For the Potions Master's Amusement
Chapter 85: Reunification
And they were standing in his room—their room—at Roissy House, his arms holding her to him in a gesture at once protective and reverent. She held him about the waist, the feel of his solidness beneath her arms like the answer to a prayer.
'Is this place acceptable?' he asked quietly. 'If you would prefer your own room, we can go there.'
Hermione tilted her head, looking up into his face. He held himself tautly, as if exercising tremendous restraint over irresistible impulses, but along the outer edges of his self-command, she could feel certainty thrumming though him.
'I am very happy to be here again,' she answered simply.
His nostrils flared, and an ugly sneer twisted his lips, but his midnight eyes flashed a heat which seared her. The hand at the small of her back slid into the unruly mass of her curls, and he slowly pulled her head back, a gesture of dominance and command, his fist wrapped in the hair at her nape. She was as clay in his hands, malleable and compliant, trembling with need for his touch. He drank in the sight of her, naked and helpless, lustful and needful, wanton and willing.
She watched him breathlessly, seeing the cruel, predatory expression which had always made her weak-kneed with desire slowly evolve, until he was regarding her arched, bare throat and trusting brown eyes with a look she could only characterise as loving.
'Hermione,' he breathed, his tone almost a groan, and he was kissing her mouth.
Hermione shuddered, his mixture of aggression and tenderness striking a chord in her which exactly resonated with the vibration she could feel singing through him, creating a symphony of emotion and desire so powerfully complete she thought she might die of happiness. His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, teeth scraping in his urgency, and she clung to him, wanting more and more and ever and always, more.
His lips released hers, and he swept her up into his arms and took the four steps to the large mahogany sleigh bed, where he deposited her upon the forest green duvet. The he stood looking down at her, his considerable erection straining the front of his trousers, the ruffled front of the white shirt giving him the rakish mien of a pirate. Hermione raised a questing hand to the inviting bulge, but he captured her fingers and in one smooth motion, stretched out beside her on the bed.
'I need …' she began, turning on her side to press against him, but he silenced her with his lips, kissing her into submission.
When he lifted his face from hers, she lay upon her back, her wrists held above her head in one of his large hands, the fingers of his free hand stroking her cheek.
'This is your night—your debut night—and as I'm sure your training Master told you, it's all about you.' Looking down into her face, solemn but oh, so sexy as he asked, 'Will you trust me to know what you need and to give to you what I may this night?'
'I will,' she said, turning her face to kiss his caressing fingers.
Her wrists were then bound together in the once familiar feel of unseen silken restraints, and he moved into a sitting position, his black eyes glittering wickedly in the candlelight as he looked down at her.
'Then prepare yourself to surrender to me,' he said, his voice cool and clear. 'I will brook no resistance, Hermione. Yield completely. You have no responsibility here but to accept the pleasure I give you. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir.' She found that she was panting lightly, her limbs trembling with unadulterated need.
'Good girl,' he said, and she felt the praise as fuel to the fire of her desire.
'Please,' she breathed, and she arched into his touch as the flats of his palms skimmed down, over nipples slightly sore from his earlier attentions, past her ribcage, his brow furrowed with concentration, as if contemplating the brewing of a complex concoction.
His fingertips ghosted over her hipbones, then changed course, zeroing in on her labia, stroking the crease. 'I'm going to taste your sweet, pretty cunt,' he told her, his voice caressing the naughty word. 'I'm going to finger, and lick, and kiss, and suck until I'm covered with your juices, little slut—and I'm going to make you come, oh yes.'
Hermione heard his words with liquid avidity, wallowing in the beloved voice speaking such filthy things to her, desperate for the promised treat: his mouth and tongue busy in her quim. She made no attempt to answer him, save for the involuntary lifting of her bum from the bed, straining toward him.
He took her near leg, urging it up, and he slid between her thighs with a sigh of supreme satisfaction. Unable to help herself, Hermione undulated before his face, spreading her legs wider to accommodate his presence. It had been so long since she had been touched by lips that she was near to hyperventilation. Then he lifted his eyes from rapt contemplation of her slit and speared her with his eyes.
'Submit, little one,' he commanded, and she stilled, drawing in a great draught of air to calm herself, closing her eyes and reaching for her serenity.
And when she found it, she found him, as well.
Open to me
She opened her eyes, looking down the length of her torso to see him part her lower lips with his fingertips, his tongue slowly extending from his mouth, the broad, flat surface making contact with her swollen, expectant tissue. Hermione cried out at the sensation, so long missing—and missed!—from her life. It seemed to her as if he moved with preternatural deliberation, covering the entire area from her perineum to her super-sensitive clitoris, then lifting his face to look at her, his expression now slumberous with concupiscence.
'Nectar,' he growled, his voice roughened, whether from emotion or physical desire she did not know. Then all she saw was the top of his head, for the flat of his tongue was applied again to her nether parts, and Hermione's head fell onto the pillow beneath her head as she writhed.
He ministered to her as if eternity were the canvas upon which he would brush her bliss. The long, slow burn was both an agony and an ecstasy, for her body wished to push forward to the next peak, and the next, but subspace was still near, and he gently nudged her there.
Yield … feel … experience
So she drifted, moving infinitesimally against the limber, flexible muscle pressed against her inner labial lips, slowly driving herself toward the peak she yearned for—but in subspace, eternity did not seem an unreasonable time to take on her journey. And he encouraged her in this with occasional volleys of darting movements with the tip of his tongue, teasing her clitoris, before returning to the steady pressure of his tongue in her nether regions, the surface against which she squirmed and pressed for her pleasure.
Then he tilted his head slightly to one side and sucked, pulling her clitoris and the surrounding tissue into his warm mouth, even as two fingers slipped up into her channel, destination: sweet spot. The climax shattered suddenly into being, startling her from a lethargy of extreme arousal to screaming orgasm, and she arched off the bed with the violence of her reaction.
Her wrists were released, and she turned into his chest, for he had moved up to take her into his arms, one long, clothed leg hooked over hers for security and warmth as he kissed and crooned to her.
'I do believe the whole house heard that, little one—my legend has just grown large in the minds of our friends.'
Hermione managed a small laugh, and then he was kissing her mouth, his hands stroking her flanks, soothing her back, constantly caressing her flesh, and she was ever aware of the rigidity of his arousal compressed between them.
'Such a good girl you are,' he said, his lips closing on her neck, supplying yet another love bite. 'It's been a long time since I've made you scream—but I'm not finished with you, my lovely—not nearly.'
Hermione slithered a hand between them, and he allowed her to squeeze the bulge of his cock, his only reaction the application of his teeth to the side of her breast, drawing the soft white skin into his mouth and bruising her with the sucking, biting kiss. Then he urged her over onto her front, and he moved to the foot of the bed, positioning her up on her knees, the upper part of her body stretched out as if in an extreme salaam of obeisance.
'You have a beautiful arse, little one,' he said, and he emphasised this statement with a slow hand spanking of her bottom, five blows to each cheek. 'But I'm not here to spank you—I'm here to eat you.'
He parted her arse cheeks and laved her hole, lavishing licks and tongue-probing upon the tight ring of muscles, and Hermione suffered the pleasure with the humiliation of being aroused by this treatment. Dear Merlin, it was so nasty of her—how could she find it erotic? And she knew her face was burning red, pushed as it was into the soft duvet.
'I'm tongue-fucking your hole, nasty girl,' he informed her, pausing in his oral attentions to cup her labia from behind. 'But deep in your heart, you wish I was using my cock—you want me to fuck you up the arse, don't you?'
'Y-yes!' she blurted, appalled to know it was true. Even if it hurt her—even if she didn't care for it—she wanted to give her bottom to him, to submit to him in every way.
'Of course you do,' he said soothingly. 'You're a proper little submissive slut, aren't you?'
He began to tongue her bum again, and the hand at her labia parted those lips as he began to finger her.
She groaned aloud, the shame of her reaction adding to her arousal, and her hips moved, rubbing her cunt against his fingers, deriving obscene pleasure from this special treatment. She could feel her nipples hard against the fabric of the bed covering, and she moved her upper body, increasing the stimulation of her sensitive areas by rubbing her nipples on the duvet.
'I wish your friends could see you now, little one,' he said, the very tip of his little finger now pressing against her hole, seeking to penetrate the anus. 'Rubbing your tits on the bed, humping my fingers, all while I give you a good arse rimming. Then they'd all know what a filthy, nasty girl you are, wouldn't they?'
The fingers in her cunt pinched her clitoris, and she cried out, insensibly further provoked by the pain.
'Come with my finger in your arse, little one, and I'll put my face down there for you to ride until you can't come any more.'
He squeezed her labia to emphasise his instructions, and Hermione had a wild vision of herself sitting on his face, rubbing her clitoris on his hooked nose while his long, clever tongue penetrated her slit. The notion drew a long, low moan from her throat, which he greeted with a gruff, lascivious chuckle. Then his fingertips found and rubbed her clitoris in a circular motion, the excessive lubrication her body was producing making her feel as if it were dripping down her thighs. It took only a few seconds of this direct pressure for her to climax again, and as the orgasm rattled through her body, he withdrew the invading digit from her bum and replaced it with his tongue, lapping at her arsehole until she was still and quiet.
You'll give me more
And while her upper legs trembled from the effort of maintaining her position, he murmured a spell to lengthen the bed and lay down beneath her, his face below her cunt, even as his saliva dried in her arse.
'Sit up,' he instructed her, and she struggled to do it, pushing up on her arms and rising on her knees. 'Lower yourself, now, until you're rubbing your quim on my face.'
Hermione was feeling exhausted—drained—and she was doubtful that she could have another orgasm. The hours of being on display, the public demonstration, the climaxes he had given her since they'd come to his—their—room had all taken a tremendous toll on her. She had, perhaps, enough stamina left for the fucking with his cock that she so longed for, but no more than that.
Yield … trust me
With a sob of capitulation, she lowered herself until she could feel the cartilage of his nose in the region of her clitoris and his mouth, lapping at the entrance to her vagina. He made no effort to move his attentions to her pleasure centre; it was as if he knew the sensation would be too much so soon after an orgasm.
Drift … feel
So she rotated her hips once, feeling the pleasurable protrusions of his face between the lips of her labia, and then she sought her psychic centre. Reaching within herself, she found it, and very soon she was in a tempo of slow movement over his face, her hands at her breasts, squeezing rhythmically, her consciousness embraced in his, existing in the vortex of ever widening sensation. Subspace cradled her, and it was the first time she had ever been aware of his consciousness there with her. It was an intimacy beyond any they had previously shared for him to be inside her covert submissive's hide, knowing every blissful wonder she felt, every filthy notion she imagined, experiencing with her the core of her submission: the utter safety she felt at his hands—and always had done.
And he partook of her body, lips and tongue lapping, licking, suckling, tickling, while he moved his head very slowly up and down, applying direct but moderated stimulation to her clitoris, his hands squeezing her bottom, stroking her juddering thighs. Incredibly, she felt her arousal building again, building to another peak, and she shifted her position, dragging her clitoris down the hooked curve of his nose to his depraved and talented mouth.
It seemed he was waiting for her to make this move—as if he had known what she would do—for he immediately applied himself to licking and sucking her pleasure centre, giving her the direct stimulation she suddenly needed more than her next living breath. And in her mind, it seemed that she was no longer climbing that summit, but now flying up and up toward a pinnacle at whose zenith awaited a phenomenon she could not fathom, but to which she was not afraid to submit.
Let go … I'll hold you … keep you safe … devour … protect … possess … love … love … LOVE
She crested the peak, no longer earthbound, into a dazzling supernova which detonated in her mind—and in that moment, Hermione Granger outshone the galaxy. She was blown apart, and each particle sparkled with her essence and bristled with her combusting nerve endings, a state of being transcending mere sexual completion, encompassing exquisite, faultless fulfilment of her body, her mind, and her ephemeral soul. The physical climaxes were bursts of energy impelling her from one degree of glory to the next, and she began to lose contact with her corporeal reality.
Sweet Circe … superb … perfection … God, but I love you
… and then he was all but gone from her consciousness, his presence a mere echo as he wrapped her up, both mind and body, in a protective hold she could neither identify nor evade …
Ecstasy.
Attainment.
Culmination.
Warmth.
Safety.
Comfort.
She woke, wrapped in a cocoon of arms and legs, covered by a blanket, weak light on the other side of her eyelids showing that it was yet night. And in her nostrils, the smell of Severus Snape's self-brewed aftershave—the best sign of all that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
She opened her eyes, feeling that it was the most she could physically manage in her current state of exhaustion. Steady eyes, the colour of India ink, watched her mere inches away from her own, and he tightened his hold on her.
'Can you speak?'
She swallowed, wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, and tried. 'Yes,' she croaked.
'If I release my hold on you to procure a glass of water, can you stay grounded?'
Hermione nodded.
He moved into a sitting position and lifted her shoulders, levitating two pillows beneath her as a prop. Then he poured water from the bedside ewer Pitty refreshed every day and held it to her lips.
'Sip.'
Hermione drank thankfully, surprised to find herself so dehydrated—but hadn't she deprived herself of fluids for hours before her presentation, to avoid the possibility of having to use a chamber pot on the platform in the Dungeon? And surely all of her … activity had been physical exertion of a sort.
He removed the goblet from her hands when she had drained it and said dryly, 'It is my hope that you will not now vomit it all back up.'
Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'I don't feel sick.'
He cupped her cheek. 'You've never experienced anything like that before—you don't know what to expect.'
Hermione felt a rush of joy, and her lips curved. 'It was … amazing, M—' she flushed '—Severus.'
He watched her with quiet intensity, almost as if, even after all that had happened between them that night, he could not believe she was in his bed. 'It was, indeed, amazing, little one.'
Hermione reached for his hand and nursed it to her cheek, tears suddenly standing in her eyes. 'It makes me so happy to hear you call me that again,' she said.
His lips twisted, and his nostrils quivered, and Hermione waited for his smirk or a sneer to appear—but instead, he wrapped his hand about her throat and bent forward to brush her lips with his own. 'I am glad,' he said hoarsely.
Hermione ran her fingers through his hair, now several hours past his shower and beginning to grow oily. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her face as he spoke.
'We have much to discuss,' he said. 'Are you prepared, or would you prefer to sleep? You have been through a significant ordeal, both physically and emotionally, and sleep would be of great benefit to you.' He sat up, and his eyes shifted away from hers. 'If you would prefer it, of course, you may remove to your own room to sleep.'
Hermione lurched into a sitting position, though she felt a little weak, and she grasped his shirt front. 'If I had my way, I would never sleep apart from you again,' she said. 'If I could do it without swooning at your feet, I would kneel now and offer my submission to you.'
His eyes jumped back to her face, some sort of mad, manic light glittering in their ebony depths. 'Hermione,' he said, as if the utterance of her name were an explanation, and he pressed her back against her pillows, following her down so that he held her naked body crushed against his clothed one.
'You are the first submissive I ever collared—the first I ever wished to collar—and as much as I wanted you, I ought never to have done it.' His voice was harsh as he spoke into her hair, but his hands were oh, so gentle, one at the nape of her neck, the other at her waist.
'You told me so then,' she reminded, clinging to him. 'I know we didn't follow all the rules, but they were unusual circumstances—no one could say any different!'
He loosened his hold on her so that they lay face to face on her pillows. 'You did not have a mentor, you did not have proper instruction of all the ramifications of your offer, and I skipped vital, necessary steps in the process. It was all wrong.'
He frowned, as if wishing to convey the harsh judgment he felt he deserved, and she caressed his cheekbone, trailing her fingers into the gaunt hollow below.
'It wasn't all wrong, and nothing you or anyone else can say will ever convince me of that. What we felt was all right—powerful and magical—and I will never, ever regret my offer or your acceptance, although I might wish things had gone differently later.'
A faint crinkling at the corners of his eyes drew a smile from her, and he touched her lips with his fingertips. 'Powerful and magical would be an excellent description of what happened tonight,' he said.
Hermione squirmed with pleasure. 'Wasn't it astounding?' she said. 'Have you ever …'
'No.'
He spoke so firmly and with such finality that Hermione pulled back from him a bit and looked squarely into his eyes.
'I've never experienced anything remotely like that, little one, except in the past, with you—and furthermore, I have never heard of such a thing happening between two people, either in the D/s world or outside of it.' He rose up on one elbow and looked down wonderingly into her face. 'It is a remarkable link between us—a gift the likes of which I could never have imagined—and it gives me hope—' His voice became quite gravelly, as if his throat had constricted and he were having to force his words out. 'It gives me hope that perhaps we are … meant to be … and that I might one day endeavour to deserve you.'
Hermione's arms went about his neck, and she pulled him into her arms, accepting his words of hopefulness and his show of vulnerability with a heart full to overflowing. And in that moment, he clung to her, and she felt a tremor pass through his shoulders, even as a strangled sound came from him. She realised that this was the way of a true, adult relationship—one such as her parents had—where a man and a woman provided comfort and loving support for one another. She did not feel this show of emotion was a demonstration of weakness, but one of humanity, and she knew that when this moment passed, her man would emerge from her arms as strong as he had ever been. More to the point, he would know—have proof—that his woman had the strength to hold him when he needed it, and he would have new confidence in her, that she would not think the less of him for his openness.
They lay together until the sunlight peeped around the edges of the window shades, exchanging kisses, caresses, and whispered words of love. At last, wanting to have him inside her, Hermione reached below his belt, lightly grasping his half-erect cock.
'I won't fuck you now, or take my pleasure from you,' he said, growing harder beneath her hand, but remaining perfectly still. 'You had your months of training, and I will always be thankful to Claudius and Violet, even though it almost killed me to see you wearing another man's collar.' He spanned her collarless throat with his hand, as if measuring her. 'But you see, I've been back in training with Hadrian since October, and my promise to him is that I would not engage with you for my pleasure until we had determined on, at the very least, a play contract.'
His hand travelled from her throat to her breast, and he pinched and rolled her nipple until it was tight and hard, drawing a gasp from her. His sneer touched his lips. 'You are such an enticing little slut.' He reached to the other nipple and repeated the treatment, awaking the banked coals of her desire, slicking her quim with want. 'And I can torment you all I want this morning, but there will no more orgasms for you, little one. Your debut night is over, and my agreement with Hadrian only covered last night.'
He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, even as he stroked down her torso to cup her cunt. 'So the quicker we thrash out a start to a contract, the quicker I can give you the fucking you so badly need.' He slid his middle finger through her slit and probed inside. 'I believe you are sorely in need of fucking and spanking and whipping and flogging, little one—so much so that your cunt and your arse will be too sore for sitting for some time to come. But on your knees, you can suck my cock, can't you?'
Hermione moaned with want, reacting to his filthy, dirty talk as another woman might respond to poetry. He inserted a second finger and moved in and out, ratcheting up her level of desire.
'You're my pretty little cocksucker, aren't you, little one?'
'Yes,' she said, wishing with all her might that he could fuck her just once before they completed a contract. But she knew disregarding the rules had never worked in their favour—and hadn't Kell and Reg intimated that they had experienced some of the same problems by skipping some necessary steps in the development of a D/s relationship? She moved lightly on the fingers creating such delicious delirium in her cunt, then stopped abruptly and took his chin in her hand. 'How early can we get the paperwork done?'
Severus burst out laughing, his sexual taunting derailed by her question. He sat up and pulled her up with him, kissing her soundly on the lips.
'You have clothing still in the wardrobe—some jeans and a tee-shirt or two. Put them on, and we'll go downstairs.'
Hermione climbed over him to stand on her feet, and she was relieved to see that she was recovered enough to do so. 'I really need a shower,' she pointed out to him.
'So do I,' he answered. 'When the "paperwork is done", as you so aptly put it, we can come back here and shower together—if that would be of interest to you.'
Hermione grinned and turned to the wardrobe, finding the clothing that had been left behind so long ago and dressing herself.
'This will be a preliminary meeting,' he said, watching as she did what she could to neaten her hair. 'There will be more in depth contract discussions to which you can invite your mentor and your Training Dominant, if you wish.'
Hermione turned to face him, and he wrapped arms about her shoulders.
'We'll do it all by the book, this time around, Hermione—this I promise you.'
Hermione wrapped her arms about his waist. 'Then let's get on with it!' she said, holding him close.
An instant of compression, that feeling of Disapparition, and they were standing in a white marble corridor. With her hand held securely in his left, Severus Snape raised his right to the door of the Dominant's Study and knocked.
'Come in,' Hadrian called.
