Disintegration III: Hand in hand with fear and shadows

Through the window, Draco could see the autumn leaves falling on the frosty ground. He could hear the distant noises of a house-elf rummaging around the kitchen. He knew that his mother was lying on her bed, but not sleeping; just lying there, staring into the wall as if she was waiting for something. Almost two years had passed since the day she had found him lying upon Snapes bed covered in blood and with a completely mutilated and unrecognisable face. She had never found out what had really happened; Snape had told her that he had found Draco in that particular state and Draco had claimed it was a spell gone terribly wrong, ever since. He knew that his mother knew it was a lie. She didn't, however, seem to have figured out the truth and Draco surely didn't mind having it that way. He knew that she was disappointed in him; knew that the reason she did nothing but stare into the wall anymore was him.
The War was over and Voldemort at rule. Most of the wizarding community had – probably out of fear – joined the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had been released but hadn't touched Draco since; he even winced every time he looked at his son… most people did. Dracos' face was indeed not what it had once been. It was distorted, destroyed; a morbid and macabre piece of art.
Every time Draco looked into the mirror he was reminded of that night with Snape. Somehow, he felt nausea and yearning in equal parts of him. Nothing of the sort had happened since; Draco thought – or rather, hoped – that it was simply because he and Snape hadn't been alone together since.
Draco spent a lot of time thinking about Snape, especially in his fantasies when he tried to reproduce that painful and arousing experience they had shared.
Every time he feared for his own sanity; every time he felt those stings of horror, he reminded himself that it was not only him… there was Snape too, who was obviously just as sick and perverted as himself.
Draco heard the front door squeal, followed by the soft creaking of the kitchen floor and then his fathers' harsh and tired voice:
"Draco! Time to go."
Draco grabbed his packed trunk and went down the stairs. They were heading for the yearly celebrations of the Dark Realm and he knew that Snape was going to be there. Narcissa wasn't coming; she claimed to have no strength left for festivities. Draco felt a sharp sting of guilt but did his best to ignore it. He stood side by side with Lucius and together they apparated, only to emerge in a field just outside of Hogsmeade. At this field, a large castle made of black marble was seated. They could hear distant music from in there and Lucius said in a low voice:
"Put on your mask, boy."
As Lucius himself put on a white and silver masquerade mask, Draco pulled on his own which was black and made of leather. A Masquerade Ball was exactly the type of thing Lucius Malfoy would take his deformed son to; nothing to be ashamed of since no one could see what was underneath that mask.
They reached the castle and Draco realised it was much bigger and more crowded in there than he had expected. Different people came to greet his father but Draco simply ignored them. Instead, he was trying to search the room for a tall figure with long, black, greasy hair…
"Lucius", he suddenly heard the drawling, familiar sound of Severus Snapes voice speak.
Draco turned around quickly and saw his father speak to Snape, whose face was covered in a mask that looked like it was made of iron; probably enchanted.
"What have we got here?" said Snape and turned his cold gaze at Draco.
Dracos' heart started beating faster as his stomach gave a jolt and he gulped.
"Good evening, sir", he said nervously.
"May I have a word with you?" said Snape and Draco was convinced that his heart had just skipped a beat.
"Yes", he stuttered, "yes, of course."
"In private", said Snape, "if you please."
Since Draco couldn't see Snapes' face behind that iron mask or hear a tone of something else than mockery in his voice, he had no idea what to expect.
He followed Snape up the stairs and they reached a long corridor which they walked, wordlessly, until Snape opened one of the doors to let themselves in. the buzzing from the Masquerade died out as Snape closed the door behind them. It was pitch dark and silent until Snape casted a lightening spell and the room went dimly lit. Draco gaped in shock at the sight of the room. It was like a somewhat frightening mixture of a love nest and a torture chamber.
The walls were dark red and in the middle of the room was a large bed covered in black, satin sheets. On the wall, over the bed, hung chains with fastened handcuffs, a whip and numerous sharp objects which looked like a muggle doctors' equipment.
Draco turned to look at Snape who stood silent with his arms folded.
"Master?", Draco said while failing miserably at sounding confident and secure.
"Oh, you just shut your mouth, Draco. I have been waiting for this for a very long time."
With those words, Snape simply pushed Draco to the bed and in few, quick moves, chained Dracos' wrists in the handcuffs. Draco had no choice but standing on his knees; there was no other position possible.
He felt extremely vulnerable but at the same time excited. Snape was just behind him and he couldn't really turn his head around to watch what he was doing. Suddenly, he heard Snape mutter something (Draco thought that it was probably a spell of some sort) and Dracos' robes vanished. There he was, naked, exposed and tied up alone in a room with Severus Snape. Draco gave a small shatter and felt his cock harden. He saw Snapes longfingered hand fetch the whip. The thought of his father immediately came to his mind and he knew that Snape must have seen the scars on his back.
With a sharp, piercing sting that made Draco scream out loud, the first lash of the whip hit his arse. As Snape continued to fling the whip in painful, repeated taunts, Draco felt his own hot blood trickle down his ass and thighs, which just made him, if possible, even harder. He felt Snapes hand on his left thigh, smearing it with blood.
Suddenly, Snape threw the whip to the floor and took down one of the sharp, silver objects from the wall; a scalpel. As he took Dracos' cock in a firm grip, he started to cut the insides of Dracos' thighs with the scalpel. It hurt a lot more than the outer thighs and Draco gasped loudly; both from the incredibly arousing touch of Snapes' hand and the tormenting pain of the scalpel to his thighs. Snape removed his hand from Dracos cock and Draco could feel him starting to stroke his ass, getting nearer Dracos rectum.
With a noisy moan, Draco then felt Snape inserting two fingers into his anal… it was a teasing feeling of intense pleasure and Draco knew at once that he wanted MORE, something bigger, harder… as if Snape – gifted with legilimens as he was – could read his mind, he pulled out his fingers, let his hand rest on Dracos' hipbones and there ---
Draco felt a push of pain as his anal opened for Snapes cock. Snape, however, didn't seem to care and started to fuck him fast and hard, his huge dick making Draco scream and pant; almost like a girl. Draco could feel every part of Snapes cock inside of him; the violent thrusting along with no lubrication made his ass feel sore but it was good – so good… he felt like he was filled, almost nauseous as Snape continued to fuck him violently, harder and harder, as he cut him deeper and deeper in his thighs with the scalpel…
Draco came right before his Master did; both the boy and the man ejaculating sperm mixed with blood and Snape withdrew his dick from Dracos anal, leaving Draco with strange feelings of pain, soreness and emptiness.
A few seconds and a cleaning spell later, Snape got up to his feet.
"I'll leave you here", he said, "you'll figure out how to release yourself. I've made arrangements with your father… since both your parents are rather sick of you, you shall come to live with me at Spinners End. Whether you want to or not… I couldn't really give a fuck."
Draco felt his lips twitch into a smile beneath the mask and before Snape closed the door behind him, he said to himself:
"I am… disintegrated."