Fic: ...And Worth Every Sickle (Snape/Sirius, NC-17)

At long last, here is my contribution to the ficathon. First I couldn't decide on a plot, then I changed my mind about my prompt, but mostly I didn't realize how bloody long it was going to take me to write this. Hopefully, it was well worth the wait. If not, feel free to flog me when all is said and done.

This accompanies the fanart, "Priceless" by supes_.

Title: ...And Worth Every Sickle
Author: jedipirate
Pairing: Snape/Sirius with insinuated Snape/Lucius
Prompt: Bonds
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,820
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are not my own. No profit is being made from this work.
Warnings: non-con, BDSM, toys, voyeurism, drugging, implied slave-trade
Summary: Just a homoerotic story involving slavery, drugging, rape, psychological abuse... that sort of thing. The characters in it are totally hot.
Following Voldemort's victory, Snape acquired a new toy. Tonight he has decided to break him in.

Notes: This is around spring of 1982, so the boys are about 23 or 24.

This piece represents a large number of firsts for me: first HP fic, first fic drastically longer than 1000 words, first non-con fic, first time writing most of the involved kinks, and first time writing a dark fic that is not out-and-out angst.

Thanks go to moshi for a quick and excellent beta, and to supes_ for help and moral support along the way.



The first thing that registers in his mind is the cold. It's a penetrating cold that seeps into his bones and chills him through to the core. The second thing he notices is the hardness—the cold hardness—like stone. His hands are bound by a set of shackles behind his back. The fact of his nakedness soon dawns on him, as well... not to mention that he is hard, almost to the point of pain. However, due to the numbing cold of the floor, he does not immediately notice the collar around his neck.

Sirius opens his eyes to a dim, flickering light reflecting off the smooth stone floor. The fire is too small to really do much good—either in the way of a light source or a method of heating—but it is enough to somewhat illuminate a dark figure leaning back in a chair by the wall.

The figure, clad all in black, with his legs stretched out before him and his feet propped on a wooden stool, watches him. Sirius can feel his eyes on him before he is able to make out the man's face. When he does, the realization of who fills him with a mixture of anger and dread colder than the floor he's lying on.

The flickering of the flame reflects off of eyes unblinking and the color of night... just staring back at him, perfectly aware that Sirius is now awake.

Snape doesn't move. His steepled fingers appear long and pale and malevolent in the shifting light. They regard each other in silence until Sirius moves to push himself up from the floor.

As if on cue, the other man stands and strides over toward Sirius's corner.

"What the hell is going on? Why am I here?" Sirius attempts to stand up and face Snape, who is now standing before him, but the man grabs hold of his shoulder and pushes him back down to his knees.

Snape's eyes are dark, almost blacker than black, and the subtle amusement in them is equally dark. "You are mine, and you will be allowed to stand when I say so." There is a brief pause, then he adds, "And not before."

"I'm yours? Like hell I'm yours. I—" Sirius's argument is cut short by a back-handed slap hard across his cheek.

Snape's words are nearly as sharp as his hand. "I would suggest you also keep your mouth shut unless instructed to do otherwise."

Turning his angry gaze back toward his apparent captor, Sirius snarls his reply, "I've never taken orders from you before, and I certainly don't intend to start now, Snivellus."

The look Snape gives him in return is practically dripping with hatred. But, this isn't the same sort of hate he's used to seeing in the young man. No, before there has always been an underlying twang of resentment in the glare, because there was little or nothing Snape could do about it. This time, though, the hatred is pure and raw... and dangerous.

"Wrong answer." Suddenly Snape jerks Sirius forward by the collar he is now very aware of and bends down to his level. "I will have none of that," comes the whisper.

What follows the whisper is a pain so unexpected and utterly excruciating that Sirius does the only thing he is capable of... which is to double-over, half-falling against Snape with a whimpering moan, as the man grasps his balls in one hand and twists them viciously. The pain is made even more acute by the snug-fitting harness separating his balls and keeping his length erect.

Still gripping the collar, Snape hauls Sirius back into a fairly upright kneeling position, his voice dripping with contempt as he addresses the man once more. "As I was saying. I own you. Bought and paid for, you belong to me to do with as I see fit." Then, leaning forward with his mouth alongside Sirius's ear, he whispers, "And I am sure you can tell by your state of dress that I do not intend for you to serve me tea."

Snape stands up straight again and steps back, looking down at his prize with a dark, lustful amusement. Sirius stares back at him, holding himself upright, clearly trying to fight back the pain. He’s silent, but Snape knows better than to think the man has given up so easily. He would not be the prize he is if that were the case.

Snape walks a few feet to a small table by the wall and pours himself a drink, waiting for the inevitable question to come.

"What do you mean, 'paid for,' you son-of-a-bitch?" From the sound of it, Sirius is just barely this side of able to speak.

Snape takes a small drink from his goblet and turns around. The flickering flame from the hearth glints off of the wine, casting deep red shadows across Snape's pale skin.

"'Paid for,' as in 'purchased.' Money exchanged hands, a deal was made... and you came home with me." As he speaks, Snape's gaze moves down over his captive's form in a way that makes Sirius's skin crawl and his stomach turn. Snape's tongue flicks out over his lips, creating the impression of a lion sizing up its prey, trying to decide whether to devour it or play with it a while first. Sirius is not amused by the irony of that observation.

"You were not cheap, either," he continues as he begins to circle Sirius slowly, pausing behind him to admire the view as he takes another drink from his goblet.

At the thought of Snape ogling his bare arse, Sirius tenses visibly. Though, the sight of the muscles taut across his back does nothing to discourage the man.

"If I was so bloody expensive, then how'd someone like you end up with me? As I recall, you were never exactly 'well off.'"

The hand that twists into Sirius's hair to jerk his head back violently feels as though it's trying to yank the scalp from his head. The cry of pain is out of his mouth before he is able to so much as consider biting it back. Gritting his teeth, Sirius meets the glare of the man behind him.

"I would watch my tongue if I were you," Snape warns then lets him go after another ungentle tug.

Pulling away, Sirius eyes Snape defiantly as the man finishes his circle and winds up back in front of him. He refuses to be cowed, telling himself that Snape is still the same sick, twisted, pathetic bastard he was six years ago; just as greasy, though perhaps somewhat less scrawny.

Snape goes on as if nothing has just happened, explaining, "I didn't pay for you myself. You were a gift of sorts."

"A gift? What, from your lover?" He scoffs at the thought, but Snape's delayed response makes him wonder.

"Hmm. Not precisely, no. You were a celebratory gift from Lucius. We won, after all." There is a pause, and a somewhat snake-like smile from Snape. "The Dark Lord won."

That much, at least, Sirius remembers. He remembers the day word came. Dumbledore was dead. The Death Eaters had taken control of the Ministry of Magic. One by one, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had begun disappearing. Lily was terrified for the safety of James and for their young son, Harry, not yet two years old.

Beyond that is where things get fuzzy.

"And what do you intend to do with me now that you... own me?" The words taste foul and foreign on his tongue, though Sirius is anything but resigned to his fate. The thought of Snape's pallid, naked body pressed against his own makes him want to retch.

"Well," Snape starts to answer, looking terribly pleased about the question, "I wouldn't necessarily consider myself a voyeur... but I thought I might rather enjoy actually watching you get fucked."

The look in his eye alone should normally have been enough to set Sirius off, except that the answer is positively the last thing he had expected to hear. "What, you're going to bring someone else in and let them shag me?" he asks in disbelief.

His knees are beginning to hurt from kneeling on the stone floor, and his still-hard cock—hard even despite present company and conversation—is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Terribly sorry to disappoint you, Black, but no; I never was one for sharing. I have something much better in mind." The slow smile that crosses Snape's face is disconcerting to say the least. But Sirius doesn't have time to say anything. He's fast losing consciousness before he even notices the wand in the other man's hand.


~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~


Sirius's second awakening is even more shocking than the first. He finds himself straddling something like a chair, his spread legs tied to its arms. His ankles are now locked in shackles attached to its back legs, and the matching ones on his wrists are held aloft and fastened to a chain descending from the ceiling. He is completely and utterly exposed.

"What do you think of it, Black?" the whisper comes in his left ear.

Startled, Sirius wrenches his head around and yells at Snape, "You fucking bastard! What the hell is this?!"

Snape walks around him, trailing his fingers across that tensely muscled back, and stops before him. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. "Now, now. We really can't be having any of that." Turning around, he walks to the table where he had kept his wine earlier. From here, Sirius can see some of what's on it. There is what looks like a remote control, a long leather strap attached to a red rubber ball, and a small unmarked jar. Snape picks up the leather strap and returns to Sirius, who has little doubt of its intended use.

"What's wrong, Snape? Can't stand to hear a little criticism?" Sirius scoffs; a bold move for someone in his position. "Why, you aren't even man enough to fuck me, instead of tying me up and gawking at me."

The other man merely smiles as he approaches. "Oh..." he says, "but I already have." Before Sirius is able to utter a single word in his surprise, Snape shoves the ball into his mouth and buckles it snugly behind his head.

"There. How's that then?" Sirius glares back at Snape, his angry words stifled behind the gag, but Snape just smirks. "Yes, that's much better." Going to the table once more, he picks up the remote.

"I know how fond you are of muggle devices." His back is to Sirius, but he turns as he continues, "This one has been specially modified, so it runs on magic now. Would you like to know how it works?" Sirius has a feeling he's going to be finding out whether he wants to or not.

"These," here he points to a series of buttons down one side of the thing, "control the rhythm. And these," he gestures now to several knobs next to the buttons, "control the speed ...among other things." Snape's finger hovers over one of the buttons, and he looks as though he is just itching to push it.

He raises his eyes to Sirius's. The captive man looks frankly horrified—nervous and afraid of not knowing exactly what's to come.

Smirking, Snape sets the remote down. "Of course, it wouldn't do to start the machine without a bit of preparation first." He picks up the jar from the table and removes the lid. "After all, I wouldn't want to damage you permanently." Moving closer, "I've hardly got to enjoy you yet."

Placing a hand on one of Sirius's thighs—Sirius tries in vain to flinch away from the touch—Snape moves slowly to his knees. There is a smile in his black eyes, the sight of which sends a chill through Sirius, as cool fingertips slowly stroke his thigh.

Snape slicks the fingers of one hand with the contents of the jar. That hand seems to be reaching for Sirius, but it keeps going and grabs onto something below him instead, something beyond his range of vision.

"Have you figured it out yet, Black?" Snape asks, as Sirius watches his arm move up and down. "Have you figured out what this machine does? No?" He's smirking, obviously pleased with himself, and re-slicks his fingers.

Standing up slowly, he leans in close, and Sirius loses sight of the hand while trying to pull away from that unpleasant face. "I know you're thick, but I'd have thought even you would have some idea by now," Snape whispers. Smiling, he adds, "Not to worry. You'll find out soon enough."

In the next moment Sirius's eyes go wide, and he finds out exactly where Snape's hand has gone as one slick-tipped finger seeks entrance into his arse. Despite his inability to speak, Sirius has no difficulty vocalizing exactly what he thinks of the situation with a pained and indignant growl, and he clenches hard, struggling to keep Snape out.

"You should realize," Snape says, his voice slow and smooth as he presses a little harder, his breath hot against Sirius's cheek, "the more you fight it the more this will hurt. Not that it really makes much difference to me..."

Finally, with Snape's other hand biting into Sirius's thigh, that finger breaks through the resistance with a grunt from Sirius, sliding into the tight heat all the way to the last knuckle. A myriad of expressions cross his face in a matter of moments—shock, anger, disgust, and even fear—as Snape twists his finger inside him, causing Sirius to arch back in a fruitless attempt to escape the violation of his body. The distressed sound that he makes is like music to Snape’s ears.

He continues to twist and begins pumping it in and out, careful not to let the clenching channel expel him. Eventually, he forces in a second finger with some effort, and he scissors them, stretching and working Sirius open. Snape speaks to him as he does it, and his voice is a warm whisper. "You move so beautifully, it almost makes me want to fuck you again myself. But it would be such a waste to have gone through all the trouble of making tonight perfect. I suppose for now I will have to make due with the memory of last time..."

Sirius groans his objection, opening and closing his fists as he struggles against the chain holding them fast. Snape ignores the complaint, continuing, "I wanted you so badly. When I first brought you home, I couldn't even wait long enough to get you to the bedroom. I was hard before walking through the door. I just bent you over the dining table, not even bothering to remove your chains, and used lamp oil for lube; and your gorgeous arse clamped around my fingers just the way it's doing now.

"I slicked my cock and I took you, sunk into that tight hole all the fucking way, balls deep. You writhed and you cried out, screamed at me to stop, hurling curses that did me about as much harm as a mosquito to a hippogriff. I think you even attempted the killing curse." There is dark amusement and lust in Snape's voice at that.

And the fact that he is losing himself in the memory is becoming increasingly apparent. He's taking him, burying his fingers into Sirius over and over, twisting, thrusting, scissoring, stretching. He doesn't even hear all the words coming out of his own mouth anymore. All he knows is that clenching hole, that writhing body, the whimpers of desperation ringing in his ears...

"I fucked you into that table; ground my hips into your arse while my fingers dug into your sides. And you wanted your own release so badly that you practically came just from the feel of my hand around your straining prick."

Then finally, Snape stops. His eyes are closed and he's breathing hard. He remains that way for several moments, running his tongue over his lips and waiting for the hammering of his heart to slow. Gradually, he opens his eyes and pulls his hand away, turning his gaze back to that of his wide-eyed captive who relaxes visibly but remains on edge. "I seem to have got somewhat carried away," he says with a quirk of his lips, reaching up and stroking his fingers along Sirius's jaw, leaving a glistening trail in their wake.

"How careless of me. I wouldn't want you to miss out on this." Snape gives Sirius another of those disconcerting smiles and returns to the table, again picking up the remote. "Especially since you can't actually remember what it was like last time."

Sirius's eyes are locked on Snape and that remote, knowing that it's key to whatever will happen next.

Snape makes a point of taking his time, dragging this out, enjoying the look of uncertainty on Sirius's face. He turns the first knob with a click, and Sirius flinches. But nothing happens. He turns the second knob, and then the third. Still nothing.

Smirking at Sirius, Snape holds his hand poised over the remote. "Ready then? How 'bout we start with this one." At that, he brings his finger down, firmly pressing the top button and slightly turning the knob beside it.

At first, Sirius can't tell that anything is happening, but everything becomes suddenly, painfully clear as the dildo rising up from the chair below him pushes past the resistant ring of muscle and into his arse with ease, tearing a scream from him behind his gag.

"I did warn you that it would hurt less if you didn't fight it..." Snape watches Sirius's face as his expression changes from one of horror to one of pain and anger.

The seconds seem to stretch out until the thing is as far into his arse as it's going to go, before it slowly begins to pull out. It draws out to its very tip, then pushes right back in.

Meanwhile, Snape watches in admiration as the machine does exactly what it was designed to do, set at its slowest speed, and he can't help but marvel at the ingenuity of muggles to have come up with such an extraordinary device. His eyes fall to the slick shaft as it disappears inside Sirius, then gradually reappears again. His breath catches at the thought that this is what fucking Sirius Black looks like.

Snape begins to walk slowly around Sirius, stopping to the left of him in order to watch from a different angle. "Oh, you should see yourself, Black. Incredible. It's just a shame that I don't have another of you to fuck while I watch. Or Potter at least. The two of you always were practically joined at the hip. Pity he didn't survive the attack. I don't believe they ever even found his body."

Snape continues speaking to Sirius as though they were carrying on a perfectly normal conversation, while Sirius glares and snarls, doing his best to bite back the pain and humiliation.

"Though, from what I hear, Lupin survived at least. They even found someone willing to pay for him. A Fenrir-somebody, if I recall correctly. Oh... know him do you?" Snape stops focusing on the work of the machine long enough to notice the look of dismay upon Sirius's face. It is, as he correctly guesses, due more to the name than to the hard length presently filling his arse, and the corner of Snape's mouth curls into a devious smirk. Of course he knows who Fenrir Greyback is. There are few in the wizarding world who don't know of the werewolf and his cruelty.

Snape walks behind Sirius and snakes an arm around his neck, pressing his hand to Sirius's chest so that he can feel the hammer-beat of his heart, and he leans close to whisper into Sirius's ear. "I wonder what Greyback is doing with him right now." With the remote in Snape's other hand out of Sirius's line of vision, he slowly increases the speed of the machine as he continues, "From what I understand, his tastes tend to be far more carnal than my own. You should count yourself lucky, Black."

Sirius groans, his heartbeat picking up in time with the machine's thrusts, and he tries to say something from behind his gag, something which Snape imagines to be along the lines of, "you fucking son-of-a-bitch." He casually straightens, sliding his hand up Sirius's chest, along his shoulder blade, and part-way up his arm, curling his fingers loosely around one flexed bicep.

"You don't know how thrilled I was when I found you for sale. I was surprised that someone had not bought you already. And I certainly wasn't about to pass up my only chance at having you myself."

Snape begins to move away, his hand dropping from Sirius's arm, and he continues in his path to Sirius's right. "I thought about this when we were in school, you know. Well, not this specifically, but I thought of having you, of having my way with you while you begged and pleaded for mercy... for me to let you come. I even dreamt of it on occasion."

For once, Sirius isn't yelling or screaming at Snape. Nor does he seem to be cursing him explicitly. He's still irate as hell, but with restraint, staring as evenly at the man as he can hope to in the present circumstance. Snape looks at him curiously. "Was there something you wanted to say, Black?" Sirius tries to speak, but his words are muffled. "Well, I suppose I can remove this for a while, provided you behave." Snape reaches around and unbuckles Sirius's gag, pulling it away.

It takes a moment for his jaws to readjust to their freedom, but when they do, the first thing out of Sirius's mouth in a ragged voice is, "You are one sick bastard, Snape."

Snape raises a brow. "Perhaps I made a mistake," he replies and steps forward as if to replace the gag.

"No!" Sirius pulls his head away as much as he can, desperate not to lose this small reprieve. Even as he does, the machine continues to pump again and again, and he grimaces. "...Wait!"

When Snape makes no move to come any closer, Sirius begins to wonder if maybe he was just toying with him. He decides to test the theory and risk being gagged once more.

Breathing heavily, the agony from being fucked against his will shows clearly on his face, though Sirius fights to control it in his voice. "Why— why me? You get off on the fact that I hate you? Or is it that you can't find anyone actually willing to sleep with you?"

Instead of being insulted, Snape actually looks rather amused at the questions. "I would say it's more that I enjoy getting you off despite the fact that you hate me. And I suppose I've wanted you for the same reason everyone else in school either wanted you or wanted to be you." Snape pauses, as if the answer should be obvious. Then he says, "You're Sirius Black." Leaning forward almost conspiratorially, he adds, "And if that doesn't stroke your ego," his eyes flick down and back up, "I don't know what will."

Sirius looks utterly disgusted. "You didn't answer the other question."

Snape wanders around the chair, ending up back where he started, with a perfect view of the hard shaft driving into Sirius's arse. "Please, Black. Do you honestly think you were my first lay? I said that I wanted you, not that I was saving myself for you."

Sirius sneers back at him. "I didn't say I thought I was your first," he pants, trying hard to keep his voice level, though it is an effort. "I said that I doubted you've ever had anyone willingly go to bed with you. Besides, I'm having my doubts that you ever bedded me."

One corner of Snape's mouth curls up as he replies, "You can doubt it all you like, but when that memory potion wears off, you will remember it all in excruciating detail."

He is blatantly staring now; the remote in one hand and the gag in the other, both momentarily forgotten. He seems almost mesmerized by the sight before him. That in particular gets under Sirius's skin the way almost nothing else can.

"This is a beautiful sight; nearly perfect in fact. But I can think of one thing that would make it even better..." The smile on Snape's lips is uncanny as he catches Sirius's eyes. Returning to the table, he sets down the remote and the gag and instead picks up something that Sirius can't quite make out.

"I found this beauty in a curious little muggle shop in London." Snape walks over with it hanging off one finger, standing close in front of Sirius so that he can get a good look at it. What it turns out to be is a brass ring in the shape of a coiled snake, its tail extending up at an angle with the tip bent inward.

Frankly, Sirius doesn't know what to make of it. The snake reference is obvious, but he still can't tell the object's purpose. He knows enough to be worried, though, especially when Snape looks that pleased. "What is it for?" he asks warily.

"It is a... decoration, you might say." At that Snape reaches down to take hold of Sirius's cock (rock-hard in its harness, as if he were actually enjoying all this) and slips the ring around the head. Sirius's breath catches in horror as Snape gently presses the tip of the snake's tail—Oh dear God!—straight down into his slit.

Sirius remains frozen in shock while Snape looks down admiringly, still cradling Sirius's length in his palm. "Oh yes, very nice." He glances back up with a smirk, then releases him and goes to retrieve the remote.

Eyes wide, Sirius can't move or speak for being so incredibly horrified; he tries to speak, but the words just won't come. While he continues to gape (his eyes dropping to look at the thing staring back up at him), Snape examines the remote, as if deciding what feature to use next. "You know, Black, if you let yourself relax, you might actually find yourself enjoying this."

Sirius raises his eyes to catch Snape's with a look of outrage. The anger erupts from him then, and he rages against his bonds as he screams. "Relax? Relax? LIKE FUCKING HELL! You damned little arsehole shit! Fuck me with bloody— then you shove a— a goddamned... THING in my fucking SLIT and just— FUCK YOU! You DAMNED SICK SON-OF-A-BITCH!"

For the second time tonight, the back of Snape's hand meets Sirius's cheek with a resounding crack. "You had best watch your mouth and remember your place, Black. If I didn't know better, I'd think you rather enjoyed being gagged." Snape looks dangerous in his quiet fury. "Do not think I will hesitate to use it once more should you decide to continue your little tirade."

Sirius stares back at Snape, his face stinging as he fights to get a grip on himself. At some point the bastard must have made a decision and pressed another button, because suddenly Sirius realizes the damned shaft is now spinning as it pushes in and out of him, creating an entirely new set of sensations.

They stare at each other for several long moments, the silence cut sporadically by Sirius's harsh, ragged breathing.

"I'm going to fucking kill you for this." The words come whispered through clenched teeth, Sirius's gaze burning with hatred.

Snape's voice is just as low and venomous. "You can tell me that when you're the one holding the wand." As he speaks, he pulls his own wand out and aims it at Sirius's heart. Then he slowly lifts it, catching it on the man's chin and tilting his face up to look him directly in the eye. "...Lucky for me, yours was destroyed."

Finally, Snape lowers his wand and puts it away. Making an effort to calm himself, he turns and once again begins walking the circle around Sirius, going back the way he came. "You should be grateful," he says, almost irritably, "The first time I took you, I was not nearly so concerned with ensuring your pleasure." He pauses part way around and a small smirk pulls at his mouth as he adds, "Not that you didn't still come like a fountain." He glances at Sirius, who is trembling and gritting his teeth but watching him steadily.

Snape continues walking, and Sirius asks between gasps, "If you are so damned proud of that fact, then why the hell did you give me a memory potion in the first place?"

"I wanted this to be a new experience for you —with no preconceived opinions whatsoever. But I didn't really want you to forget about your first time, either... which is why this potion is only temporary.

"I know you'd like to pretend you don't enjoy this... You've probably never let yourself experiment outside of your default setting, have you? It must be difficult to admit that maybe it isn't so very bad after all." Snape stops next to Sirius, his voice lowered to a whisper. "Go on, Black: close your eyes and feel it drilling into you... violating you... making you quiver..." His words are in Sirius's ear now, warm breath brushing its shell. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He reaches out and traces the snake's tail to where it disappears into his slit, wrenching a shuddering moan from Sirius.

Snape pulls his hand away quickly, and their eyes meet once more. Then that slow smile that Sirius has come to despise finds its way back to Snape's face. "You can't pretend that was anything other than what it was." He looks smug as he reaches again for his wand. "I think maybe it's time you were introduced to a little more of what you've been missing."

Sirius follows Snape's hand with wide eyes, not trusting him for an instant. "What are you talking about?" He tugs uselessly against his bonds.

"Patience." Snape points his wand at the floor beneath Sirius, and with a flick of his wrist he moves the chair forward a couple of inches, shifting the angle of his body.

"What— SWEET FUCKING—!" Sirius gasps and arches with the next thrust as it hits something inside of him that sends him reeling. "Merlin..."

Snape watches with interest from where he stands while the machine continues without pause. "Allow me to introduce you to your prostate. Men have been known to come from stimulation of it alone." If Sirius weren't so thoroughly distracted by these new, shocking feelings, he would probably be rather galled by the smug look on Snape's face. "Even straight men..." And the whisper is there again in his ear.

"It's incredible, isn't it? ...That something could have such an effect on you without even touching that lovely prick of yours? Just imagine how good it could be if you would let yourself give in to this..." Snape's hand moves as he speaks, until it is hovering just over Sirius's thigh.

Sirius watches him, but says nothing, his breathing erratic and barely controlled. He is loath to admit it, but he fears that real arousal may be taking him now as this spinning, thrusting, wonderful, terrible machine brushes that spot over and over.

Snape lowers his hand to rest on Sirius's leg, causing him to inhale sharply at the feel of long, cool fingers against his overheated flesh. Then he begins to stroke his inner thigh with the lightest of touches. The sensation of soft, teasing fingertips is excruciating against the brutal fucking of the machine, and Sirius twists desperately in his bonds as he tries to escape the cruel caress.

"Last time, it was my cock buried in your arse doing this to you. And next time, it will be again." The whispering stops for a moment, then so does the spinning. Snape is changing the settings on the remote again, and the next thing Sirius knows, that damned thing inside him starts vibrating. Then the rhythm changes.

One. One-two... One. One-two... He throws his head back, grinding his teeth in an effort to hold off the cry that is trying to escape him as the soft voice returns. "Your clenching hole was so snug, so tight, it was like it was made just for me. Mmm..." Snape's hum ripples through Sirius, mingling with the vibrations from the machine to send a shiver up his spine while those wicked fingers never cease their delicate torture.

"You just don't know how good it can be. To be so deep inside someone. To wrap your hand around his length and know exactly what to do because it's just like touching yourself." He trails his hand up from Sirius's thigh to finger his balls, straining and tight in their harness, and then up to gently stroke his cock. "I'm going to teach you," Snape says so quietly that the words are barely more than a hiss of breath. He flicks the tip of his tongue against the shell of Sirius's ear.

"Stop it. Damn you, Snape," Sirius gasps when he finally manages to speak. "Damn you to hell." Snape doesn't even react, the barest curve of a smile on his lips. His touch alternates between being gentle and firm, frustrating in its lack of regular rhythm. Before long, Sirius is arching and mewling from an unwanted pleasure that is so maddening, it borders on pain.

"Next time," Snape says, "I think I will have you on your back... so that I can see your face when I take you. Of course, I may have to use the gag again, which would be a shame; you look delicious with your mouth hung open that way."

Snape's strokes are becoming increasingly more firm, though no less irregular. Speech is nearly impossible now, but Sirius puts great effort into his growls. And when Snape says, "Maybe I'll have you suck on my fingers so that I can use them to open you up," he gives him one hell of snarl in response.

Every so often, Snape makes a point to brush against Sirius's balls or drag his thumb over the tip of his cock, where precome is beginning to bead and run down the metal of the snake-ring, and he savors the sounds he gets from him. Every lovely little gasp and groan is honey sweet to his ears.

"You want to come, don't you, Black? You might not care to admit it, but you do. I can feel your cock throbbing with the need for it... Shall I get you off now?"

Sirius's eyes are closed, and he moans pitifully as he actually tries to push into Snape's grasp. But Snape pulls his hand back and puts his lips against Sirius's ear, saying, "I think I would like to hear you ask me for it, Black." He lowers his voice further, "Ask me to let you come."

Sirius writhes, clawing at the chain above him. "Bastard!" he chokes out. Giving in is the last thing he wants to do. But he feels like he might die if he doesn't come soon. He holds back for as long as he can, but the need for it is just too great. "OK. God. Finish me, Snape. Please, just— ...Please."

Though he's smirking, Snape takes hold of Sirius's length without missing a beat, stroking it firmly and steadily. "You beg beautifully," he says, "I might just have you do it again next time."

But Sirius is no longer listening, instead breathing heavily, focusing on the feel of the hand on his prick, too desperate to care anymore that it happens to be Snape's. "Fuck," he whispers. His hands are balled into fists, his head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched. Every line of his body is tensed.

Finally he lets go with a scream, and he comes hard. His release fights its way past the damned plug in his slit as his bound body convulses helplessly, the intensity of his orgasm shaking him to his core. And Snape continues to pump until every last drop is milked from Sirius's spent cock.

At last, Snape turns off the machine.

Sirius slumps forward bonelessly, held upright only by the manacles about his wrists, and his body relaxes for the first time since this ordeal began. Snape lets go of him and brings his hand to his mouth. Shifting his gaze to make sure Sirius is watching, he slowly licks away the sticky white coating his fingers. "Mmm... You taste exquisite when you've just been thoroughly fucked. Like desperation and self-loathing."

Sirius follows him with his gaze as Snape goes to set down the remote. Disgust in eyes, he'd like very much to tell Snape off for the comment... but he can't bring himself to deny it. The thought that he actually begged Snivellus Snape to jerk him off makes him sick to his stomach. And adding to it that he became aroused while being forcibly buggered doesn't help matters any.

"What are you going to do now? Make me watch while you get off?" he asks when Snape returns and kneels to remove the harness.

"Actually, I'm going to bed." Snape keeps his expression calm and controlled, but he can't help showing a very subtle amusement as he looks Sirius in the eye and pulls off the snake-ring. That he would quite enjoy seeing Sirius's abused body covered with his come, Snape decides, is best left unsaid... for now.

Using his wand, he cuts through the ropes around Sirius's legs and frees his ankles from their shackles. "That's it then? That's all you're going to do to me?" Sirius looks uncertain, as if that couldn't possibly be it... as if at any moment the bastard is going to do something else even more depraved and horrible.

"That's all I had planned. But if you would like, I'm sure I could come up with something..." Snape's suggestive leer as he pushes himself to his feet causes Sirius to flinch back in anticipation of another intrusive touch. Instead, Snape grabs hold of his wrist to detach the manacles from the chain.

The instant his arms are lowered, Sirius tries to jerk free of Snape's grip, "Let go of me you bloody—" and lands on his back on the hard floor when he loses his balance. "Ow..."

Standing over him, Snape looks down and frowns. "That was an incredibly foolish thing to do." He gives Sirius a jab with his foot, earning him a grunt and a scowl. "But at least you saved me the trouble," he adds with an unpleasant smirk.

Sirius struggles to sit up, his muscles howling in pain, while Snape turns away from him and sends the machine sliding toward the wall with a wave of his wand. "You're just going to leave me here like this?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to take you to bed with me." Snape stops on his way to the door, turning to face Sirius one last time. "Oh, and— if you were planning on trying to escape, don't bother. The room is heavily warded. You're not going anywhere." With one last chilly smile and a flick of the wand to extinguish the fire, Snape walks out the door, leaving Sirius alone in the darkness.

Staring at the door, the sound of his heartbeat seems to echo through the room. Gradually, he lowers himself back to the floor, the cool of the stone chilling him through. He rolls over on his side and pulls his knees to his chest. His aching backside and sated body remind him of what he gave in to... what he begged for. He's not even queer, yet he pleaded for his abuser, his worst enemy, to get him off... and came with a mechanical cock buried in his arse. And Snape, the sick bastard doing all this to him, didn't have to so much as touch himself. How much worse does that make Sirius?

The silence is deafening. A shaft of moonlight, cold and impersonal, shines from a high window, illuminating the table by the wall and all of Snape's toys. Sirius's one remaining connection to the outside world does nothing but remind him of the bleak future that awaits. He lies there, bruised and sore, splattered with his own come; and with the shame and the shadows encircling him, he lets himself fall into an uneasy sleep.