Authors note: Gentle Readers, thank you so much for all those of you who added this to your Alerts! I'm not sure how much I'll be able to post but I hope plenty. I'd like to mention the magnificent Ms-Figg. It was her stories, and many others which can be found in my Favorite Stories, were the inspirations for this. I found myself searching for a story that tickled my fancy one day. With disappointment, I couldn't find one that was right, so I chose to write one! Ms-Figg is the creator of the Purple Potion, a handy little drink Snape invented to help Hermione recover from the sexual beatings he enjoys putting her through; she has kindly allowed me to use this, so I don't have to develop my own handy Potion!

As ever, anything recognizable is not of my own creation. I only am responsible for the dark little scenarios the characters find themselves in. This story happens after Hogwarts, currently, but maybe I'll do a prequel about a seventh year … not really sure yet! ~ Much love and thanks, Master Snape's Pet

Snape slithered up to her and pressed the saliva-slickened Witch's wand to his pet's clit. He damn near purred when she arched into the caress. Her actions put her body at the perfect angle…. As her pressed the large Wand into Hermione's soaked body, he rejoiced at how wet and slick she was. Gods, this woman was made for him to fuck.

At the first penetration, she yelped against the gag as the large Wand stretched her without preamble, but every subsequent inch dragged a quiet moan of pleasure from her blocked mouth.

Another whisper from Snape and more tiny ropes flew forward to hold the base of the Wand, keeping it buried deep inside his pet. A silly wand wave later, the hot/cold charm was gone. Momentarily dwelling on his good fortune of being born a wizard, Snape cast Wingardium Leviosa, snarkily enunciating the incantation with a dark half-smile. Hermione lifted off the ground, her body bowing against the ropes.

Her sparking eyes met his blazing ones and he grinned cruelly. "Can't forget these, bitch." With that, he attached the clamps to her nipples, keeping them firm, but not too tight…yet. Indicating the clamps with a hard flick to the left one, he informed his helpless captive, "These are, of course, charmed and linked to your bonds; the more you struggle and move, the tighter they'll bit into your pretty nipples."

Even Snape could hear the hunger in his voice, begging her to fight so he could watch her squirm, like some sexy flobberworm.

Shaking his head violently to dispel that more-than-a-little-disturbing image, Snape watched intently as Hermione shot him a challenging glare and thrashed furiously against her restraints, not an easy task when hovering a foot off the ground. The sight of her bright eyes clouding for a moment from the instantaneous tightening of the clamps made Snape's already throbbing erection feel like it had been Tarantallegra-ed!

"Tsk, tsk, bad girl. You never were able to follow simple orders without questions." Though his voice came out appropriately cold and harsh, they both knew that that happened to be one of the traits he appreciated most about her.

"Not to mention, if you continue to defy me, I can always do this…." A spurt of nonverbal magic had heavy weights swinging from the clamps. Even with her gagged, Snape had no trouble deciphering the garbled swear words flowing out Hermione's mouth.

"Language, Miss Granger. A loss of House Points is not severe enough, I think, for such a blatant breach of conduct." Another flick of his finger against a strained nipple had more mangled curses pouring forth. Snape couldn't help but be amused when he clearly recognized a few of his nastier original spells mixed in

"Your detention tonight, Miss Granger, is for your total lack of respect for your professor. But by the end of the night you'll be obedient, hmmm?"

The clear defiance that blazed in her lovely chocolate-colored eyes was a shot of firewhiskey to his system, heating his insides, making his bloods hot syrup.

A wave of his wand and the heavy weights were gone. Her sigh of relief made him want to hear her sigh in pain and nuzzle her soft neck at the same time. Laying his lips gently to the small wound he'd inflicted earlier. Snape cupped her breasts and captured the tight tips between his long dexterous fingers.

He felt her supple body tense at the pain he knew she felt and he used one hand to pull her flush against his own. Even clothed, he could feel every inch of that sweet playground. On a final, tight squeeze, Snape pulled away. At a quiet incantation, all the bigger ropes surrounding Hermione tightened at once. Against her will, she bent over at the waist as her legs were yanked apart.

Snape moved behind her to admire her curvy ass. With one long finger, he traced her, from clit to her small puckered rosebud, gathering her cream that leaked out around the Witch's Wand on the way.

"Your punishment will go much easier on you if you do not struggle, Miss Granger." His voice, painfully modulated to hold none of his teenager-like horniness, trickled over her skin. Moving with slow, careful deliberation, Snape rubbed his creamy fingers over her small hole. Gods, he could hardly contain his need to be inside her. To help with his need, he began to press his long lean finger rhythmically in and out, each time going a little deeper than before.

Though he knew his sweet little pet was exaggerating for both their sakes, Snape almost couldn't hold back and answering moan. Good gods, he thought as he listened to her moan and groan against the gag, they sounded like a Blue Pensieve! But that was fine; he'd just make one for himself later.

Snape pulled his fingers away from Hermione's luscious ass, unceremoniously removing the Witch's Wand and flinging it aside, then brought his hand down with a resounding smack. When her flesh jiggled like the tastiest Christmas pudding, he couldn't resist spanking her a few more times. Her enticing moans drove him on and he drifted in his thoughts for a short time, just watching her. Contemplating her.

She enjoyed having her ass fingered and played, loved that sweetly painful stretching, he knew full well, especially when she was about to go off like a Wildfire WhizBang. But he also knew that having her take his cock into her ass without preparing her completely would be more than a little painful. But that's what he was looking for, wasn't it?

Who was the dragon tamer and who the dragon in this bedchamber? He was in the mood for a little ass shagging tonight and by gods, there was nothing his currently helpless pet could do about it! He suddenly had an urge to laugh manically and twirl his mustache….but he didn't have a mustache. Even if he did have one, he doubted it would be one of those silly overblown things like Albus '. If it were, he'd be forever picking stray whiskers out of his delicate potions and Scourgifing his work…. But he was getting away from the point.

Crouching down before her, he caught her by the hair and dragged her head up. "Do you know, pet, that you're going to get that ass taken tonight?"

When her wet eyes met his, he continued, "Did you not feel that colonic you drank earlier, or were you too busy laughing at your games?"

Her lovely eyes widened and Snape felt dark amusement. Slipping from Master mode to Professor Snape mode, Snape remarked in a voice of cold silk, "Really, Miss Granger, you of all witches ought to know not to drink anything given to you by an angry Potions Master."

Stroking a hand across Hermione's again-lowered head with dangerous gentleness, he softly informed her, "This particular one is not like the others we've used, pet." Dark eyes flashing, he murmured, "There's no purple potion in it."

Before Hermione's much-lauded mind could understand fully what that meant for her, wellbeing, he was behind her, holding her plump rump in his strong hands, pressing his hips against her. Bending over her back, he whispered, "Divesto…" He felt her flinch as the feel of his long, sinewy body against her much softer one.

Cupping her hips, Snape swiftly positioned himself with her tight body and slid home, giving her no time to pull from him. He was her Master; she could not, would not escape him. Hermione screamed, the aching sound barely muffled by the gag. Though it was a sound of pain, it held none of the anguish Snape had heard in every scream at the Death Eater revels.

Once his swollen wand was buried to the hilt in her snug ass, once he'd asserted his total mastery, he did pause, feeling magnanimous enough to give her a moment or two to collect herself…but not too much time. After all, he did love to remind her that in their bedroom, skewered on his cock, she was no Gryffindor Princess, no Golden Girl, just his oft-bratty little slut. And he loved to remind her that she loved it that way.