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The membership secretary of the Inferno Club leaned back in his chair as he studied the parchment in his hand. His eyes flicked over to the nondescript young man sitting on the other side of the desk, back to the paper, and then he nodded. "Well, Mr Black," he said, sitting up in his chair and looking squarely at the young man. "Everything appears to be in order. I see no reason not to approve your membership. If you are quite certain."
The young man nodded. "I am."
"You understand that once you enter a Circle, you will have to remove all your clothing and any concealment spells or enhancement charms?"
"I do," Mr Black said firmly.
"You also understand that you will have to completely submit to the will of your Guide for the journey? There is no going back once a Journey has begun."
"Yes."
The secretary looked back at Black's form. "You have listed very few restrictions. Are you certain about this? Some of our Guides can be very…thorough."
"I'm certain," Mr Black said, with no trace of hesitation in his voice.
The Secretary shrugged. It was no concern of his if a foolish young man got in over his head, and it wouldn't harm the Circle's already shady reputation even if things went bad. "Very well. Sign here," he said, laying the paper on the desk and indicating a line at the bottom.
"Mr Black" affixed his signature, then the secretary took back the paper and dropped it into a slot in the wall behind him. A few moments later, the slot spat out a small piece of parchment, and the secretary studied it.
"It appears that we have an acceptable match for your particular request," he said. "Lord da Montefeltro, one of our best, in fact. Follow me."
The young man followed the secretary through a door in the back of his office, down several flights of stairs, and then along a winding corridor. Finally, the secretary opened a door and gestured for his companion to enter.
"Remove all your clothes and put on one of those loin-cloths," the secretary said, gesturing toward a stack of linen sitting on a bench against the back wall. "Be sure to end all enchantments. Your Guide, whom you will know only as Lord da Montefeltro, will be with you shortly."
The young man nodded and the secretary closed the door, sealing it against all but the Guide's entry. Having thus disposed of the newest applicant to the Inferno, he headed back towards his office and his belated tea.
* * * * *
Harry Potter breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind the secretary, and he dropped the glamour he'd cast over himself. It was a relief to feel like himself again. He wasn't worried about his Guide recognising him; the Inferno club had a reputation for being discreet so he wasn't worried about scandal. The Inferno also had a reputation for allowing a level of play that would have alarmed the members of most other SM clubs, but Harry wasn't worried. He could take care of himself, and he'd learned to handle a lot of pain. What he couldn't handle was the unbearable stress of the last two years, all the lives that had been lost, all that he'd had to do, to become, in order to defeat Voldemort. All the expectations that people, like Ginny, had had of him, expectations that he’d been unable to meet.
Harry pushed all of that to the back of his mind for the moment and turned to the mundane matter of stripping off his clothes. Setting his clothing on the shelf provided, he picked up one of the linen cloths and snorted as he realized that it was meant to represent a simple slave's loincloth. He dutifully wrapped the cloth around his body and secured it.
That accomplished, he looked around the room, checking for anything unusual or suspicious. There wasn't much to look at: a standard collection of props and accessories was scattered about the room, including a rack-like frame that appeared to be the room's preferred device. The table along the opposite wall attracted his attention, and Harry crossed the room to look at it. A dozen implements were carefully laid out on the surface, and as Harry picked up one of the heavy floggers, he could tell that these were the personal property of this room's Dom, not club equipment. They were expensive, well-used, and equally well-cared for, and he felt a tingle of anticipation as he set the flogger back down.
Just as he did that, the door was flung open. "Welcome to the Eighth Circle of Hell, Mr Black," said a smooth, silky voice, a voice so familiar that Harry swung around in shock and stared at the man in the doorway. A similarly stunned expression appeared on the man's face and he said in a disgusted tone, "Oh, bloody hell. What are you doing here, Potter?"
"I might ask the same of you, Professor," Harry said bitterly, "except I know the answer. You were supposed to be dead. Was that another game of Dumbledore’s to get me to sacrifice my life?"
Snape frowned as he closed the door behind him. "If you viewed the memories I gave you, then you know that I would not be part of such a game. I did nearly die; only Madam Pomfrey’s unexpected arrival saved my life.”
“And you didn’t say anything to anyone? To clear your name or get back your job? For two years?”
“At the time, most of the wizarding world was out for my blood,” Snape replied sharply. “And I was well shot of Hogwarts as well. I had better things to do with my time than trying to regain what I had lost.”
"Like what?" Harry sneered. "Working part-time at an SM club?"
Snape stiffened. “I will have you know that I own this place and only work the contracts that interest me. It is an appalling coincidence that yours happened to be one of them. One might ask what you are doing in what is certainly a questionable establishment.”
Harry gave him a disbelieving look. "I would think that's obvious. I'm not here by mistake, if that's what you're asking."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "You've done this before?"
"Not here, no, but I've experimented quite a bit, been to a few Muggle clubs."
Snape sneered at him. "This isn't a Muggle club where you can safe-word out when you get scared, Potter. Have you any idea how dangerous the Inferno is?"
Harry lifted his chin. "I've heard, and I'm not scared. I can handle myself.”
“And what does Mrs Potter think of your hobby?”
Harry stiffened. “There isn’t – Ginny and I didn’t get married, which you’d know if you followed the Daily Prophet.” He turned back to his pile of clothing, picked up his shirt, and tugged it over his head.
"And what do you think you're doing?"
Harry frowned over his shoulder at Snape. "Getting dressed. I can hardly walk out of here dressed in a loincloth."
"Leaving so soon?" Snape asked as he leaned against the door and crossed his arms. "I don't think so."
Harry gave him a questioning look. "I don't understand."
"The facts are simple, Mr Potter, even for you," Snape said as he prowled towards Harry, who had to admit that the man looked good, no he looked great. Close-fitting black leather trousers accentuated his long, lean legs, and his loose black shirt seemed to flow over his chest. Glamour of some sort had been cast over his clothing, making it look as if flames were dancing across them and, as the flames highlighted the substantial bulge at Snape's groin, Harry bit back a moan and sternly admonished his prick. There was not a chance in Hell that Snape would want to go through with this. Considering his location, Harry was momentarily amused by that thought.
"You signed a contract and were assigned to me,” Snape said, his voice smooth and dark. “That contract clearly states that such decisions are in the hands of the Guide. Which, in case you are unclear, would be me. And I intend to fulfil the terms of that contract. Completely."
Harry blinked. "But - you hate me! Why would you want to - to play with me?"
"My personal feelings are hardly relevant in this situation."
"Well, pardon me for not wanting to put myself in the hands of someone who'd just as soon see me dead!" Harry retorted, ignoring the part of his brain that was telling him to just shut up, drop to his knees, and open his mouth.
Snape's eyes flashed. He advanced on Harry, the flame pattern accentuating his lean body as he walked. Sex on a stick, Harry thought, and once again ordered his prick to behave. He backed up until his back was pressed against the wall.
"Contrary to what you may believe, Mr Potter, I have no desire to see you dead. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Harry stared defiantly at Snape. "Even if that's the case, why should I stay?"
Snape leaned forward until his face was only inches away from Harry's. "Because you need what I can give you," he said, in a voice so dark and low that it made Harry shiver. "Because you need someone to take you down, turn you inside out, and make you forget. Someone who doesn't care that you are 'Famous Harry Potter'. Someone who can give you absolution."
Harry felt his body respond to that voice, to the promises implicit in the words, even as he said bitterly, "No one can do that."
"Ah, but I can try."
Harry frowned but he had to agree with Snape's assessment, however reluctantly. He raised his chin and gave Snape a defiant look. "I won't make it easy for you."
Snape nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to. Now, are you staying," he asked, leaning even closer so that his lips were next to Harry's ear, "or are you leaving?"
Harry's mouth felt suddenly dry. "Staying," he managed to say.
"In that case," Snape said, taking a step back. "Let us begin." He seized Harry's shirt and ripped it open.
"Hey!" Harry protested indignantly. "That's my shirt!"
"Was," Snape said, dropping the tattered remnants on the floor. "I believe you were instructed to disrobe completely when you arrived in this room."
"That doesn't give you the right - " Harry began.
Snape reached out and grabbed Harry by the throat, startling more than hurting him. "I have every right, boy, and you have none. Do you understand?"
Wide-eyed, Harry nodded, and Snape released him. "Take that off." He gestured at the loincloth and Harry flushed, embarrassed at the idea of standing naked in front of his former teacher. "Well?" Snape snapped. "Are you going to do as I say, or do I need to punish you first?"
Slowly and reluctantly, Harry unfastened the garment and dropped it to the floor.
"Hands at your side, feet apart," Snape instructed and Harry obeyed. He stared straight ahead at the wall, trying to ignore the man who was circling him now, inspecting his body. It was hard to do as Snape was running his fingers over Harry's skin, testing his muscle tone. He flushed even more as Snape ran a finger along his penis and it responded immediately, eagerly, to his touch.
"Well, well, well, Potter," Snape said, smirking. "What have you been hiding under your robes all these years?"
"One could say the same for you," Harry snarled, embarrassed by his body's betrayal.
"Sir," Snape snapped at him. "In this room, you will address me at all times as sir or master."
Harry glared at him defiantly, in his mind suddenly thrown back into those days when he had been a student. "Make me."
Snape seemed to have been expecting this. Before Harry had a chance to say anything or to make a move, Snape had grabbed one arm and twisted it behind the young man's body. Using this leverage, he forced Harry over to the rack, then quickly fastened the straps to Harry's wrists and ankles. Harry snarled and pulled against the restraints, but they were fastened too securely.
He gave up, panting for breath as Snape stepped close, only a breath away. "There are no safe words here, boy," Snape said in a voice that demanded attention. "Once I begin, I will stop when I'm ready, and not before. Knowing that, do you wish to end this now? It will be the last time that I ask you."
Harry glared at him. "Do your worst - Sir."
Snape smirked. "You'll learn to call me that in earnest before long, Potter."
Harry gasped as a hard hand smacked him across the arse and he bucked in his restraints. He loved the burning sensation, craved it, but few of his previous partners had been willing to spank him hard. Snape apparently had no such qualms.
He heard a low laugh from Snape and glared at him again. "Fuck you!"
"That is another thing you will learn," Snape said, walking away, to the implement table. "You're the one who gets fucked, and I'm the one who decides when and how and if you're allowed to come."
He returned with a cock-ring and took Harry's prick in his hand. Harry swore again and struggled, trying to get away from the hand expertly stroking him to hardness. "You'll come when I say you may. And that will be when you are begging me to let you come, after you've begged me to fuck you." Snape fastened the cock-ring around Harry's prick. "And that will be after I've beaten you and you're begging for more."
"Never!" Harry growled.
Snape laughed, an ominous sound to Harry. "Never say never, Potter." He circled Harry's trapped body, and Harry jerked his head around, trying to follow Snape's movements. The Guide ran his hands over Harry's back, across his arse, then stroked a single finger over Harry's opening. Harry shivered involuntarily, and Snape smacked his arse again.
"Hold still, boy," Snape ordered and, as something else brushed against Harry's opening, he realized Snape had somehow acquired a plug and was slowly pushing it into him. He yelped and squirmed, ostensibly to get away
from the toy but managing to push it deeper inside. "Damn it, brat, would you be still?" Snape growled, smacking Harry again.
The swat made the plug move inside him and Harry moaned in pleasure, then turned to glare at Snape. "Make me, damn you!"
Snape gave him a look that made him want to shiver and moan at the same time. "I intend to."
Harry watched as Snape walked over to the implement table again and appeared to consider the items there for a moment. He picked up a heavy flogger, and Harry found that he was suddenly breathless with a combination of fear and anticipation. Harry closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact.
The stroke landed squarely across his backside, jarring the plug again. "Shit!" he gasped, his body tingling from the unexpected sensations flooding it.
Snape smirked. "Go ahead and yell, boy. These rooms are sound-proof. No one's going to come rescue you, no matter how loud you yell."
"Thank God," Harry muttered, trying to control his breathing. Snape had definitely not pulled his stroke and an interesting tingle was running up Harry's back. He wanted more of that and, when nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, he turned his head and glared at Snape. "What – lose your nerve, Master?"
In response, Snape laid down a series of stokes across Harry's back and buttocks, starting heavy and increasing in intensity. Harry gasped under the first assault, and then, as the blows intensified, he groaned and writhed in his bonds. The pain/pleasure was more intense; he grunted and swore under his breath during the first passage, then, as Snape started a second round, began yelling in earnest, his shouts mixed with swear words. His body was throbbing all over, his mind was clearer than he could ever remember, and he never wanted this to end. When Snape paused at the end of the second round, Harry wanted to snarl at him to keep going but he was
too breathless.
"Had enough?" Snape asked, pulling Harry's head up by the hair. He held a straw to Harry's lips and Harry thankfully took a few sips of water. "Well, boy?"
Harry had never been so hard in his life, and he wanted nothing more at the moment than to feel that big cock he could see tenting Snape's pants, but he knew it was too early in the game to give in. "Go to hell!" he snapped back, although his voice was slightly breathless.
Snape let go of his head and stepped away. "Wrong answer, although I can make your arse feel as hot as hell." He pulled out a small paddle, took position behind the bound man and smacked first the left, then the right cheek hard one time.
"Damn!" Harry swore. The paddle had been unexpected, as was the strangely enticing heat he could feel on his arse cheeks, heat that he wanted to feel again. His need trumped his pride, and he began begging as he tried to move to meet each stroke. "God – more!" The paddle struck him again and again, in a seemingly unending series of swats, alternating between cheeks. He begged with each stroke – to be given more, to be fucked, to be allowed to come, anything - his pleas all mixed up together.
Just when Harry was beginning to think Snape was never going to stop, he realized that the stinging swats had ended. Snape lifted his head again and Harry gratefully swallowed the offered water.
"Do you have anything to say to me, boy?"
Harry was still trying to breathe; his arse felt as if it was on fire, and his prick was so hard that he thought he might explode if he didn't get relief soon. If Snape ended their game now, he thought he'd die. He ran his tongue over his lips, searching for more to drink, and the low laugh he heard made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Thirsty, Potter? I'll give you something to drink."
That sounded promising, and Harry licked his lips again. He heard the sound of a zipper and opened his eyes. Snape was standing by his head, and as Harry automatically opened his mouth, he sneered, "What a slut you are, Potter. You don't care if I fuck your mouth or your arse, just as long as you get either or both filled. Am I right, boy?"
Harry shut his mouth, grinding his teeth together as he flushed in a combination of lust and embarrassment. The idea of having Snape fuck his mouth while the plug fucked his arse was overpowering, but he’d be damned before he admitted that to Snape so early.
Snape grasped his jaw and forced his mouth open. "Take it, Potter," he ordered. "And make a good job of it, or I'll make you regret it."
Harry glared at him but readily accepted the thickening prick. He decided that he'd show that arrogant bastard a thing or two. He’d been taught how to suck cock by experts during the past two years, and he was confident in his ability to reduce nearly any man to a puddle.
Harry slid his mouth forward, relaxing his throat, and sucked hard. Snape gasped and bucked suddenly but Harry was ready for him and held on, determinedly sucking and stroking the hard shaft with his tongue. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked, taking the long prick into his throat and swallowing, then sliding back to breathe and tease the shaft with his tongue. He could feel Snape’s body responding to his ministrations, and it was a heady feeling.
Snape finally pulled away. "Enough, boy," he growled.
Harry couldn't help a smug smile at the shaky note in his Guide’s voice, and Snape snarled, "Pretty damned pleased with yourself, aren't you, Potter? Proud of how good you are at sucking cock? Think that all you have to do is open that pretty mouth of yours and you can control me?" He lifted Harry's head up by the hair again. "Do you think to own me, boy?"
Harry flushed; the last thing he wanted was to be the one in charge here but it was hard to truly surrender. "No, Sir."
Snape released Harry's head again and moved around the bench to smack Harry's arse, hard. "Don't lie to me, boy."
Harry gasped as the smacks jarred the plug again. "I'm not!" he protested. "I swear I'm not! I just want you to fuck me."
"Beg me, boy," Snape ordered. "Tell me how much you want this. Show me what a good little whore you are."
Harry ground his teeth together but managed to say, "Please – fuck me – please. Sir."
"Your lack of enthusiasm leaves much to be desired, Potter," Snape retorted. "Perhaps a taste of the whip will make you sing another tune."
Harry thought his heart would explode out of his chest, and his mouth went dry as he watched Snape move toward the table again. "Please, sir," he said, knowing that he was shamelessly begging but unable to help himself. "You don't need to do that. I'm begging you - fuck me. Please."
"You should have thought about that earlier," Snape replied as he uncoiled a single-tail whip. Harry thought he'd never seen anything as big, as deadly looking, as that, and he swallowed hard.
Snape waved his hand and the rack tilted up, so that Harry was now perpendicular to the floor. Harry thought about begging to be spared the whip but bit his lip to keep the words from spilling out. He had vowed that he could take anything Snape cared to dish out, and deep inside, he wondered what it would feel like.
Snape shook out the heavy coiled whip, swinging it back and forth to work out the kinks. The whip cracked in the air, a sharp sound that echoed off the walls and made Harry shudder in his bonds.
“I’m going to begin now, boy,” Snape said, and Harry was surprised that he could hear the man’s voice over the sudden rushing noise in his ears. “You may scream, you may beg, but I will determine how many lashes you receive and when I end your punishment. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Harry managed to get out between dry lips.
He had barely forced out the word before there was another crack in the air and a sudden sharp tickle on his left shoulder-blade. A moment later, Harry caught his breath at the sharp stab of white-hot pain. That was eclipsed by an equally sharp wash of pleasure, and Harry groaned as his half-hard cock surged to full hardness again.
Another crack, another lick of pain, this time to his right shoulder. Harry shuddered and shook, crying out with the bliss-pain, hoping for more and yet afraid that it would get worse, that he wouldn’t be able to take it. A third crack, then a fourth, each one landing squarely in the middle of his burning arse cheeks, driving him up onto his toes and he tried to get away from it at the same time as he revelled in the pain. The strokes were repeated again, one on each shoulder and cheek, lighting him on fire and making him feel harder and needier than he could ever recall feeling. He was shaking and begging to be fucked long before Snape tossed the whip aside and moved up behind him.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Potter,” Snape growled. “I'm going to shove my prick up your arse and fuck you so hard you'll see stars."
"Yes!" Harry panted. "Yes – now – please – "
Snape pulled out the plug, tossing it aside to be cleaned later. He pushed two lubed fingers inside, as if judging whether Harry was loose enough to take him. He rolled on a condom and coated it, then slid in with one smooth glide.
"God!" Harry groaned. "Fuck me! Fuck me now, dammit!"
Snape pulled all the way out and smacked Harry's arse once. "You're not the one giving the orders here, boy." He thrust in again, hard, and pressed against Harry's back, his barely opened fly rubbing against Harry’s tender arse. "Who’s in charge, boy?"
"You are, Sir," Harry managed to gasp.
"That's right, and every time I thrust into you, I want to hear you say my name. If you miss, I'll pull out and blister your arse some more. If you do it right, I'll let you come when I'm finished with you." He pulled out and thrust back in. "Get me, boy?"
"Yes – Severus."
"That's right." Snape pulled out and thrust back in, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from groaning out the man’s name. It was so good, so delicious, and he hoped that it would last forever at the same time that he hoped he’d be allowed to come soon.
Snape set up a steady rhythm, thrusting as Harry chanted his name, and it was too much, too hot for either of them to last. With a shout, Snape exploded deep inside Harry's body, thankfully retaining enough sense to unfasten the cock-ring so that Harry could come as well before he collapsed against Harry's back. Orgasm overtook Harry, and he was vaguely aware of the shudders that wracked both their bodies. Harry couldn't have stopped the smile that covered his face to save his life.
A few minutes or a lifetime later, Snape managed to pry himself up off Harry's back and pull out, and Harry was vaguely aware that he was being wiped down by a damp cloth. He was still breathing hard and shuddering, and he barely noticed when Snape unfastened him.
"Harry," Snape murmured into his ear. "I'm going to move you over to the bed now."
Harry gave him a tired grin. "Whatever you say, Sir,"
Snape looped an arm around his waist to hoist him up. "Are you always this agreeable after you've been beaten and fucked, Harry?" he asked, a trace of humour in his voice.
Harry flopped down on the bed on his back, winced, and rolled to his stomach. "Must be a character flaw, Sir."
Snape chuckled, a low, rich sound, and suddenly Harry found himself close to tears for no apparent reason. He buried his face in the bedding, but it was no use.
"Easy, Harry," Snape said soothingly. "It's all right. Just relax and let it all go."
“S-sorry,” he choked out. “ ‘m an idiot.” He wanted to be invisible, he wanted Snape to leave so that he could pull on his clothes and go back to his empty flat, and hide his weaknesses from the world again. Anything but give in to the sobs that wanted to escape. Once he started crying, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and he had too much atoning to do. For all the lies, no matter how good his intentions. For the times someone else had died in his place, while he had been helpless to do anything about it. For the normal life he had tried to live and all the people he’d hurt when it became clear that he couldn’t.
But Snape wasn’t allowing him to hide, any more than he’d allowed Harry to run the show earlier. Harry was barely aware of Snape pulling him close to his own body, nor that he was saying everything out loud, all his perceived sins flooding out of his mouth, unstoppable. Snape was letting him talk, letting him purge all the pain out of his heart. His hands ran over Harry’s body, soothing rather than enticing now, forcing him to accept comfort.
"It's all right, Harry," Snape murmured softly. "You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders - you can let it go for a while."
After several minutes or hours, Harry’s sobs eased, the heavy weight of guilt lifted from his shoulders – for a while, at least. Now, as his mind cleared, he felt a little flush of embarrassment at how he’d reacted, but not enough not to contemplate a future encounter.
He knew that he should pull himself together, put on his clothes and leave, and he tried to rouse himself to do so.
“S’vrus?” he murmured. “Should…go.” He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to curl into the warmth and protection offered by the other man. He wanted to lay his head against that firm chest, to close his eyes and sleep, to truly rest for the first time since defeating Voldemort.
Snape took the decision out of his hands, as he had since Harry had entered the Circle. He lay down on the bed, pulling Harry with him and settling the younger man against his side with his head on Snape’s chest. His fingers slowly carded through Harry’s dishevelled hair, soothing him and making his exhausted body feel heavy and content.
“Sleep, Harry. It’s all right; you are safe here, and I won’t leave as long as you need me.”
As he drifted into sleep, Harry thought that was the first mistake that Snape had made. Harry knew that he would need Snape for a long, long time.
The End