Hermione had been trained to pleasure anything that came within the vicinity of her mouth, the conditioning she received from the house elves in the clinical setting of the Room of Requirement did little to prepare her for the messy smells and tastes of pleasuring a person in reality. Her tongue felt like it had a mind of its own burrowing its way deep into Alecto Carrow’s acrid-tasting love folds. The witch was responding in kind, grinding back down on the face below her, enjoying the additional friction trying to eke out more and more pleasure. Alecto Carrow orgasmed quickly, but aside from making Hermione’s task wetter and smellier her captive tongue continued to orally pleasure the Death Eater with unabashed gusto, even as she felt the other death eaters play with her breasts and areolas, laughing as they took turns suckling her milk-producing breasts, Hermione’s tongue plowed into the witch above her.