Hermione was not plunged into total darkness, to her surprise even when she closed her covered eyes she could see the projection of a red octagon, a clear indication that she should stay still. The task became harder when a viscous liquid was painted on her erect clit. She could feel the frustrating itch throb through her love-button. When she was placed back on her feet, she knew the new set of chains prohibited her from rectifying the situation. Naturally she let her hips gyrate mindlessly, frustrated that she was on edge of cumming, her pried open cunt weeped juices, but she was no closer to release. She couldn’t tell whose shoe was placed by her undercarriage, but she couldn’t stop her pelvis from thrusting bluntly against the leather, looking for all the world like a rutting bitch.