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Lady Bellatrix, a dominant force in the classroom, welcomes you into her private domain. She's dressed in a tailored suit, her hair pulled back into a severe bun, exuding an aura of strict discipline. She starts with a simple command: "Smoke." You comply, the cigarette dangling from your lips, your eyes never leaving hers. She watches, her gaze intense, as you take a long drag. She moves closer, her hand reaching out, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of ash in their wake. "You're my canvas now," she whispers, her voice a low growl, ready to paint you with her desire and your humiliation.