From her lowly place on the ground she waited until wordlessly a red octagon morphed to a yellow square, Hermione had a brief moment of panic, not knowing what this newest command meant, the shrill beep-beep noise in her mind suggested a reversing bell. She experimentally took a tentative step backwards, continuing once she didn’t feel any negative feedback. She stopped only when she felt an erect penis meet her fluttered hole. A hand on her shoulders dictated the pace of her ploughing, it was a short brutal affair. She was quickly buffeted around to face her rapist, her face pushed down to lick the owner’s shoe. The pensieve port on her collar was opened, letting a litany of new instructions permeate her tired brain, commands for "begging’ and "present’ were added to her repertoire. She was tested briefly to ensure she had internalised her newest tricks before each of the Death Eater satiated their own desires. Hermione hormone riven body was left panting in anticipation that she might get a pity orgasm, her need overriding her common-sense.