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The Rooms of The Garnet Rose	By : ObsidianJaguar Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 14443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any recognizable characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling and her corporate affiliates. Anything unrecognizable is mine. The only remuneration received for this fic may be found on its review page.

Chapter List
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            “You shouldn’t, you know.” Hermione feels his voice travel down her spine, dark and thick. “You’re a child, an infant. You haven’t the least idea of what being fucked by me would involve.”

            Her breathing quickens, and hitches when he pulls her nipple, slowly, as far as it will go, sparking a painful current that darts down to her core. She can feel the pressure of his fingers, the press and shift of the ropes that try to keep her breast in place.

            It feels delicious… and dirty… and somehow more real than anything she’s felt in the past few weeks.

            “I don’t,” she admits, panting, “but I’ve read a lot.”

            The shock of his fingers releasing her flesh runs through her almost as sharply as their presence. Hermione comes back to herself to realize that her erstwhile professor is laughing.

            He thinks she’s funny, a clown. Her body sags in disappointment—at least, as far as the ropes binding her in place will allow. For once, she’d like a man to see her as a woman, not as a walking brain, or a child—or a joke.

            Snape leans against her back, knocking her off balance briefly before his hands catch her waist and steady her. She can feel the their warmth seep into her skin and shudders slightly.

            “You, Miss Granger, are priceless.” There is amusement in his voice, but also that nameless something that yanks her back to the edge of… of… “You know what you want, and you are willing to go this far to get it, even though you are utterly clueless as to what it means—what it will mean. Very well, Miss Granger. You wish for a professor to guide you through the practical aspects of the theory you have so greedily imbibed. I shall oblige you.

            “I hope the answers you receive will be worth the price I exact.”

            “Professor…” she sighs. His fingers trail up her sides, stuttering against the various ropes, each tip creating its own path of sensation until they meet at the nape of her neck. He gathers her hair in his hands brusquely and murmurs a spell that keeps it up. Then, theyy return to her waist, gripping tightly, and Hermione jumps to feel a wet touch along her spine. His tongue. He is licking her spine. She shivers as it traces its way upwards, followed by the cold sensation of air against the dampness it leaves behind. Oh, yes. Yes. Whatever he chooses to do to her will be worth it.

            Snape savors the taste and feel of her skin against his tongue. Hermione Granger is fresh, unspoiled. There is nothing here beyond the natural salt, her unique sweetness, the lingering aroma of peach-based soap and herbal shampoo.

            New and young and innocent…

            And she has chosen him.

            Perhaps he will make her regret that choice. Perhaps he will not. For now, he relishes the rare sensations of control and anticipation. He, at least, will be pleasured this evening, and it will be as he chooses. His cock, hardening by the moment, twitches, but he relegates the knowledge to the back of his brain. There is time, however much time he requires, and that will wait for the time being.

            “We shall begin with an inventory, Miss Granger,” he tells her in his clipped, professorial tones. “Your hair, for one.” He tugs a strand hanging from the tail he’s created. “You might consider growing it out. It is too bloody impossible for a man to run his fingers through it without breaking one, but imagine the sensations it would create against his thighs and stomach and balls as you suck his cock. Or perhaps he might choose to ignore you altogether and simply wrap the softness around his member, masturbating with it while you watch, unable to move more than a foot from his actions. Or,” and he takes a fistful, pulling her head back. He can see her wide eyes roll, trying to look him in the face. “…it might be used to lead you around—a leash you could not escape.” He smiles thinly.

            “Are you following me, Miss Granger?”

            “Yes, Professor Snape.” Her voice is breathy, soft, and that pleases him.

            He eyes her narrowly. “Perhaps. There are your eyes, of course. A blindfold could enhance your other senses, but I want you to see—to know—every moment who exactly is fucking you this evening, Miss Granger. Your ears… I wonder if you will truly hear every sound you make tonight, or will you be so wrapped up in your lust that you will no longer notice? And then your mouth, Miss Granger. Ah, yes, your mouth. I really should gag you, lest I hear you prattle on about what you’ve read and ask unceasing questions about what we’re doing. But I intend to silence you by other means.” His voice drops to a low purr. “We shall see how well you can speak when my cock is pulsing down your throat and my balls are shoving against your chin.” Snape hears her whimper and thrills to the sound. Is that fear or anticipation? It no longer matters to him; she’s handed him complete control over their fucking, and he intends to take full advantage of it. “Of course, I might simply kiss you, but I do not know that I should like to follow in the wake of those boys you pretend are men. For you have kissed them, haven’t you?”

            She doesn’t answer, and for some reason, that infuriates him. He grabs her neck and yanks her back, ignoring her futile flailing for balance, and hisses against her ear, “Haven’t you?”

            “Just…” she pants, trying to regain some control, “Just Ron.

            Snape snorts in derision. “Weasley. The idea makes me nauseous. He wouldn’t know a tit from a tit-mouse.” He takes a few breaths to bring himself back to the task—the pleasure—at hand, and doesn’t fail to notice the heavy, sweet scent of her arousal. “Perhaps I will kiss you,” he muses. “To demonstrate how it is properly done. But later, if at all. I believe we shall continue, my dear, with your tits.” He circles around her, noting the trembling of the leg that is holding her upright, the dark pools of her wide eyes, the… “Your chest is moving quite rapidly. It is most… intriguing that way. It makes me wonder what it would be like to fuck them properly. Another time, perhaps.” Her nipples are hard, pointing forward from areolae stretched by virtue of the confining ropes. He takes one between his finger and thumb and begins to pinch. “Nipples can be pierced.” His nails begin to dig into the small bit of flesh, and his smile turns cruel. “I could pierce them now, heal them, and use them to lead you about the room like an obedient puppy. You wouldn’t be able to escape for the pain.” Strangled sounds of pain emerge from her throat, but a swipe of his other hand against her centre confirms that she has soaked her confining rope and the liquid is dripping down. Still, he removes his nails and chooses instead to ply the area with a soothing tongue.

            “Please… Please,” Hermione pants. The girl doesn’t know whether she wants her professor to continue or to stop, but she can’t help but plead for… something. Anything. She doesn’t know what she wants right now, only that she can still feel the echoes of the pain that had shot straight to her centre and that Snape’s tongue both soothes and excites in the wake of that pain. If only… If only he’d…

            Hermione gives herself up to the sensations that are pushing her higher, and wonders dimly if perhaps she should have read more before coming here.

            “’Please’ what, Miss Granger?” His face is so close, and its expression is feral. “Please continue molesting your tits? Please continue the lesson? Please fuck you until you come? Please allow you to suck me?” He chuckles, and she’s startled by the low, throaty quality of his amusement. “You must be articulate, if you wish to request my cooperation. But I believe I shall continue.” He abandons her breasts, and she is shocked by the yearning ache that he leaves behind, an ache that arches her back as her body seeks his continued, pleasureable and painful touch. What is she, that she takes pleasure in the pain he’s inflicted, however minor it might be?

            But again, all she can do is accept what her body is telling her.

            “Ah…” he purrs, and she blinks down to see him kneeling between her legs, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in her scent. Hermione feels her face heat in mortification. Ron has, yes, been down there, but he has never expressed this same sort of… exstatic pleasure that Professor Snape is displaying. In fact, her brief boyfriend has moved as quickly as possible to the simple act itself.   Hermione realizes with a shock that in… whatever time they had been in this room—minutes, hours?—Snape has given her more sexual pleasure than Ron had in several encounters. Was that why she wanted this, to put herself in the hands of a man who knew how to play her, pleasure her, even torment her?

            “With this knot, Miss Granger,” Snape intones, and she can see his finger point to a small mass of rope, “I could have you in a state of arousal for hours, simply by leaving you here.” He nudges the bundle that is nestled at the entrance of her cunt, and she screams as her oversensitized nerves explode in orgasm.

            Slightly surprised, Snape investigates further the rope that has been laid amidst Granger’s folds. Ah… A very tiny knot is hidden in between, snugged right up against her clit. When he’d moved the larger knot, he’d also shifted the smaller one directly over the nerve centre. Is it any wonder, then, that she is as high-strung as she is right now?

            But she will receive no reprieve from him. She’s made her choice. Snape continues to manipulate the tied rope, eliciting sharp cries from the girl, who writhes as much as her bonds will allow. A single, slim digit slips alongside the larger knot, surrounding itself with the molten heat of her cunt, pushing and nudging in and out and around.

            “No… No… Professor… Ah!” He watches the contortions of her body and face as he brings her twice more to overworked frenzy. “Pr—Professor…! S—sir… Please…! I— I can’t…!

            “Ah—!” She screams out her second orgasm and goes limp within the ropes, her head and its heavy hair swinging backwards. Her body is awkwardly supported by her arms and the leg that have been bound to the invisible ceiling, her leg having long since lost the ability to balance and support her.

            Coolly studying that long leg finished by the delicate stilletto, he licks the trail of arousal that flowed down it, relishing the taste and its meaning.

            He has had control of this girl, has given her pleasure, and has received pleasure in return. He may yet receive more, for the night is not yet over. But first, he shall fetch the knife upon the table that has appeared, and cut Hermione Granger down from her perch.

            Though he may very well leave… some… of her bonds in place.

            The night—their night—is not yet over.

ANs: And here we leave our couple… I hope you have enjoyed reading this first story within the walls of the Garnet Rose. I greatly appreciate the tokens I've received so far, and look forward to any words of praise, criticism, or request that you may choose to offer.
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The Rooms of The Garnet Rose