Remorse

Chapter 6 ~ Snape Participates

Snape climbed into the bed and straddled Hermione’s body, sitting on her belly, his thick long organ resting between her breasts. He slapped them and watched them jiggle, Hermione gasping at the sharp blows, her eyes heating up again.

“Don’t you hurt her!” Harry screamed at the wizard, who looked at him, cocking his head.

“Oh, but I plan to hurt her, Mr. Potter. It’s what she craves and what I need . . . ”

Snape looked back down at Hermione who was beginning to pant. The dark wizard saying he was going to hurt her made her feel hotter than she could ever remember feeling.

“But first . . . I’d like a nice little titty shag,” Snape purred, pushing her full breasts around him with a sigh.

*******************************

Snape gathered Hermione’s full breasts over him tightly, staring down at the witch, a slight sneer on his face as he began to thrust, sliding between them, bumping against her chin.

Hermione hissed as she felt the wizard’s hardness sliding over her breastbone, his hands clutching her breasts tightly, moving them back and forth, caressing her flesh. She writhed slightly, her mouth slack as she looked up at his pale, harsh expression, his hair a curtain around his contorting face. Snape was leaking, oiling her skin, making his thrusts slick as he pumped his pelvis back and forth as he grunted with pleasure.

“Tuck your chin into your neck,” he hissed at her. He was long enough for it to reach. Hermione obeyed him, tucking her chin into her throat and opening her mouth so Snape could access it.

“Yessss, that’s right. That’s right you little sick, twisted witch,” he hissed as he pumped between Hermione’s lips, gathering her breasts tighter around his shaft, squeezing them roughly.

Harry fell still, watching as the wizard slid between Hermione’s breasts, thrusting into her mouth, the witch obviously willing. He had mixed emotions as Snape growled his pleasure. The bastard was abusive, selfish, out for his own twisted gratification . . . but hot . . . a turn on. Harry found himself feeling a twinge of envy as well as disgust with himself as he realized he’d like to be in Hermione’s place right now, with Snape straddling his body and thrusting into his mouth, sneering down at him.

Snape looked over at him at that moment.

“Wanting to be Miss Granger, Mr. Potter?” he said to him, a nasty smirk on his face as he sped up, Hermione making gulping noises as he pushed deep into her mouth. “wishing you were on the receiving end of me? Yes, I can see by the glazed look in your eyes you do. Well, too bad, Mr. Potter. I want a witch right now. With large firm breasts, a hot, wet mouth and a tight, clapping hole. I’m afraid you are sorely lacking, Mr. Potter, sorely lacking. Your friend is providing all you cannot. Feeling a bit . . . jealous?”

Snape thrust deep into Hermione’s mouth and paused, throwing his head back and looking at Harry, a smirk on his face as the wizard watched, his reluctant desire etched on his face.

Hermione was in heaven as she felt Snape pressing deep inside, so hard, thick and brutal. She didn’t give a damn what Harry thought at this moment. Snape was all she knew.

The pale wizard gave her a few thrusts before drawing back, releasing her breasts and climbing out of the bed. Hermione made a noise of disappointment. What was he doing? He had said he wanted to know what she was like when she orgasmed. She shifted in the bed as Snape looked down at her.

“Expecting more of me, Miss Granger? As I said before, I am not here for your pleasure but for my own closure,” he said to her in a low voice. He looked at Harry for a moment, then thrust his palm at him once more, releasing the wizard.

“Get in the bed, on your knees . . . your head down, Mr. Potter,” Snape directed, then looked back at Hermione.

“On your knees as well, in the same position,” he said to her as Harry stood up, his belly tight with an uncomfortable need. Snape watched with glittering eyes as Harry walked over to the bed and climbed in. Hermione rolled over and obediently rose to her knees, laying her head on the pillow. Harry entered the bed and did the same. The friends knelt side by side, their buttocks in the air, heads resting on the pillows.

Snape smirked. Sheep. They were willing, twisted little sheep. The same pair who handed him over to the Ministry after torturing him almost to the point of insanity with the Crucio curse, now waited for him to ream the both of them. Yes, this was fitting, oh so fitting.

“Kiss,” Snape said to them. “I want to see tongue being used too. Don’t change your positions. Lock lips.”

Harry looked at Hermione, hesitating. She shifted her head closer to him.

“Just kiss me, Harry,” she said, pressing her lips against him and opening her mouth. Harry slipped his tongue inside her heat, tangling it with her tongue, but feeling nothing but the slide of flesh. It wasn’t arousing . . . there was no fire, no need, no strong desire for contact. But it was what Snape wanted.

The wizard watched them for a moment, then walked over to the wardrobe, opened it and retrieved his belt. It was made of black leather, a quarter inch thick, with a Slytherin buckle. He then walked to his dresser and retrieved the lengths of rope he had collected earlier.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the couple kiss for a moment, then set the belt down before looping a length of rope around Harry’s ankles and making a slip knot, tightening it. The wizard stopped kissing Hermione.

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, pulling his legs apart, stretching the noose Snape had made around them.

“Hold still,” Snape seethed, wrenching the wizard’s legs back together and tightening the loop around his ankles securely. “I don’t want your legs parting, Mr. Potter. Now shut up and take your medicine.”

Harry fell silent as Snape finished tying his ankles, then rose and walked around the bed, sitting down and tying Hermione’s ankles together the same way as he did Harry’s. Hermione didn’t protest at all as she felt the rope tighten.

Snape then took a longer length of rope and wrapped it around their midsections, tying them together, then stepping away, looking at his handiwork.

“Start kissing again,” Snape snarled at the couple as he picked up the belt, his eyes hard. Once again, Harry and Hermione’s mouths met passionlessly, going through the motions, dismayed and unaffected. But Snape was affected as he brought the belt down sharply on Harry’s buttocks, the wizard crying out, pulling away from Hermione’s lips.

“Keep kissing, Mr. Potter!” Snape shouted, bringing the belt down on Hermione’s bottom, the witch jerking against the contact, but not breaking the kiss Harry continued . . . moaning instead.

“Miss Granger . . . you twisted bit of fluff,” Snape seethed, bringing the belt down on her jiggling buttocks again, his eyes glinting as she jerked but didn’t cry out, lashing Harry’s tongue with more ardor in reaction, wetness pouring out of her.

Snape alternated between beating Hermione and Harry’s buttocks, their bodies straining against the contact, jerking in unison no matter which was hit, since they were tied together. They continued to kiss, the kissing more passionate now because of what Snape was doing, not because of any ardor between them.

The wizard found some satisfaction in lashing the pair, but not full satisfaction. Hermione’s glistening thighs showed the results of her reaction to being beaten and Harry’s groans let the Potions Master know that the pain he felt was bringing him a dark pleasure.

Snape would have preferred pain on the part of his victims, but they were too fucked up, too excited to be properly humiliated. They were getting off on this, and there was little Snape could do other than stop. Angrily, he did, both Harry and Hermione panting, their bodies shifting back and forth in perfect rhythm.

“Damn the both of you,” Snape hissed, throwing the belt to the floor and climbing into the bed behind them. They both felt the shift in weight.

“Stop kissing. You disgust me. I know your apparent passion is a sick reaction to the belt. Fucking Gryffindors . . . are you all masochists? I wish the world could know about you two . . . how when it comes down to it, the great Harry Potter and the intelligent Miss Granger are no more than whimpering, simpering . . . toys for someone stronger,” he snarled, reaching out and grasping each of them by the hair, pulling them up on their hands and wrenching their heads around roughly, Hermione letting out a cry, he was clenching her hair so strongly.

Both Hermione and Harry were on their hands and knees now, still tied together, Snape on his knees behind them, his long arms stretched over their bodies, pulling their heads back by the hair.

“Like a team of horses held by the reins,” the wizard said in a low voice, his black eyes flicking down to their reddened buttocks. He could smell Hermione’s arousal strongly. The wizard let go of their heads and roughly stuck the tip of his finger in each, causing the witch and wizard to gasp. Snape muttered a spell and the couple began to writhe as their colons were scoured.

“It’s times like this I wish I had a demon’s appendage,” Snape hissed as he removed his fingers. “one that was barbed and spiked. I could create a sheathe that would provide these attributes, but then I couldn’t feel myself reaming the both of you. Now, who wants it first?”

Neither Harry nor Hermione replied, though they both wanted it.

“Fucking Gryffindors. You’re supposed to be honest,” Snape hissed. “You both want me to shag the shit out of you, but can’t admit it. All right. I’ll wait. We’ll all just wait.”

The wizard sat back on his heels and looked at the pair for a moment, then climbed out of the bed and strode back over to the chair, sitting down and folding his arms across his pale chest, his erection stretching over the edge of the seat, huge and pulsing.

Harry, who was closest to him, turned his head to look at the wizard, his green eyes somewhat glassy. Hermione raised her head slightly to stare at him too, licking her lips slightly.

Snape stared back at them, but said nothing, his dark eyes hard. He leaned forward a bit and curled one hand around his organ and began to stroke it slowly, teasingly, drawing the foreskin back and forth as the witch and wizard watched as if mesmerized.

Snape began to speak, his voice dripping with silk as it resonated.

“This tool has taken men and women both to hell and to heaven,” the wizard purred, looking down at his member. “I have been blessed and cursed because of it, often at the same time. Despite my looks, I have this beautiful extension and know what to do with it. I cause aches that lift my partners to a place beyond ache, beyond pain. I give freedom, release . . . and absolution when I possess, when I punish, when I become all that there is in the world, my member the pulsing, thrusting center of the universe, the pole on which everything spins.”

He looked at Harry and Hermione, his dark eyes liquid and compelling, his pale face full of dark promise. Harry swallowed. Snape was an incubus, some kind of demon that caused lust to rise in the young wizard despite his desperate desire not to react to him. He was not a man . . . he was a monster, a compelling creature of carnality. Yes, Harry owed him . . . both of them did, but to be forced into empathy, then forced into intimacy and now tempted into their own humiliation was . . . gods . . . it was overwhelming.

Snape’s mouth quirked as he looked at Harry.

“You want me, Mr. Potter. You want to be on the end of my stroke screaming your apology as I pound you mercilessly. And you Miss Granger, I’ve been smelling you since you first entered this room, your desire to be punished has all but shut you down . . . yet still you both want to pretend this isn’t what you want, when it is all that you want. Yet . . . you want me to be the one to “take” my revenge . . . but you both came to me . . . to me Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. Now, tied together like cattle you submissively wait there on your hands and knees. If you ever want to get out of here, you’re going to have to admit that you want this . . . ”

Snape caressed his long organ again.

“Admit you want me to shag you and release your guilt . . . that you want me to return to you the brutality I suffered because of you. Admit it and I will do it. I will take you both with all the violence and malevolence I contain until I am satisfied, and then you will both be free to leave this place with my . . . forgiveness, your oaths fulfilled,“ he said silkily.

Hermione bumped Harry’s shoulder with her own.

“Harry,” she whispered in a low voice, hoping Snape wouldn’t be able to hear her clearly. “I don’t want to stay here. We have to tell him we want him to do this . . . we have to.”

Harry turned his face toward Hermione, his eyes dark.

“You want him to shag you, don’t you Hermione?” he asked her darkly, feeling like a hypocrite, because he wanted it too . . . just not to admit it.

“No more than you do, Harry. I can see it,” she hissed back at him, scowling.

Little did they know Snape could hear them. He had enhanced his hearing non-verbally and was enjoying their little argument. Their little dirty admissions.

“If I tell him, he’ll know he has me . . . has both of us,” Harry hissed back at her.

“He knows it already, Harry . . . he knows how we are, and now . . . we know how we are,” Hermione said. “It doesn’t make sense to play this game. He has to win. Let’s just tell him what he wants to hear and get this over with.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, then looked over at Snape. He mumbled something at the wizard.

“What did you say, Mr. Potter? I couldn’t hear you clearly,” the wizard said, his black eyes glittering triumphantly.

“I said I want you to shag me,” Harry said in a low voice as a guilty, self-loathing thrill went through his body at the admission.

“Ah. And how about you, Miss Granger? Are you willing to be reamed as well?” the wizard asked, stroking his organ again.

“Yes,” Hermione said in a whisper. “I’m willing to do anything to get out of here.”

Snape stood up and looked at them for a long moment, both of their eyes sweeping over his lean, pale, scarred body, his erection seeming thicker than ever.

He strode over to the bed and climbed in behind them, looking thoughtful. He placed a place hand on each upturned arse.

”Now, who will I fill first?” he said to himself, loud enough for the witch and wizard to hear. Both arses shook a little. Snape ran a finger between Hermione’s labia, collecting her juices on its tip as Hermione hissed and shuddered. Snape popped his finger into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said, shifting over to Hermione, his leg working between their legs as he straddled Hermione’s bound limbs. Harry let out a little groan as he felt the wizard’s hand lift from his flesh. He had chosen Hermione. The witch shuddered again as she felt Snape’s large hands grip her waist tightly.

“You’re finally going to get what you want, witch,” the wizard breathed.

Harry stared at Hermione’s face. Her mouth was slack and eyes wet with excitement. The wizard’s whole body went tight with envy and he couldn’t help but spew venom at the witch.

"You’re a whore, Hermione,” Harry said jealously. “A wand-hungry whore.”

Snape laughed loud and long as he heard Harry’s comment.

It seemed friendship went only so far when it came to sex.