A/N: Thanks to all of you who voted for this story in the Smutastic Awards, it won for Best Spanking and was Runner-Up for Best BDSM. I'm over the moon!


For the Potions Master's Amusement

Chapter 30: After Midnight

Hermione woke in the utter darkness feeling the wiry hair of a man's chest at her back, a hand upon her shoulder, and hearing a voice—the voice—speaking just above her right ear.

'Wake up, Hermione,' Professor Snape commanded, his warm breath fanning over her cheek.

'What is it?' she asked, her heart racing. 'What's wrong?'

Abruptly, the candles were lit, and Professor Snape rolled away from her. Hermione squinted at her wristwatch and saw it was after two o'clock in the morning. Was he going to send her back to her room? She rolled onto her back and saw that he had climbed out of the bed and was now standing between her and the bathroom. He was dressed again, wearing his loose-fitting white shirt and black trousers above long, narrow bare feet. She blinked at him, confused.

'If you need the lavatory, I would like for you to use it now,' he said evenly.

Hermione sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Where was her considerate lover from just hours before? Where was the nearly romantic Severus Snape who had covered his sitting room with star-like tea lights?

'Am I going back to my room now?' she asked, feeling let-down at the mere thought.

'Not unless you choose to do so,' he replied silkily. 'I am not nearly finished with you yet.'

Hermione saw the purposeful way he was watching her, and a completely new sensation of pleasurable anticipation fluttered inside. 'Oh!' she murmured, throwing the covers from her body. 'Then I'll just go in here …'

She rose from the bed and passed by him with a tiny glance at his face. His eyes were narrowed speculatively, and he raked them down her naked form as she hurried to the bathroom. She washed her hands when she was done and splashed water on her face. How odd that he had woken and dressed—if they were going to have sex again, why had he put on clothes?

Finally, she emerged again into his bedroom, which was now brightly lit. He stood in the middle of the empty space between the bed and the wardrobe. Hermione approached him, stretching her hands to him as she neared, but his hands continued to hang by his sides. Slightly abashed, she lowered her hands again and stopped before him.

'It would be appropriate for you to assume the submissive's pose now, Hermione,' he said quietly.

There was no hint of reprimand in his tone, but Hermione felt a stab of panic, nonetheless. She had gone to bed with her lover and woken up with her Dominant. The changes confused her and kept her off balance. Silently, she assumed the pose and stared at the rug upon which she knelt, forcing herself to breathe slowly, in and out. She had no idea what his plans for her were, and she might need her energy before the night was out. She would do best to stop trying to second-guess him and simply accept what was to come.

For several minutes, Professor Snape remained in place; Hermione knew, for his toes were within her peripheral vision. But then he moved, and her personal radar told her that he was circling her kneeling figure. She continued to breathe deeply and slowly, willing herself to relax and accept what was next to come, whatever it might be.

Hermione was beginning to feel the weave of the rug as a discomfort to her knees and the fronts of her calves before Professor Snape spoke again.

'A submissive in training to serve me would become … intimate with nipple clamping devices.' His voice came from behind her, low-pitched and grave, as if discussing very serious business. 'My submissive would become accustomed to having her nipples tormented and pleasured in this way,' he added.

Hermione quailed inwardly. Clamps? On her nipples? Dear Merlin, she wasn't sure she could abide the pain. Surely it would hurt, terribly!

He paced around her left side, stopping with his toes clearly visible before her bent knees. 'Do you trust me to give you pleasurable pain, Hermione?' he asked, his voice warm now, almost inviting. 'Will you submit to my will and consent to wear the nipple clamps?'

Oh, God, when he put it like that, how did she dare to refuse him? Besides, she did trust him. He had never led her wrong, had he?

'Yes, sir,' she said softly.

He squatted down before her and tilted her chin until she looked into his face. 'Thank you, Hermione,' he said solemnly. 'That pleases me.'

She smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled, though his thin lips did not curve. Then he stood.

'Come with me, then,' he said, and as she scrambled to her feet, he led the way to the bed, where he seated himself against the headboard and motioned her to sit beside him.

When she was settled, he reached into his trousers pocket, and Hermione stiffened, expecting him to extract some medieval-looking torture device—but it was only the black silk cloth which had served as her blindfold in the past.

'I would like for you to wear the blindfold, so that you might concentrate on the sensations rather than the mechanics of the operation—but if you prefer to be able to see what I am doing, I will not require you to wear it.'

Hermione didn't hesitate. 'I'd like the blindfold, please,' she said, and she turned so that he might tie it over her eyes.

Reduced now to sound and sensation, she rested again with her back against the headboard, conscious of his movement on the bed. Next his voice came from in front of her, very close.

'Because this is your very first time, I will not ask you to wear the clamps for very long,' he informed her, gently stroking her right breast as he spoke to her. 'The sensation will be quite intense, and you may at first perceive the intensity as pain.' Now he fondled her nipple, rolling it and gently tugging, and arousal began to lick along the edges of her consciousness. 'It is my conviction that you will love the clamps on your nipples—that in time, you will beg for them—but if you sincerely believe the discomfort is too extreme, you may ask me to remove them, and I will do so.'

Hermione squirmed a bit as he continued to play with her breasts, now moving to the other, pulling on the nipple until it was pebbled and taut. 'Will you be angry if I ask you to take them off?' she asked.

'I will be disappointed,' he admitted, never ceasing to pinch and roll her nipples, 'but I will never be angry if you ask me to stop doing something when we are playing our sexual games, little one. Everything that happens between us will be consensual.' Now both hands plucked at her nipples, making her quim slick and hot with want. His lips found hers, and he tongued her mouth as he pulled at her nipples, wringing a moan from her. 'Ready?' he asked.

Hermione shifted on the bedclothes, suddenly wanting him hard and insistent between her thighs. 'Yes,' she said pressing her aching quim against the sheets. 'I'm ready.'

He moved swiftly, taking her already hardened nipple between his fingers and sliding a heavy, cold metal contraption in place of his fingers. The sensation was quite alien, but in seconds the metal above and below her flesh began to move toward one another, tightening over her very sensitive body part.

'Breathe through your mouth,' he advised, as the metal continued to tighten until she thought her flesh must be mashed beyond recognition. 'You're doing very well,' he added, and the praise steadied her.

The pain was like a bright light behind the blindfold, burning, stinging, and hurting. Yet unbelievably, his deft, sure hands were reaching to her other breast to repeat the process. No! No, she couldn't bear it! But she didn't speak, simply panting through her open lips, bearing the pain for him—because he asked her to. There was a reason for it, she well knew. He wouldn't ask, otherwise.

The cold metal bars caught above and below her other nipple and began the inexorable movement toward one another, catching her nipple between them, squeezing, squeezing. And cold upon her midriff, she felt metal which seemed to be pulling, increasing the pressure on her nipple. Now the pressure on the second nipple had ceased to increase; it was perfectly matched to the pain on the other side. Hermione was completely still, fearful that her slightest movement would increase the pain, making it unbearable for her and forcing her into the ignominious position of asking her professor—Master! her subconscious insisted—to desist what he had termed their 'playing'.

A sudden, feather-light tug was exerted on the clamps, pulling on her tormented nipples, and Hermione gasped aloud. Dear Merlin, the heavy, cold thing on her midriff was a metal chain, linking the clamps together! He was pulling on it!

She parted her lips to protest, but his voice, vibrant with meaning, silenced her. 'Exquisite,' he breathed, and his lips claimed hers again, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her tongue, even as his fingers invaded her quim to pleasure her clitoris.

Hermione fisted her professor's shirt in her hands, afraid to hug him, lest his chest come into contact with hers. The intense, burning pain in her nipples was beginning to confuse her, for as her mouth and cunt were pleasured by familiar, time proven methods, the discomfort to her breasts was somehow increasing the pleasurable sensation of the other stimuli, as small amounts of alcohol will interact with a narcotic painkiller to make one particularly giddy and drunk. Now, when he tugged lightly upon the chain, pulling on her clamped nipples, Hermione groaned with pleasure, humping desperately against the fingers in her quim, seeking more sensation, more pleasure.

Her professor laid a trail of scorching kisses from her lips to her throat, biting her, surely marking her, before his teeth closed on her earlobe. 'You are never more beautiful to me than when you submit to pain for my pleasure, little one. Does it please you to make me happy?'

'God, yes,' Hermione moaned, exhilarated beyond coherent speech by his praise, grinding herself unashamedly against the fingers in her cunt.

'Good girl,' he purred. 'Now the clamps are going to come off, and there will be a rush of very intense sensation. Are you ready?'

Hermione nodded once and almost immediately felt his hands at her breasts.

'Now,' he said, and the clamps were gone, but the blood which had been denied access to her nipples rushed back all at once, stinging mightily and drawing a gasp of dismay from her.

There was a sound, as of metal on wood, and then she was grasped and dragged across his lap, so that she straddled his hips, facing him. His hands upon her flesh were gently reassuring, and his mouth found her poor, abused nipple, laving it reverently with his tongue before repeating the process on the other side. Hermione found the gentle warmth of his mouth comforting to the sore tissue. 'I have an oil which will help with the soreness,' he said, and he began to trace his fingertips over her areolas and nipples, coating them with a warm, slick salve.

His hands were in her hair then, and the blindfold was removed from her eyes. Hermione blinked owlishly at the light, then focussed on his glittering black eyes.

'You did very well,' he told her seriously.

Hermione looked down at her chest, but her nipples looked no different to her, save for the gooey ointment on them. 'How long did I wear the clamps?' she asked curiously. 'It seemed like a really long time.'

'Fifteen minutes is the maximum amount a time a submissive should wear nipple clamps,' he explained, 'and then, only when they have built up to it.' His fingers threaded in the hair at the nape of her neck and he compelled her to kiss him, his free hand delving between the lips of her labia to caress her quim. Then he pulled her back from him, guiding her movement by the hand in her hair. 'You wore them for five full minutes,' he told her. 'You should be proud. I believe you even reacted to the pleasure stimulus, which is quite rare for a novice.'

Hermione flushed with gratification, feeling herself aglow with satisfaction that she had earned praise from him. 'It seemed much longer,' she admitted.

The fingers in her cunt stilled, and he placed both hands chastely at her hips.

'You have earned a reward,' he informed her. 'You may either curl up and go back to sleep, or you may take my cock out and ride it.'

Hermione's fingers were at his fly before the last word was out of his mouth, and he chuckled appreciatively.

'Eager little slut,' he purred, and she got his fly undone and pulled him out, glad to see he had once again left off underpants.

Looking down between their bodies, she lovingly stroked his erection, sliding the foreskin down and wondering about the logistics of fucking in this position.

'Start to lower yourself, as if you were going to sit on my thighs,' he instructed. 'I'll help you guide it inside.'

Biting her lip with determination, Hermione lowered herself slowly, and as she did so, her professor shifted slightly below her, redirecting the angle of his shaft before using the hand at her hip to force her down and onto him.

'Oh,' she said, startled as before by the way he filled her, and keeping a firm grip on her hips, he thrust up with a grunt of satisfaction.

'Fuck me,' he ordered her, his half-lidded eyes blazing with sudden intensity.

Feeling a bit awkward and unsure of herself, Hermione moved up and down on the cock piercing her, wondering how to rise up without having it fall out of her. How long would she be able to rise up and down before her legs were too tired for her to continue?

'Stop thinking,' he snapped irritably. 'Just do it.'

And so she did, concentrating on establishing and maintaining some sort of rhythm. By her third time up and down his cock, he had joined in her motions, thrusting up to meet her, helping guide her movements with his hands at her waist, the pronounced sneer upon his lips informing her that he was enjoying himself. She stroked his face, her fingers tracing the shape of his beautifully formed lips, until he leaned forward and kissed her, their rhythm slowing to a more leisurely pace as their tongues thrust and parried. His hands stroked her torso, cupping her breasts while avoiding her nipples, then sliding down and around to her bum, grasping her cheeks and thrusting up even as it seemed his tongue would touch her tonsils.

He ended the kiss, encouraging her without words to resume her previous rhythm of riding up and down his erection. He looked into her eyes and thrust his fingers in his mouth, then reached between them and began to rub her clitoris.

Hermione's pleasure quotient quadrupled at this stimulation, and each upward thrust of the shaft she rode nudged the spiralling rapture higher. Dear Merlin it was good to bob up and down on the professor's hard cock, but it was a much more difficult position from which to achieve orgasm—and she desperately, desperately wanted to come. She steadied herself with her her hands on her professor's shoulders, staring into his sexy, sneering face, reaching for the golden peak just beyond her grasp.

'Come for me,' he urged his voice low and gravelly. 'Feel my fingers on your clit—feel my prick up your cunt—look into my face and see how aroused I am by you.'

Hermione looked down between their bodies, saw where they were joined, and they she dragged her eyes back to his face, seeing how his glances moved from her eyes to her lips to her bouncing breasts and back again. At that instant, he plucked at her clitoris, and she felt herself begin to unravel.

The orgasm seemed to come from within her very core, excited beyond the point of rationality by the friction of their bodies, gathering force as it moved through her body, drawing a shout from her throat of sounds made unintelligible by bliss. She was distantly aware of her professor immobilising her hips and driving upward in a pistoning motion before his own release, hot within her body.

Hermione felt inert and did not protest when Professor Snape shifted her onto her pillow and stood to shed his shirt and trousers. The stunning afterglow of their lovemaking shaved away every restraint, and she reached her arms for him, wanting to feel his long, wiry body beside hers, wishing to find to way to be inside his skin with him as the waves of contentment eddied around them.

She held out her arms to him, and after a moment's pause, he responded to her unspoken invitation. She knew the look on his face when he paused had been significant, but she was too happy to reason out what emotion had passed over his famously inexpressive countenance. Instead, she gloried in the possessive way he pulled her against him and murmured, 'My perfect pet.'

Then his non-verbal spell extinguished the candles, and she listened to his strong, steady heartbeat as she drifted again into sleep.


A/N: You may see a picture of Hermione's clamps at my Live Journal, if you wish. The address is on my profile page.