Craving

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise.

She was most disappointed the next morning, when he seemed set on the idea of continuing her orgasm starvation – she’d been hopeful when he woke her with a gentle stroke against her clit, but when she’d bucked her hips into his hand, he’d laughed and pushed her head into his crotch instead.

And he was giving absolutely no respite for what she’d been through the previous day, forbidding her to wear any underwear under the t-shirt and short skirt he dressed her in, summoning them from her wardrobe with the nonchalance only a pureblood could manage. (She gave mental thanks that the castle was empty – she had images of Flitwick being beheaded by the flying garments if it were otherwise.)

She protested that her breasts got sore under the best of circumstances when she went without a bra, never mind when they were so tender.

“Now pet,” he said, his lips twisted once again into the sadistic smirk she was becoming so familiar with. “Did I say you could speak?”

She shook her head warily.

“I thought not. So, in punishment, you may no longer speak, except to say the words ‘yes please’, understand?”

“Yes please,” she spat, sarcasm heavy in her voice, still feeling cheated over her lack of climax.

Before she could blink, he hauled her over his lap, the skirt she’d been clad in for barely five minutes hiked above her waist exposing her rear. His hand came down across her cheeks fast and hard, causing a pink blush to spread over her backside while she tried to wriggle away. She was markedly unsuccessful, and with each squirm the slaps got harder and more stinging, until she gasped in submission “yes please!” and they stopped, although his hand still trailed lovingly across her red-stained skin.

She would have bet her entire library that he was enjoying the view – as a matter of fact, she knew he was, because she could feel him hard and hot against her stomach.

“And you’ll need a little reminder I think,” he crooned from above her. He muttered something, but she couldn’t hear what he’d said. She did hear something solid fly into his hand though, and when he followed it with a lubricating charm, she began to have her suspicions.

A warm, firm hand pressed on her lower back, and something blunt and cold pressed at her rear entrance. She gasped and pulled away from it instinctively.

“Now, now pet,” he soothed, the hand on her back becoming more firm. “You will take this, and you will wear it until I say otherwise.”

“Yes please,” she managed to stutter, as her muscles relented, and it slid into her.

She hated wearing butt-plugs. Mainly because they always made her unfailingly, and unbearably horny. Even now, as he pulled her off his lap and set her on her feet again, she could feel her wetness beginning to spread. The look in his eye said he knew all of this, and he proved it when he flicked a finger at her clit that almost made her knees give way.

He grinned, and she heroically resisted the urge to say something insulting.

He cuffed her hands behind her back for breakfast, during which she knelt at his feet and sucked his cock again. When he was done, both with her mouth and with his food, he fed her oatmeal by hand, which meant she had to lick it from his fingers. The symbolism made her arousal even harder to manage.

Eventually, he put the nearly empty bowl on the floor and made her lick it clean. It was nearly impossible to do, but seeing her twist herself at odd angles made him chuckle, and when she ended up with some on her nose, and then when she went cross-eyed trying to see it to lick it off, made him laugh so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

She had forgotten how good making him laugh made her feel. Watching him carefree and so amused at her antics gave her a warm feeling all through her, and she nuzzled her cheek against his robe, careful not to smear the oatmeal, trying to tell him with her eyes how she loved him.

He got the message, scooping her into his arms, wiping her nose with a tea-towel, and kissing her thoroughly. They spent the next half hour in each others arms, silently nudging, stroking and kissing, relishing the contact with each other. Finally he sighed and set her on her feet.

“I need to get dressed, pet.” He looked her up and down, the warmth from the snuggling session still in his eyes, but now the glint she knew so well had returned. She swallowed.

“But you need something to keep you occupied in the mean time.”

He removed his wand, waved it casually, and two of the kitchen chairs flew into position, about two feet away from each other, but back to back. Their backs shrank slightly, and with a second wave, his cane flew out of his cupboard and balanced itself between them, one end on each. The wood seemed to sink into itself, securing the entire structure together. Then she found herself lifted and placed over it, one leg on either side of the cane.

“Now you stay there, and I’ll retrieve you when I think you’re ready.” He grinned again, and disappeared into the bedroom.

“Yes please.” She called half-heartedly after him, trying to get comfortable in her new position.

It took her less than fifteen seconds to realise that comfort was an impossibility. The cane was at just the right height that if she stood in any manner but on tiptoe, it pressed into the crease between her legs painfully hard, forcing the plug in even further. She tried leaning forward to use this pressure on her clit, but over balanced and landed so heavily that she shot back up again onto her toes, tears in her eyes from bruising herself.

But she couldn’t stay on her toes for long – the muscles in her legs weren’t strong enough, and after less than a minute her calves would start to shake with exertion. Mindful of her bruise, and previous heavy landing, she lowered herself gingerly onto the cane, letting her tired muscles relax, before trying to stand up again.

A rhythm became established. Rise – tire – lower – rest – rise. The stamina of her muscles was far from good, and the gap between each of the movements got less and less, until she was doing little more than bobbing up and down on the cane, trying not to put too much pressure on either her legs or the area between her thighs. She was so concerned with her efforts, she didn’t notice he was back, dressed in his traditional black frock coat, and watching her until he gave a dry chuckle and lifted her from the cane. He put her collar on as she struggled with her legs to remain upright, but when he saw her difficulty he held her for a moment while she tried to get her limbs cooperating again. He snapped a lead on her once she could stand.

“Come pet,” he said, tugging her along behind him and leading her out of his chambers, dark amusement once again evident in his eyes.

“Yes please,” she sighed, helplessly, following him.

*~*~*~*

He had left her in the library, her lead and cuffs gone, but plug and collar still in place, sorting all the books he said he’d pulled out for research, but some of the titles she was reshelving were on things like Quidditch and divination, so she knew he was lying.

She’d tried touching herself the second he’d left the library, but to her dismay, she discovered that the plug cast a ward over her entire crotch that prevented her from doing so, and gave her singed fingers if she tried. And so, with aching nipples and a craving between her legs, she prowled the tables, wiping the dust off the heavy tomes as she retrieved them, and replaced them in their shelves. She had cleared three of the five tables when she noticed the height of the table in the restricted section.

It was the right height that she could lean herself on top of one corner, and rub her clit against it.

Curious as to whether the ward would affect the table as it had her fingers, or whether it was attuned only to living beings, and not inanimate objects, she wondered over to it. Gingerly rising up on her toes once more – her muscles protested, but not too loudly – she settled herself and ground herself down once, senses alert for the first bit of heat, for the first smell of burning wood.

She was dragged off the table by harsh hands before she got the chance to finish her experiment.

“So, still not learnt your lesson!” She was being bent over the table now, as instincts to defend her actions and to obey his orders warred within herself. Her skirt was hiked up, and he sank himself into her before the battle came to a conclusion.

Sex with a butt plug made it so much tighter – so much better – so much more. His thrusts were not as harsh as his hands had been, instead adopting a rhythm that rubbed against all the right spots, slow and deliberate, his breath coming in gasps that told her this was a strain for him, that he wanted to move faster. She gritted her teeth as the sensations fanned out through her lower body, clit tingling, the tell-tale signs of an orgasm approaching upon her, and she fought to push them away, to not let it feel so damn good!

The struggle became all consuming. She was but a mass of nerves, the constant alluring temptation of orgasm dancing at ends of her mind, as if it were hers for the taking if she would only reach out to grasp it. She fought, kicked, screamed in her mind, refusing to let it in. Still, she couldn’t help her muscles gripping, squeezing when he moved, couldn’t stop panting as his hands gripped her hips and he sped up, no longer caring about her punishment, but only his pleasure.

And she couldn’t help her breath escaping in a huff of disappointment as he shuddered to his finish on top of her, while she lay, a helpless bundle of sensation, ensnared in her craving.

*~*~*~*~*

He was lounging in the chair, snifter once again in his hand, in the Great Hall that under any other circumstances would have been occupied by Albus. Typical Slytherin that he was, power was always a turn on for him, even if it was only fleetingly temporary. The evidence of this was clearly showing through the light, black silk pyjama bottoms he was wearing. The dressing gown was hanging open, showing him off, pale chest and bulging crotch both, to the best advantage. And he, of course, knew it.

She was on the table in front of him, back arched, arse and nose both up in the air, presenting herself like a dog being judged at Crofts.

The catch (there was always, naturally, a catch) was keeping the dildo in. An eight inch piece of silicone and rubber – muggle, again, in origin – lodged firmly in her cunt, and it was proving to have Houdini-like tendencies. Her tired inner-muscles went into a spasm from exhaustion and it slid out another half inch. She bit her lip and gritted her teeth as she squeezed again.

He’d first put her there when the sun was beginning to sink fully past the horizon, cerise tendrils of dusk-cloud spiralling across the buttercup sky, in a typical spectacular sunset that seemed unique to northern Britain. Now the twilight was beginning to fade, and candles lit the hall, a sea of fire above their heads. By her estimations, that meant she’d been like this for about half an hour, maybe 45 minutes. But she was fighting a loosing battle, and even as she tried to arch herself further, she lost her grip on the wretched instrument again, re-gripping it just in time to stop it escaping her entirely. Sweat slicked her body, and she mentally begged him to do something, not just sit there with that damned pensive look, as if he were assessing her in his head.

He almost seemed to hear her, setting the brandy down on the floor, and getting up, walking towards her. Silently, he removed the dildo and turned her onto her back, dragging her hips to the edge of the table, then pulling down his trousers and thrusting into her smoothly. She gasped, and arched her back, trying not to feel anything.

He smiled, and bent over to brush his lips against hers. “Do you need something pet?”

He thrust into her again, the angle of her hips making his pubis rub against her clit, as she gripped the edge of the table, digging her fingernails in.

“Yes please,” she breathed through gritted teeth.

He thrust again, fast this time. She let out a muffled sob. She was so close, so desperate, she was burning and the cold water she was mentally pouring upon herself wasn’t having any effect. He kept thrusting, moving to gently bite her neck and she shuddered, still fighting, still holding herself back.

“Yes please!” Her voice sounded like a plea offered up to the heavens before the moment of execution.

“Do you need it? Do you, pet?” He was moving faster, their flesh slapping together and her heart was echoing the rhythm. She was gasping and crying out, not letting it go.

“Yes, yes please!!” he smiled grimly, and then licked her ear.

“Come for me.” She stared at him for a second in disbelief, not trusting her ears. He met her eyes, still smiling, and pushed into her sharply, grinding his hips just so-

She went screaming over the edge. Colours flew across her vision, making the earlier sunset seem like a bland memory, her body gripped and squeezed and shuddered as his kept moving urging her onto new heights, and over the peak, again, and again, and again, until he too cried out, and shuddered to a halt on top of her.

They lay together, breathing heavily, feeling as if they had succeeded in melding themselves together. Her arms felt too heavy for her to remove them from where they lay on his back, and he apparently felt the same, letting his head droop onto her chest, hair flopping every which way.

Eventually he rolled them over to one side, and kissed her softly.

“Alright love?” She nodded tiredly.

“Your turn next.” He nodded in agreement.

“Next.” She kissed his nose, and then lay in his arms, gazing at him happily, feeling exhausted and loved and wanted.

And satisfied. Finally.

*Fin*
Author\'s Notes: That\'s all folks! Yup, we\'re done, or at least they are, for the time being. I might do a sequel, some day, Severus\' turn, but if I do it won\'t be anytime soon, I am pwp-ed out for the moment, I need to write something with plot. (So yes, \'Light\' is still in the works.) Thank you JTBJAB, Goddess_Snape, June, ladydeathfaeire, em, kcj, and magicmistress for all your lovely reviews, they help enormously when I need the motivation to write something.

And, one final time, if you are going to mess around with this stuf, stay safe, sane and consensual. For more info, go here: http://www.informedconsent.co.uk

~S.b.