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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 18697 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: What Shall Be Our Sport Then?

Dropping her hands to the side, Celia nodded and turned to make her way towards the bedroom door. Snape followed closely behind her, his footsteps as noiseless as ever. She reached down and twisted the knob, shoving the door open. She leaned back against the door and allowed him to precede her into the room. She noted that he stopped and glanced mistrustfully around the room before entering it. She took in a deep breath as she paused to close the door behind her, and when she turned back she saw that he was studying the room very carefully.

The two candles that she had left burning were melted away to mere stubs by now, and were radiating only a faint and flickering luminescence. Snape frowned in annoyance and in a moment his wand had reappeared in his hands. With an impatient wave, the candles were summarily extinguished, and the lamp upon the bedside table suddenly blazed to life, its strong, steady flame immediately brightening the room with an eerie, golden glow. He began to prowl about the perimeter of the room: checking both windows to see that they were securely locked, examining the items on her bureau, desk and bookshelves with care, and glaring suspiciously into the dressing room and the bathroom that lay beyond it. All though this strange inspection, the large nostrils of his aquiline nose remained flared and quivering, as if he were determined to sniff out any invisible hazards hidden within the chamber. Apparently satisfied with his investigation, he stalked back to the bed. Celia had to resort to clamping her teeth over her bottom lip to keep from bursting out in laughter as he suddenly fell to his knees, pulled up the bedcovers and actually peered underneath that piece of furniture.

"Dear Merlin, are you always so paranoid?" she blurted out, as he nodded in satisfaction and arose to his feet. "Or are you particularly scared of Boggarts?" she teased.

"I assure you that I am neither paranoid nor cowardly," he retorted, looking down and carefully brushing the dust from the floor off of the black fabric of his trousers. He raised his head and glowered at her before continuing, "It is merely prudent for a man in my position to be careful and to take the proper precautions."

"Your position?" she repeated, a bit bewildered. "Are you-" she paused for moment, "Headmaster at Hogwarts now?" Her expression left no doubt that the idea was rather horrifying to her.

"No," he replied, scowling. "Only a handful of Slytherins have managed to achieve that notable distinction," he noted, sitting down upon the bed. "And I have no illusions that I will ever be a member of that exclusive society."

She wondered again just why he was so secretive and anxious to protect his anonymity. But before she could give the matter much thought she was distracted by the rather bizarre sight of Snape sitting on the side of the bed and bouncing lightly up and down, apparently testing the firmness of the mattress. It was evidently not to his satisfaction, for he frowned again and rose to his feet. He pointed his wand at the bed and murmured another spell, and then bent down and repeated the motion. This time, he nodded his head in contentment as he stood. She watched in fascination as he pulled down the covers and examined them thoroughly. One at a time, his long nostrils twitched as he bent down and sniffed assiduously at the linen.

"Well," he admitted, pulling the covers up again, "I must admit you do keep a remarkably clean household." He shrugged and glanced disdainfully around the room again, "such as it is," he amended.

"Thank you," she replied, uncertainly, not quite sure if she had just been complimented or insulted. Probably both, she decided. She was also trying desperately to expunge an image that had suddenly arisen in her brain of Snape bouncing up and down on top of her. She wondered if he would use his wand to make embellishments to her body should he find her firmness, or other attributes, lacking.

He had turned back towards the bedside table and put his wand down upon it. Then he looked over at her and beckoned with his finger for her to come closer. Suppressing an involuntary shudder, she forced herself to walk forward until she was standing directly in front of him.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes moving slowly up and down her body, but making no attempt to touch her. She looked up at him, puzzled, and then lifted her arms and began to undo the zipper at the back of her dress.

"No, not yet" he muttered, shaking his head and gesturing for her to stop. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her face for a moment. Then, a most unpleasant smile broke out upon his lips. "Retrieve your purse," he ordered, nodding in the direction of the door leading to the living room.

She gaped at him in surprise. "What?" she sputtered.

He sighed in frustration. "Are you deaf as well as ignorant?" he growled.

"But, why-" she began. But before she could say anything further he had impatiently spun her around and pushed her towards the door. She crossed the floor, opened the door and trudged unhappily into the other room. Her purse was sitting on the chair beside the sideboard and she leaned over to pick it up. For the briefest of moments, as she straightened and her eyes caught the gleam of gold Galleons still sitting in the tray by the door, she considered bolting out of the flat altogether. But, she sighed, there was really no point in doing that. Snape would hardly be one to allow her to abscond with his money. She tucked the purse under her arm and retraced her footsteps.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, he had adjusted the lighting again, dimming it slightly to a softer glow, and the corners of the room were once more thrown into shadows. He held out his hand peremptorily, and she wavered for just a moment before handing the purse over to him.

"Thank you," he jeered, taking the bag from her and clicking open the latch. He turned to the side and, with a swift motion of his hand, dumped the entire contents on the bed. Celia squeaked in protest, and angrily took a step forward, but a quick glare from him stilled her into silence again. His hands moved swiftly and surely through the pile of coins, parchment, makeup and toiletries that had been emptied onto the surface. He tossed the tube of lipstick to the side, and then began to stuff the remaining items back into the purse. When he came to the bottle of perfume, however, he hesitated. With a sneer he arose and pivoted on his heel. With a resounding thud, she heard him toss it into the trash bin.

"May I suggest," he said, his nose wrinkling in disgust, "that it is better to wear no fragrance at all than to assault the senses of your clients with the stench of such tawdry, cheap cologne."

She glared at him angrily, biting into her cheek to keep herself from responding to the insult. She considered telling him that most of her customers seemed to like the scent, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Any way, she could always fish the bottle out of the trash after he had gone.

He snapped the purse shut again and placed it on the table, returning his attention to the tube of lipstick. She watched, perplexed, as he uncapped it and twisted the bottom until most of the dark red shaft was extended into the air.

"It appears you need to freshen your makeup a tad," he said, throwing the cap aside and gesturing at her to approach him.

She frowned and reached out to take the lipstick from him. But he suddenly raised his left hand and grasped her chin, pulling her forcefully towards him.

"A little riper and more lusty red", he whispered.

With a sneer, he began to smear the viscous, brightly-colored wax all over her lips. Beyond them, actually. She felt the glossy substance spread out on face well beyond the perimeter of her mouth. She tried to pull away, but he held her even more forcefully and continued to thickly coat her lips and skin. Finally, he released his hold and allowed her to back away from him. She raised her hand to her mouth, intending to wipe away the excess, knowing she must look absurdly, garishly clownish.

"Don’t!" he warned. "I want your mouth to be marvelously, vibrantly, brilliantly bloody when you take me in. Or are you too dainty of a whore for that?"

She stared back at him and reluctantly dropped her hand as he reached for the cap. He stuffed it onto the tube, and she saw that the surface of the lipstick was blunted and deformed, squashed down by the force with which he had smeared it across her face. And then he casually stuffed the tube into the dress between her cleavage, and she gasped as the cold metal of the cylinder pressed against her breasts.

She felt his fingertips on her shoulders now, pressing down with a considerable amount of force. She belatedly realized what he wanted and sank down to her knees. She glanced up at him, and saw that he was standing, looking down at her, with his arms crossed against his chest again. She licked her lips automatically, and had to once again fight the temptation to rub them clean. She clenched her teeth and raised her hands to start undoing his fly.

"No," he cried, in disgust, slapping her hands away again. "I expect you to ask permission first," he prompted.

She stared up at him. "What?" she asked, hopelessly confused by his demeanor.

"You are hard of hearing, aren’t you?" he taunted. He raised his voice and enunciated each word carefully. "Ask my permission before you begin."

"Oh" she paused, unsure of what to say. "Can I suck your cock, sir?" she asked, quietly.

"I certainly hope you are capable of doing so," he said, his voice rather dubious, "But that is not exactly the issue at hand."

"M-may I," she corrected, her hands twisting anxiously in front of her. She took in a deep breath and began again. "May I suck your cock, sir?"

"Well, that’s slightly better," he allowed, his tone bored and superior. "But, surely you can state it in a more dignified manner?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes to the floor and shrugged helplessly. "I don’t know what you want me to say," she pleaded.

He sighed. "I’ll give you a hint," he said. "The word begins with an F. It does not, however, unlike most of the words you are acquainted with, consist of four letters."

"Um," she hesitated, trying to concentrate. She closed her eyes and tried again. "May I perform fellatio on you, sir?" she said, her voice barely audible.

"Yes," he said, his fingers moving down to begin unbuttoning his trousers. "You may."

She had begun to raise her hands up to assist him, but a loud snort convinced that her assistance was neither required nor desired. She remained kneeling, her fingers tapping nervously at her knees as she watched him unbutton his fly. Underneath the trousers he wore a pair of dark green silk boxers, and he impatiently moved these and his shirt aside, but did not allow his pants to tumble downward. Holding his clothes back with his left hand, he reached in with his right hand and retrieved his large, erect cock, holding it out towards her.

It was very long and fairly thick, uncircumcised, and she could see a few small, grey-white drops of fluid starting to flow out from it as he moved it closer to her mouth. He was holding it securely at the base, but it was beginning to throb and swell so much that it dipped slightly in the air. She bent her head towards it and blew a stream of warm air very gently against the head and she noted with satisfaction that the fingers of his left hand twitched slightly in response. She opened her mouth and moved closer, bringing up her right hand and intending to tease back the foreskin with it.

"No," he commanded, firmly.

She closed her mouth and looked up at him, confused once more. Was she supposed to ask for his consent again?

"I give you no permission to touch me with your hands," he said, staring down at her. "If you are indeed a mistress of this art, your lips, mouth and tongue shall suffice."

She nodded and moved her hand downward again. And her eyebrows drew together in a frown. Where was she supposed to put her hands? She reached out tentatively and placed her palms upon his outer thighs, bracing herself lightly against him. Hearing no rebuke, she bent closer. She stuck out her tongue and flicked at the tip of his erection, teasing the sticky pearls that were hanging there. The breath that he drew in was deep, but silent, and had she not been watching the rise of his abdomen, she would not have been aware of the effect that the single caress had evoked.

She closed her eyes and moved slightly forward and concentrated on using her tongue and lips to gently work the foreskin back from the tip, feeling it start to slide more easily as she coated it with saliva. As she continued to tease this most sensitive area, she sensed his hands begin to quiver slightly. And then she felt the fingers of both hands snake through her hair, holding her in a firm grasp and urging her to move forward, to take in more of his shaft.

"And, my tart, you will look at me while you do this," he rumbled in his deepest, most commanding voice.

Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring at the mound of black, wiry hair that massed around the base of his cock. The pressure from his fingers increased perceptively, and she found her head being urged upward. She looked up at his face, and found herself swallowing involuntarily as she looked into his gleaming, enigmatic eyes. The small bit of confidence that had been building up inside of her instantly evaporated.

This was usually the point at which she felt most self-assured and in control, the moment where the client became dependent upon her: giving up his body to her touch, begging and pleading for her to satisfy him. This was where she could glory in the satisfaction of hearing him whimper, sigh and groan as she pleasured him, while she remained inaccessible and remote. She could remove herself mentally from the situation, letting her body work as her mind drifted off and began taking care of such mundane issues as when she should drop off the laundry or what she should prepare for supper. And, if she should decide to play along and allow a cry or a moan to escape from her own throat, it was calculated, meant to her solidify her dominance of the situation.

As she gazed up at Snape, she felt him push into her mouth, simultaneously using his hands to force her head forward. She struggled against the reflex to gag as he slid further in, forcing himself into the top of her throat. She swallowed, her mouth and throat squeezing his prick as she did so, and she saw a muscle on the lower side of his left jaw flinch briefly. The corners of his mouth raised every so slightly.

He was enjoying this immensely. He was certainly delighting in the physical sensations that she was invoking. But, more than that, he was relishing in the knowledge that, even as she held him within her mouth, he was the one in absolute control of the situation, just as assuredly as he had always been the undisputed master of his classroom. And there was no chance that he was going to permit her to pretend she was in charge or to allow her mind to ignore what was happening. Not for an instant would she be able to forget just where she was, who she was with, and what they were doing.

She forced herself to begin sucking and licking voraciously as she moved her head back slightly. She found that her eyes remained locked in his, as if she were mesmerized, as if she were fearful that some dreadful calamity would befall should she dare to look away. She was vaguely aware that other muscles were occasionally twitching in his face, that he sometimes took in a deep breath between his clenched teeth and that the muscles of his legs tensed and relaxed in a spasmodic fashion as his body responded to her efforts. She began to move faster, her nimble tongue and warm mouth continuing to caress him firmly as he moved in and out of her moist aperture. She began to change the position of her lips, pulling them over her teeth so that the waxy, gooey lipstick was gliding along his member. After a few minutes of this, she allowed herself a quick glance at his prick and saw that there were streaks of red adorning it now as the lipstick began to smear over it. She lifted her eyes back to his and knew that he had seen her look down, and he smiled down at her with an expression of approbation mixed with haughtiness.

She found herself starting to feel giddy and short of breath and raised her hands and dared to push him back for a moment. His eyebrows rose sharply, but he allowed himself to slip out of her mouth as she sat back on her feet and gasped for air. She took in some quick, deep breaths and then leaned forward again, this time her mouth seeking the taut, sensitive skin of his large balls. She closed her eyes and began to work her mouth around the large, tender sack, pulling at it firmly as she continued to flick at it with her tongue. She heard him grunt in with pleasure, but before she could begin to savor her victory, she heard his voice again, speaking as calmly and clearly as if he were sitting at his desk in the front of the Potions classroom.

"I said to keep your eyes open, Miss Graham." He twisted his fingers tightly around her tresses and she felt a brief but unmistakable tug before he spoke again. "You will not have another reminder."

Her eyes flew open and she stared back up into those cold, unfathomable eyes. She paused for a moment and then began to lick and suckle frantically, wanting to do anything to please him, afraid to stop at the same time she was fearful that she would be too forceful and hurt him. But she saw his lips draw back from his teeth, not in an expression of scorn or mirth, but in a fierce, feral, elemental expression of gratification.

She found her hands rising upwards again, feeling the need to caress him with her fingertips as well. But at the last moment she caught herself and instead grasped the fabric of his dark trousers and pulled them, along with his underwear, downward to his ankles. And then she thrust her hands underneath the linen of his crisp, white shirt and began to softly scratch against his skin with her long fingernails as she continued to flick her tongue over his tender, swollen flesh. She felt his balls begin to stiffen and rise upwards, and the next thing she knew his fingers were once more tangled in her hair, pushing her away and then back again, forcing his prick back into her mouth and down her throat.

This time, she found herself unable to stop from gagging as he thrust in, and the frantic scraping of her fingernails intensified as she tried desperately to push him away, even as she continued to stare up into his eyes. Then she felt the stream of semen beginning to spurt out, hitting the back of her throat. She cried out in panic, fearing that she would choke unless he released her. For a long moment, his hands remained gripped tightly around her head, but then he suddenly released his hold and allowed her to push away.

She shrank back and coughed, inadvertently splattering the cum out of her mouth as she struggled to breathe again. She felt his left hand grasp her chin and pull her head upwards again. Her eyes fluttered open momentarily and she saw that he was aiming his still erect prick at her face. She hurriedly closed her eyes and stifled a moan as she felt the warm, sticky jism splash against her cheeks and mouth and dribble downward.

"What a pity," he murmured.

She grimaced and opened her eyes, slowly looking up from his feet to his head, noting as her gaze traveled upwards that his genitals were indeed spotted and smeared with the evidence of her lipstick. She brought her hands up to brush her hair behind her ears as she waited for him to speak again.

"You did start out rather well," he said, his voice as cool and clear as if he were reprimanding her for yet another potions disaster, "but I am afraid I cannot award you full points for the effort." He stepped back and managed to bend down and, in one graceful motion, retrieve both trousers and boxers. He shook his head slightly as he began to secure the buttons again. "You really must learn to swallow."

"I-" she began, intending to protest that he had caught her unawares. But, she thought, there was no point. She was sure he was quite aware that she was in danger of choking when she had frantically pushed away. "Yes, sir," she answered, dully.

"How shall I teach you?," he asked, clucking his tongue softly. He patted her lightly on the head, and then she felt his finger slide down the side of her face and up again, retrieving a large glob of the rapidly cooling and coalescing cum. He held it in front of her mouth. "Taste it now," he said quietly.

She clenched her teeth for a moment. She had learned long ago that there was a great deal of variation in the taste of semen from one man to another. Although his was not the worst she had ever encountered, the few drops she had already swallowed had left her no doubt that standing before a boiling cauldron most of the day did nothing to improve the flavor of one's bodily fluids. She felt him press his finger firmly into her mouth.

"I was under the distinct impression you had agreed to obey me completely," he warned, his voice full of silky menace.

She stopped fighting and allowed the finger to slide in between her teeth, sucking on it firmly and licking it clean. She forced herself to look back up at him as he repeated the motion several more times, until he had succeeded in wiping most of the sticky goo off of her face.

"Very good," he muttered. He looked down at his feet and frowned. "Although you did spew some out over my boots as well," he noted.

She looked down at his feet and saw that, indeed, there were some drops glistening on top of the shiny, sleek leather. "Yes," she said. "I'll go get a cloth."

She started to get to her feet, but found his hands pressing down upon her shoulders again.

"No," he said, "that is not necessary." His hands shifted upwards to her head. "You may lick it off, Hufflepuff," he elucidated.

She struggled for only a moment before allowing him to shove her head downwards towards his feet. With a sigh, she placed her hands on either side of him. And then she bent down and began to clean off the surface of his boots with her tongue.

As she finished, she felt his hands start to tug at the fabric of her dress, dragging the material up over her waist. She froze in position, her head down by his feet and her bum up in the air.

He smiled as he looked down at her, noting appreciatively that the thong underwear she was wearing was accentuating the texture and roundness of her buttocks. And that her fishnet stockings were secured with garters. He ran his hands over the soft skin, and then gave her a firm pinch, prompting her to gasp in surprise. She started to arise, but felt him press her back down again. Then he slid one finger under the fabric of the thong and pulled it aside, using his other hand to gently play between the cleft.

She swallowed and bit her lip again. Of course, she mused bitterly, she should have known that Snape would want to do that. She only hoped she could persuade him to use adequate lubrication. She shivered again as the thought occurred to her that perhaps he preferred to make it as painful as possible. Oh, well, at least that meant he wouldn't expect her to stare him in the face as he did it. Unless, she groaned softly at the thought, he was one of those who preferred to do it with the woman facing up and her legs forced up in the air by her ears. She heard him chuckle softly and cursed herself for allowing him to sense her uneasiness. She felt him snap the thong back in place as he tossed the dress fabric back over her.

"I think it is about time that you got undressed, don't you?" he said.

She snapped her head up and looked warily at him. With a small smile, he bent down and extended his hand, helping her to get to her feet. "But, first," he said, shaking his head, "I think you should go wash off your face." He pushed her in the direction of the bathroom. "And I shall go refresh our drinks," he said, heading off in the other direction.

She walked slowly on into the dressing room.

"Dear, are you all right?" whispered the mirror, as she passed.

"Fine," she muttered, concentrating on keeping her pace steady and her head held high. "Just fine."

By the time she had washed her face and repaired her makeup, Snape was sitting on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard. Except for his boots, which were lying neatly beside the bed, he was still fully clothed. And in his hands was her account ledger. He closed it as she came into the room, and studied her face briefly before nodding his head in approval.

"That's better," he said. "Your drink is over there," he continued, gesturing at the table behind her.

"Thanks," she said, her tone bitterly sarcastic. She raised the glass and took a small swallow. "But I really don't drink much," she added.

"Ah, a paragon of virtue," he muttered, flipping the book back open and resuming his perusal.

"That really isn't any of your business," she protested, holding her hand out.

"Oh, but it is," he countered, raising his face and glaring at her. "Although I was quite relieved to see that you are remarkably discreet and use no names," he noted, closing the book again and this time tossing it onto the table.

She stared at him unhappily for a moment.

"All right," he sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached out for his own snifter of brandy and took a generous swallow. "Get undressed."

"Yes, sir," she replied, replacing the glass on the table and moving nearer the bed. With just the barest trace of a smile on her lips she raised her hands to her neck and began to coax the zipper down. "Are you sure you don't want to do this?" she asked.

"I am absolutely certain," he replied, a broad smirk upon his face as he settled back to watch her disrobe.

A few seconds later she was stepping out of the dress and tossing it aside. Underneath, she was wearing a red, strapless brassiere in addition to the underclothes he had already seen. She quickly undid the clasp on the brassiere and flung it to the side. And then placed her hands on her hips and casually turned around for him. She was not huge, but her breasts were firm and well shaped, and she saw that he looked rather pleased and satisfied as he examined her.

She dropped her hands down, but before she could begin to remove anything else, she heard him murmur another spell. To her surprise, the thong underwear suddenly disappeared into thin air, and at virtually the same moment she suddenly felt her shoes reappearing upon her feet. The unexpected sensation caught her unawares, and she tumbled awkwardly to the floor, unable to catch her balance. To add insult to injury, she heard Snape roaring with laughter as she struggled to her feet again. When she glanced back over at him, she could see that he was twirling his wand in the air.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said, his tone of voice leaving no doubt that the words were indubitably false. "But, I must confess that I do have a certain fondness for seeing a lady in high heels." His smirk widened. "Particularly in juxtaposition with unimpeded access to her genitals." He suddenly arose to his feet. "Lay down on the bed please."

"Facing up or down?" she asked, trying to make her tone light, but unable to hide a trace of apprehension.

He frowned and seemed to consider the matter carefully. "Facing up for now," he drawled slowly. "I should think."

She nodded and made her way towards the bed, trying to make her movements as graceful and natural as possible as she took her position.

"Spread your legs," he murmured.

She stared up at the ceiling and did as he asked.

"I hope you don't mind if I make a slight improvement?" he asked.

She immediately raised her head and looked at him anxiously. He was standing at the end of the bed, his wand pointed straight between her legs. She sat up as quickly as she could. "What are you going to do," she asked nervously.

He laughed and leaned down upon the bed. "I merely intend to correct the discrepancy in the hair color between your top and bottom," he jeered. "Now, as I assume you have no desire to return to that rather unremarkable shade of brown on the top of your head, it would seem to me that a lightening of your other hair is required."

"I don't-" she began to say. But before she could finish the thought, he had murmured another spell and a beam of light had shot out from his wand. She shrieked and pulled away from him. But not in time, apparently. For when she gazed down between her legs, she could see that her pubic hair was now quite lighter than it had been.

"Yes, much better," he said, as he moved onto the bed beside her. "Now, there is only one other small matter to attend to before we proceed."

She watched in apprehension as he moved to position himself between her legs. "The contraceptive spell," he said, quietly. "Please raise your knees."

"It isn't necessary," she protested, rising up again. "I do take the proper potions."

He looked over at her in annoyance. "You will forgive me if I prefer to take other precautions?" he asked. "I would hardly expect you to be capable of this spell, and judging from the state of your finances, I have reason to doubt you have been able to afford the more expensive and effective potions. I suspect you have been willing to settle for some of the cheaper, less reliable ones."

She saw from the expression on his face that there was no use arguing. She lay back down and raised her knees. She forced herself to relax as he thrust the wand in between her labia and muttered the words "Noli concipere!" . There was a brief, tingling sensation and then she drew in a startled breath as she felt a trickle of wetness run down the inside of her leg as he removed the wand. The rod had barely been removed before she felt his finger thrust back into her, rubbing against her firmly.

"Of course," he said, moving to lay on top of her, "the other reason I am fond of that spell is the fact that-if properly performed-it also imparts a delightful wetness to the area." He raised up slightly and, without removing his finger from within her, carefully placed his wand upon the bedside table. And then he bent back over her. "Do you often become naturally lubricated during intercourse with your clients?" he whispered softly in her ear.

She smiled sweetly and replied, "About as often as you take points off of Slytherin."

He apparently did not find the remark amusing, for he drew back, withdrawing his finger and frowning down at her. "Do not make me regret my altruistic gesture," he hissed, icily.

"No," she assured him hurriedly, fighting down the sudden burst of fear that had arisen within her at his sudden change in attitude. "It was very nice of you to do that," she added.

He glared down at her for a few more moments and then shrugged, "Oh, I assure you it was not merely for your own comfort," he taunted. "I find the scent and smoothness of a well-oiled passage to be the ultimate aphrodisiac." He studied his damp finger for a moment and then brought it to his mouth and sucked on it languidly. "And I must confess you are quite savory," he pronounced, nodding in satisfaction.

He raised up on his knees and retrieved his wand. He regarded the glistening tip of the wood thoughtfully for a moment. "Have you ever sampled it yourself?" he asked, bringing the wand down to her mouth.

When she shook her head no, his smile broadened and he wiped the end of the wand against her lips, wetting them with her own moistness. She flicked her tongue out and licked them clean, obediently circling the tip of the wand as he thrust it into her mouth.

"It appears you may be receptive to tutelage after all," he said, smiling in approval as he replaced the wand on the table. "If you continue to obey me implicitly, I may reward you ere this evening is over," he commented. With a click of his fingers, the blankets and covers were suddenly folded down at the foot of the bed, and she found herself lying on top of the soft linen sheet.

He rose to his knees again and began to unbutton his shirt, staring down at her naked torso as his fingers quickly undid the fastenings, his eyes still trained upon her as he removed the emerald and platinum cufflinks at his wrists and tossed them aside. The skin on his thin, wiry chest was deathly pale, with not a single hair upon it. She raised her hands hesitatingly, unsure whether he wished her to touch him. He smiled and grasped her hands in his own and brought them against the white, smooth skin. She rubbed her palms against the light brown nipples, feeling them respond immediately, pushing into hard, stiff peaks. Then she slid her hands to his back and ran her fingernails lightly over the skin, feeling his pelvis press down upon her as she caressed him.

She dropped her hands to his stomach and allowed her fingertips to play lightly around his navel for a moment, before reaching for the waistband of his trousers.

She paused and looked up at him for permission. "May I undo your fly, sir?" she asked, her voice soft and submissive.

He nodded his assent and raised up slightly so that she could reach it more easily. She arose to a seated position and then began to slowly and deliberately undo each button, methodically working her way down, feeling his arousal grow as she advanced. As the last button sprang free, she used her left hand to jerk down his underwear and grasped his rapidly hardening member in her right hand, rubbing her thumb firmly across the tip before beginning to stroke it firmly.

But he suddenly reached down and pushed her hand away. She felt herself being shoved down on the bed, and a moment later his hot, hungry mouth circled her right nipple. He raised both hands to the breast and flicked his tongue rapidly across the tip, urging it into a firm, sharp point. And then he began to suck vigorously, pulling it into his mouth with an almost painful force. She closed her eyes and wove her fingers into his long black hair, taking in a deep breath and trying to maintain control over herself as his warm, insistent mouth continued to suckle.

She shrieked as she felt his teeth suddenly bite down hard into her flesh and her hands slipped down to his throat, pushing him away. He laughed and released his hold, but kept his mouth close to her skin. He moved slowly upward to her neck, licking, sucking and nipping at her skin as he traveled. Finally, he propped himself up on his left hand and stared down at her, his face directly above hers.

"I can suck melancholy out of a song," he whispered, his warm breath drifting across her face.

His tongue flicked out briefly against her lips. In response, she opened her mouth and allowed him to thrust it in. As she sucked it she felt the fingers of his right hand pinching painfully against her still aching nipple, and she heard a moan born of both pain and arousal rising from her throat. He broke away and studied her for a moment. Then he smiled, and she felt his fingers move over the nipple of her left breast, pinching and teasing at it.

"Moan again," he commanded, drawing his long, warm tongue against her jawbone as his fingers persisted in their movements. She threw her head back and groaned again.

"More! I prithee, more," he murmured, as his fingers continued to dance across her excited flesh.

She took in a quick, shuddering breath, and then moaned uncontrollably as she felt his mouth begin to work down her body, moving in the direction of her left breast. She found herself spreading her legs wider and arching her back, rubbing her pelvis up against him as she waited for him to reach his destination.

As his mouth closed upon the tender mound, she turned her head to the side and began to stroke his left arm, her fingertips caressing and massaging the skin and muscles in time to the rhythm of his mouth. As she brought her hand down his forearm, she suddenly hesitated, and she found herself squinting at something dark and indistinct imprinted upon the pale skin. She stared at it for several seconds before belatedly realizing that his own motions had stopped and that he was glaring at her.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice soft and threatening.

"Nothing," she said, wincing as she heard the squeak of fear in her voice.

He drew up on his knees again and sighed. "Please do not be foolish enough to lie to me," he advised her, in his silkiest voice.

She shook her head vigorously. "You have a bit of dirt on your arm," she said, reaching out to caress his chest again. "Nothing to get angry about," she protested.

He seized her wrists and forced her arms apart, raising them above her head and painfully pressing down on them until they were pushed down into the mattress. He slowly shook his head. "I see I was too optimistic, believing you were finally learning how to behave in an appropriate manner," he murmured.

He suddenly released her, and arose from the bed. But before she was able to react he had retrieved his wand and was pointing it at her. She cringed as a loud bang resounded through the air, and by the time she opened her eyes there were long, thin cords snaking around her wrists and ankles. With another wave of his wand, she found herself suddenly flipped over on her stomach, and the cords that were binding her extremities were winding themselves around the headboard and bedposts. Her hands and wrists were bound together and stretched out over her head, while her legs were forced apart into a wide spread eagle position, and the lines tightened themselves until the constriction was quite uncomfortable. She heard him throw down the wand, and he took a moment to make sure all the lines were secure before moving back on to the bed.

He knelt between her legs and she shivered as she felt his hand lay gently upon the small of her back. "You will notice I did not bother to gag you," he said, quietly. He leaned forward and carefully moved her hair to the side. "It was not necessary," he explained, his lips close beside her ear. "I performed a sealing spell upon the room while you were washing your face. I assure you that no one will hear no matter how loudly you scream."

"Oh, please," she whimpered, her heart pounding as the tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't do anything," she pleaded.

"No," he said, still leaning over her. "But you saw something. What did you see?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said, her voice shaking with fear.

He rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back. "I do not wish to hurt you," he said, raising up to his knees and moving back to straddle her. "But I do need to know what you saw. Or what you thought you saw."

"I didn't see anything," she sobbed.

"Since you continue to prevaricate, I have no choice," he stated. She felt his hands move over her bum, softly caressing her buttocks. "We shall have discord in the spheres."

He raised his hand and brought it down firmly upon the right cheek. She yelped, and felt a stinging sensation spread out over the skin. She bit down upon her lips with her teeth and somehow managed not to cry out when a moment later she felt a blow upon her left cheek. But she could not keep from groaning as she felt his hand suddenly rub against the aggrieved flesh.

"The pain will only intensify the more you force me to do this," he warned. "Immeasurably."

She remained silent. He raised his hand and this time delivered two sharp slaps upon the right cheek. He pressed down slightly against her, and she could feel that he was hardening noticeably. He shifted his weight slightly and she felt two more blows upon her left cheek. She shrieked again, and he halted for a moment.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice cold and impatient.

"I don't know what I saw!" she protested.

He paused and bent over her again. "What do you think it is?" he demanded.

She shook her head helplessly. "It looks like some kind of tattoo," she whispered.

He reached down and wiped the tears from her face. "What does it look like?"

She stared down into the mattress. "It-it doesn't look like anything," she stammered.

With a sigh of exasperation, he drew back, and lifted his arm. "You-" Slap "-are-" Slap "-trying-" Slap "-my-" Slap "-patience-". But before he could strike the reddened skin again, he heard her cry out:

"Mark!" she screamed.

"What?" he asked, quietly.

"A Dark Mark," she moaned, "It looks like a Dark Mark."

"You've seen one before?" he asked, lying down beside her and wiping away the tears once more.

"In the paper," she said, "The Quidditch Cup. Someone drew an illustration of the mark that was drawn in the sky."

She drew in a breath as his hand rubbed against her sore, burning flesh again.

"You haven't seen it on a man's arm before?" he asked, his tone full of suspicion.

"Never," she said, vehemently.

"Indeed?" He pinched the skin slightly and she gasped in pain. "I believe an acquaintance of mine has had the pleasure of your company on at least one occasion."

She shook her head. "I don't remember."

"Oh, I think you recall him quite clearly," he said. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "As a matter of fact, you seemed quite anxious to avoid him this evening."

She gasped. "The man with the Snake's-head walking stick?" she breathed.

"Yes," he answered. He brushed back the hair from her face. "He has been a customer of yours?"

"Once," she admitted. "But," she hesitated for a moment and then continued, "He kept me blindfolded the whole time."

"A wise precaution," he replied, arising from the bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get something from my cloak," he replied.

As he disappeared through the doorway, she began to pull frantically at the cords that were binding her, desperately trying to break away from them, but all her efforts were fruitless. In fact, by the time she gave up and lay still again, it seemed as though they were stretched even tighter than before.

She kept her head down as she heard him approach the bed, not wanting to see what he was going to do to her now. She heard the faint sound of cap being unscrewed from a bottle and then a small tap as something was laid upon the table. And then she heard the soft, plopping sound of his clothes being thrown to the floor.

She turned and glanced at him. He was completely naked now, and he was holding an open vial of something in his hand. Celia closed her eyes and tensed as she felt him crawl onto the bed again. A moment later, she raised her head in surprise and gasped as she felt a cold, slippery ointment drip onto her burning skin. His fingertips moved swiftly to spread the lotion over her bottom, and she sighed in relief as she felt the achy, burning sensation immediately begin to subside. He continued to smooth the salve into her skin for several minutes, pressing down more firmly as he worked, and she was once more cognizant of the fact that his cock was hard and swollen.

"Better?" he asked, drawing back slightly.

"Yes," she murmured.

"You see how much easier it is just to tell me the truth?" he prompted.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

She heard the bedspring squeak slightly as he leaned over to place the bottle of ointment on the table. And then he turned his attention to the bottom of the bed. She felt the bindings about her ankles disappear, and she moaned in relief as she moved her legs to a more comfortable position. She raised her head to look up at the cords still binding her wrists.

"No," he said, lying down on top of her and moving his hands underneath her to caress her breasts. "We'll leave those on for awhile."

She felt his erection press into the small of her back as he moved his hands to undo her garters. He quickly stripped off her stockings and than began to run his fingers up and down the inside of her thighs.

"Up on your knees a bit," he ordered.

She nodded and brought her legs up so that her knees were bent slightly, keeping her thighs spread.

"Good," he said. He brought his hands back to her buttocks and rubbed them firmly. She felt him move his right hand down to his prick as his left hand began to press in between her cleft.

She stiffened and took in a deep breath.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she whispered.

He brought both hands up to her ass and moved the cheeks apart, starting to work his shaft in between them. She bit her lip and tried to prepare herself for the wrenching pain she expected to endure. And then she felt him move slightly downward, the tip of his cock rubbing against the still-moistened surface of her pussy. A small cry of relief broke from her lips.

"Would you prefer I put it here?" he asked. He bent down over her, pushing the middle finger of his left hand into her as his right hand snaked around and began to brush against her clitoris.

"Yes, please," she begged.

"Ask me nicely," he prompted.

"Would you please fuck me there?" she asked.

He moved his head to the side and gave her a sharp bite upon her shoulder. "Kindly use more formal language, Miss Graham," he corrected. "And address me properly."

She took in a deep breath. "Professor Snape, would you please insert your penis in my vagina?"

"Do you wish to fornicate with me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "I wish to fornicate with you."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," he noted, removing his finger and raising it upwards again.

"Oh, but I am, sir, I am," she said, hurriedly.

He leaned slightly forward again, working just the tip of his shaft into her. "Then show me how anxious you are to copulate."

She pressed back against him and felt him slide into her, the warm, slick walls of her vagina taking him in easily. He dropped his hands down to her thighs and allowed them to rest there gently.

"Show me," he repeated, his voice silkily soft.

She began rocking back and forth, bucking back against him. Slowly at first, afraid he might slip out if she moved too quickly. But she began to move faster and faster, pausing occasionally to clench her muscles and squeeze tightly around him. After a few minutes, he could no longer remain still and she felt him raise his hands to her hips, gripping them tightly and beginning to allow his own pelvis to sway back and forth. As he began to move she felt herself start to lose control, excitement building up within her as their rhythm quickened and the thrusting deepened and became more frenzied.

She did not even realize that the cords around her wrists had vanished until she found herself clawing into the sheets of the bed, bracing herself on her elbows and stretching her legs as she tried desperately to find release by pummeling back against him in a frenzy. She started to moan in frustration, and then felt his right hand moving forward again, stroking and massaging her clitoris. She began to thrash frantically, torn between the exquisite sensations she was feeling from the front and the back. After a few more seconds, she felt herself peaking, her back arching up and her legs stiffening as the ecstasy overwhelmed her. And then she heard him groan loudly, his pelvis smashing forward as his own orgasm hit, his cock spurting and throbbing inside of her as her muscles spasmed around it.

They lay silent for a long time, both of them gasping for breath. She was vaguely aware that he had collapsed on top of her, and that his body was lying on top of her, covering her warmly.

She lay still and kept her eyes closed, her mind whirring away as she tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. She had never, ever had an orgasm with a client under any circumstances. And she had just had one with Snape-immediately after being spanked by him, no less.

After a few moments, she heard him murmur softly, and he suddenly moved off of her and swiftly arose from the bed. She kept her eyes closed and her face pressed against the mattress, hoping to fool him into thinking that she was dozing. She heard a soft, rustling sound and opened her left eye just enough to see that he was taking something out of the pocket of his trousers. She closed her eyes and resumed her pretense of sleeping, hearing some other vague but unidentifiable noises. Then she felt the bed dip down again as he sat upon the edge.

"You are not asleep," he observed.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was holding her unfinished drink in his hands.

"Finish this please," he commanded, handing the drink out towards her.

She slowly sat up. "I really don't want it," she said.

"I didn't ask if you wanted it," he rejoined, thrusting it into her hands.

She stared down at it. "Is it poisoned?" she asked, quietly.

He snorted. "Do I have any reason to kill you?"

She shrugged. "I won't tell anyone you know," she said finally, gesturing towards his arm.

He smiled, most unpleasantly. "Oh, Miss Graham, I am absolutely sure that you will not tell anyone about that or anything else that has happened or will happen this evening," he answered, quietly. "Now finish your drink."

He waited a few more seconds and then bent down and retrieved his wand. "Do you think a Death Eater is not well-versed in the art of casting Imperio?" he asked.

She shook her head and reluctantly brought the glass to her lips. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and gulped down the brandy. The liquid burned as it went down her throat, but no more than usual. And there was no strange taste to it, she noted, as she opened her eyes again.

He held out his hand, and she returned the glass to him.

A moment later, the entire room seemed to begin to tilt and spin violently. She closed her eyes, feeling a sudden dizziness overwhelm her. And then she fell back, unconscious, upon the bed.

Rising from the bed, Snape went to place the empty glass back upon the dresser. And then he returned to the bed, tucking her body in under the sheet and pulling the covers up over her shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her lightly upon the forehead.

"Have a nice little nap, Miss Graham," he said, mockingly.

He strode over to the closet and pulled open the door, frowning as he began to go through the clothes. Under normal circumstances, any article of clothing would have been sufficient for his purposes, since he was quite capable of performing advanced Transfiguration. But, he had to concede that the exertions of the past hour had taxed his mental, physical and magical energies.

He reluctantly admitted that although his stamina and prowess were prodigious, he was not a teenager anymore. And he did need to conserve his strength if their next rendezvous was going to prove as satisfying to the both of them. It would be best to at least begin with a blouse and skirt, preferably ones that were similar in fabric or color to the desired final product, he decided. After a thorough search of the closet, he finally selected a white cotton blouse and woolen skirt that were similar enough to facilitate his plans for their next little tryst.

He tossed them onto the bed and went to retrieve his wand. He pointed it at the clothing and then paused, sensing that something else was missing. After a moment, he turned and began to go through the drawers of her bureau, searching unsuccessfully through most of them until he finally came upon a black and yellow scarf. Nodding in satisfaction, he added it to the pile of clothes on the bed.

"I think it's time for a little Hogwarts reunion, don't you?" he smirked, as a beam of light shot out of his wand and enveloped the clothing, transforming it before his eyes.
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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost