The Slave

Part the third - I think I may be enjoying this a little too much! Sorry if you don't like this, but I was feeling a bit insane and wanted some nasty :S

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Severus slumped forwards, hanging all his body weight from the chains clasped round his wrists. His thighs and abdomen were a sheet of fire from the beatings he had received - his master had been angry about something this evening, when he had greeted Severus at the small side entrance to his manor, and finding that his slave was oddly distracted today had caused his temper to take flight altogether. Snape accepted the punishment, as he always did, with unquestioning obedience, driven to maddening ecstasy as Lucius allowed his rage to spin utterly out of control.

Lucius never held back when he was that angry, and did not waste time with the games he was normally so fond of. Severus was becoming accustomed to Malfoy's new preference for leading him around on a leash; he had even been presented to two of Lucius's Death Eater friends in such a fashion, several weeks ago when his master was feeling playful. The other Death Eaters found Malfoy's 'pet' highly entertaining, but when one dared to laugh Lucius became deeply displeased. Snape's purpose was not as a laughing-stock. He was a token of Lucius's power and dominance. The Death Eater soon discovered this, as he attempted to take the suspected Imperius curse off, only to discover that there was no spell upon the wizard who followed so meekly at his master's heels.

But tonight he had not even bothered with the leash. Snape was instructed to stand between two pillars and spread his arms. This he did, and Malfoy fastened chains round both of his wrists so Severus was left standing, arms spread, on the cold stone floor. Lucius disappeared into a corner, only the creak of a wooden chest betraying what he was doing, and returned running the flails of a leather cat o' nine tails idly between his long, delicate fingers, his eyebrows drawn together in a menacing scowl.

Severus gazed upon the object with awe. Malfoy seldom played with it, and when he did, it was serious. "Do you know what my spies have been telling me?" he spat as the first stroke fell. Snape could hold back his screams under the touch of the cane, but the cat was another matter. He barely heard and only later recalled his master's words as punishment continued. "No? They say your friend Dumbledore has found the Boy Who Lived. They say this boy is coming to Dumbledore's precious 'Fortress of Light'" - another agonising crack - "Hogwarts" - another - "this autumn. The Boy Who Lived, under Dumbledore's influence! This destroys all our plans!!" The flails, weighted with lead, cut deeply into his skin - he felt it part wherever the leather struck it. Once, in a fit of pure fury, Lucius had beaten one of his prisoners to death. Severus knew how much of the cat a man could withstand. He didn't know if Malfoy would stop before that point was reached.

It was the not knowing which made even something so horrific hold such excitement for him. The pain chased all other thoughts from his mind; when he shut his eyes he saw blood and flames, mingling into pure red, and then red with a black haze, like embers. His body shook each time the whip hit him; salt tears squeezed from his eyes dripped on to raw skin, stinging and soothing. He was so hoarse when he came that all the noise he made was a grating sob, his semen spilling on the bloodstained stones beneath his feet.

His legs would have collapsed long ago, but with his arms so restrained, he was held upright. Now, with his head hanging, he sucked in air, on the edge of consciousness. His mouth tasted of blood, his nostrils were filled with its scent, he could hear it rushing in his ears and see it when his eyelids drooped.

It was some minutes before his brain co-operated enough to inform him that he was alone, save for the hollow-sounding scuttle of a rat in one corner. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but had no choice except to wait, his bleeding wounds illuminated by the uncertain amber light of candle flames, until Lucius returned to release him.

If Malfoy was appalled or even shocked by his own actions, there was no sign of it on his face when he surveyed the panting, blood-caked figure before him. But for all that he showed no remorse, his actions were remarkably tender. He was carrying a warm, soft towel, which he wrapped around Snape's waist, supporting the other man as he released the chains. As expected, Severus collapsed immediately into his master's arms.

It was not Lucius's nature to go so far as to carry his slave himself, but he took much of Snape's weight, and they somehow made it to the blanket that he had laid upon the floor in the far corner of the room. There, Malfoy lowered him to the soft surface and helped him to lie down. Snape winced as the movement put pressure on open wounds, but was too tired to make more than a whimper.

Lucius spoke in a whisper. "Severus, I did that because it had to be done. Not just because you were disobedient today, but also because you must be reminded of your place from time to time." Snape sighed and murmured an incoherent acquiescence. "Severus, look a." R." Reluctantly, Snape opened his eyes. He was tired and truthfully wanted only to sleep. Malfoy's cold eyes roamed over his body, and he drew out his wand.

Tensing, Snape prepared himself for his master's next game, but to his amazement, all Lucius did was reach out gently and stroke his cheek, fingers hot against the cold skin of his slave. Pointing the wand at Severus, he pronounced words which, even in this state of exhaustion, Snape recognised as a difficult but powerful healing spell. The effect was not instant, but once he felt the throbbing and burning begin to abate, he was increasingly aware of how quickly the spell got working. "Severus, dearest," Lucius said softly as the broken skin began to knit once more, "I have decided that I would like to have you beaten every day. Not with the cat," he added quickly, "unless you are disobedient again, but with the cane. Do you agree to this?"

Of course he agreed. He would agree to anything his master asked, he believed. He nodded his head slowly, and raised his hand to wipe chill sweat from his eyes.

Lucius smiled. "Good. I think it will be valuable for you." He cleared he throat, the sound echoing oddly between stone walls. "I will have your clothes brought back to you. Good night, Severus." He stood - only now did Severus note that his master had knelt down beside him to attend to his injuries - and made as if to leave. But he paused, returning to his slave's side, briefly pressing his lips over Snape's. The sweet, citrussy taste of them contrasted sharply with the metallic-salt of Severus's own mouth.

The slam of a door informed him that Lucius had gone.