt so good, and it was so easy to let it happen…

I’m never going to be the old me again, she thought, and then there was only pink.

–

364 days later…
Hermione knelt at her Master’s feet, gazing up at him happily. It was their usual evening ritual, when Master cast the spell that kept her dumb and happy and enslaved. Then they would play, and go to bed, and tomorrow she would slowly get smarter and more confused until evening, when Master would make her dumb and everything would be simple again.

The voice of Boring Hermione nagged at the back of her mind, like it always did before the spell, but Hermione had a lot of practice ignoring her smarter side. She just thought about how good the spell was going to feel, how great it was to have Master to make all the decisions for her so she could just fuck and suck and have fun and be happy.

But something was different today. Where was Master’s wand? For a moment, Hermione panicked. Did he forget? Was he going to let Boring Hermione take over?

“Happy anniversary!” Master said, and held out something for Hermione to take. She looked it over in confusion. A collar? With writing on it. It said… she bit her lip while she tried to work it out. S… l… u… t..? She looked up at Master in confusion.

“It’s yours!” he said. “It took me ages to figure out on my own, but it’s got the spell woven into it! As long as you wear it, I won’t need to cast it—it’ll be permanent, never weakening, never wearing off.”

Hermione stared up at Master, trying to work it out. Deep inside her, Boring Hermione was screaming. It’ll be permanent! I’ll never be able to think for myself again! “Permanent..? So I’ll… I’ll be like this forever?”

Master nodded. “Exactly.”

Boring Hermione screamed and screamed as Hermione smiled dazzlingly. “Oh, Master! Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She held the collar up to him, and he took it from her solemnly.

No! Boring Hermione cried. Stop, let me out, I don’t want this, I—And then the collar was around her neck, and the voice went silent.

“Now, slut,” said Master, “for my present. I’ll let you pick it out—where do you want my cock?”

Hermione gazed up at him in dazed bliss and gestured to her mouth.

“Right answer,” said Master.

And then there was the cock in her mouth, and the pink bliss in her brain, giggles and sex and outfits, serving and pleasing her Master, forever.

She couldn’t have been happier.