Dangerous Escapism

Chapter 6

Enjoying the experience of being newly in touch with his wicked deviancy, the Potions master sat in exquisite anticipation. This was the next-to-last scene in his little entr'acte, and the promise of the finale was delicious and agonizing. As to the curtain call, and what was to follow, well, those thoughts could rest for now. Now was for pleasure, his pleasure, and he aimed to enjoy it to the fullest.

Snape belatedly thought that he should have made himself come at the beginning of this spectacle, as he was beginning to worry that he wouldn't survive a single touch of the teasing lasses in his care. Now that would be a shame, after all the torture he had put himself through watching them play. Embarrassing, too, even if he was the only one to remember it. Even as a teenager, he'd never been one to spunk all over a girl's hand the moment she undid his pants. He had, however, allowed himself to laugh out loud on the occasions when he heard of such experiences from his conquests, especially when they involved a certain black-haired Gryffindor whose cast-offs Snape had often screwed just to give them a basis for comparison...

His thoughts drifted to a remedy he had heard of being used by muggle adult film stars...if he remembered correctly, they numbed their members with cocaine or topical anaesthetic. Yeuch!! No, that would not do.

No, if anything, he'd have to use a spell. Foolish wand waving, indeed, he thought with a small smile. He searched his memory...Aahh, of course. Herculios Conquistadores. Otherwise known as the hero's spell. Yes, it takes a hero to shag a village, he mused. Guaranteed to provide total control without loss of sensitivity. Rumours abounded regarding the side-effects of the spell, particularly from repeated use. Blindness, madness, impotence, even hairy palms, incredible as it seemed. No actual evidence was in existence, of course (who on earth would admit to using the spell on a regular basis?), but in any event, Snape determined to use it with caution. It's not as if I'm going to be doing this again, now is it? The possibility that he might be living out the rest of his days in Azkaban occurred to him, but he placed it firmly in the back of his mind.

-*~~*~~*-

Snape was actually a little surprised at himself to find how much he savoured the idea of a Granger tormented. It hadn't occurred to him to leave her unsatisfied until he saw her reaction to her ministrations on Miss Delacour - but if she could be so aroused by giving pleasure...well, he couldn't really pass up this opportunity to pay her back for his debt of aggravation. She really was an impossible pain in the arse! About time she experienced a little of the frustration and discomfort that she engendered in most of the people in her acquaintance. Ah, poetic justice.

Watching Granger writhe under Fleur's expert mouth, Snape thought that it might be fun to restrain her. But then, she wouldn't be free to stop Fleur from satisfying her, and that would be a shame. Perhaps next time. If there was a next time. Oh Gods, hope, fear, which was worse? The idea that there might be a next time, or the knowledge that there likely never would?

As if she heard his thoughts, Hermione, with obvious discomfort and reluctance, pushed her fingertips against Fleur's forehead and whispered "Mmmh, stop, I'm...close..." before groaning and arching her back in frustration. Aah, yes. Fleur responded by lifting her head and expelling a slow breath on Hermione's swollen folds, then languorously rubbing her face and hair into the wet triangle.

Observing the two pleasuring each other had been a definite learning experience, Snape thought. Perhaps I should send Black a pensieve of this - anonymously. Might improve his fortunes with the fairer sex. If I understand correctly, cunnilingus is a common way for men with his problem to compensate. Although, perhaps his condition has improved since school? On second thoughts, very probably not.

-*~~*~~*-

The fire, small to start with, was dying down, but the room remained warm. All was quiet save for Snape's slightly elevated breathing, Hermione's sighs, and the whisper of skin on silky skin. The air was suffused with sex, physically with the smells and sounds, and with the energetic promise of satisfaction. Fleur had taken to her work with alacrity, and if Granger had ever had the experience of oral sex before, Snape thought, she had never had it like this. She was on her back on the floor, nude save for her stockings and garter, and lay with her eyes scrunched closed and her fists tangled in her hair. Fleur was between her knees, and had her arms wrapped around Granger's bent legs, to prevent her from bucking right out of her grasp. The portion of Granger's thighs that were visible above her stockings were covered with welts and bite marks, and as she wriggled around on the floor, Snape could see a trail of wetness on the carpet. Whether it was from Fleur's mouth or Granger's pussy, no matter, it was amazing.

A constant staccato of gurgles and whimpers issued from Granger's pursed lips, punctuated by one distinguishable word, please. Snape felt that the memory of that word, spoken in such heavenly torment, would be enough to carry him through whatever miserable future was no doubt fated to mirror his miserable past.

At ever-decreasing intervals, Granger would reach down and reluctantly push Fleur away from her engorged sex, growling with frustration at her own actions. Fleur obviously enjoyed the torment, and teasingly leaned her head against Hermione's right thigh and stuck her tongue out all the way, caressing Granger's nub with only the very tip. Sometimes, when Granger pushed her away, she didn't stop licking her, but just moved downwards to slide her tongue in and around her entrance and labia.

When it became apparent that the Granger girl was so aroused that she was doomed to climax with any more stimulation, Snape put an end to his final voyeuristic episode of the evening. "Thank you, Miss Delacour, that will be all for now. You may stand. Miss Granger, are you quite well?"

II

Ah, time for the Pièce de Résistance. Considering his next move, Snape couldn't resist letting his hips shift restlessly in his chair, teasing his throbbing, leaking prick against his now-sodden shorts. "Hmmm" he grunted, steeling himself for the contact he'd craved for so long. In spite of the absence of his participation, both girls right now had the looks of ones who had been thoroughly and expertly shagged. Both stood on weak, wobbly legs, sported carpet burns and hickeys in most unlikely places, and had the tousled look of newlyweds. The two girls differed on one point, however: Fleur's face and body language was relaxed and satiated, while Granger had the focused, frantic look of one who had been recently held under water. Her face was a desperate plea, and she even had tears in her eyes. She was so forlorn that Snape actually felt sorry for her. For a second. Then his glee returned, and he took a moment to revel in how he imagined she would feel with her unsatisfied cravings after he Obliviated her. How would she satisfy herself...if at all? he wondered. Would she use Fleur? Would she even recognize the feelings she was experiencing?

"Come here, Miss Granger." he said softly. He held out his hand. When she reached him and took it, he kissed her palm. Wordlessly, he pulled her down over him so that she straddled his thighs. Oddly, he had no desire for her to touch him - but he very much wanted to touch her. He reached up with both hands and ran his fingers through her long hair, heedless of the tangles he encountered. Playfully, he yanked a handful and laughed as she winced. "You are a very beautiful girl...Hermione." He murmured. Palms flat on her, he raked his hands down her front, not too hard, but with the speculative manner of one examining horseflesh. Stopping just above her mound, he slid them back up her hips and sides, then down her soft arms to her hands, which were resting on the arms of the chair for balance.

Idly drawing his fingertips back up her arms, when he reached her shoulders and stroked them, he then took a couple of handfuls of hair in his hands and drew her face to his. Instead of kissing her mouth, however, he turned his face into the curve under her jaw, working his lips over her skin as if he was eating whipped cream off her, then latching his lips to her nape, he sucked and stroked her with his tongue until he drew an unmistakable red welt. Releasing her hair, he gently took her breasts in his hands, squeezing and massaging them with pleasure while he worked.

The Herculio spell worked, obviously - he felt calmer, more in control, even though his arousal was not at all diminished. In his new-found detachment, he recognized the slight envy he had felt for Fleur at the attention she'd paid to Granger. Irritated at himself, he took it out on his student's neck, biting and pulling on the soft skin hard enough to make her cry out. She moved her hands to his shoulders, sliding them under his shirt which hung open on him still. Snape hadn't planned to feel her on him, yet, but he decided to leave it be - she'd need better balance for what he was going to do next.

-*~~*~~*-

He might have been feeling in-control, but Granger looked positively nauseous with unsatisfied lust. She seemed very much enamoured of the way he was touching her, and he could actually smell the frustration emanating from her at her inability to relieve her condition. With his legs slightly parted and hers straddling him, Granger's sex was deliciously exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes never left his face, and the look within them - feral, primal, frantic, beseeching. Oh, this was heaven.

Still caressing her breasts, he pushed her back a little and looked over her slowly, deliberately, his eyes lingering on the soft curls between her legs. He felt her squirm with discomfort at his gaze, and through his pants, saw his cock pulse with recognition of its' nearness to her tight harbour. Slowly, expelling a low groan, he slid his hands down her sides, past her hips, and rested them at the tops of her thighs, with his thumbs just touching the outsides of her labia. "Oh, please..." He was rewarded by an answering groan from her, and she wriggled in his lap trying to make him touch her.

He answered her plea by moving his thumbs inwards by millimetres, until they were close enough to caress her dripping entrance. She was so aroused that the tops of her stockings were actually wet, and he momentarily allowed himself the thought of penetrating her. Slowly, he moved his thumbs back and forth against her vaginal opening, deftly flicking her moisture under his fingers. He slid his palms and fingers marginally upwards, until his fingertips rested on the bottom of her softly-curved belly, and he applied gentle inward pressure of his index fingers towards her engorged, downy mound. Carefully rotating his hands against her, massaging her soft flesh, he grinned as she bucked and writhed at the tortuous stimulation.

Hermione was now moaning and whimpering piteously and continuously, and giving out a strangled cry, she threw back her head and closed her eyes.

Swiftly, Snape dipped both of his thumbs in her wetness and slid them up between her folds towards, but not quite to, her clit. Pulling outwards, he slid around her aching nub and trailed up her belly to the hollow between her breasts. To his delight, this action elicited a deep growl from Miss Granger, who was now looking almost murderously enflamed.

The Potions master impishly began to play with her garter, running his fingers under the tops of her stockings and snapping the elastic fastenings. "Very nice, Granger", he said, "Too bad Halloween's over." He carefully placed his left hand over her backside, and slid the fingers of his right hand between her legs to very gently cup her mound. Teasing her, he held his hand far enough away that only her hair touched his palm, and he rested his fingertips near, but not on her entrance. Watching her face, he eased his left middle finger in between her spread cheeks until it rested against her tight bud. Her eyes widened, but did not leave his.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He brushed the heel of his hand briefly against the soft flesh that housed her clit. "Do you want me to enter you?" he slipped his right index finger into her up to the fingernail. He had to move quickly to prevent her from impaling herself on him, so swift was her thrust against his hand. Thwarted, she managed to whimper "...Yes, please. Please."

"How much?" The Potions master felt his heart thump painfully in his chest, his throat constricted with tension and arousal, watching his best student struggle helplessly under his touch. "So much. Please. More than anything. Oh please..." she breathed. "Well, if you want this..." he entered her with his longest finger up to the first knuckle, "...you have to give me this." He lightly pressed her nether bud with the same finger of his left hand. "Tit for tat. Finger for finger. Do you agree?" "Yes." was her strangled response. "Is it what you want?" "Yes." was the reply. "SAY IT." he commanded. "Please, sir, fill me up with your hands. Everywhere." Her last words were a strangled gasp. Snape was surprised to feel hands caressing his hair, and turned slightly to see Fleur leaning up against the back of his chair, pressing her breasts to the back of his head and playing with his lank black locks. She must be quite a voyeur he thought.

*

A/N: Thanks to Hilary Clinton for the quote "...it takes a village to raise a child." from which I derived my paraphrase. I don't know where she got it, but I got it from her and that's that!