featherxquill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
featherxquill) wrote2004-05-19 02:32 am
featherxquill) wrote2004-05-19 02:32 am
A World Of Wonderlands
Severus Snape drummed long, steady fingers against his desk. A potions textbook with a stamp from the restricted section of the library lay open before him, but he was not reading it. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the window in his office that gave a view of the grounds, but he wasn’t seeing that either.
The vision he saw was entirely in his mind, a somewhat sordid fantasy, though you would not have known it from looking at him. He appeared deep in thought, contemplating a potion, and perhaps he was.
Slowly, a truly evil smile spread across his lips, and he lifted a quill from the desk before him, and reverently unrolled a scroll. His eyes fell to the page again, and he began to re write the potion on the open page, with certain modifications to suit the nature of the drinker.
A light chuckle shook his frame as he penned the last instruction, and closed the textbook. “Bewitching The Mind: Potions That Alter And Control The Senses.” Oh, this was going to be more fun than he had ever imagined.
****
“Bline, Lucretia?” Warmed from the heat of an intellectual debate, he circled the room like a predator, and Lucretia, for a moment, thought his movements odd. Then she shook off the thought and reclined into the chair languidly, allowing her crossed legs to fall to the floor, knees spread a little beneath her gown.
“Of course, Severus. What do you currently have in your store?” His eyes met hers, and travelled down her body, observing her subtly provocative position, and a smirk curled his lips as he turned back to the cabinet. She watched him lift a hand to trace his fingers over the bottles, caressing the contours of their form in much the same way that he would caress her.
His voice was like satin over her skin. “Hmm, I think I shall surprise you tonight.”
She chuckled. “All right, Severus, though don’t make it something old, please? I am rather in the mood for a young one tonight; they blend so voraciously with the wine.” She knew that topic made him shake his head, partly in amusement, partly in disbelief, as mortals did to one another when one mentioned a particular delicacy the other did not care for.
“Well, Lucretia, I can’t claim to be a connoisseur of this particular delight, but the patron of the Hog’s Head did inform me that you rather enjoy this blending.” With a wave of his wand, two tall wine glasses appeared on the side stand below the cabinet, and he removed one of the bottles from within it.
The liquid that tinkle into the glass was a rich burgundy, darker than wine, but thinner than blood. Even from a distance, it looked well made. Corking and sliding that bottle into the cabinet, he selected another for himself, a red without the vampiric addition.
“Enjoy, my dear.” There was something unbelievably seductive about the way he crossed the room, something that sent her body temperature swirling. The endearment was always used dryly. He was not one for pet names. He pressed the glass into her hand, and she swirled it about a little, drawing a thread of heat from the fire mentally to warm it. Bline was best just above body temperature.
He had resumed the seat he had been in all evening, and was watching her intently with some sort of hungry, predatory expression. She exulted in it, arching back into the chair, stretching one leg out as though it had become uncomfortable. He was the only man she had ever known who could ravish someone just by looking at them. A thrill of arousal raged through her.
Languidly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, and took a sip of the bline. Those black eyes were smouldering, and their gaze warred together. Another sip. The bline was vintage. Smooth, expensive, a Cabernet with a young, mature Anglo-Saxon male. Both the wine and the blood were in prime of life.
Her eyes sparkled. “Delicious.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Indeed.”
It was not unusual for him to look predatory, but this evening he looked positively vicious, and for a moment it gave her pause. Why had she not noticed it before? He was up to something.
Her lips twitched into a smile. “What is going through that mind of yours, Severus Snape?”
Severus could not keep the smile off his face, though he was sure it was a delighted, evil looking thing. Lucretia was a cluey, intelligent woman, but she was ever so easy to seduce. He supposed it was part of her nature, a vampire’s obsession with the flesh.
If Lucretia had hit upon his deep set issue with trust, he could safely say that hers was with control. As she had said to him herself, his hands holding her down or ribbons around her wrists would not hold her if she really wanted to be free, and she trusted him to tie her up, but only with the knowledge that if she really wanted to, she could throw him off her with those astonishing mental powers that she possessed. But he knew her past, he knew the violence in which she had been made what she was, and how would she react to being bound, completely bound, by a lover that she claimed to trust? He supposed he would find out shortly, since the scentless, tasteless potion he had laced her bline with would be taking affect within moments, to block the neurones in her mind that allowed her to control her vast magic without a wand, and sap her of that vast vampire strength. She would be entirely at his whim within minutes.
His smile disconcerted her. “What, Severus?” The smile on her face faltered, and his only broadened.
Suggestively he arched a brow at her, then glanced at the glass in her hand. “I think your bline is getting cold.” It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and her face showed it. She hated being unsure.
Glancing at the glass in her hand, she took a sip. Indeed, it had cooled a little below her preference. She reached out the tendrils of her mind to draw some more warmth from the fire.
And couldn’t.
It was as if those mental channels were simply not there, so complete was her inability to use them. She tried again, and again. Eyeing a candle over near the window and willing it to light. Nothing. Willing it toward her. Nothing. Her eyes widened in horror, and she shifted in her seat, as though looking for the missing abilities in the room around her.
Then her eyes returned to glass in her hand, remembering Severus’ reference to it, and she stared at it in horror. “Severus…” There was a definite note of panic in her voice.
He chuckled, and her eyes lifted to meet his. “Severus, what have you done?” She pushed the glass onto the table away from her, as though it was going to bite her.
It was his turn to recline lazily in the chair. He stretched, steepling his fingers and regarding her over the top of them. The predatory gleam had taken over his eyes.
“You don’t think they made me Potions Master for nothing, do you?”
Her hands were shaking; unbridled panic chased itself through her. She was suddenly very, very afraid. Helpless. The thought made her almost physically sick. She rose to her feet. He rose beside her.
He swept forward and his arms caught her wrists, pressing her back, back into the wall of the office, pinning her hands behind her back, catching them in one of his own.
“Severus, stop it!” Her voice was frantic.
He lifted a hand, his fingers stroked her cheek. “Calm down, Lucretia. You don’t think I’m going to hurt you, do you?” The smile on his face was not evil anymore; it was rather amused and genuine.
“Why, Severus?”
“A week ago, you asked me to trust you. I did. You held my life in your hands. You tell me you trust me, but you’ve never really had to, have you? You’re always stronger; you’ve always got those mental powers to fall back upon. You’ve never submitted… totally.” The last word became a whisper as his hand trailed down over her throat to caress the side of one breast, tracing a lazy circle into its centre to tease at her nipple.
A small noise in the back of her throat along with the quivering of her body beneath his touch gave away her wanton, and he chuckled, allowing his lips to flutter over the pale skin between ear and jaw. He nibbled at her, and she melted into his touch.
“How long will it last?”
He pulled away from her just enough to look into her eyes, so his hot breath caressed her face. “About twenty four hours. Now stop asking questions, I’m trying to seduce you.”
There was a smile on her lips. “Bastard.”
He hissed against her. “Hussy.”
His fingers plucked at the ribbon of her bustier, pulling upon it and twirling it about those long fingers. Slowly, much too slowly it unravelled, pulled from each small eyelet until her bodice gaped open, delicious exposures of the white flesh. He lowered his lips to her throat, and trailed them down over her chest, teasing with the point of his tongue, pushing the soft material of her gown aside to flicker over each of her nipples. His arms went about her, pulling her close. Her body arched against him. She felt the soft tendril of the satin ribbon wrap itself around her wrists, and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he pulled away.
“You’re coming with me.”
In a moment he shrugged the outer robe from his shoulders and swirled it about hers, hiding both her bound wrists and dishevelled appearance. Then he was behind her, pushing her toward the door of his office, and out into the corridor.
He seemed more anxious than she did about being seen in the halls, so roughly he pushed her and pulled her; lead her through the dark warren of corridors that was Hogwarts. She could never have found her way back. Hopelessly lost. All she knew was that they went up, then down. Her vampire senses could see well in the darkness, but all the corridors looked alike, and there were no landmarks. No doors. No rooms. There were parts of Hogwarts, Severus had said, that nobody ever ventured, and if you got lost in this labyrinth you could remain there until you died, or a ghost found you. Whichever happened first. But somewhere in the course of their travels they rose up above dungeon level, then down below it again. Lucretia could smell the moisture and the darkness, ever more impenetrable as they descended.
The air between them was electrified, and every time he brushed against her she quivered. His face was set in a stony mask, but he smelled of heated arousal. His walk was not his usual glide, but something more stiff legged, giving away what was hidden by that frock coat. He wanted her desperately. Being bound to his whim was delicious, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. The thought of being his slave was thrilling.
Finally, they reached a door at the end of a hallway. The very aura of the place was dark, foreboding. The predatory smile was back upon Severus’ lips. With a flick of his wand, the door opened into darkness. Another wave and a whispered word, and torches all along the walls burst into flame. Lucretia’s breath left her throat. If her heart had been able to beat, it would have jumped from her chest.
She had never considered that Hogwarts, while a medieval castle, would have had a torture chamber, since it was built as a school. But it did. By Merlin, it seemed it did. The door closed behind her, and she heard more muttered words as Severus locked and warded it. Some kind of explosion rocked her, part fear, and part arousal. What was he going to do to her in here? There was nothing she could do to stop him.
He turned to face her. Slowly he approached her, holding his hands behind his back in a parody of what he had done to her, a twisted smile upon his lips, a twinkle in his eyes. With a lazy yet rapacious pace he circled her, the hard heels of his boots echoing off the stone floor. As he passed behind her, he reached out to pull his cloak from her shoulders. She resisted the urge to turn as he circled, and follow him with her eyes. His movements stopped behind her, and she felt those burning eyes upon her. His clothing rustled, but in this echoing room she could not truly make out his location behind her. Still, she refused to turn, and betray her anxiety.
There was complete and utter silence then, for many moments. She could not hear his movement, could not hear his clothing. Nothing. Could he just be standing there, staring at her? Was he waiting for her to betray her thoughts, and turn? Her back stiffened in resolve. She would not.
Then his naked arms went about her body and she cried out, one pulling her against him so she could feel his nakedness with her bound hands, and the other sliding up over her stomach to roughly grasp at one breast, fingers working over her nipple. His mouth came down upon her throat in a wicked bite-kiss. She moaned in wanton, but could not move her hands to the places of him she wanted to touch. What followed was a groan of frustration as much as arousal.
His lips made their way down over her shoulder blades, down her back, to where the hooks of the dress held its unlaced bodice loosely to her form. One hand trailed her collarbone and the other still held her about the waist, as she felt a distinct pull against the fabric, and the hooks unclipping one by one. By Merlin, he was undressing her with his teeth. His fingers trailed down over her back as his head drifted lower and lower, and those rough fingers all but set her on fire. I seemed to take an eternity for the dress to be unhooked, but finally it fell to a pool of fine fabric on the floor. Beneath it, she wore only panties. The dungeon air was cool against her skin. It rose to gooseflesh only partly from the cold.
Wrapping a hand around her bound wrists; he pulled her backward in an unknown direction. She had only caught a momentary glimpse of the chamber before she had turned to see him lock the door. Wherever he was taking her, she had no choice but to follow.
She relied on him to guide her steps, around and away from the gruesome torture devices whose metallic surfaces gleamed in the firelight. Some part of this scene was so deliciously medieval that she forgot the year they were living in. He was an age old seducer, and she the young fledgling. Then he stopped behind her, and a hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt. He tugged at the ribbons again and released her wrists, twirling it in his fingers as he circles around her once again to stand before her. He was completely, shamelessly naked, and the candlelight caught the contours of his slim form wonderfully. His erection was huge. How he appeared to want her.
He simply stood for a moment and allowed her to feast her eyes upon him, until eventually her gaze was drawn to his hands, and the way he twisted and twirled the ribbon about them, the way the satin caressed his fingers as he twined it over them. Steady, talented, seductive fingers. She wanted those hands upon her. Then abruptly he released the ribbon, and she watched it coil and twist to the floor, falling like a satiny snake upon the stones. Her eyes rose again, and met his.
He advanced on her, and his hands caught her wrists again, lifting them as though she were in surrender. He pressed against her hard enough to force her back a step, and she came up against something cold and hard, at a slight angle. He pressed one wrist back against the surface, and she felt the cool smooth texture of a metal cuff bind her to it before he lifted the other hand and fastened it as well. Her pulse quickened, both fear and arousal.
He allowed his hands to drift briefly over her body as he bent down to take first one ankle, and then the other, trailing his fingers around them and then cuffing her feet, with knees slightly bent, hips raised a little. His eyes me hers again, and he lifted his hands to either side of her throat. One final binding, a metal choker.
A hiss of breath passed her lips. “Touch me, Severus.”
His eyes glittered. Those large hands fell onto her hips, softly stroking the skin of her sides as they slid up over them. Those rough fingers, the back of his knuckles, he allowed all to touch her. Then both his hands came up to cup her breasts, and slowly his thumbs began to trace over each nipple, around in circles and across the top, teasing and tantalising her. The pink buds hardened to granite. She waited for him to continue the ministrations of his hands, the caressing of her body in so many other places, bringing her higher into this arousal.
But he didn’t. His thumbs simply kept teasing ad tracing over her nipples, eyes locked with hers, endless circles. He kept up the same rhythm, the same pressure. The sensation was delicious, but it kept her arousal plateaued. She wanted to squirm and writhe against him. But she could not move. Her muscles twitched, her back tried to arch, but the cuff around her neck brought her up short.
“Merlin, Severus, do more than that.” Her voice was ragged.
He smiled, and spoke, though not once did his movements pause or waver. “Mmm, but your facial expressions are so lovely when I do this. And it’s driving you insane.”
“Yes.” She could not deny it. “Touch me more, Severus, or...”
“Or what?” He smirked. Circle and over, circle and over. She wanted to scream. “You’ll hurl me across the room with your mental powers? Or you won’t give yourself to me? I hardly think you are in the position to order me about.”
Fury flared within her, but at the same time, heat. Bastard. Bastard for doing this. Bastard for doing so much, and yet so little. Her skin was twitching, but she wanted to be on fire, she wanted to be dying of pleasure. She needed to be.
“Please, Severus. Please. Master. Please make me come.”
Something of the self control in his eyes broke as he heard her utter those words, and he leant close to her and covered his mouth with hers, ravaging her tongue and her lips and claiming the words into his mouth, claiming his power over her, for she could not even move her jaw enough to dictate any part of the kiss. He was completely in control of her body and her pleasure. At the same time, one of his hands began to slide down over her abdomen, and the other closed its fingers around her nipple in a hard pinch. She gasped into his mouth.
He pulled away from her, hand travelling up and behind her head, twining into her hair and pulling her forward a little, enough that the clamp around her throat pressed against her windpipe. The hand that had been travelling over her abdomen cupped her mound through the fabric of her panties, one finger pushing against the material over her entrance.
“Is that what you want, you hungry little whore? Is that what you want?” His voice was a growl.
She gasped at the touch, lifting her hips as much as the cuffs around her ankles would allow her. “Yes, Master. Yes, Severus. A thousand times yes!”
He claimed her mouth with his again, and his hand grabbed at the fabric of her panties and pulled. They tore from her body with a shriek. At once his hand was upon her, tracing up and down her folds, knuckle against her clitoris, teasing at her entrance, pushing inside her just a little to trace over the warmth of her insides, then pulling away again. She wanted to pull him in wither thighs, but she couldn’t. The most she could do was arch her hips, and only that minutely.
“Yes, yes, Severus! More!”
His voice hissed in her ear, and he twisted her right nipple for emphasis. “Call me Master again.”
She just wanted to feel him touching her more. “Yes, Master, yes! Please! I want your fingers inside me!”
Smiling, he plunged a rough finger into her depths, then a second, then a third, and his mouth descended onto her collar bone. She felt his teeth against her skin, and his fingers hungrily plunging inside her, twirling around and searching for her very core. When he found it she rewarded him with a harsh cry, bound hands grasping at the open air, toes curling and legs shuddering against their bonds.
Brutally his fingers plunged in and out of her, knuckle of his thumb griding against her clit. She felt herself shuddering around him. He lowered his lips to her breast ad sucked her nipple into his mouth, and the rough caress I his tongue together with his plunging fingers sent her over the edge, shuddering around and against him and crying out with mingled, semi coherent expressions of ‘Severus’ and ‘Master’.
She closed her eyes for a moment as her chest rose and fell and her body began to recover from the affects of orgasm. It was almost peaceful, against this thing, not having to hold herself at all. Severus moved away from her completely, and she made a little grunt of protest, but did not open her eyes.
Then they flung open as the entire world seemed to shift around her, and Severus could be heard to chuckle. He had turned a lever, and this rack, this table, whatever this was, had turned her so that she now hung in the opposite direction, with head towards the floor, and legs in the air. She could feel gravity pulling the blood down into her skull.
Severus stepped toward her. Her mouth was exactly in line with his erect cock. Unable to reach out and touch it, she simply parted her lips and allowed him to push it inside her mouth, using naught but her tongue, suction and teeth to please him. Slowly, he plunged in and out of her, slipping between her lips and down her throat as her tongue swirled about him and she sucked, teasing her lips along the head as he pulled away, tracing it with her tongue, then sucking him into her once again as he pushed forward. She could not see his face from her position, but the sounds that were coming from his lips were guttural. They told her she was passing this test with flying colours.
She felt his cock begin to twitch within her, and heart him grunt and remove himself. He whispered to her. “Not yet, Lucretia.”
Again he moved to the side and pulled the leaver, and she was swung up again violently, to find herself staring at the ceiling. He climbed over her this time, kneeling before her spread legs, and leaning down over her to lay his hand either side of hers. In his right, she noticed, he held an ornately carved dagger. By Merlin, what was he about to do?
“Severus…” The note of caution had returned to her voice.
He chuckled, and teased his cock along her entrance, earning a moan of frustration from her lips. “Do not question your master.” His tone, whilst playful, brooked no argument.
He rose a little away from her, and lifting the dagger, met her eyes. Not allowing those black orbs to leave her face, he touched the dagger to his chest, and drew along a bloody trail about two inches in length. Then he lent closer to her again, and moved within reach of her mouth. “Taste me, Lucretia, taste my blood.”
At once her tongue flickered out and caressed the wound. She felt the heat of it sizzle beneath her tongue, and he writhed on top of her, inflamed by the hot caress of her mouth, the erotic heat of a vampire’s tongue on a wound. His breath was ragged “Merlin.”
The knife clattered noisily to the ground, and he moved back down. His strong hands lifted her hips into the air as much as their bonds would allow, and he sheathed himself in her.
It was an explosion, an eruption, he pounded into her and she cried out with his caress, with his touch, fingers raking at her sides as he pulled her against him, pulled her against her bonds, sought to be within her more and more and more. She arched her hips into his, arched her back against him. The coil of metal about her throat cut off her air to breathe, but nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except this exquisite agony, the heat of their bodies, him filling her up inside, his cock expanding and contracting within her, his pelvic bone grinding against her clitoris. And then the apocalypse, the world ended for both of them. The earth shattered around her and he spilled deep within her, their cries echoing off the walls of the dungeon and back into their ears.
He collapsed atop her sweaty form, and lay there for a moment before lazily releasing all of her bonds. Finally, she pulled him to her, wrapped her form about his. His eyes were closed, and he allowed the affection, head resting against her chest. She chuckled lightly against him and he opened one eye to peer at her.
“What?” The surly tone was back, though his heart wasn’t in it.
She gazed about at all the other instruments of pain, torture and possible eroticism in the room. “Oh, nothing.” Her voice was lyrical. “Just I simply must remember the way through the castle to this room.”
The vision he saw was entirely in his mind, a somewhat sordid fantasy, though you would not have known it from looking at him. He appeared deep in thought, contemplating a potion, and perhaps he was.
Slowly, a truly evil smile spread across his lips, and he lifted a quill from the desk before him, and reverently unrolled a scroll. His eyes fell to the page again, and he began to re write the potion on the open page, with certain modifications to suit the nature of the drinker.
A light chuckle shook his frame as he penned the last instruction, and closed the textbook. “Bewitching The Mind: Potions That Alter And Control The Senses.” Oh, this was going to be more fun than he had ever imagined.
“Bline, Lucretia?” Warmed from the heat of an intellectual debate, he circled the room like a predator, and Lucretia, for a moment, thought his movements odd. Then she shook off the thought and reclined into the chair languidly, allowing her crossed legs to fall to the floor, knees spread a little beneath her gown.
“Of course, Severus. What do you currently have in your store?” His eyes met hers, and travelled down her body, observing her subtly provocative position, and a smirk curled his lips as he turned back to the cabinet. She watched him lift a hand to trace his fingers over the bottles, caressing the contours of their form in much the same way that he would caress her.
His voice was like satin over her skin. “Hmm, I think I shall surprise you tonight.”
She chuckled. “All right, Severus, though don’t make it something old, please? I am rather in the mood for a young one tonight; they blend so voraciously with the wine.” She knew that topic made him shake his head, partly in amusement, partly in disbelief, as mortals did to one another when one mentioned a particular delicacy the other did not care for.
“Well, Lucretia, I can’t claim to be a connoisseur of this particular delight, but the patron of the Hog’s Head did inform me that you rather enjoy this blending.” With a wave of his wand, two tall wine glasses appeared on the side stand below the cabinet, and he removed one of the bottles from within it.
The liquid that tinkle into the glass was a rich burgundy, darker than wine, but thinner than blood. Even from a distance, it looked well made. Corking and sliding that bottle into the cabinet, he selected another for himself, a red without the vampiric addition.
“Enjoy, my dear.” There was something unbelievably seductive about the way he crossed the room, something that sent her body temperature swirling. The endearment was always used dryly. He was not one for pet names. He pressed the glass into her hand, and she swirled it about a little, drawing a thread of heat from the fire mentally to warm it. Bline was best just above body temperature.
He had resumed the seat he had been in all evening, and was watching her intently with some sort of hungry, predatory expression. She exulted in it, arching back into the chair, stretching one leg out as though it had become uncomfortable. He was the only man she had ever known who could ravish someone just by looking at them. A thrill of arousal raged through her.
Languidly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, and took a sip of the bline. Those black eyes were smouldering, and their gaze warred together. Another sip. The bline was vintage. Smooth, expensive, a Cabernet with a young, mature Anglo-Saxon male. Both the wine and the blood were in prime of life.
Her eyes sparkled. “Delicious.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Indeed.”
It was not unusual for him to look predatory, but this evening he looked positively vicious, and for a moment it gave her pause. Why had she not noticed it before? He was up to something.
Her lips twitched into a smile. “What is going through that mind of yours, Severus Snape?”
Severus could not keep the smile off his face, though he was sure it was a delighted, evil looking thing. Lucretia was a cluey, intelligent woman, but she was ever so easy to seduce. He supposed it was part of her nature, a vampire’s obsession with the flesh.
If Lucretia had hit upon his deep set issue with trust, he could safely say that hers was with control. As she had said to him herself, his hands holding her down or ribbons around her wrists would not hold her if she really wanted to be free, and she trusted him to tie her up, but only with the knowledge that if she really wanted to, she could throw him off her with those astonishing mental powers that she possessed. But he knew her past, he knew the violence in which she had been made what she was, and how would she react to being bound, completely bound, by a lover that she claimed to trust? He supposed he would find out shortly, since the scentless, tasteless potion he had laced her bline with would be taking affect within moments, to block the neurones in her mind that allowed her to control her vast magic without a wand, and sap her of that vast vampire strength. She would be entirely at his whim within minutes.
His smile disconcerted her. “What, Severus?” The smile on her face faltered, and his only broadened.
Suggestively he arched a brow at her, then glanced at the glass in her hand. “I think your bline is getting cold.” It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and her face showed it. She hated being unsure.
Glancing at the glass in her hand, she took a sip. Indeed, it had cooled a little below her preference. She reached out the tendrils of her mind to draw some more warmth from the fire.
And couldn’t.
It was as if those mental channels were simply not there, so complete was her inability to use them. She tried again, and again. Eyeing a candle over near the window and willing it to light. Nothing. Willing it toward her. Nothing. Her eyes widened in horror, and she shifted in her seat, as though looking for the missing abilities in the room around her.
Then her eyes returned to glass in her hand, remembering Severus’ reference to it, and she stared at it in horror. “Severus…” There was a definite note of panic in her voice.
He chuckled, and her eyes lifted to meet his. “Severus, what have you done?” She pushed the glass onto the table away from her, as though it was going to bite her.
It was his turn to recline lazily in the chair. He stretched, steepling his fingers and regarding her over the top of them. The predatory gleam had taken over his eyes.
“You don’t think they made me Potions Master for nothing, do you?”
Her hands were shaking; unbridled panic chased itself through her. She was suddenly very, very afraid. Helpless. The thought made her almost physically sick. She rose to her feet. He rose beside her.
He swept forward and his arms caught her wrists, pressing her back, back into the wall of the office, pinning her hands behind her back, catching them in one of his own.
“Severus, stop it!” Her voice was frantic.
He lifted a hand, his fingers stroked her cheek. “Calm down, Lucretia. You don’t think I’m going to hurt you, do you?” The smile on his face was not evil anymore; it was rather amused and genuine.
“Why, Severus?”
“A week ago, you asked me to trust you. I did. You held my life in your hands. You tell me you trust me, but you’ve never really had to, have you? You’re always stronger; you’ve always got those mental powers to fall back upon. You’ve never submitted… totally.” The last word became a whisper as his hand trailed down over her throat to caress the side of one breast, tracing a lazy circle into its centre to tease at her nipple.
A small noise in the back of her throat along with the quivering of her body beneath his touch gave away her wanton, and he chuckled, allowing his lips to flutter over the pale skin between ear and jaw. He nibbled at her, and she melted into his touch.
“How long will it last?”
He pulled away from her just enough to look into her eyes, so his hot breath caressed her face. “About twenty four hours. Now stop asking questions, I’m trying to seduce you.”
There was a smile on her lips. “Bastard.”
He hissed against her. “Hussy.”
His fingers plucked at the ribbon of her bustier, pulling upon it and twirling it about those long fingers. Slowly, much too slowly it unravelled, pulled from each small eyelet until her bodice gaped open, delicious exposures of the white flesh. He lowered his lips to her throat, and trailed them down over her chest, teasing with the point of his tongue, pushing the soft material of her gown aside to flicker over each of her nipples. His arms went about her, pulling her close. Her body arched against him. She felt the soft tendril of the satin ribbon wrap itself around her wrists, and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he pulled away.
“You’re coming with me.”
In a moment he shrugged the outer robe from his shoulders and swirled it about hers, hiding both her bound wrists and dishevelled appearance. Then he was behind her, pushing her toward the door of his office, and out into the corridor.
He seemed more anxious than she did about being seen in the halls, so roughly he pushed her and pulled her; lead her through the dark warren of corridors that was Hogwarts. She could never have found her way back. Hopelessly lost. All she knew was that they went up, then down. Her vampire senses could see well in the darkness, but all the corridors looked alike, and there were no landmarks. No doors. No rooms. There were parts of Hogwarts, Severus had said, that nobody ever ventured, and if you got lost in this labyrinth you could remain there until you died, or a ghost found you. Whichever happened first. But somewhere in the course of their travels they rose up above dungeon level, then down below it again. Lucretia could smell the moisture and the darkness, ever more impenetrable as they descended.
The air between them was electrified, and every time he brushed against her she quivered. His face was set in a stony mask, but he smelled of heated arousal. His walk was not his usual glide, but something more stiff legged, giving away what was hidden by that frock coat. He wanted her desperately. Being bound to his whim was delicious, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. The thought of being his slave was thrilling.
Finally, they reached a door at the end of a hallway. The very aura of the place was dark, foreboding. The predatory smile was back upon Severus’ lips. With a flick of his wand, the door opened into darkness. Another wave and a whispered word, and torches all along the walls burst into flame. Lucretia’s breath left her throat. If her heart had been able to beat, it would have jumped from her chest.
She had never considered that Hogwarts, while a medieval castle, would have had a torture chamber, since it was built as a school. But it did. By Merlin, it seemed it did. The door closed behind her, and she heard more muttered words as Severus locked and warded it. Some kind of explosion rocked her, part fear, and part arousal. What was he going to do to her in here? There was nothing she could do to stop him.
He turned to face her. Slowly he approached her, holding his hands behind his back in a parody of what he had done to her, a twisted smile upon his lips, a twinkle in his eyes. With a lazy yet rapacious pace he circled her, the hard heels of his boots echoing off the stone floor. As he passed behind her, he reached out to pull his cloak from her shoulders. She resisted the urge to turn as he circled, and follow him with her eyes. His movements stopped behind her, and she felt those burning eyes upon her. His clothing rustled, but in this echoing room she could not truly make out his location behind her. Still, she refused to turn, and betray her anxiety.
There was complete and utter silence then, for many moments. She could not hear his movement, could not hear his clothing. Nothing. Could he just be standing there, staring at her? Was he waiting for her to betray her thoughts, and turn? Her back stiffened in resolve. She would not.
Then his naked arms went about her body and she cried out, one pulling her against him so she could feel his nakedness with her bound hands, and the other sliding up over her stomach to roughly grasp at one breast, fingers working over her nipple. His mouth came down upon her throat in a wicked bite-kiss. She moaned in wanton, but could not move her hands to the places of him she wanted to touch. What followed was a groan of frustration as much as arousal.
His lips made their way down over her shoulder blades, down her back, to where the hooks of the dress held its unlaced bodice loosely to her form. One hand trailed her collarbone and the other still held her about the waist, as she felt a distinct pull against the fabric, and the hooks unclipping one by one. By Merlin, he was undressing her with his teeth. His fingers trailed down over her back as his head drifted lower and lower, and those rough fingers all but set her on fire. I seemed to take an eternity for the dress to be unhooked, but finally it fell to a pool of fine fabric on the floor. Beneath it, she wore only panties. The dungeon air was cool against her skin. It rose to gooseflesh only partly from the cold.
Wrapping a hand around her bound wrists; he pulled her backward in an unknown direction. She had only caught a momentary glimpse of the chamber before she had turned to see him lock the door. Wherever he was taking her, she had no choice but to follow.
She relied on him to guide her steps, around and away from the gruesome torture devices whose metallic surfaces gleamed in the firelight. Some part of this scene was so deliciously medieval that she forgot the year they were living in. He was an age old seducer, and she the young fledgling. Then he stopped behind her, and a hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt. He tugged at the ribbons again and released her wrists, twirling it in his fingers as he circles around her once again to stand before her. He was completely, shamelessly naked, and the candlelight caught the contours of his slim form wonderfully. His erection was huge. How he appeared to want her.
He simply stood for a moment and allowed her to feast her eyes upon him, until eventually her gaze was drawn to his hands, and the way he twisted and twirled the ribbon about them, the way the satin caressed his fingers as he twined it over them. Steady, talented, seductive fingers. She wanted those hands upon her. Then abruptly he released the ribbon, and she watched it coil and twist to the floor, falling like a satiny snake upon the stones. Her eyes rose again, and met his.
He advanced on her, and his hands caught her wrists again, lifting them as though she were in surrender. He pressed against her hard enough to force her back a step, and she came up against something cold and hard, at a slight angle. He pressed one wrist back against the surface, and she felt the cool smooth texture of a metal cuff bind her to it before he lifted the other hand and fastened it as well. Her pulse quickened, both fear and arousal.
He allowed his hands to drift briefly over her body as he bent down to take first one ankle, and then the other, trailing his fingers around them and then cuffing her feet, with knees slightly bent, hips raised a little. His eyes me hers again, and he lifted his hands to either side of her throat. One final binding, a metal choker.
A hiss of breath passed her lips. “Touch me, Severus.”
His eyes glittered. Those large hands fell onto her hips, softly stroking the skin of her sides as they slid up over them. Those rough fingers, the back of his knuckles, he allowed all to touch her. Then both his hands came up to cup her breasts, and slowly his thumbs began to trace over each nipple, around in circles and across the top, teasing and tantalising her. The pink buds hardened to granite. She waited for him to continue the ministrations of his hands, the caressing of her body in so many other places, bringing her higher into this arousal.
But he didn’t. His thumbs simply kept teasing ad tracing over her nipples, eyes locked with hers, endless circles. He kept up the same rhythm, the same pressure. The sensation was delicious, but it kept her arousal plateaued. She wanted to squirm and writhe against him. But she could not move. Her muscles twitched, her back tried to arch, but the cuff around her neck brought her up short.
“Merlin, Severus, do more than that.” Her voice was ragged.
He smiled, and spoke, though not once did his movements pause or waver. “Mmm, but your facial expressions are so lovely when I do this. And it’s driving you insane.”
“Yes.” She could not deny it. “Touch me more, Severus, or...”
“Or what?” He smirked. Circle and over, circle and over. She wanted to scream. “You’ll hurl me across the room with your mental powers? Or you won’t give yourself to me? I hardly think you are in the position to order me about.”
Fury flared within her, but at the same time, heat. Bastard. Bastard for doing this. Bastard for doing so much, and yet so little. Her skin was twitching, but she wanted to be on fire, she wanted to be dying of pleasure. She needed to be.
“Please, Severus. Please. Master. Please make me come.”
Something of the self control in his eyes broke as he heard her utter those words, and he leant close to her and covered his mouth with hers, ravaging her tongue and her lips and claiming the words into his mouth, claiming his power over her, for she could not even move her jaw enough to dictate any part of the kiss. He was completely in control of her body and her pleasure. At the same time, one of his hands began to slide down over her abdomen, and the other closed its fingers around her nipple in a hard pinch. She gasped into his mouth.
He pulled away from her, hand travelling up and behind her head, twining into her hair and pulling her forward a little, enough that the clamp around her throat pressed against her windpipe. The hand that had been travelling over her abdomen cupped her mound through the fabric of her panties, one finger pushing against the material over her entrance.
“Is that what you want, you hungry little whore? Is that what you want?” His voice was a growl.
She gasped at the touch, lifting her hips as much as the cuffs around her ankles would allow her. “Yes, Master. Yes, Severus. A thousand times yes!”
He claimed her mouth with his again, and his hand grabbed at the fabric of her panties and pulled. They tore from her body with a shriek. At once his hand was upon her, tracing up and down her folds, knuckle against her clitoris, teasing at her entrance, pushing inside her just a little to trace over the warmth of her insides, then pulling away again. She wanted to pull him in wither thighs, but she couldn’t. The most she could do was arch her hips, and only that minutely.
“Yes, yes, Severus! More!”
His voice hissed in her ear, and he twisted her right nipple for emphasis. “Call me Master again.”
She just wanted to feel him touching her more. “Yes, Master, yes! Please! I want your fingers inside me!”
Smiling, he plunged a rough finger into her depths, then a second, then a third, and his mouth descended onto her collar bone. She felt his teeth against her skin, and his fingers hungrily plunging inside her, twirling around and searching for her very core. When he found it she rewarded him with a harsh cry, bound hands grasping at the open air, toes curling and legs shuddering against their bonds.
Brutally his fingers plunged in and out of her, knuckle of his thumb griding against her clit. She felt herself shuddering around him. He lowered his lips to her breast ad sucked her nipple into his mouth, and the rough caress I his tongue together with his plunging fingers sent her over the edge, shuddering around and against him and crying out with mingled, semi coherent expressions of ‘Severus’ and ‘Master’.
She closed her eyes for a moment as her chest rose and fell and her body began to recover from the affects of orgasm. It was almost peaceful, against this thing, not having to hold herself at all. Severus moved away from her completely, and she made a little grunt of protest, but did not open her eyes.
Then they flung open as the entire world seemed to shift around her, and Severus could be heard to chuckle. He had turned a lever, and this rack, this table, whatever this was, had turned her so that she now hung in the opposite direction, with head towards the floor, and legs in the air. She could feel gravity pulling the blood down into her skull.
Severus stepped toward her. Her mouth was exactly in line with his erect cock. Unable to reach out and touch it, she simply parted her lips and allowed him to push it inside her mouth, using naught but her tongue, suction and teeth to please him. Slowly, he plunged in and out of her, slipping between her lips and down her throat as her tongue swirled about him and she sucked, teasing her lips along the head as he pulled away, tracing it with her tongue, then sucking him into her once again as he pushed forward. She could not see his face from her position, but the sounds that were coming from his lips were guttural. They told her she was passing this test with flying colours.
She felt his cock begin to twitch within her, and heart him grunt and remove himself. He whispered to her. “Not yet, Lucretia.”
Again he moved to the side and pulled the leaver, and she was swung up again violently, to find herself staring at the ceiling. He climbed over her this time, kneeling before her spread legs, and leaning down over her to lay his hand either side of hers. In his right, she noticed, he held an ornately carved dagger. By Merlin, what was he about to do?
“Severus…” The note of caution had returned to her voice.
He chuckled, and teased his cock along her entrance, earning a moan of frustration from her lips. “Do not question your master.” His tone, whilst playful, brooked no argument.
He rose a little away from her, and lifting the dagger, met her eyes. Not allowing those black orbs to leave her face, he touched the dagger to his chest, and drew along a bloody trail about two inches in length. Then he lent closer to her again, and moved within reach of her mouth. “Taste me, Lucretia, taste my blood.”
At once her tongue flickered out and caressed the wound. She felt the heat of it sizzle beneath her tongue, and he writhed on top of her, inflamed by the hot caress of her mouth, the erotic heat of a vampire’s tongue on a wound. His breath was ragged “Merlin.”
The knife clattered noisily to the ground, and he moved back down. His strong hands lifted her hips into the air as much as their bonds would allow, and he sheathed himself in her.
It was an explosion, an eruption, he pounded into her and she cried out with his caress, with his touch, fingers raking at her sides as he pulled her against him, pulled her against her bonds, sought to be within her more and more and more. She arched her hips into his, arched her back against him. The coil of metal about her throat cut off her air to breathe, but nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except this exquisite agony, the heat of their bodies, him filling her up inside, his cock expanding and contracting within her, his pelvic bone grinding against her clitoris. And then the apocalypse, the world ended for both of them. The earth shattered around her and he spilled deep within her, their cries echoing off the walls of the dungeon and back into their ears.
He collapsed atop her sweaty form, and lay there for a moment before lazily releasing all of her bonds. Finally, she pulled him to her, wrapped her form about his. His eyes were closed, and he allowed the affection, head resting against her chest. She chuckled lightly against him and he opened one eye to peer at her.
“What?” The surly tone was back, though his heart wasn’t in it.
She gazed about at all the other instruments of pain, torture and possible eroticism in the room. “Oh, nothing.” Her voice was lyrical. “Just I simply must remember the way through the castle to this room.”
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