Chapter 66: Fall of Headmistress [2]
The cold stone of the abandoned bathroom sink bit into Minerva's thighs, but she didn't care. The shock of the cold was nothing compared to the heat of Ethan's mouth as he latched onto her nipples. He didn't just lick them; he bit them, pulling and rolling the dark, stiff peaks between his teeth until she was sobbing into his shoulder. The emerald silk of her dress was a ruined mess, hanging off her waist in wet, shredded rags.
Ethan pulled his head back, his eyes dark with a cruel, predatory gleam. He looked at her flushed face, her hair falling out of its severe bun in messy, dark tangles.
"Look at you," Ethan sneered, his voice a low, mocking rasp. "The great Minerva McGonagall. The woman who makes every student in this castle tremble with a single look. And here you are, spread out on a filthy sink in a haunted bathroom, begging a stranger to wreck you."
Minerva tried to muster some shred of her dignity, but her breath came in short, jagged hitches. "Ethan... please..."
"Please what, you perverted bitch?" Ethan interrupted, his hand sliding down between her legs, palm pressing hard against her crotch. "You spent last night watching me through a window like a common voyeur. Did it make your pussy leak, Minerva? Watching me pound that girl? Did you imagine it was you? Did you touch yourself while you watched from the shadows?"
Minerva's head fell back, her eyes rolling as his fingers began to work through the silk of her panties. "I... I couldn't help it... it was so intense..."
"Bullshit," Ethan laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "You're just a dirty old pervert who's been starved for a real dick for way too long. Imagine if Harry Potter walked in right now. Or Dumbledore. What would Albus say, seeing his 'loyal, stern' deputy with her tits out and her legs shaking for a man from another world?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed the waistband of her expensive, lace-trimmed silk panties and yanked. The fabric gave way with a satisfying rip, and he tossed the remains onto the wet floor.
He spread her legs wide, forcing her knees apart until she was completely exposed to the dim, grey light of the bathroom. Ethan looked down, and a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face.
She wasn't bald. A neatly trimmed, dark bush of hair sat atop her pussy, the curls damp with her own arousal. It was a mature, womanly sight—not the hairless dolls of his own world, but something real and heavy with musk. Her pussy lips were swollen and dark, glistening with a thick, clear slick that ran down toward her anus.
"You're soaking, Minerva," Ethan muttered, his voice dropping into a guttural growl. "You've been wanting this all day, haven't you?"
He reached down and buried two fingers into her. She was incredibly tight, her internal muscles clenching around him like a vice. A loud, wet squelch filled the quiet room as he drove his fingers deep, finding her clitoris with his thumb and grinding against it with brutal precision.
Minerva let out a high-pitched, desperate shriek that echoed off the tiled walls. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels drumming against the stone as she tried to force him deeper.
"Is that it? You want more?" Ethan teased, pulling his fingers out with a wet pop and immediately replacing them with his tongue.
He didn't hold back. He buried his face in her heat, his tongue swirling around her clit before diving deep into her wet cunt. He tasted the salt and the musk, the sharp tang of a woman who hadn't been touched in decades. Minerva was thrashing against the sink, her hands digging into Ethan's shoulders until her nails drew blood, her moans turning into incoherent, gutteral babbles.
The sound of his tongue working—slurp, schlop, squelch—was the only thing in the room. He worked her over until she was vibrating, her hips bucking frantically as she neared a peak.
But right before she could come, Ethan pulled back.
He stood up, his breathing heavy, and reached for the fly of his trousers. Minerva reached out for him, her eyes glazed and pleading. "Don't... don't stop... Ethan, please!"
"I'll tell you when you can come, bitch," Ethan snapped. He pulled his dick out, and it sprang free, thick, purple-headed, and pulsing with a heavy, rhythmic throb. He grabbed it, stroking himself twice before leaning in and slapping the head of his cock against her wet lips.
Minerva's eyes widened at the size of him, her breath hitching.
"Look at it," Ethan commanded, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look down. "This is what you were peeping at last night. This is what you want inside you, isn't it? Tell me, Professor. Tell me you want this dick in your tight, old cunt."
"I want it..." Minerva whispered, her Scottish accent thick and broken. "I want it... please, Ethan. Give it to me."
"Say it louder. Tell me what a pervert you are."
"I am a pervert!" she cried out, her face twisted in a mix of shame and agonizing desire. "I'm a dirty bitch! Just... please, fuck me!"
Ethan didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed her hips, his fingers bruising the pale skin, and lunged forward.
He entered her in one long, brutal thrust. The sensation was overwhelming—she was so tight it felt like she was going to rip him apart, her internal walls hot and incredibly wet. He bottomed out instantly, his balls slapping against her ass as he buried himself to the hilt.
Minerva let out a sound that was barely human—a long, jagged scream of pure, unadulterated release. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and for a second, she went limp, her brain short-circuiting as his girth stretched her to the breaking point.
Ethan didn't give her a second to recover. He began to move, his pace frantic and rabid. He didn't use the 'gentle' rhythm of a lover; he pounded into her with the focused aggression of a man who wanted to break her.
Thwack. Slap. Squelch.
The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom like a drumbeat. Ethan's dick slid in and out, the friction against her G-spot making her roar with pleasure. Every time he drove back in, the stone sink creaked under their weight.
"How does it feel, Minerva?" Ethan grunted, his sweat dripping onto her chest. "Does it feel better than watching? Having a real man's dick stretching your tight little cunt out?"
"Yes... oh, God, yes!" she gasped, her fingers clawing at the stone. "Harder! Fuck me harder, Ethan!"
Ethan reached around, grabbing her breasts and kneading them roughly, his thumbs raking over her nipples as he continued to slam into her. He shifted his angle, pulling her legs even wider until he was hitting the very back of her womb. Minerva's voice was gone, replaced by a series of sharp, rhythmic gasps that matched the movement of his hips.
He was a blur of motion, his muscles rippling in the moonlight. He felt like a god, and Minerva was his sacrifice. He looked down at her—the great Professor McGonagall, reduced to a wet, panting mess of hair and emerald silk, her face a mask of primal, carnal bliss.
"You're a such a slut, Minerva," Ethan whispered, his voice dark and cruel. "A brilliant, high-ranking slut. After I'm gone, every time you sit at that high table and look at your students, you're going to feel the ache in your cunt and remember how I wrecked you in a dirty bathroom."
Minerva didn't even care about the words. She was too far gone. She began to peak, her internal muscles clamping down on his dick like a vice, pulsing in a frantic, desperate rhythm.
"I'm... I'm coming! Ethan, I'm coming!"
"Not yet," Ethan growled. He pulled out, the wet slide of his cock making a loud, sucking sound. He flipped her over on the sink, forcing her onto her hands and knees.
He didn't wait. He drove back in from behind, the change in angle allowing him to go even deeper. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back so she had to look at her own reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink.
"Watch yourself," Ethan commanded. "Watch the bitch get what she deserves."
Minerva watched. She saw her own flushed face, her exposed, bouncing breasts, and the way Ethan's thick cock was disappearing into her from behind, the dark hair of her bush messy and wet. The visual was the final straw.
She let out a final, shimmering scream of "ETHAN!" as her body went into a massive, earth-shaking convulsion. Her pussy gripped him with a strength that nearly made him finish right then and there, her walls pulsing against him in a frantic, wet tidal wave.
Ethan held her there, his hands digging into her hips as he rode out her climax, his own release building like a volcano. He pounded into her ten more times, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, until he couldn't hold back anymore.
"I'm filling you up, Minerva," Ethan roared. "I'm leaving a piece of my world inside you."
He let out a guttural, primal sound as he finished, his dick pulsing inside her as he shot load after load of hot, thick cum deep into her. He felt her womb stretch under the pressure, the warmth spreading through her as he emptied himself into her.
He stayed there for a long moment, his chest heaving, his forehead resting against the back of her neck. The only sound in the room was their ragged, shallow breathing and the occasional drip of a leaky pipe.
Slowly, Ethan pulled out. A thick, white mixture of his cum and her juices began to leak out of her, running down her inner thighs and dripping onto the stone floor.
Minerva stayed draped over the sink, her body trembling, her mind a blank, blissful void. She looked like a woman who had been through a war and come out the other side reborn.
Ethan reached out, patting her ass once, a sharp, stinging slap that made her flinch.
"Good lesson, Professor," Ethan said, his voice returning to its casual, arrogant tone. "I think you've earned your passing grade."
He turned and began to gather his clothes, leaving Minerva alone in the shadows of the abandoned bathroom, her emerald dress ruined and her soul forever changed. The Master of the Mystic Arts had given his final lecture, and it was one the Deputy Headmistress would never forget.
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