Ensnared

As soon as I saw my escape route vanish, I began to curse myself for a fool. What the hell was I doing here, with him, when I could be in Hogsmeade, with Draco and all my friends? What the hell had I let myself in for?

Being laughed at, apparently. He was leaning against the fireplace, watching me, with what was unmistakeably a grin playing around his mouth.

“Here I am, Miss Parkinson, entirely at your disposal. What was it that you wanted?”

I felt like a fool. And a very young fool at that. I had no idea what to do, how to begin this. Draco always began by pawing at me, like a puppy dog wanting attention. Somehow, I didn’t think that would work here; I couldn’t imagine that Snape had much affection for puppies.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry – I’ll –“

Then, somehow, he was behind me, fingers running down over my buttock and thigh, lips close by my ear.

“So you managed to heal your little marks from this morning. Perhaps I should put some more in their place? Or perhaps in a different place?” His other hand twisted my nipple hard. The thought of him using the nasty, hard cane on the tender skin of my breasts sent a shiver through me; I couldn’t tell if it was terror, or anticipation. “Or perhaps you like this-“, biting the tender skin at the base of my neck. His hand ran between my legs. “Mm, I can see that you do. What a surprise, mm, Draco Malfoy’s little girlfriend, wanting nasty old Professor Snape to treat her mean. Who would have thought it? Does dear Draco know that you’re here?”

I shook my head, fiercely, no!

“I thought not. Of course, some men would find it exciting, knowing you were with someone else. But I fancy Draco is not like that. I wonder. What does Draco like?”

He was walking around me, surveying me from each side, from every different angle. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but nor could I move; once, when he’d walked right around me, I’d almost overbalanced, trying to watch him. I’d thought, for a second, that he’d used magic on me, but I’d been wrong. This was physical, primal, a small animal (prey) hypnotised by a snake.

“I wonder. And do you like what Draco likes? You certainly seem to be displaying potential, in here. Is this something you learned from Draco? I think not. From someone else then?”

This time, it seemed to be a real question, as he was looking straight and deep into my eyes. I shook my head. “No.”

“Interesting, then, that you should react in this way to your punishment yesterday.”

What did he want me to say to that? Admit to him all my deepest, darkest fantasies that I would barely admit to myself?

His voice now barely above a whisper, he spoke directly into my ear. “If you wish to learn the poetry that is at the heart of pain, and the exquisite agonies that can be brought from flesh, I can teach you. Whatever foolishness you have become used to in the dormitories, I can teach you magic.

But I warn you, few people can appreciate the beauty in the curve of a back that is waiting for the kiss of a whip, still fewer the desperate music of a scream. If you choose to stay, you may once tell me to stop. And I will stop. And you will leave this room, and never return to it. Do you understand me?”

My mouth seemed to have gone dry. I nodded.

“I asked you a direct question. I expect you to answer it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I gulped, suddenly breathless and light headed; every drop of blood in my body seemed to be making for the throbbing pulse between my legs.

“Good. Remove your clothes.”

I’d expected him to charm them off, but he was back leaning against the fireplace, one eyebrow raised, watching me as I tried to struggle out of my clothes, I wanted to make it look good, but his stare was making my fingers fumble, I couldn’t get the buttons on my shirt undone and one of them came right off and rolled away over the richly patterned carpet. And somehow, this deliberate act was much more humiliating than when he had discovered me naked in Draco’s bed.

I dropped my panties on the floor, noticing distractedly how damp they were. Only my bra had still to come off, a black lacy thing which I’d bought to show off to Draco. And I looked good in it. This dark-eyed, smirking man could not take that away from me. Think Slytherin, girl, and look him straight in the eye. I reached behind me, and undid the clasp, never once taking my eyes off him.

As soon as that last piece of clothing hit the floor, he strode towards me. Involuntarily, I stepped backwards, surprised by the sudden movement. And hit something. One of the wooden pillars that I’d noticed as I came in, part of the elaborate carved ceiling. Now it was at my back.

Snape leaned one hand on the pillar above my head, and with the other, stroked my face, my shoulder, my hip. Chaste. Terrifying.

“Perfect,” he breathed. Then the glitter was back in his eyes. “Now. It was a cloak you were looking for, wasn’t it?” He reached into a pocket in his robes, and there was something silver and sparkling in his hand. He held it up for me to see. A pair of exquisite, Chinese-looking tooled silver dragons, with rubies for eyes and long, cruel jaws were connected by a short length of silver chain. “Pretty, aren’t they? Such a shame that you’re not wearing a cloak.”

He stroked the cold metal mouth of one of the dragons down my face, along the line of my jaw and down my neck to the collar bone. Then the slow progress stopped.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere else for you to wear your pretty jewellery?”

I knew what he was going to do. The thought appalled me. My nipples contracted and hardened in response to the thought. It was going to hurt so much, those horrible metal teeth…

“Turn around.”

Turn around? But what--? I faced the pillar.

“Closer.” Oh--

He moved me slightly, so that my breasts stood out each side of the wooden pillar. I concentrated on breathing, trying to steel myself against the pain I knew was coming. He bent towards me. I felt – warmth. I felt him flick his tongue over one nipple, twice, three times, then begin to tease it softly with his teeth, as he strafed the other one gently with his thumb. He caressed my breasts with his hands and lips and teeth until I could feel the wetness starting to run down my legs, and the throbbing pulse inside me became almost unbearable. I closed my eyes in delight as he leaned back to take a breath, and then screamed as I felt the metal jaws of the dragons snap shut on each of my nipples.

The Potions Master glared into my face. “Miss Parkinson, you do not have my permission to scream. Be silent.”

I bit my lip and tried to be silent as he moved back behind me. I could feel the terrible jaws of the dragons biting into the tender flesh of my breasts, and the nipples stretched out each side of the wooden pillar, as he had looped the short length of chain around it. I was waiting for the slap of his hand, or the cut of the cane again; I felt – warmth. He was smoothing warm oil down, over my back, between my cheeks, nearly to – oh! Go on… And I was so wet now, longing for him, his long, slender fingers slick, stroking the hard nub of my clit, his thumb working backwards, teasing me, making me ache to be filled, but like that, just like that, felt so good, so good, and it was perfect, just perfect, my head thrown back, my back arched to shove my hips back towards him, just perfect, and I was falling, moaning… And he reached around the pillar, and ripped the silver dragons from my breasts. I exploded. The blood rushing back into my bruised nipples was like white hot metal in my veins, fireworks behind my eyes, moaning wordlessly for him, when only his hand between my legs was holding me upright.

Snape’s voice was icy. “Miss Parkinson. You just came. Did you have permission to do so?”

“N-no, sir,” I stammered.

“You do realise that I’m going to have to punish you then.”

I couldn’t tell whether the thrill that shot through me was arousal or fear. Instinctively, I began to turn to look at him, but he pushed me back against the pillar.

“No, you’ll do just where you are. Although, a slight change of position might be useful. Ligo,” he drawled, pointing his wand at the pillar above my head.

My wrists were caught in an invisible grip and dragged irresistibly above my head. I could see no rope, but nor could I move my arms; he had tied me to the pillar by magic.

He ran one long, cool hand along my side. “Exquisite,” he hissed. “It is almost a pity to mark it. And yet…” He paused. I felt something trail along the ridge of my spine. “Do you know what this is, Miss Parkinson?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

The ticklish touch moved lower, over my hip and down the outside of my thigh.

“Can you guess?”

I could. “A whip, sir.”

“Very good, Miss Parkinson. A whip.” He brought it round in front of me, and showed me a short, fat handle in black leather, and a long braid of three thin strips of dark suede. He dangled the end of the whip hypnotically in front of my eyes.

“You can always change your mind. Leave now.”

“No. No, sir. I w-want to stay.” I was shaking. I was also more aroused than I’d ever been in my life.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want me to do.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“W-whip me, sir,” I whispered back.

He didn’t need telling twice. The cane the previous day had hit against my flesh; the whip cut into it, through it, burning me, tearing me. He worked down my back one way, and then back up the other, criss-crossing lines of molten pain rending my poor skin. At some point I began to scream. And felt the pulse between my legs, throbbing now in time with his strokes, as though even my heart were being surrendered to him. I could still move my feet. If I moved them a little forward – ah! – each stroke of the whip would push my swollen clit into delicious contact with the pillar. Somehow, the screams became moans. He moved again; the tip of the whip was curling around my side and as it caught the soft underside of my breast, I screamed, and came, mashing my aching clit against the hardness of the pillar.

He stopped hitting me. For a moment, I just breathed. Then I felt his hand between my legs, feeling for the wetness that was leaking out of me. He wiped his fingers across my cheek.

“Enjoy that, did we? Libero!”

The magical bond which had tied me to the pillar, and which had been all that was keeping me upright, dissolved. I collapsed on the floor.

“When you have recovered, Miss Parkinson, you may get up and get dressed.”

Damn the man and his powers of recovery. I needed… more time… I needed… and with very great difficulty, I stifled a huge yawn.

I realised, with a shock, that what I was, was exhausted. Snape saw it too. “Go on,” he said. “Bed. Go.”

I felt summarily dismissed. Had I really expected that Severus and I would curl up in his bed together, just like I did with Draco? Had I thought that he would – make love to me, just like Draco did? Apparently I had. Fool that I was. I made for the door before he could see the disappointment on my face.

“Oh, and Miss Parkinson?” I turned back to him. “I wouldn’t want to catch you sleeping anywhere you shouldn’t be, tonight.” His eyes flashed in the candlelight. At least, that’s what I thought afterwards. For one brief, strange second, I was sure that Severus Snape had winked at me.