A Rock and a Hard Place

I may be jumping the gun in publishing this...

*

They lay on opposite sides of the bed, not touching. Trudy worked on lying still, repressing the urge to shift. Her nerves sang. She needed him again...

Her thoughts wandered back to the previous evening in the shower, that glorious moment. The sex had not been good—more like cramming her mouth full of candy when she was starving. But the very end, when he had gotten so thick and hard inside of her that she came again, that was the moment to remember. To her uncomprehending relief and joy, he had stiffened behind her, and then a sticky warmth had filled her. He had pulled out directly after, and though she had felt the slow trickle of semen from her body, she had remained against the shower wall, reluctant to wash him away. So he was not repulsed by her after all! She reveled in the realization, letting it blot out her depression and her loss.

“Come on then,” the Professor had said impatiently, and reality had intruded on her happy thoughts.

She was beginning to… be fond of him. No, that was too superficial. Though the Professor had been forced into intimacy with her--someone he had neither liked nor desired--he had been fair, accommodating, even considerate. How strange. His reputation was as a bully, a teacher much feared and little liked except by his House and by Dumbledore. She remembered how he had treated the Potter boy and tried to get a grip on herself.

“He’ll hurt you,” she reminded herself. “He can separate emotion and sex. You can’t. Think of Dan.”

Ah, yes. Erstwhile husband. Self-hating Squib Daniel, who had demanded the end of her independence, then hated her for it. Dan, for whose baby she had sacrificed her youth and beauty, and been rewarded with his disgust. Men, it seemed, required unquestioning obedience from women, but despised them for their compliance. She was so glad she had changed her name, so glad not to be “Lisa” any more, the Lisa who cringed and truckled.

“The problem is,” she thought despairingly, “I want to please.” And then another thought overrode the others: Elizabeth...quiet, eager-to-please Elizabeth, now caught by a wizard so feared that no one spoke his name. What kind of mother was she, thinking of her petty problems when her daughter was in the hands of a monster? And how would she ever find and defeat such a wizard, with no power herself? She hid her face in her hands and began sliding off the bed onto the floor, where she belonged.

*

Snape feigned sleep. Whatever was he doing? Starting to soften toward the Muggle? Weak, wretched creature. But…surprisingly perceptive. And deft with potion-making. She hadn’t been joking about her gift for chemistry. Her measurements were sure and exact, her procedure careful and methodical. If he snapped an order at her, she merely performed the task to his satisfaction without reaction.

And then there was the matter of the past several hours. He had not allowed a woman to pleasure him with her mouth for longer than he cared to remember. Lily had done it, long ago. And after his failures with her, after she was dead and gone, there had been a blur of women whose primary attraction was their willingness. He had happily taken whatever they offered, even ordering them what to do and how to do it, making them beg for it. After each session would come the self-loathing. He knew he was misusing the women, however much they denied it. After a few years, even the high of domination lost its appeal. The women were pure-bloods by then, not so willing to do what he ordered, haughty and selfish. Snape began to sublimate his sexual urges, channeling them toward his desire to serve his dead lover and toward his natural talent for power.

But this Muggle… He couldn’t remember ever having allowed any woman since Lily to take charge and suck him dry. He hadn’t needed to issue orders. She knew just what to do and when to do it. Just the thought of it was enough to make his balls tighten and his cock begin to harden. God, he was ready for her again!

No…what was he thinking? She was weak and poor-spirited....

He heard the Muggle start sliding off the edge of the bed. Without thinking, his hand snaked out, and his long fingers caught her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was muffled.

He hauled her to the middle of the bed, bending over her. He fumbled for his wand. “Lumos.” She flinched at the magic, and he felt the old enjoyment of having the upper hand.

In the fierce but limited light of his wand, he could see her hair in disarray, the wildness in her eyes, and the quiver of her hands over her mouth. He leaned over her, letting his weight pin her to the bed. He was hard, ready.

“What is it?”

“He’s got her.”

No need to ask who “he” was. Snape allowed himself the luxury of threading his fingers through the auburn hair to hold her head in place. “Your daughter?”

“Yes!” she said on a sob. “And here I am, fucking my brains out, while she’s suffering!”

Snape nearly laughed, but caught himself. “I don’t see you’ve much choice. It’s what the Dark Lord intended. The only catch is I’m not meant to be the one you’re imprinted on.” He frowned. That was going to be a problem with the Dark Lord.

He could feel her trembling, half sobbing, half desperate with the curse. “I should be trying to find her,” she whispered, pushing at his chest. He remained immovable.

“Ah, yes. Dying in the Forbidden Forest—that’s going to help your daughter ever so much.”

“Why are you being so nasty?” she burst out.

“I am being truthful,” he said sourly. “Let’s have no more talk about your predicament.”

She looked at him anxiously, blue eyes wide. He moved over her, letting her feel his arousal pressing into her belly. Her expression changed to confusion.

“You need me?” he said, moving lower so that his rigid cock was now pressing into her mons, only their night clothes between them.

Her thighs parted slightly, and her breath caught. “Y-you know I do.”

“Take off your robe.”

He still had his wand up by her face, and by its light, he could see her swallow, then pull the robe over her head. She clutched it to her chest, reluctant to be seen even by wand light.

“Nox.” The wand light winked out. Snape tore off his nightshirt and rolled on top of her. He got a handful of her gown and tugged. She held on stubbornly. This was like a repeat of before. “Let go,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “or I Vanish it like I did the bathroom door.”

She whimpered softly and released her hold. At once, his hands were on her breasts, brushing the nipples and plumping them for his mouth. They were bigger than her frame would have had him believe, he thought distractedly. For a woman who barely reached his chin, whose build was so slim she might pass for an adolescent, her breasts were a welcome surprise. With the lights out, he could not see their imperfections, only feel their marvelous fullness.

Keeping her breasts in his hands, he slid his body between her thighs, pushing them open with his hips and reaching down to position his cock. He could hear her breathy gasp as the broad head of his cock slid over her clitoris and pressed against her opening. She lifted her legs, and he surged forward, stuffing his cock head into her tight entrance.

He made her come, keeping her legs spread for his fingers, cock, and body. And then when her limbs were pliant and her breathing heavy but even, he drove into her and shot his seed.

Afterward he pulled her into the curve of his body, keeping a hand on her breast. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold on her. “You’re not falling off the bed again,” he said.

“You don’t know what I’ve failed at,” she said thickly.

“Please don’t bore me with the details. You stay here for the night.”

She felt oddly comforted by his words and especially, by his warm body around her and his hand possessively on her breast. They fell off into a light doze. Periodically in the night, she would awaken, restless and uncomfortable. And each time he would pull her leg over his hip and let her ride him until she crested as many times as she liked. On the last of these interludes, he held her hip to prevent her moving off his cock and drove into her until he reached his own completion.

*

In the gray morning light, they woke up sticky with semen.

Snape came to his feet. “Wake up,” he said.

Trudy blinked and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“Today is day three of the curse. It should now loosen its hold on you.” He threw on his nightshirt began pacing the small room. Trudy watched him without speaking. She did feel slightly less frenzied than she had the past three days. Now she waited for Snape to continue. “Flitwick has been taking my classes, but today I go back to teaching,” he said. “Since you’re a Muggle, I can’t give you any magical way to signal me if you’re in need. Therefore, you will come to my classes with me. You will be my assistant.” Now he had Trudy’s full, apprehensive attention. She started to speak, but he cut her off. “In class you will do everything I ask promptly, quietly, and efficiently. You will not question anything I say or do, nor show in any way that you disagree with anything I have said or done. You will address me as ‘Professor’ at all times. And you will speak only when spoken to.” He stopped pacing and looked her straight in the eye. “Have I made myself clear so far?”

She nodded slowly, deciding to wait till the end to voice any misgivings.

“I will do everything in my power to give you adequate relief before classes. But should you feel the curse come upon you during or between classes, you will go to the north corner of my classroom and pretend to organize whatever you find there. I will order you to fetch something from the potions closet behind my desk. You will stay there until I arrive.” He met her gaze again challengingly. Again, she only nodded. He seemed to relax infinitesimally.

“And lastly,” he continued, “you will be wearing items of my choosing.” For the third time he met her eye, a direct glittering gaze. “Am I clear?”

“All right,” she said slowly. “But won’t the students question my being there? I mean, I’m not faculty.”

“I will introduce you as a new assistant, foisted on me by Dumbledore. I will sound as put-upon as I can. You will behave naturally.”

“How can I be natural under those circumstances?” she pleaded. “I’ll feel nervous and know I’m not wanted.”

“Exactly.”

She digested that for a second. “So that’s the cover—that I’m some unwanted, unhelpful staffer that you’ll suffer having?”

“Yes, that’s the general idea.”

She nodded stiffly. She didn’t like it, but it sounded plausible. “All right. Then what am I supposed to wear?” Her eye fell on his closet where her new gowns hung. “Did you like that blue robe?”

He gave her a strange look. Then he said, “Black is the only color acceptable for school robes.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! I forgot. Black.” She got up and took a black school gown out of the closet, smoothing it out. Her back was to him.

“In addition,” he went on behind her, “you’ll be wearing the black stockings, the black garter, the corset, and the black high heels. No knickers, if you please.”