Monday morning arrives and you slyly sneak a tiny spritz of the new elixir you purchased on your neck, wondering if it might be at all effective. You smile in excitement as you make your way downstairs to your first class of the day, hoping to blaze through all but one...
You finally head into potions class, finding your seat next to a grinning Ben. "How was it? The dance?" "It was perfect...she was perfect," he gushes, his eyes glazed over with a faraway, dreamy look. You laugh at his captivation but then remember your own.
A sudden banging sound interrupts the hum of students talking, signaling Professor Snape's entrance. The door slams shut, his wand commanding the shutters closed in a dramatic flourish as his steps echo down the aisle of the now dark classroom. You catch a rush of his scent as he passes you, his cape billowing magnificently behind him as he makes his way to the front of the class. He abruptly pulls down a projector shade and turns to address the students, his black tresses swishing with the movement.
"Turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four..." his sensual voice enunciates every word elegantly.
You admire the directness of his tone, the way he somehow commands an entire room without ever raising his voice. Everyone falls silent when he speaks. He stalks between the desks with long, fluid steps. While he begins his spiel about today's lesson, you hear his words but miss their meaning as you watch the subtle movement of his lips, his eyes scanning from left to right, maintaining the attention of his audience effortlessly. His gaze pauses momentarily on your face. You smile softly and he squeezes one hand into a fist at his side, his jaw clenching in restraint.
He wheels a projector to the back of the class, stopping at the center of the last row of desks...your row. Switching it on he begins the lesson, the students fixated on the screen while you burn at his nearness, smelling him and wanting to reach out to him.
"The misdosing of these potions can result in..." the slide clicks to the next image, "disfigurement, among other undesirable side-effects." Grotesque images of the victims of misdosing flash on the projector screen, met with groans of horror from some of the students. "However, this week we will be going over proper dosing techniques as well as common poisons, antiserums and curative potions," the slide switches to a list of potions and their properties.
As he talks through the lesson, you notice him gradually moving closer to you. Your cheeks burn and you wonder if it's a coincidence. He stands directly beside your desk, at your shoulder, continuing the lesson with the switching slides. His cloak brushes your leg and your heart thumps, feeling the heat from his body. You suddenly feel the soft graze of his fingertips on the nape of your neck. Nope, not a coincidence. You try to sit as still as possible so as not to draw attention. A shiver runs down your spine and your insides surge at his slight touch and the way his shirtsleeve tickles your skin.
"The ability to identify these poisons accurately is essential to saving the life of the victim. Improperly administered antiserums may even induce more severe side effects than the poison itself. Oftentimes even leading to death." His fingers graze lower, slipping underneath your collar and sweeping the bare skin between your shoulders. Merlin, the Allure elixir must be working...You notice the bulge forming beneath his tight trousers in the dark room, your mouth watering in response.
"...and while the sting of a Billywig is poisonous, the dried stinger of the Billywig––" his voice hitches as the back of your hand finds his clothed shaft, pressing against it and brushing along it. He clears his throat, "...is––may...may also be used as an ingredient in an antidote to several of the listed poisons," he changes the slide on the screen and catches your hand in his, stopping your movement. He squeezes it before dropping it and moving quickly through the last points of the lesson, assigning two rolls of parchment on the most commonly used poisons, according to statistics. He dismisses the class, his hands clasped low in front of him.
Making his way to the back of the class toward the projector he quietly mutters through clenched teeth as he abruptly passes you, "My. Office." Your middle floods at his vexed tone. The other students file out as you slowly pack your textbook into your bag, your gaze softly lifting to his disappearing form entering his office behind the class.
Once you're alone, you timidly make for the door to grasp the handle. Before you can, it flings open wide and an invisible force binds your arms to your sides and lifts you, bringing you right before him. The office door slams shut and you hear the lock click. Your eyes widen in bewilderment at his impressive use of wandless magic.
How you had underestimated him.
His angry gaze catches yours, a devilish look in his eye. "You wicked little girl," he spits threateningly. "I–I couldn't resist Professor...and it seemed to me that you couldn't either," you reply cheekily, stifling a laugh. His gaze hardens, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. He grasps your hair, tugging your face to look at his, "Silence!" He circles behind you, your body suspended by invisible ropes. "You will learn to control yourself," he pulls out a silk tie, "or the consequences will be severe..." wrapping it around your face and between your open lips, gagging you and effectively silencing your impertinence.
He flicks his wand and your clothes disappear, leaving you bare and exposed before him. Your legs are forced slightly apart. "Bad girls..." he lifts a leather equestrian stick from his desk, "...will be punished." You shudder at this new threat, a wave of genuine fear washing over you. Standing behind you, he lightly drags the tip of the leather stick from between your shoulder blades, down along the curve of your back. The tickle of it makes you squirm as he stops right at your bum. A sudden whipping sound in the air is accompanied by a stinging sensation on your ass, and you gasp in surprise. The blows repeat and you relish the heady mixture of hurt and pleasure. You cry out in pain and bite down on the gag, taking the whips submissively.
The blows stop, allowing a reprieve from the pain and you feel the leather tip at your calf. He slips it between your legs, moving up, up, up––stopping at the little trickle of wetness on your inner thigh. "You naughty little thing," the leather brushes against your sex lightly, sliding along your slit and you let out a soft moan. "Is that greedy little pussy ready for my cock so soon?" He lightly taps it against your aching quim. Your arousal pools onto the stick and another sudden swing smacks your ass with a wet sting. His blows increase in intensity along with your muffled cries and gasps.
The switching finally stops and you struggle to catch your breath, tears pooling in your eyes. "Now..." he drawls, your body slightly bending forward under an invisible force. His hands slide over the welts on your bum, rubbing it. You feel his lips kiss the sensitive skin. A jolt of pleasure rushes to your middle as you feel his finger traveling up your inner thigh, gathering your arousal and sliding across your slit. He finds the sensitive bud between your lips and taps it lightly with his middle finger, his sleeve tickling your pussy. He rubs it more firmly and you moan loudly against your gag, your eyes squeezed shut. He repeats the journey from slit to clit, over and over until you let out a muffled sob. His speed increases and you feel your vision darken. Your middle clenches, your hips buckle and you feel ripples of euphoria spreading from your center. You moan loudly, closer, closer, closer––
You sob at the cruel loss of his motions that were carrying you into pools of bliss as he pulls his fingers away. His heavy footsteps scuff in front of you as he cups your jaw in his hand. He clicks his tongue, "Bad girls don't get to come..." You clench your teeth and groan angrily, helplessly. He smirks.
His hands begin unbuttoning the many buttons of his coat, slipping it off and starting on his shirt buttons. You feel another rush of wetness at his impending exposure before you. It gradually drips down your leg slowly in a slick path. His beautiful, large hands open up his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach to you. Your eyes greedily scan every secret part of him that he allows you the pleasure of seeing. Your heart rushes at the thrill. Those lovely hands begin working the button on his trousers and your lids become heavy with desire.
He reaches down to pull out his member, looking up at you and parting his lips. Just before you see what his hand is unveiling, he turns away, walking behind you. Your brows furrow in frustration at his forbiddance of the gratification of seeing his manhood. His fingers trace the place on your neck and down your shoulders where only a little while ago in class he had touched you, giving you the same light brush that he did then. Your frustration increases, sweat beading your brow as you struggle against the bonds. He circles back to your front with his head tilted down to you and a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You do know resistance is futile, don't you Darling?" He condescendingly pulls your chin up to look at him.
You want to scream but the gag is effective. You feel the stream of wetness now crawling down your calf. You wail in frustration. He stoops in front of you, his hand holding the arch of your foot. He looks at the stream of arousal and back up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. "However, it would appear that you enjoy trying anyway."
His gaze returns to your calf and he lifts your leg toward him, bending your knee. Your body drifts back until you're supine, hovering above the stony dungeon floor. He licks up your calf, tasting your pleasure. With his shoulders underneath your legs, the collar of his open shirt and his silky hair brush against your skin. He licks and trails sloppy kisses upward, biting the skin near your knee. His tongue flicks over your clit suddenly and you hiss at the sensation, caught off guard. His hands firmly grasp your hips as he roughly juts his tongue inside your open, aching pussy, dragging it up and down in slow, languid motions. Your thighs try to squeeze together as you feel your orgasm already mounting again, but his strong hands force you open. His licks become long, deep kisses against your sex, his tongue slipping in and out, exploring and tasting you. His teeth nibble your labia, making you squirm and shout in intoxication. The roughness of his tongue against your clit makes you throw your head back, your insides quivering as you finally feel yourself tipping over the––
You scream furiously, as loudly as you can against your gag, your sobs hard and belligerent. The emptiness he leaves behind is infuriating. Your hot, angry tears trickle down your face.
You feel your body tilting forward, the binds loosening and finally resting you gently on your feet.
"Kneel," his deep voice commands. You drop to your knees heavily and he slips off his open shirt, finally followed by his trousers. He allows you to see what your body craves so desperately. His thumb collects his sticky arousal and brings it to your lips. You instantly take it in your mouth and suck, moaning quietly at the small reward.
"Good girl," he praises you softly.
He comes around behind you and his hand assertively reaches down, grabs your jaw and forces your head back to look up at him.
"Grasping me so inappropriately in class...a serious offense that should be met with serious punishment." He roughly pushes your back forward, forcing you onto all fours. He kneels on one knee behind you and runs his tip along your slit, bumping against your sensitivity and dragging it back. He enters just the head, your pussy stretching and ready to take him. He reaches forward and unties the gag, grabbing either end of the tie. He pulls back on it and his cock sinks into you. He slowly comes out, pulling again and repeating the motion. He increases his speed and force, pulling the gag like reigns, his thrusts filling you from behind. Your hips buckle in pleasure and at his control of your body.
He pulls out of you at the first sign of your mounting pleasure, his tease becoming unbearable. His shaft rubs along the outside of your entrance, back and forth until your tears return.
He finally removes the gag, releasing your mouth and your aching tongue.
"Now..." he growls, "What have I told you about such behavior?"
"It...will not be tolerated, Professor," you gasp between sobs, your back arching, begging for his entrance.
"That's my good girl," he whispers, suddenly thrusting deeply into you. You scream at the sudden rush of pleasure, your wetness now leaking onto the floor. He grabs around the front of your hips, pulling you roughly over his shaft, his movements becoming faster and faster, his groans growing louder and louder in the dark office. You nearly scream, "Professor...! I'm––may I, Sir?"
"Not. Yet." he hisses, his grip on your hips tightening. You sob at the lack of permission, your hands pressing against the floor, focusing all your efforts on not coming. "Fuck! Please, Sir!"
His hand reaches around clasping over your mouth, shutting you up. You're so close, too close...
"Now...come for me, Pet," he finally purrs. Your hips quake in delight as you scream and sob your pleasure, his name on your lips. The sound of your euphoria sends Severus over the edge, and your screams are followed by his growls and moans of release. Your bodies thrust together in unison, relishing in the erotic play of submission and dominance.
"Professor?" you ask in the steaming shower. "Yes?" his eyes search yours attentively. "Did my Allure elixir work on you? Is that why you couldn't resist touching me in class?"
The crease between his brow deepens, his mouth dropping open, "You naughty little witch."
You laugh at his realization and scolding. It feels so intoxicating to be wanted by you. How could I resist?
Beads of water glisten in his hair, your body warm under the stream. "For the record...I do not think the presence of such an elixir would change much in regard to my...fondness of you," his voice reverberates through you. He picks up your hand, placing a delicate kiss in your palm, "I'm afraid I am drawn to you with or without it."
A smile and a blush spreads across your face and he touches your chin and strokes your cheek with his thumb. A small smile finally blossoms on his handsome face. He brings your hand to his chest, his heartbeat thumping against it. His forehead presses gently against yours and he utters quietly, in the most gentle voice you've ever heard from him.
"Y/n..."
"Yes, Severus?"
"I love you."