The Tenth Rule

Chapter 19.



Bethany felt as nervous as she was excited. Much as she had desired this, she could not believe it was happening, and taking place in such a bizarrely cold and clinical fashion. For all her fantasies of sex, and there had been many, never had she envisioned her introduction to it taking place quite like this, any more than, until recently, she had fantasized it would be with Professor Snape, that heartless hawk-nosed, sour and cruel venomous potions master. But what had she imagined? Flowers, chocolates? It seemed that Snape was more intent on thorns and poison. Her delusions had been entirely unrealistic, idiotic notions of love and passion.





She could feel him staring down at her, waiting for her to do as she was instructed, and despite or perhaps because the situation was so austerely impersonal it aroused her greatly, for after all, this was Professor Snape, how the man was, and to think he would approach sex any differently, she realised now was absurd.



Giddy with nervousness, excitement and the impatient eagerness of youthful sexual arousal, she pulled her school jumper up and over her head, feeling woefully clumsy and totally artless as she managed to get her hair caught up in the process. She was all elbows and buttons, her hair getting caught on thread and sleeves, her eyes squeezed shut and her features twisted as she wrenched the jumper from her body. She felt stupid and inept, knowing that she was revealing her immaturity and inexperience even more so with this completely un-seductive strip before him. His silence was heavy and its weight almost crushed her. She felt as though she was being tested, feeling exactly the same kind of mental pressure as if she were taking a potions exam and he was standing beside her watching her. But it was that stress that stimulated her, excited her all the more and she felt herself rapidly moistening in anticipation for him.



Flinging her jumper to the floor, she quickly unfastened her hair, shaking her head slightly to loosen it from its confines; aware that this hair tossing was supposed to be alluring to some men…did that mean Professor Snape also?



Snape was well aware of what she was doing. He did not find her exaggerated head tossing at all attractive, but her clumsiness was. How her fingers curled about the scratchy fabric of her jumper, knuckles pale with annoyance and haste, discarding it carelessly. How she let out a little mew of frustration when her shirt rode up as she lifted the jumper, a sliver of white flesh peeking over the waistband of her skirt.



She didn’t raise her eyes to see what reaction this had created. She was nervous enough as it was, to look him in the eye at this moment in time she knew she would almost certainly have second thoughts, no matter how aroused she was feeling. As she unfastened her school tie she felt all fingers and thumbs and only succeeded in knotting it tighter. She coughed suddenly as a failed yank of the tie resulted in her fist colliding with her throat, knocking the sound out of her. In exasperation she just pulled it over her head, fanning her thick chestnut-coloured hair. She dreaded to think what it must look like, and quickly looked down to watch as she tugged the remaining parts of her blouse from her skirt and with trembling fingers began to unfasten the buttons. Her heart hammered against her chest and her mouth felt so dry. She longed for something to drink, but said nothing, and felt the chill air of his office immediately invade the ever increasing opening in her blouse, making her shiver.



Professor Snape watched the girl as she undressed. Her fumbling awkwardness further confirmation she had certainly not done this before and it pleased him though he gave no outward indication. . His eyes rested upon her hands as they groped blindly at the buttons on her shirt. The skin was pale, and her fingers looked fragile. He noticed that she had clear polish on her nails. Natural Bethany. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had turned up with scarlet talons, it was therefore a welcome, pleasant surprise.



A master of concealing and masking his emotions he was totally unreadable. If Bethany had looked up at him, she would have seen his face set with its usual stern expression, his eyes hard, though his gaze more intense than she was accustomed to seeing it, his mouth however set in its usual grim forbidding line. Inwardly Professor Snape took pleasure in her vulnerability, her gauche attempts at trying to undress seductively and failing miserably. However her very inexperience an added stimulus to his arousal along with the knowledge this whole situation was absolutely prohibited, and forbidden. This virginal schoolgirl unveiling before him; just within the age of consent, willing to submit herself to sexual instruction and initiation from he, her schoolmaster was thrilling in all its immoral rule-breaking illicitness, though in comparison it was nothing more than a feeble echo of some of the former satisfying pastimes he indulged in as a death eater.



As she wrestled with her jumper and flung it to the floor, he caught again the waft of the obnoxious perfume she had doused herself with, offending his sense of smell, but almost instantly the warm heat and fragrance of her skin radiated from her body and his slim nostrils flared delicately taking in her youthful scent.



He watched with patience as she finished unfastening her hair, the candlelight highlighting red sparks as she tossed and flicked her heavy thick mane of glorious auburn hair from its confines. This, to him, was far more attractive than any elaborate head shaking. Her hair, normally softly wavy, was now tousled and shaggy. Strands fell in her eyes; she puffed them impatiently away. He felt a twinge deep in his stomach.



Professor Snape took pleasure in the sexual tension; it was all part of the experience towards ultimate satisfaction. His torment of Alice Pearson this afternoon had almost driven him over the edge yet years of experience had made him most skilful in balancing his arousal with unyielding self-control, and this long practised restraint afforded him the most exquisite of sexual torments.



Bethany wished he would say something or help, do anything other than this silence. She could feel his stare upon her but was too nervous to look up at him yet. She could not help feeling as though her eyes were glued to the floor. She cursed her nerves. She wanted to be a temptress, a siren, confident and attractive. But then, despite her most recent fantasies, she had never thought her first experience would be with Professor Snape. It was no wonder her confidence had deserted her. One of Bethany’s failings however was her over blown self-confidence and coupled with her more than ample supply of teenage conceit considered this anxiety temporary, believing that once past this, her confidence would return, and this fumbling awkwardness would be a thing of the past. With her self-assurance restored, she believed she could seduce away his austere reserve, and have him begging to take her…



With this inner encouragement, she quickly unfastened the remaining buttons and slipped off the blouse letting it fall in a gentle whisper of fresh cotton to the stone floor. . She stood still for a moment, as if realising the gravity of the situation. She now wished she had chosen a more elaborate bra - white lace was hardly the most sexual of underwear choices. However, she reminded herself that she had dressed with the sole intention of presenting herself to him as the perfect student - clean, pressed uniform, neat ponytail, polished shoes, fresh robe and virginal underwear. Still, what Bethany didn't know was that to Snape, it was a very sexual choice of underwear -the fact that she arrived with such a single intention and yet had not decided to dress like a cheap hag underneath her uniform set something alight in him.



Realising that the bra would not remove itself, Bethany reached awkwardly behind herself and fiddled with the clasp, finally feeling that release of pressure. Shrugging her shoulders forward, her bra fell to the floor, and she felt a surge of exhilaration that at least one veil of shyness had been discarded, that her breasts that no man had seen, were free to his gaze. Her nipples had stiffened immediately from the cold air in the room and from the excitement that he was watching her and she felt a curious sexual power rising within her at that knowledge. She longed to look up at him, to see what reaction she was having upon him, but just fixed her stare on his arms crossed before his chest, the row of buttons at the cuffs of his jacket, the small strip of white cuff of his shirt, the voluminous black robe that hung in heavy folds from his shoulders.



Leaning forwards she proceeded to unfasten her shoes and remove them along with her socks. There was still a clumsiness about her movements - if Bethany had thought this through, she would have been sensible enough to remove her shoes first, rather than bending over awkwardly and tinkering with her shoelaces. Her hair fell in her eyes again, and it was long enough to graze her naked breasts. She felt a sound choke in her throat. Bethany slid out of her shoes, flicking off her socks. She was rapidly losing her shyness now as the illicit deed of what she was doing was exciting her; each garment of her school uniform that she removed a thrilling indictment of how corrupt this all was. As she stood to unfasten her skirt, she finally looked up at Professor Snape and felt fear and deep sexual hunger flare up for him as she saw the smouldering glare from his eyes as he stared back at her.



She stopped momentarily, her fingers hooked on the inside of her skirt ready to pull it down, but she was caught up and almost sucked into the frightening intensity of his eyes. Never before had she seen them quite like this and it filled her with total fear, excitement and lust. What had she believed earlier…that she could seduce away his austere reserve, and have him begging to take her? How foolish she was to have thought that. That would never happen. Here before her was her Master of Potions, her teacher, a dark and powerful pure-blood wizard, isolated from her through age and the vast experiences and knowledge he possessed that was as ancient as time. She would never know him, never understand him, never have him beg, and she was overwhelmed at that realisation, and filled with awe. She had every reason to be scared.



“ Remove your skirt Miss Beddows.” Commanded Snape, his voice much colder than the air in the room.



As though slapped, Bethany was startled from her inaction and hurriedly began to remove her skirt, pushing it down over her hips and thighs. She lifted one foot, then two, out of the hoop of the skirt. Her knickers matched her bra - and even that decision was not conscious. She stopped, and straightened her posture, automatically thrusting her breasts forward, accentuating the arch of her back.



Snape looked at her body, the youthful beauty of it. Her hips were rounded slightly, her waist slender, her breasts high and pert. As unremarkable as Bethany looked clothed, she looked most attractive devoid of them. Snape knew this was through the vulnerability that oozed from every pore. He watched as her clumsy hands pushed her knickers down, flicking her foot as they caught around her ankles, and her eyes begging for approval as she gazed back at him.



Looking up at him, she saw he continued to stare at her with those penetrating eyes, totally ignoring her nakedness. She felt relieved he hadn’t raked her nakedness with leering eyes in a lewd manner just as she had seen the boys do over their girlie magazines that they managed to smuggle into the common room, laughing, giggling, and flinging coarse idiotic remarks at each other about the pictures; but that was the difference. He was a mature adult male, intelligent, experienced, totally devoid of the juvenile silliness that all the boys seemed to possess. They were weak and undisciplined, contemptible. Professor Snape was disciplined with his total, absolute stillness, his dark power, acidic nature and his overwhelming inscrutability.



“ Sit on the edge of the desk.” He instructed as he stepped closer still pinning her with that fixed stare.



Glancing behind herself to gauge the proximity and height of his big desk, she stepped backward and with as much grace and decorum as possible levered herself onto it, the shock of the cold wood on her warm skin making her catch her breath, her skin breaking out in goose bumps, her nipples hardening even more from the cold. The wood dug into the backs of her thighs and her buttocks, and she clamped her lips together hard. She did not want to appear uncomfortable. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, placing her hands behind her and leaning her weight onto them.



Bethany was so preoccupied posturing herself that she did not notice Snape nearing her, now standing directly before her, his robe brushing her legs, his broad strong hands on her knees, resting lightly, before gripping them firmly and then slowly, steadily, pushed her legs apart.











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A/N:



Thank you so much for the reviews. They are wonderful. Marquise, your drawing was superb and has been saved. It was a great compliment. Thank you. I hope our further chapters encourages you to do more. However, one request please. I did read a comment somewhere about the age of Snape depicted in your work on your excellent site… http://www.livejournal.com/users/ledivinemarquis/. I beg to differ from that comment; he is not, to quote: “ too old”. It can be said that the way we see him depicted in celluloid, at his present age has without doubt increased the already established legions of fans from the books and inspired most of the written works. So please, if you do illustrate any other scenes from, The Tenth Rule, please illustrate him as we see him now - we're bossy ;). As to JW’s comments…” why is he "indignant" that she wants him, since that was part of the plan?” Professor Snape controls what happens, where it happens and when it happens, and regarding the circumstances in Chpt.18, and the way we are writing him, his feeling indignant would be in keeping with his character.