Punishment Part Three (H/D)

[dysonrules]

This is pretty much un-beta-ed, although it was read by a few people who didn't notice any errors, for some strange reason. I think they might have been distracted. So if you notice any, please let me know. *grin*

The next three days were torment for Harry, albeit for varied reasons. First, of course, was the fact that sitting down was extraordinarily painful. He thought he might have bruises on top of his bruises. Hermione was the only one who seemed to notice, thankfully, but she apparently chalked it up to Harry’s first encounter with Malfoy, being unaware of the second. The jar of healing salve she provided helped quite a lot, but he still received a painful reminder each time he sat down.

Second, of course, was Malfoy’s permanent smirk. Harry supposed it was the same smirk the bastard usually wore, but now it seemed far more secretive and knowing every time Harry caught sight of it.

Third were the thrice-damned gloves that Malfoy seemed determined to wear at all times. On the rare occasions he took them off—in class, generally—he always used his teeth to pull each separate finger away from his digits. Watching the process did terrible things to Harry’s ability to breathe and he could never bring himself to look away. He wondered if wizards could catch asthma.

Fourth were his dreams. Even his daydreams had become nightmares. He could not stop thinking about Malfoy and his damned hands. And his mouth. And other things… Harry groaned and dropped his head to the desktop, feeling his body respond—again. He had wanked what felt like a thousand times. Every bloody time he remembered Malfoy’s sibilant voice asking, “Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?” he found himself hard as a rock. Like now.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his erection and tried to will it away, thankful that History of Magic was still the most boring class known to Wizardkind, and that everyone was either asleep or staring off into space.

Lastly, his thoughts kept returning to Malfoy’s words. “I’ll be watching.” Harry had been going spare trying to think of what Malfoy might consider worthy of punishment. Insulting Slytherins? Bumping Malfoy in the hall? Acquiring house-points for Gryffindor?

Harry shook off his spinning thoughts and focussed on the tedious lesson until his erection subsided enough that he could rise after class without embarrassing himself.

In the hallway, he ran straight into his nemesis, who seemed to have planted himself in the way just for that purpose. Harry could not suppress a gasp as he found his chest pressed hard against Malfoy’s. To his astonishment, a hand reached under his robes to firmly grip one arse cheek and squeeze.

At the same time, something was thrust down the front of his pants and Malfoy murmured, “Careful, Potter. Running pell-mell though the halls might get someone hurt.”

Before Harry’s traitorous body could react to Malfoy’s nearness, the Slytherin was gone. Harry hurried to the nearest bathroom and tugged the piece of parchment free of his pants. The note was blunt and almost alarming.

Meet me in the usual place at 11pm tonight. Alone.

The word alone was underlined twice and Harry’s palms went suddenly damp.

He spent the rest of the afternoon agonizing over whether or not to meet the Slytherin. He knew he should call off this foolishness before it got out of control. He cursed himself for letting it go as far as it had.

He stayed in the common room, pretending to study, until most of the other Gryffindors wandered off to their beds. When the time approached, Harry got to his feet and retrieved his invisibility cloak before slipping out.

He had made up his mind. He would meet with Malfoy and tell him the game was over. And if that didn’t work, Harry would just Obliviate him. Even though he had never actually tried to Obliviate anyone before. Hopefully Malfoy would listen to reason, but if not… Harry gripped his wand more tightly and nodded to himself. It was a good plan.

What he didn’t count on was Malfoy’s cleverness.

Harry entered the room tentatively, shrugging off his cloak and draping it over his arm. The place was even darker than it had been before, lit with a single guttering candle on one table near the wall. The Slytherin was nowhere in sight.

Harry lifted his wand to cast a Lumos.

“Accio Potter’s wand!” he heard from behind him and then his wand tore free of his fingers and winged over to the darkened corner where Malfoy lurked. The Slytherin had been seated in a chair and he got to his feet and walked toward Harry, barely visible. “You’re late, Potter. Punctuality is a virtue. I believe I shall have to add to your punishment this evening.”

Harry scowled, even though his heart began to pound at the word punishment. “Give me my wand, Malfoy. And what are you talking about? I haven’t done anything.”

“No, you’ve been a model Gryffindor the past few days. I’m sure the teachers are all quite impressed.”

“Then what—?”

“But it occurred to me that there have been several incidences in your past that were never appropriately accounted for,” Malfoy continued. As he spoke he smacked Harry’s wand against his open palm—once again clad in black gloves, Harry noted. His mouth went dry at the sound and his mind spun with the memory of those gloves touching him.

Harry fought to speak normally. “What are you talking about? Can I have my wand? Please?” He held out his hand expectantly and felt his heart sink when Malfoy only smirked at him.

“The pleading is nice, but you might want to save it for later. Remember in third year when you made an unauthorized trip to Hogsmeade, Potter? I believe you threw mud at me.”

Harry gaped at him. “Surely, you don’t plan to get even for—?”

“Silence, Potter.” Malfoy punctuated his command with a loud smack of Harry’s wand against his palm. “As I was saying, you committed a transgression for which you were never punished.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry snapped. “Look, I’m sorry I threw mud at you. We were children.”

Malfoy sighed. “Potter. You seem to be missing the point.” The Slytherin walked closer, tucking Harry’s wand away into his robes as he did so. Harry fought the urge to take a step back as Malfoy stopped directly in front of him and leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “The point is… You did something wrong and deserve to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

Harry fought to speak through a suddenly dry throat. “What—?” His voice was a rasp and he swallowed hard before trying again. “What sort of punishment?” he asked, hating himself for the question and for the uneven quality of his voice.

“Nothing too strenuous. A mere ten lashes should be enough, don’t you think?” Malfoy’s voice was smooth as silk and his nearness did strange things to Harry’s libido. Ten lashes. The very thought of it caused heat to slither through his veins and pool in his midsection. After the twenty he had taken a few days ago, ten seemed like nothing.

"Ten. And that's it?" Harry asked, not daring to ask the real question. He was afraid to voice it even in his own mind.

"Of course, Potter," Malfoy said smoothly. "Unless you ask for something more."

Harry had to shut his eyes for a moment at the thought of more. Ten lashes. He could take ten easily without asking for more. And then Malfoy would be satisfied and give his wand back and it would be over.

"Agreed?" Malfoy asked, breathing lightly in Harry's ear and sending shivers down his spine.

Harry nodded like an automaton and whispered, "Yeah. All right."

Malfoy stepped back, instantly all business. "Excellent. I thought the floor was a bit uncomfortable for you, so I came up with an alternative." He strode across the room and waved airily in Harry's direction, adding, "You may strip, now."

The words reverberated through Harry's head and he obediently pulled his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor where his cloak had landed. He thought about asking why it was necessary that he be nude for these sessions, but he decided it was a stupid question better left unasked.

He kicked off his shoes and socks and glanced over to where Malfoy waited with obvious impatience. The Slytherin had lit several more candles and Harry could now see a large chair in the place where the ottoman had previously stood.

Even more riveting than the chair was the sight of Draco Malfoy taking off his shirt.

Harry opened his mouth to ask what Malfoy was doing when the Slytherin snapped, "Tonight, Potter. Don't make me add to your punishment for dawdling."

Harry scowled and slithered out of his jeans. Malfoy seemed to have stopped disrobing after removing his shirt. The Slytherin stretched, flexing his arms. Harry gaped at the sight of Malfoy's long, pale torso and firm pink nipples. Malfoy lowered his arms and Harry padded across the room quickly, unwilling to earn another reprimand.

"Pants off, Potter," Malfoy said matter-of-factly. "Now, then, this chair is entirely for your comfort. Kneel on the seat and grip the carvings thusly."

Harry blushed and slipped out of his underwear before climbing onto the seat of the chair, facing toward the back. The chair was thickly padded on seat, sides, and back. His knees sank into the cushion slightly and he admitted it was quite a lot more comfortable than the floor. There was also the added benefit that he was not sprawled over Malfoy’s lap, although the thought of Malfoy prowling around free held its own concern. The upholstery was velvety soft--and green, naturally.

The top of the backrest was richly carved wood, made up of whorls and curlicue designs. Two of the wooden carvings were almost like handles and Harry leaned forward to grip them experimentally.

"Very good, Potter. Now, then, only one more detail." Malfoy reached into a trouser pocket and produced a Slytherin tie. Harry looked at it blankly until Malfoy looped it around his wrist and then bound it to the back of the chair.

"Hey!" Harry said. "What are you doing?"

Harry lifted his other hand away from the chair, but Malfoy snatched it out of the air. A second tie secured Harry's other wrist and Malfoy sneered at him. "Just a little added incentive for you to keep your hands where they belong. Besides, it’s safe enough. You can untie them with your teeth, if need be."

"Why tie me up at all?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy leaned close to him. "Because you like it."

Harry shivered and pulled at his bindings, but Malfoy was right. He felt a bizarre thrill at the feel of the silk against his skin. The knots looked simple enough to untie, if need be, and the bonds were not very tight.

Malfoy moved around behind him and Harry craned his neck, feeling suddenly very exposed, even though Malfoy had barely looked at him.

"Spread your legs, Potter." Malfoy's tone was still bland and Harry debated resisting for only a moment. Asking questions or arguing would only annoy the Slytherin and Harry knew he would obey eventually, regardless. He took a shuddering breath and complied.

"Wider."

Harry cringed, but pushed his legs out to the edges of the chair, which suddenly seemed to have a ridiculously wide seat. His cock and testicles dangled. Harry nearly yelped when he felt another slide of silk against his ankle as Malfoy looped it around and tied him securely to the chair leg. Oh fuck.

"Um... Malfoy?" he tried.

"Hush, Potter. No more talking." The Slytherin moved to Harry's other leg and bound that one to the other side, effectively strapping Harry to the chair. A tendril of nervousness skittered through Harry, but beneath it was a thrilling anticipation. His breath already came faster than normal and his heart raced.

"There," Malfoy said in satisfaction. "You look very pretty tied up and at my mercy, Potter." Harry felt a gloved hand touch his arse cheek in a gentle caress, moving from the top of his thigh up to the small of his back. His skin broke out in gooseflesh.

The hand continued up his spine and halted near one shoulder blade. Malfoy leaned over Harry to murmur, "How do you want it? Gloves? Bare hands? Riding crop? I brought one just for you."

Riding crop? Harry's breath caught in his throat. He had no idea what to say and thought speech would be impossible if he tried.

Malfoy chuckled. "Very good, Potter. You remembered not to speak. You've earned a reward, although I’ll have to think about what that might be."

Harry blinked, trying to remember when Malfoy had told him not to speak, even while his brain nearly shorted out at the thought of a reward.

"I think we will start with the riding crop," Malfoy added.

Harry's head jerked up when Malfoy moved away, taking his gloved hand with him. Harry craned his neck and watched as the Slytherin walked to a nearby table and picked up a short length of black leather. Malfoy swished it experimentally through the air and Harry nearly choked.

He started to speak, but then remembered that Malfoy had ordered him not to. He weighed the consequences of his captor's annoyance against being spanked with a riding crop, but by then Malfoy had returned. Harry gasped when he felt the cool leather slide over his back to caress his buttocks and upper thighs as Malfoy drew it lightly over his skin.

Harry heard a brief hissing noise and then a loud crack as the whip sliced across his arse. Harry cried out and jerked as stinging pain flared across his nether parts and outward from the stripe, seeming to jolt through his entire body.

“One,” Malfoy said clinically as Harry struggled to draw a breath.

"Two." A second blow crossed over the first and Harry’s hands clenched on the wood as his body rocked. He did not have enough breath to cry out and simply made a strangled noise.

"Like that, Potter?" Malfoy asked and Harry shut his eyes tightly, because apparently he did. His cock jutted forward, fully hard. His arse felt like sticks of fire had been laid across it and Harry panted hard as he waited for the next blow.

It took so long that Harry nearly looked over his shoulder to see if Malfoy had stopped, so the third slice caught him by surprise. The blow struck the soft flesh directly above his thighs and Harry yelped. A flare of heat sped outward and Harry’s cock hardened even more. He shifted in the seat, trying to shield the evidence of his arousal from Malfoy, to no avail.

Malfoy’s gloved hand suddenly wrapped around Harry’s hard cock, wrenching forth an involuntary moan. Harry shuddered.

“You do like that,” Malfoy purred. “I thought you might.” A fourth slash hit slightly above the last one and Harry jerked in Malfoy’s grasp, thrusting into the hand that held him. Merlin, it was both horrifying and brilliant.

"Don't move," Malfoy warned and another sharp blow angled across the others. Harry fought to hold still. He could hardly breathe through the pain for a moment, but it warred for dominance with the urge to come. Five. Merlin, only halfway through.

"I think that’s enough of that," Malfoy said and Harry heard the whip hit the floor. He would have sagged with relief, except that Malfoy's gloved hand was still in place on his erection, unmoving, but there.

Harry heard a whisper of sound and then something soft dropped onto the small of his back. Godric, it was Malfoy’s other glove. The thought barely registered before Harry felt Malfoy’s bare hand questing over his buttocks, squeezing the welts and drawing another pained gasp from Harry even as his cock twitched in Malfoy’s gloved fist.

A bare-handed blow landed directly across Harry’s buttocks, the sound cracking loudly in the still room. The force of it drove Harry forward and his forehead nearly hit the back of the chair. His prick moved in Malfoy’s hand, sending his curved fingers against Harry’s testicles. Harry held more tightly to the chair with sweat-slick hands and pushed himself back into position, shivering when Malfoy’s leather-clad hand relaxed enough to slip back to the midpoint of his shaft.

He needed to come so badly he nearly screamed aloud. Dear Merlin, why did the bastard have to leave his glove on? For some reason, it was a thousand times hotter than his bare flesh would have been.

Harry barely braced himself in time for the seventh strike, which landed directly across the first two welts and sent a fresh spike of pain jolting through his cock. How could it hurt and yet feel so fucking good?

Malfoy's bare hand rubbed slowly over Harry's throbbing arse, arousing a new level of sensation and hardening his cock even further, although he wouldn’t have thought it possible. He knew it was leaking profusely, possibly dripping onto the seat of the chair.

"Only three left, Potter," Malfoy said, sounding almost regretful. "We had best make them count, eh?"

Malfoy’s gloved hand released him and Harry nearly sagged in relief, not knowing until then how much it had affected him. Malfoy moved until he stood directly behind him and Harry sucked in a mortified breath at the knowledge that he was fully exposed for Malfoy’s perusal.

The Slytherin put his hands on Harry’s arse, one gloved and one bare. They moved over Harry's burning flesh, gripping and caressing, gently massaging the tender skin and sending alternating bursts of pleasure and pain shuddering through Harry’s quivering body.

Malfoy’s fingers splayed over the curve of Harry’s arse and his thumbs caressed his testicles in small circles before gliding upward. Harry felt Malfoy’s thumbs pulling his cheeks apart and he moaned, his mind nearly shorting out at the thought of what Malfoy might do next. Harry felt like a wanton whore, but when Malfoy bent down and licked a stripe over his arsehole, he simply didn't care.

Malfoy did it again, flattening his tongue and pressing hard, sliding it from the base of Harry’s testicles up and over his hole, tearing a ragged cry from Harry’s throat.

“Shhhhh,” Malfoy warned. “Don’t come.” His mouth and hands left Harry then, long enough to deliver another sharp spank to the centre of Harry’s right arse cheek, surprising him. One of Harry’s hands slipped, but the silk tie held him in place and he quickly regained his hold.

Thankfully, the minor distraction helped him stave off his impending orgasm. Don’t come, he repeated to himself. Don’t come, don’t come.

And then Malfoy’s hands were back, spreading him wide once more and his wicked voice asked, “Want me to tongue-fuck you, Potter?”

Harry nearly spoke aloud and barely masked the words with a hoarse cry. He clamped his lips shut and nodded in an exaggerated fashion several times.

“Mmmm, not quite yet,” Malfoy said and then his hands disappeared again. Harry nearly yowled in frustration. He heard movement, but was afraid to look back and determine what torment Malfoy had in store for him next. He found out moments later, when Malfoy’s bare chest pressed against his buttocks, making Harry’s tingling arse burn.

Something brushed over Harry’s cock and he looked down to find Malfoy wrapping another tie around the base of his cock, tight enough that it was almost uncomfortable. How many of the damned things had he brought? Harry nearly laughed at the thought of Slytherin house waking up to find all of their school ties missing.

“That should help,” Malfoy said and gave the silk a final tug before drawing two gloved fingers up Harry’s shaft and over the slit, smearing the wetness there. Harry’s cock twitched, but the pressure seemed lessened, at least until Malfoy’s bare hand groped his balls and squeezed lightly. Harry moaned with a shudder.

“You are a kinky little whore, aren’t you?” Malfoy whispered and squeezed again. Harry could only nod as Malfoy’s hand moved upward again and he braced himself for the return of Malfoy’s tongue, which came with agonizing slowness as Malfoy took his sweet time licking a path up one side of Harry’s crack and down the next, even as his hands kneaded and pulled at Harry’s throbbing arse.

Harry was on the verge of begging, pressing backward as far as he could reach, dying for Malfoy’s tongue to go where he needed it, whimpering and gasping at the tingles of both pleasure and pain.

It came without warning—Malfoy’s mouth was suddenly there, lapping at his arsehole, sucking it for a moment, and then pressing inside. Harry cried out and thrashed in his bonds, nearly yanking free of Malfoy’s probing flesh, except the grip on his arse was firm and Malfoy moved with him, shoving forward until his tongue was as deep as it could possibly go.

Harry had never felt anything like it. He sobbed and squirmed, unable to remain still as Malfoy stabbed at him again and again with his hot, wet, exquisite tongue. Harry whimpered incoherently, over and over, and lost his grip on the chair, instead clinging to the ties with both hands, not caring when they cut into his wrists and pulled tight. The binding around his cock kept him from coming and the torment seemed to go on forever as Malfoy licked, and sucked, and worked his tongue in and out in of Harry’s throbbing hole with methodical Slytherin cunning.

He stopped suddenly, leaving Harry a sobbing, quivering mess. Harry strained back against his bonds, seeking more contact, desperate for more. His skin was so sensitised that the very air seemed to prickle against his flesh and when the blow came he actually screamed and clawed at the back of the chair.

“Only one left, Potter.” Malfoy’s voice seemed perfectly normal, as though turning Harry into a shuddering, moaning, twisting creature of pure lust was a daily occurrence. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Harry nodded and kept nodding until he thought his neck might snap. He would have agreed to anything Malfoy suggested at the moment, anything at all, which would have been a disturbing thought if his world wasn’t centred on his erogenous zones and his overwhelming need for release.

“That’s extremely wicked of you, Potter. I’m sure everyone you know would be highly disturbed. Are you absolutely certain? I want you to say it, so that we are both perfectly clear. You may speak.”

As though released from an actual gag, Harry babbled almost incoherently. “Please,” he begged. “Please, fuck me; I want you to fuck me, Malfoy. Please, yes, please, now, right now.”

Malfoy’s bare hand connected one last time with Harry’s arse, though he barely felt it through the haze of frustrated need.

“You’re such a bad boy, Potter,” Malfoy said, but his tone sounded almost affectionate and then his hands were gripping Harry’s cheeks, pulling him wider as his cock pressed inside, slowly this time.

Harry was so open and ready that he actually pushed back against Malfoy and welcomed the stretching, burning sensation as more and more of Malfoy’s hard cock filled him. He didn’t even know if Malfoy had removed his trousers or simply dropped them and let them fall, although he would have wagered on the latter. Combined with the single glove Malfoy still wore, it was a ridiculously tantalizing image that he would conjure over and over again much later.

Malfoy thrust deeply once, twice, and then drew almost completely out. Harry sobbed raggedly as Malfoy’s cock head perched just inside his entrance. Harry’s hole clenched, trying to pull him back inside. He tried to push against the Slytherin, but he was already at the limit of his bonds.

“I want you back here tomorrow, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Tell me you’ll be back for more.”

Harry froze as the immensity of the demand nearly overwhelmed his need. He couldn’t come back. He couldn’t continue this foolishness, this insanity. It had to stop tonight.

Malfoy pushed in again with agonizing slowness, curling ribbons of heat through Harry’s blood like insidious poison. “Say it,” Malfoy said with determination.

Harry succumbed, losing the last fragments of rationality once more. “I will,” he said.

“Swear it,” Malfoy insisted. His breath was hot against Harry’s ear, coming in gasps nearly as uneven as his own.

“I swear!” Harry said. “I swear I’ll be back.”

“Whenever I say,” Malfoy added, pushing deeper and deeper.

“Oh, Merlin, whenever you say, whatever you want,” Harry cried, thrusting his hips back desperately and nearly screaming when something inside sent a spike of pleasure shivering through him. It was nearly too much.

“Good boy,” Malfoy said and Harry felt fingers brushing lightly over his cock before the pressure of the tie suddenly released.

Malfoy pulled nearly out and rammed forward, hitting that exquisite spot once more. “Come for me,” he said at the same time and Harry did. He came with a scream that should have clamoured through the entire castle, but the force of it could not be contained. He came and came and came, shuddering and gasping and reeling from it.

He was only vaguely aware of Malfoy’s continued thrusts, pumping into him and sending fresh spasms rocking through his body with every movement. Near electric quivers wracked Harry’s body over and over until he wondered if it would ever stop.

Malfoy sagged against him and even the flutters of the Slytherin’s release sent shivers coursing through Harry.

“Fuck,” Malfoy murmured. “Fucking hell.”

Fucking hell, Harry agreed. That’s where I’m going.

(It took me forever to find this.  It's similar, but Draco's has more ornate carvings on the back...  Don't click THIS until you read the fic.  *grin*)

PART FOUR