Yes, Sir

Lesson 4: Body image.

It had been the longest 24 hours in existence. 

Hermione was clinging on by a thread, just the sight of Severus was enough to cause her thighs to be wet with her own slick, her clit to become engorged, her nipples to become erect underneath her robes. The list went on. It had only been 24 hours. Hermione chastised herself every time she felt her core re-ignite. The flames had never really been extinguished since the previous evening, in which Severus had bent her over his desk and turned her bum a very pretty shade of pink. Every time the Headmaster passed her in the corridors, which he seemed to be doing an awful lot today, it felt like a litre of gasoline had been tossed onto the metaphorical fire that was her arousal. 

There was truly no rest. 

Leaving the Headmaster's office last night had been a nightmare. Hermione was conviced that she reeked of sex. She hurried anxiously along the corridors, mentally begging whatever deity was listening not to run into one of her colleagues. They would certainly be able to smell the scent of excitement that was almost definintley permeating from underneath her skirts. Once again, wearing no knickers had been foolish. It only served to heighten her own feeling of exposure. 

The tiny area of Hermione's brain (and ultimately her cunt) that received a sick kind of enjoyment from humiliation and public exposure wanted her to be caught by one of her work-mates. In fact, she could imagine the smirk on the Headmaster's face, when one of his busy-body Professor's reported the scandalous behaviour of their newest addition to the staff. Perhaps he would punish her publicly. 

Swearing under her breath, Hermione realised that thoughts of that nature only served to make the swelling between her legs worse. 

It had been more difficult than she had anticipated, once lying in bed that night, to resist the urge to slide her fingers between her legs to ease her arousal. Her pyjama top was rough and teasing against her nipples, both of which had been begging for attention like needy dogs since she had clapped eyes on Severus. Hermione had squeezed them shut, willing herself to ignore her excitement and to go to sleep. The clock had ticked long past 2 in the morning before Hermione was able to relax enough to slip into slumber. 

She wasn't imagining things, The Headmaster seemed to be everywhere.

They crossed paths in the hallways between lessons, at mealtimes and even in the Staff room after classes. He was certainly stalking her on purpose; Hermione wasn't entirely sure she liked it. 

He had smirked at Hermione when she had sat upon the hard wooden chairs of the Hogwarts staff table, barely concealing her wince. With a scowl, Hermione had poured herself a cup of tea and did her best to ignore the slight burn of her bottom underneath her skirts. She knew he hadn't given her a real punishment, the worst was yet to come. Hermione wasn't entirley sure she could face the humiliation of eating breakfast infront of her students after a real punishment, trying not to apply pressure to the cherry-coloured welts that would almost definitley line her arse, should Severus decide to cane her the next time she stepped out of line. 

He was in her head. Perhaps that was his intention? 

Time seemed to crawl as Hermione sat through dinner that evening, trying to appear demure as her hormones raged uncontrollably. She had been able to grant herself brief periods of blissful distraction throughout the day by shifting her focus to something other than Severus Snape. As soon as the task at hand had been completed, and Hermione left to her own thoughts, the wetness in her knickers seemed to grow exponentially. 

When the clock in her small collection of rooms finally chimed indicating the nearing of their pre-arranged meeting time, Hermione leapt up from her desk without a second thought, and hurried towards the Headmaster's rooms. She moved like a woman possessed, impervious and unaware of those around her. Hermione was pretty sure that someone could set off a box of Weasleys Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the corridor in front of her, and she would hardly notice. Once again grateful that none of her colleagues had caught her in the halls, begging her to stop and chat, Hermione reached the Headmaster's office with five minutes to spare.