Chapter Nine

Many thank yous to everyone who has given this fic a read. I hope you will continue to enjoy it, and remember that a Dominant/submissive relationship should always be safe, sane, and consensual. D/s is not about harm or abuse. It is supposed to be a beautiful, symbiotic relationship - not to mention a whole lot of fun.

This chapter contains explicit sexual content, between two consenting adults, involving light bondage and disciplining.

Love is the only game that is not called on account of darkness.

Thomas Carlyle

Hermione stopped struggling against the viney bonds that held her fast in place. Severus rose from the bed with a fluid, graceful movement, and leaned against one of the tall footposts. He tilted his head as if surveying his work. With a quick flick of his wand, the vines pulled her feet further apart.

"That's better," he drawled, grinning rapaciously down at her. Hermione closed her eyes and felt the warmth of anticipation creeping across her skin, like a feather being drawn over her sensitive flesh.

To Hermione's surprise, Severus leaned over and rubbed a gentle, callused finger over her taut nipple, making her gasp. "Sweet little tips," he murmured, teasing the nipple until it was as stiff as a little cock. He smirked down at her, and pulled and milked it with care and control, until the combined sensations of pain and pleasure caused Hermione to whimper and arch her back toward his hand.

He lowered his mouth onto her aching, taut flesh, wrenching a cry of pleasure from her. His mouth was honey-sweet and she could feel his warm tongue flicking at the tip. As he suckled her, his teeth nipped within, sending stinging little pulses racing along a shining wire of pleasure that extended from her nipples to her groin. He was tender and skilled, and soon she was moaning and twisting, silently begging him to favour the opposite breast, until he pulled away from her with a little sucking motion that made her hiss and thrash in disappointment.

He looked down on her with liquid black eyes that promised things for which Hermione didn't have a name. One finger teased against her bottom lip before he slipped it into her eager mouth. He watched her carefully as she suckled on it, desperate to maintain contact with him, desperate to show her submission to his will. Hermione kept her eyes locked to his, begging him silently.

"And what do you want, Miss Granger?" he asked softly as he removed his finger and encircled her nipple with the moistened tip, leaving it to cool and pucker painfully in the cold air.

A soft sound escaped her throat before she could reply. "I want to please you," she said, hoping it was the right answer. She felt an almost painful ache in her chest; it was more than just wanting him to make love to her. She wanted to hear his praise for her, uttered in that dark, sinful baritone voice she knew so well. The thought both aroused and troubled her. Looking into his eyes, she could tell he knew what she was thinking, and she wondered how she could be so transparent without him Legilimising into her mind.

"All I want is to give you pleasure," she repeated, and closed her eyes, ashamed of how needy she was for his praise.

"Good girl. And so you shall," he crooned, his voice so full of dark seduction Hermione felt her pussy grow hot. She felt a feral type of joy. In that moment, she understood why submissives gave themselves so freely to their Masters.

He had plundered her with his mouth, he had made her orgasm until she lost consciousness, and still she craved him. She was entranced by him. He was so beautiful. It was as if she was looking at a god whose very sight could scorch and defile her, yet she was loath to tear her eyes away. Every fiber of his being seemed concentrated on her, and it excited her to be the object of the fierce, demanding attention of this particular wizard.

She was actually panting, her body aching with need for him. She had imbibed lust potions before, but the sensations they produced were nothing compared to this. This was pure want; pure need. She'd never felt this gnawing, temple-aching desire before. She tried to stifle a sob as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" he asked diffidently, as if he knew the answer but wanted her to confess. He watched her struggle, smiling down at her. His arrogance undid her, and she wailed.

"It hurts!"

"The bonds?"

"No! No," she whispered weakly, turning her face away. "It hurts to want you so much. What have you done to me?"

To her surprise, he laughed, and climbed onto the bed. "Merely all you asked of me, pet. You wanted to submit to me. Now you understand the power you have given me; the power to enslave you to pleasure." Severus stroked her body proprietorially, starting at her shoulders, moving down to the very soles of her feet.

This was not the calming, soothing stroke of a man gentling his witch; it was the calculated, rough touch of a man who knows how to send his woman over the edge easily, on command. It was the sure, tormenting hand of a wizard who plans to wreak havoc with his wife's body and soul, and Hermione jerked like a fish on a line beneath his knowing, skilled ministrations. She arched her back to meet his touch, and his fingers danced away from her capriciously.

"I can make that sweet ache worse, or I can make it better, pet." He looked down on her imperiously. "Either way, you'll thank me.

"But first, a little compensation, I think, for my exertions on your part." He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, and she shivered at the silken danger in his words.

Without preamble, he straddled her until he was kneeling over her chest. She gazed up at him hungrily as he eased his cock from the confines of his robes. He stroked it slowly, as if savouring the feel of it in his large hand, and Hermione thought she might come just from watching him touch himself. Gods, he was a dirty devil, enticing her with his cock, like the serpent tempted Eve with the apple.

He was hard, his cock so blood-engorged Hermione could feel the heat of it as it jutted toward her mouth. She watched in fascination as a drop of pearly seed oozed from the tip, and her mouth watered as her lips parted to take him. She looked up into his face, and saw the desire smoldering in his eyes.

His voice was as velvety and hard as his cock. "I told you I wanted to fuck this luscious little mouth." His breathing quickened with barely-controlled arousal. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, tickling it gently. He leaned forward. "Refusal is no longer an option. Satisfying me is." He purred. "This would be an opportune moment to demonstrate your appreciation, Miss Granger."

The delicious scent of his sex permeated into the visceral centre of her brain as she strained upward for him. He stroked himself slowly, as if enticing her. He whispered, "Kiss the tip." He was breathing hard, as if she was exciting him against his will. Hermione closed her eyes and placed a soft, reverent kiss on the head of his sex. She licked the pre-cum from the tip, moaning rapturously that she was finally able to touch him, to taste him, and he sighed harshly as he pressed his straining member between her lips.

"Oh, yes. Lick it. Suck it for me," he said, his voice sinful and coaxing, as if enticing an innocent. There was barely concealed ferocity in his tone. "Show me how a slave worships her Master." He looked down on her with an expression that would have made a devil blush - all sloe-eyed power and sneer.

"Open up."

He took her head between his warm hands and eased his cock into her mouth, and Hermione whimpered as he filled her utterly. His sharp groan of pleasure made her impossibly wet, as if the sound itself had painted the slit of her own sex.

His movements were controlled and slow as he churned his hips, sighing with each disciplined thrust. Hermione tried to keep her eyes open; it was beyond erotic to watch his hips rotating his cock in and out of her mouth, and she sucked hard, even as her tongue swirled over the head of his rigid member. As he moved, he held her face in his hands, and his head fell back in abandon as he fucked her mouth.

Hermione felt her passion straining with each graceful plunge, and she grew greedy, trying to take him fully into her mouth. She moaned harshly; all her thoughts simmered down to one base instinct - she wanted to give him the pleasure he had given her earlier. She no longer cared about her own wants and needs; it was about Severus, her Daddy, her Master... she looked up at the man crouched over her, and tried to convey this with her eyes. He snarled softly, looking down at her with an expression of drugged power. He looked as if drinking in the sight of her like this freed the lust he had always kept hidden, simmering beneath the surface, and was now given free rein.

Without warning, he pulled away from her mouth, panting, clutching the sides of her face with his large hands. Breathless and narrow-eyed, he rasped, "You're very good, pet, but so very greedy. I'm not ready to come yet. We must work on patience where your desires are concerned."

Gasping, licking her lips, Hermione gasped with a sobbing little breath. "I'm sorry," she moaned, closing her eyes.

He rose gracefully from the bed, and tucked himself away in his midnight robe. For a moment, he simply watched her, as he'd done before. He seemed to be weighing a decision. Hermione waited, bound and aching for him, but something told her the pleasure might be superseded by something else for the moment.

As with everything Severus did, he used the silence skillfully to heighten the tension, until Hermione felt like a rubber band pulled and stretched to the breaking point. Just as she was about to give in and snap, the vines loosened and fell away, and he intoned, "Rise, Miss Granger."

At first, Hermione thought she would not be physically able to obey him. Her arms and legs felt like leaden weights. He watched her carefully, patiently; he merely stood quietly, waiting for her to stand. Eventually, Hermione had to roll onto her side and drag herself from the bed. She finally managed to get to her feet, and stood beside him, waiting for him to command her.

He gestured with a quick nod of his head. "Stand by the bedpost. It will guide you."

Mystified by this cryptic order, Hermione turned and moved back until she was standing by the tall post at the right foot of the bed. As she stood facing him, the vines and tendrils once again wrapped around her hands; this time, they pulled them high, over her head, until once more she was captive of both the bed and her husband. The vines pulled her until her hip rested against the post, and she stood sideways against the bedpost, her arms suspended above her. When she looked up, the vines ascended out of sight; up into the black ceiling of the cave.

"I will not force you to stay in this position long, but I believe being bound is necessary for our first lesson together. It is easy to surrender when you have no choice." He sounded as matter-of-fact as he had in the classroom, and in spite of her less than comfortable position, Hermione felt a sense of reassurance from the familiar timbre of his voice.

"And so, we return to the subjects of trust and obedience, Miss Granger," he murmured, as he stood by her side. She could feel the soft fabric of his robe brush against her hip, and his warm palm slid down her belly to the apex of her thighs and cupped her pussy expertly. Hermione knew he could feel her, wet and aching, and she mewled helplessly as he teased her labia open and gently fondled her.

"It has occurred to me you have been a very naughty little witch over the years, haven't you?" he crooned, his finger teasing her clit. Hermione whimpered as he moved away, and she closed her eyes, waiting for his next move.

"Look at me," he ordered. Hermione obeyed him immediately. A leather flogger dangled carelessly in his fingers. It was a simple whip, made like a cat-o-nine tails, of perhaps a dozen buttery leather strips attached to a long handle studded with large-headed smooth, silver hobnails. In spite of its soft appearance, it looked lethal in Severus' strong hands.

"Do I frighten you, Miss Granger?"

When Hermione swallowed heavily, he chuckled darkly. ""Would you like me to?"

How could she answer? He seemed to understand, and he laughed again, a sound that was so full of sin Hermione quivered like a bowstring.

Severus smiled grimly. "Oh, yes, Miss Granger. Tonight, you atone for your sins, even while committing a few new ones."

He pressed against her and grasped her head, and as Hermione looked up into the face of her professor, her husband, her master, she was both ashamed and thrilled at how hot and aroused she felt, looking into his unsmiling, cruel face. "Now, let's start at the beginning, shall we, pet?" he sneered, as he teased and pinched her nipples. Hermione was soon so inflamed with lust she was struggling feverishly against the bonds that held her arms above her head.

Finally, his fingers returned to their wicked task, working her folds so pitilessly Hermione was forced to rise onto her tiptoes. She relaxed and tensed at the same time, as his fingers danced over her swollen and sensitive clit.

As he tormented her, he hissed, "Miss Granger, you set fire to my robes when you were a First-year student, did you not?"

Confused, Hermione replied, "Y-yes, sir." She moaned as he toyed with her straining clit. The flogger came down on her backside, fast. It was a subtle, stinging sort of pain, but coupled with the slow, teasing pleasure of his fingers in her cunt, it sent a message to her brain that nearly made her orgasm. Another stinging slap of the flogger made her jerk her hips toward his seeking fingers, but he pulled away.

In a chiding tone, he chastised, "Ah ah, Miss Granger. You are mine now, to play with. And I will play with you as I please." Hermione shivered as his fingers grew more insistent. The flogger came down again, first on one arse cheek, then another, stinging, caressing. Hermione's bottom felt as if it were glowing. "I believe you also stole from my potions stores your second year – making Polyjuice potion, wasn't it?"

Hermione was panting now, pinned between the punishing flogger and his gentle fingertips fluttering delicately over her clit. She was barely cognizant of his words. His seductive tone, the deep, sinful silk of his baritone voice; it was her only link to her rapidly disintegrating reason.

"And the subsequent years, pet? When you knocked me unconscious in the Shrieking Shack?" Hermione felt the jolt of memory merge with the expectation of what was to come, and she gasped in anticipation. The flogger sang in the air, and Hermione cried out as it blistered her already sensitive bottom. She was trembling now, her hips surging against the pain and the pleasure, when she heard her own voice cry, "Harder!" Hermione looked up at him, stunned at herself, then felt the tears come. "More," she said, almost against her will. She dropped her head, shuddering. "Please, professor, I want more."

Severus brushed a tear from her eye, and raised the handle of the flail to her face. "If it's more you want, Miss Granger, show me." His smirk was the stuff of legend, bristling with power. "Kiss the rod that punishes you, and I will give you more." His eyes were huge and so dark they looked demonic.

Hermione looked at her husband, and felt her moisture trickling down her thighs. She was nourished only by this deeply rooted, all encompassing want. She feverishly kissed the handle of the flogger, and when he moved his hand, she rained kisses upon it as well. He had reduced her to this creature of sensation, and she knew she would do and say anything to show him how much she wanted this.

"Excellent, pet," he purred, then kissed her forehead. "Let's give you a little respite, yes?" he whispered lasciviously.

His fingers intensified their light, fluttering teasing, and Severus brought her effortlessly to the peak of an orgasm. Hermione felt something pressing against the back of her thighs, and a smooth rod slid into her primed and eager pussy. She began to keen as he masturbated her with the handle of the flogger. Her wanton cries both humiliated and grounded her as he coaxed, "Come for me ... ah yes, that's a good girl..."

Hermione felt the gathering of her body, caught in the vicious undertow of sensation and need and she screamed into the air as the first wave of her orgasm broke over her like a torrent, buckling her knees and sending a gush of wet and warmth over the handle. She cried out with each pulse of her traitorous body as Severus relentlessly pumped the studded phallus in and out of her slick and quivering pussy.

She sagged against her bonds, and whimpered as he held her to his side and petted and stroked her. He laughed as she mewled and shook against him. "Poor baby ... Calm yourself, Miss Granger," he admonished in a teasing tone, and she moaned as his fingers returned to their teasing. She keened softly, her body twitching, overly stimulated and spent.

"Wicked little girl," he sneered, "You have soaked the handle of your flogger. What sort of shameless little witch comes on the instrument of her punishment?"

Hermione took great, sobbing breaths, straining at the bonds. "Do your shoulders hurt?" he asked mildly.

She nodded. "Yes, sir." Suddenly, she was afraid. "But I want to take my discipline properly!" she blurted, afraid he would be disappointed. "Please let me!"

Severus smiled down at her, and it was a carnal, smile of power. "So the little Gryffindor is afraid she won't be found worthy, eh?" His smile changed, became predatory. "Not to fear, little lioness. I have no intention of letting you go now." With a whispered incantation, the vines dropped, so that her shoulders were no longer straining upward.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, holding onto the vines as if she were their bonds and they her captive.

"Good girl," he purred, and stepped back, his arm raised to strike her again. Five times the strips of the lash descended on her burning backside, and she hissed and thrashed. It felt wondrous.

"More, pet?" he asked, placing a biting kiss on her shoulder. His fingers found and tortured her nipples, and she nodded wordlessly, afraid she would scream if she tried to speak. "We still have more punishment to mete out, my dear. Do you know why?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, her body tense and ready for the next blow.

"And why is that, Miss Granger?"

"Because of all the times I angered you," she rasped, tears sparkling on her lashes.

"Incorrect."

Surprised, Hermione opened her eyes and looked at her husband. "What?" she managed, with a sniff, and then he stepped toward her again.

The whip sang in the air. "Do you know how long I have desired you, witch?" Severus began, his voice smoky and rich, like chocolate. "Do you know the first time I looked on you and wanted you, and hated myself for it?" Hermione, helpless, rode out the storm of his heavy, burnt-sugar voice, the sting of the flail and his insistent fingers. His mouth was at her ear now, his breath hot and moist against her skin. His sweet whisper sounded fraught with longing. "You were fifteen, and dressed like an angel for that oaf, Viktor Krum. I saw you at the Yule Ball, and my heart split open, and I wanted you so badly I could not form a fist in which to stroke my own cock."

Hermione was stunned. He had never told her this before. She looked up at Severus, and was almost fearful of the lust and the fire she saw in his eyes. He was looking at her with a mixture of shame and arousal that excited her unbearably. To know she was the cause of this was like an addictive drug.

She smiled at him. "Even then? You never said – "

He crashed his mouth against hers, forcing his warm, slippery tongue into her mouth, draining her of her will. He pulled away and then began to bite at her bottom lip, sucking it in a frenzy, moaning loudly as he devoured her. His breathless, suffocating kisses frightened her, but she leaned into him even as she gasped for air. Their tongues battled, and his mouth echoed his fingers and the whip to form a mosaic of pleasure that drove the last coherent thought from her mind.

He released her mouth with a soft suckling kiss that made her whimper. He smiled coldly. A whispered spell later, and the vines unwrapped themselves from her wrists. Severus stepped back and pointed to the bed. "Do you want proof, witch? Get on your hands and knees," he growled.

Hermione quickly climbed onto the mattress. She put her head on her arms and lay with her bottom in the air, eager, waiting for him, and she growled and pushed back at him as she felt the head of his cock sliding between her slick, dripping folds. She was shamelessly, almost angrily aroused. "Show me," she pleaded, lightheaded and sick with want. "Show me what you would have done to me that night."

He hovered over her, his possessive hands grasping her hips. He burned a trail on her back with his kisses. "Such a beautiful girl, and I had no right to you! I wasn't worthy of you, and I had to watch those fools hurt and humiliate you!" He teased her with the head of his cock, sliding it into her entrance, promising her more with the pressure of his hands on her hips.

"I had to sit back and do nothing, say nothing when Potter nearly got you killed at the Department of Mysteries. I snuck into the infirmary while you were recovering and watched you, praying to gods I no longer believed in that you would be well." Again, he pushed the tip into her hungry sex, and she tried to push back on him, but he eluded her maddeningly, taunting her like an incubus with his hot, rigid cock, his hard, grasping hands.

Hermione, panting against him, cried, "Severus – "

"Having to turn my heart away each time I saw you at Grimmauld, with Sirius Black sniffing around you-" He played with her, rubbing his cock over her distended clit, sliding halfway inside her, only to withdraw, leaving her writhing for him. "Oh, they wanted you as well, witch, never doubt it! That mutt and his werewolf taunted me about you every chance they got, when they weren't slobbering over each other!"

Hermione's arousal soared out of control as she heard the swift, frantic urgency in his voice. She tried to turn in his arms, but he wouldn't allow it. "Severus, please – "

"This is what I would have done!" He slammed into her, balls deep, a hard, driving thrust that made Hermione howl. His cock was diamond hard and so hot it burned, and it felt as inexorable and glorious as his desperate voice and as he pulled back, she thought she might die from the anticipation of the next hard, selfish thrust.

When he ploughed into her again, she wailed her thanks into the room.

He began to fuck her, hard, pitilessly, emphasizing his words with each driving plunge. "Do you know how frightened I was, when you were on the run? Do you know afraid I was that you would be killed? Do you know how much I wanted to capture you – hide you away in Hogwarts so I could have you all to myself, so I could tie you to my bed and fuck you every night?" He roared his pleasure as he slammed into her.

His passion-fueled confession shocked and thrilled Hermione. His driving, merciless hips rammed into her, bruising, tearing her apart until she could feel the hot, pulling tide of her impending climax, and she threw back her head and howled, her cunt pulsating and throbbing around him.

Finally he slowed and pulled her from her hands and knees, until she was sitting back against his lap. Sharp, biting kisses stung her neck and shoulders, only to be soothed by his soft tongue. His hands skimmed her ribs and his fingers rolled her nipples sweetly, tenderly. "Oh, Hermione," he groaned, and the sound of her name in his mouth made her shudder. With a voice silvery and boyish, he crooned, "Little girl, I've waited all your life for you to be ready for this."

With a cry, he pushed her forward onto all fours again, and rocked inside her in long, slow deep strokes, his hips rolling and churning, locking her against him, bottoming out just as he pulled away for the next plunge. Hermione rocked back to meet him in a sensuous dance, her legs spread wide to feel his balls slapping against her clit.

"So good," she moaned, as their bodies' rhythm quickened, as desire met need met pleasure. She felt his hand tangle in her hair and tug gently, moaning in bliss as the muscles of her pussy clenched around him, making him shiver.

"I wish you could see yourself, pet," he growled, sounding every inch the pagan god she had come here to worship. "I wish you could see how beautiful you are, impaled on my cock." A large hand came down hard on her backside, rewarding her with the pain/pleasure she craved. "How beautiful your rosy little arse looks as I pierce it."

He pushed her arse cheeks apart and teased the little hole of her rectum, making her cry out and shudder. Hermione swirled her hips, making Severus moan and growl. "Lose yourself," she sobbed, their bodies crashing together. "Do whatever you want with me. I want to feel you lose control," she babbled, and pushed harder against him.

"Don't come yet," he growled, his controlled demeanor lost in a haze of dark lust-fueled power. "You'll come when you beg for it, witch." He sounded demonic and cruel, and Hermione had to fight to keep from climaxing at that moment.

They fucked one another like animals, his hips pounding into her in lightning-fast thrusts that made her shudder and mewl. And still Hermione begged, "More... Master... please... Daddy," she keened into the room, feeling her orgasm rising again.

She heard Severus moaning again and again as he plunged into her wildly. He growled deeply in his throat, his voice harsh with pleasure. "That's it. Be a good girl and beg me..." he groaned.

"Please let me come!" she wailed, so close...

He laughed and roared, "Again, little girl! Beg me to let you go!" With those words he roughly yanked her hair. Hard.

Hermione's nerve endings turned to ice; she jangled to a halt, and her rhythm faltered. Severus didn't seem to notice. As if overcome with passion and power, he pulled her hair again, even harder, forcing her neck to arch backward. Suddenly Hermione cried out, and terror replaced pleasure...

She heard a thin, childish scream rend the air. Only later did she realise it was herself. She took a deep, ragged breath, like a drowning man coming up for air.

"Bumbershoot!" she screamed, her voice high-pitched in her ears. "Please, stop! Please..." She was barely aware of her own voice as she tried to claw her way out from under him. "Bumbershoot! Bumbershoot! Please!"

She was crying as she felt Severus leap from the bed. Hermione swallowed, and dared to turn and look at him.

He was white with shock; his beautiful face was glistening with sweat, and flushed from their frantic coupling, but beneath his stunned confusion was anger and revulsion and something like fear. He was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before.

Suddenly, to Hermione's horror, he reached for her wrists, and with a gentle, jerking motion, he wrenched the bracelets from her wrists. "No, please," she said, shaking her head. She was torn by remorse and fear flooded her heart as she looked into the stony face of her husband. "Please, don't, Severus, I didn't mean to do it, please!"

Weakly, she tried to reach for him but he backed away. Hermione could not identify the expression on his face. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and expressionless, and he would not meet her eyes. "You said the safe word, Hermione," he said and she could hear the accusatory disappointment. He gave her a formal little shrug. "I was not aware I was harming you," he added flatly. He shook his head, and turned away from her. With a flick of his wand, she was dressed.

Hermione, sick with fear, slid off the bed and tried to approach him, but he moved away from her again. He picked up a loose crystal from the ground and muttered another spell, and pressed it into her hand, along with her wand. "It would be best if you go now."

Hermione sobbed, "Don't send me away, Severus, I'll be good! Please don't send me away. You don't understand – "

The Portkey began to activate and she screamed, "Oh, please don't, Severus! I'll be good- Severus!" She felt the sickening, pulling, spinning feeling of the Portkey transporting her away from the cave, and the last thing she saw before landing ungracefully on their bed in Hogwarts was the stark, white face of her husband, turning away from her.