The Slave

Rating: NC17

A/N: written in a Biology lecture. Protein metabolism or Snape being caned - well, there was really no choice to be made!

And so it continues...

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There was a swishing noise, and Snape let out a low moan, mingling desire and anticipated agony, as he realised what was about to happen. Lucius possessed a large collection of those canes he was so fond of. One, of course, concealed his wand, ready for him to draw and use the moment something threatened him, and this was the one he generally carried when he left the manor.

Another of his canes as exactly that. A cane. The mahogany exterior was simply a sheath for the slender willow-switch that lay within. Pale, supple and unadorned, it was almost handsome to look upon, but it had a wicked temper. "I feel lenient tonight, my darling," Lucius purred. "The cane, you remember, is kinder than the whip. I do not intend to whip you now."

Snape nodded, already anticipating what was coming.

The cracking noise and the sudden but short-lived pain that flared across Snape's buttocks was just a precursor. Malfoy was toying with him; that had been a mere flick of the wrist, a fraction of the punishment he was capable of inflicting. But it went through Snape's entire body and cause heat to rise instantly in his groin.

A thin whistle was the only warning he had before the cane descended once more, this time on the small of his back. His shoulders tightened and his bit his lip, feeling sweat matting his hair where it hung over his face. "Aren't you going to scream for me?" Lucius asked, his tone both mocking and feigning insult. It was one of his favourite games, and Snape derived a strange pleasure from playing along. He shook his head in violent denial, refusing to make a sound. "Oh, Severus; you disappoint me."

The cane cracked against his skin again, somehow striking along exactly the same line as before. Snape did not cry out. And so Lucius did not stop. He would win, eventually; he always did. The cane had too much power over the dark-haired wizard chained to the pallet... And if it still proved inadequate, Malfoy could employ other methods.

Again and again the cane bit into that same, smarting stripe. Lucius had perfect aim. But Severus was not about to let him taste victory so easily. He writhed against the restraints, desperate to be touched, stroked - anything to release the pressure building within; the manacles on his wrists chafed and rubbed the skin raw. But he stayed resolutely silent.

With each blow, his breath came shorter and faster; his arousal was fairly screaming for mercy, even if he was not. But he could neither touch it, nor did the chains permit enough movement for him to rub against the pallet and satisfy himself that way.

"Come on, Severus. You know it would be so easy if you would simply scream for me." He let the switch snap quickly across the back of Snape's thighs, bruising skin already tender from the scalding wax. "So stubborn..."

He waited for the next blow. It didn't come; desperately, he tried to twist round to see what was happening. Hearing Lucius chuckle, he groaned needily. "My dear Severus...does my dear Severus want to be finished?"

*Yes, yes please!!* But he held his tongue.

Lucius's murmured spell was too soft to catch, but Snape thought it started with 'Accio'. He closed his eyes, his whole body shuddering with need.

A rich, heady scent like white musk surrounded him, mixing with the existing scents of sweat and arousal. The oily drops that splattered across his skin were nothing like the candle wax - they were cool, soothing.

At least, so he believed until Lucius let them fall on the broken skin where the cane had struck. The choked-off cry was enough to indicate that, once more, Malfoy had won. The oil felt like acid in the cuts, stinging and throbbing in hot waves that seemed to sweep across his entire body. It was unbearable...it was incredible.

Lucius tipped up the phial, emptying all the oil over his slave. The coolness of it against intact skin contrasted dramatically with the heat and agony on the broken skin, and Snape was practically delirious with need. He felt a gentle touch; Lucius was lightly stroking one of his legs. "I think my dear Severus has earned himself some release now."

Snape could only respond with an incoherent moan. His master took barely a moment to divest himself of clothes; the two fingers which pushed into Severus's passage seconds later threatened to push him over the edge. But Lucius withdrew them all too soon.

Something much thicker and harder pressed at the entrance; if Severus had been able to move enough to do so, he would gladly have impaled himself. Instead, he had to settle for Lucius's slow, controlled entry. He was taking deliberate delight in dragging this out for as long as possible.

Arching his back as Lucius sheathed himself completely inside him, Snape abandoned himself, willing them both towards orgasm so he could finally spend himself. Lucius's movements were precisely angled to hit the most sensitive places and in a moment of rare generosity, he reached around to take Snape's cock in hand.

He bit hard into the flesh of Snape's shoulder when he came, and the way he thrust deeply into Severus as he did so was what finally pushed him over the edge as well. He screamed louder when he came than he'd done from any of Malfoy's earlier games.

Lucius's weight collapsed on top of him, drying sweat and semen and blood and oil lying stickily between their bodies. Snape's pulse was loud in his ears, and his breathing was rasping with exertion. There were greyish stars exploding in front of his eyes and his face had gone oddly numb and hot from the intensity of the climax.

"Severus...I hope you've learned your lesson," Lucius crooned lazily.

Snape pressed his cheek against the cold pallet and remained silent.

***

Severus Snape was extremely glad, at present, about his tendency to envelop himself in dark heavy robes, even in the height of summer. Those robes concealed a host of secrets: the welts across his back and flanks, the bites on his shoulders, the shiny burn marks which Lucius had once inflicted in a long line across his hips - that time, he had actually passed out as he came. This way was easier; no questions were asked of him and no complicated explanations were required.

Another thing about the robes was that the sheer volume of them did a surprisingly good job of disguising the fact that he was walking rather stiffly. This morning was one of those mornings, the ones when his body chose to remind him each time he moved of what he had been doing the night before. He'd only barely made it through the tiny tunnel before it disappeared; the cramped passageway, which allowed people who understood the spell to enter Hogwarts unnoticed, was only present during the hours of darkness, and dawn had been about to break as he'd shut the door behind him. He'd manage to get perhaps two hours of sleep on top of the fitful rest he'd been able to grab whilst chained to the pallet - Lucius had left him there for much of the night, alone in the cold, dark room.

Consequently, he suspected he was likely to be even more cranky than usual. He smiled wryly at the thought. He knew he had a reputation among both students and teachers for being disagreeable, and, in fact, downright antisocial; some even suspected he still harboured loyalty to the Death Eaters. He said nothing to such people. He was not about to tell them that he only retained loyalty to a single Death Eater, and that it was a rather different loyalty to the kind which they were thinking of.

Lucius... In the days when Voldemort had still been in power, Malfoy had taken a liking to the young Severus. Not wanting to displease anyone so close to Voldemort, Snape had awkwardly allowed Lucius to do as he wished. It was in this way that he had discovered the pleasures of being possessed, the delight of having another's attention completely focused on him...and the power of pain.

Lucius often held prisoners at his manor, Dumbledore's people or employees of the Ministry of Magic. Even before Snape had become Malfoy's - what was he back then? Lover? Slave, even in those days? - he had watched the interrogations with fascination, entranced by the skill with which each gasp, scream or confession was wrenched from the prisoner's throat.

The first time he had fantasies about *being* that prisoner, and found himself growing hard, he'd been so disgusted that he had not dared to touch himself. But when the fantasies recurred, and his arousal grew beyond what he could ignore, he gave in.

Then Malfoy had seduced him, at first with gentle words and tender kisses, then with hot, violent passion. And then Snape had been educated about what it was to be at the mercy of one of Voldemort's most trusted minions.

It was amazing.


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What is it about the name 'Lucius' that makes me consistently type 'Lucious' or even 'Luscious' by mistake? Freudian slip, or Rowling's deliberate machinations...?

Huge thanks to everyone who's given FB. But Rahela, sweetie, you really shouldn't be late to class, you know. I'll promise to update it as often as time/muses permit, how about that?