Le Vide

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//-->Le VideWhen he forces your legs apart and lifts them up, you don't complain. You can't. The harness holds you open,warm leather damp with sweat under your knees, your thighs quivering even though you don't want them to be.You hate this. You hate it. You think of Dumbledore empty-eyed in his cell, sucking lemon drops like a child; youthink of Voldemort in Dumbledore's office, the coiling snake taking its place where Fawkes used to be. You thinkof ice-cream and Hermione and how she'd kissed you on the train before this year began; you think ofeverything, anything, but you can't think of Snape's hands on your skin.Snape murmurs something--maybe it'sbeautiful,maybe it'sgood--butyou're neither, not beautiful because thethought of how you look right now is ugly to you, and not good because your cock is already half-hard andgetting harder, as though the slight lift of Snape's smile is a puppet-string attached to your penis, sayingup, up,up.It's not even a potion this time. He doesn't need that to get you hard anymore.You wonder if you should fight again, scream, struggle--but you know that makes it sweeter for him, harsher,and worse for you because it's worse to have your voice heard but notlistenedto, it's like being a ghost in yourown fucking body, in the body that's being fucked, and you sayno no nobut Snape saysyesandthat one wordoverrides all your protestations, and it's worse to know that no one cares about your voice anymore or what itsays because you're aholenow, justgood warm tightand you're such a good little whore and you say no butwhen Snape's hand closes about your cock you come despite yourself.You jerk your head aside when he tries to kiss you but he licks at the sweat on your neck instead, undaunted,mouth closing softly and sucking and maybe he is vampire after all. His tongue feels wrong and foreign and weton your skin, like it always does, and you can't help twitching like a horse thinkinggetit off me get it off,butyour prick's hardening even further now, and the hot scrape of his tongue over your nipple makes you whimperthrough clenched teeth.You don't have to look to know that he's smiling.He prepares you gently, so gently even though you know how rough he can be--and he likes it that way, likeskeeping you on edge, likes seeing your thoughts fritter tight with worry,will he fuck me dry don't fuck me dryplease don't don't don't,and he's rewarding you for being a good boy, for being a good whore, for taking itwithout complaint and that makes it worsebetter somehow, it feels likeleave me don't touch me please touch meget inside me nownownow.He obliges.He enters your mind even as he enters your body, the hot glide of his cock too smooth for discomfort and toomuch at home in the hole it's used to filling. That's all you are, a hole stretched tight and right and aching,nerves going off in slow sparks all along your anus and prostate and right up to your thighs, across your bellyand throat so that you have to arch your back and moan. His cock feels too big inside you, like always, his mindtoo thin as it slips past your torn defences--you feel him breathing through your thoughts, smothering, smug, ashis breath is warm and ugly on your face.Fuck me,you say to his mind,fuck you just fuck me,and he does, thinking familiar sneering words atyou,Harry Potter our little celebrity humbled broken sullied fucked mine Potter mine,but as he fucks youharder his thoughts start to splinter and you lose even your name, until at the very last you're nothingbutwhore, filthy little whore, deserve this, good good so good fuck good yes.The jerking stops and the harness stops creaking. Your back's hot with friction against the padded table andyour hole is hot with come, and you're filled so deep that you wonder if the salt in your throat is bile or sperm.He draws out of you slowly, breath uneven, eyes glazed but sharpening as they find your face, mouth lifting intoa sneer again when he rubs his soft cock along your thighs, wetting them. Lukewarm. Sticky.He hasn't pulled out of your mind yet.That means he's going to make you come again.You want to close your eyes but you know you can't--he wants you to watch him, to watch his face, watch histhoughts as he watches yours, feel his amusement at your foreknowledge,you're quite the accomplished littleslut now, aren't you.He likes you knowing what he's going to do, and dreading it; he likes hearing some distantpart of your mind whispernoeven though you stifle it as much as you can. He likes you pliant and moist anddirty on the table, and he likes your cock when he touches it, the shape of it and the hardness and the heat, andhe doesn't lean over you anymore but just stands there, by the side of the table with his penis still soft andglistening, his hand around your prick. Fingers still slippery with oil. He likes it and makes sure that you knowhow much he likes it, showing you his thoughts of it, and then he says things to you too, with his mouth, thingsabout Dumbledore or Lupin or how Lucius Malfoy likes fucking Ron Weasley who likes being fucked, red haircurled tight in Malfoy's white fingers, freckled hips jerking. He says these things, talks about Hermione's bodyout in the cold and how Longbottom died trying to save her, stupid fool; he says these things as he strokes yourcock, as he milks pre-come from your leaking slit and slides it around, over and under your foreskin, hot smoothshifting that sends your gaze out of focus. You're thinkingI hate you I hate youandplease stop talking pleaseno Hermione please,and he's thinkingyes,and his mouth's still saying those things, but perhaps he getsdistracted because in the moments before you come he's talking about Lupin again, repeating what he's saidbefore, but it doesn't matter and it doesn't matter and when you come your hips surge off the table and theharness creaks again, and you hear someone gaspingyes, yes, yes,and the voice in your head saysgood goodyes beautiful such a good boy,and you're fading out again, the harness lowering your legs to the table, andyou're not thinking because the world's gone white, white at last, and maybe the words in your head are yourwords after all.FIN [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]