Eclair

Éclair – Part the Fifth – Blackmail


2nd December
Mr. Malfoy
You will be serving tonight’s Transfiguration detention with Prof. S. Snape. 9pm sharp in his office.
Prof. M. McGonagall


Draco made his way down to the basement – over the past few weeks he had tried to keep a bit of a reign on his appetite – but with few results. However, he did not realize that Severus, both by his presence at mealtimes, and his mirror, was keeping a close watch on himself. He knew that he was acquitting himself well in the Great Hall, he only hoped that Snape would put down the lack of change to metabolism, rather than look further. The fact that the detention was in Snape’s own quarters did not bode well.

Severus glanced up from his work; 8:55pm. It was time to prepare for his protégé. He arranged his furniture in a circle, such that the chair which the boy usually opted to take was near his own, and the footstool which accompanied his burgundy leather recliner, was pushed out to the side. Other implements were arrayed to his left, outside the prying gaze of his student. He slipped into more comfortable robes, ah 8:59, turning to 9:00. There was a knock at the door.

“Sir, it’s Malfoy, may I come in?”

“Enter”

Draco strode in, even though he was apprehensive it would do no good to show any weakness in front of his Potion’s Master, and longtime fantasy. He had no idea, however, of the show which he was supplying the older man with.

It was obvious from this angle that Draco was slowly filling out more, missives to Lucius about the constant state of health to the contrary. The difference was subtle, but enough so that the Potion’s professor was forced to re-adjust his seating position. He was most glad of the deflating draft he had taken prior to the commencement of the night’s activities.

“Sit, Draco”

“Yes, sir.” As anticipated, Malfoy had taken his regular plush, faded, velvet chair. Severus permitted himself a curl of the lips. He withdrew a missive from Lucius, dated the previous week, and handed it over to his scion.

Draco paled as he read it.

“As you can see, I have had to take it upon myself to inform your father of your little problem – due to my status with him and Voldemort’s minions – I am sure you can fathom his reply”

“Yes, sir”

“Your father has instructed me to use any means necessary, any means at all – to ensure that this does not continue. Due to the fact that my kindness has had less than satisfactory results, and much as it pains me to do so, I see no other choice but to resort to corporeal punishment. Could you please unbutton your trousers, Malfoy, and come here”.

Shamefaced, Draco struggled to do what he asked. His trousers had tightened over the months, and hence he had more a problem removing them than he had thought. Finally they were unbuttoned and he made his way over to Severus. He could see the ferulae and the switch, also the paddles and the cane. He wondered what he was in for tonight.

“Bend over my knee Malfoy, you may grip the footstool if you prefer” Severus hoped against hope that the young Malfoy would not grip the stool, the unrestrained arching and curving of his sleek back would make the entire episode that bit more satisfying. He was rewarded, Draco chose to drape himself across his knees, head lying flaccidly on one side, and his smooth, perfect rotund ass peeking up at the other. Severus bit his lip – the Wizard who invented the deflating draft should have received an Order of Merlin.

He picked up the ferula with his left hand. Before transferring it to his right, he sent up a prayer to whomsoever was listening, and gently pulled the grey tweed trousers down. Merlin be praised! The boy was not wearing any undergarments – acres of soft, warm, cream flesh, his for the taking. And the heavy weight of the boy pressing down on his lap. Not his deepest desire, not quite, but close enough so as to make little difference. He pulled his hand back, it was drifting down to caress those perfect orbs, and placed the ferula in it. There. He felt more in control now.

He purposely did not tell the boy how many strokes he was going to get – the uncertainty of his reaction, as with the degree of Severus’ pleasure, made the entire thing difficult to quantify from the start.
He brought the ferula down, *one* the boy pulled back, and squirmed… he was obviously in pain, okay, a little lighter now - *two* the boy is still in pain, still squirming, but he pulled back less, okay now *three*, that was hard, that must have stung, and the way he arched back into me, the way he thrust into my leg, that bears further investigation. *Four* Less hard this time, and at a different angle, give his warm red flesh, time to sensitize itself, *Five*, merely a tap where four was, now, for the piece-du-resistance, *Six*, hard, and right on the newly sensitized area.

Draco arched back hard into Severus, writhing and moaning, and Severus, through the thin layers of his trousers and his outer robe, could feel the effect that this was having on the boy. Perfect. He placed the ferula down, and lent into the chair.

He was rewarded with a whimper. Then a squirm, then a moan and another whimper, the young boy was obviously delirious with lust, he was grinding his cock into his greasy old potion master’s leg, and was powerless to stop himself. Severus permitted himself a rare grin.

“What would you like boy?”

“More, sir”

Severus reached down with his left hand.

“More, Malfoy?”

“Yes sir”

Severus picked up the switch, and slowly transferred it to his right.

“You realize that this is supposed to be punishment Mr. Malfoy”

“God’s yes!” Said Draco, grinding himself even further.

“So we are going to have to think of some other way to punish you”

Severus gently ran the edge of the switch over Draco’s reddened ass.

“Yes, sir, please, sir!”

“Excellent”. He brought the switch down hard across his behind, then softly, then hard again. Draco was bucking and crying and whimpering with the pleasure.
“You like to be dominated young Malfoy… you like to be told what to do don’t you?”

Draco squirmed lower, keening in the back of his throat.

“Yes”

“Do you know how I know this? I watch you and Harry” *whack* *whimper* “I watch it as you lie there, stuffing your face, with that dark black head between your legs. I watch you moan and squirm, I watch you wadding acres and acres of stuff into your gaping maw. I watch you expand. I was watching the day your trousers would not come off and Harry had to take them off for you, I was watching the day that you bent over and split a pair the size up, and the day you finished the éclairs half way through the minstrations of that talented mouth. And do you know what?” *whack*

“No sir” almost subvocal, more a moan than words

“I enjoyed it!”*whack*

Draco bucked into Snape’s legs, head arcing backwards, eyes rolling, thrusting again, and again, and again. He collapsed into Snape’s lap, shaking.

“Please don’t tell my father sir.” It was barely audible above the ragged sounds of his breath.

“Why shouldn’t I Mr. Malfoy ?”

“Anything – please, not that?”

“Anything Mr. Malfoy?” Snape’s hand reached down, one long prehensile digit stroking the reddened flesh, caressing the line cleaving between the two sides.

“Please sir”

“You make your case well, if not very coherently young Malfoy. For now I shall remain silehowehowever, there are a few conditions. Firstly – Mr. Potter is to know nothing, and secondly, you will be at my beck and call. Try refrain from abject display’s of gluttony as well – it does my reputation no good.”

“Yes sir” Draco stuggled to raise his body off Snape, and pull up his trousers.

“That will be all Malfoy – I trust you can see yourself out”

Snape raised himself off the chair, and walked nonchalantly through to his bedroom. He lay down on the bed quivering. Thank goodness for the deflating draft.