Curses and Blessings

[lesyeuxverts]

Title: Curses and Blessings
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Beta: the wonderful svartalfur
Word Count: 2500ish
Rating: R
Pairing: Several.
Prompt: " A Death Eater birthday party -- at an S&M club. Party hats mandatory. Birthday spanking(s) encouraged." as well as "Mr. Filch is depressed that his Kwik-Spell course seems to be getting him nowhere. Someone notices and does something nice for him -- what is it?" and "Mr. Filch goes to a Muggle BDSM club and finds he's very popular for his rope suspension skills. He recognizes someone there."
Warnings: BDSM, cross-dressing, dub-con
Disclaimer: Not mine. This is fiction and is not intended to support or condone anything. I do not have Severus tied up in my basement mostly because I don't have a basement.
AN: For theentwife's birthday (very belatedly) – hope you enjoy this, hon!




Severus curses Bellatrix Black, the day that she was born, and the hapless idiot Muggle who introduced her to artificial nails. Poison red, the nails are three inches long and Severus suspects that she sharpens them with a spell. They leave faint pink marks on his skin, stinging parallel lines. With Filch watching them, Severus keeps his face impassive and refuses to react to the pain.

Bella leans forward, her tight-laced corset displaying her cleavage. "We are celebrating tonight, Mr. Filch," she says in a throaty seductive purr. "It’s the anniversary of our beloved Severus’s induction into the Dark Lord’s ranks."

Her red fingernails trace the outline of Severus’s Dark Mark, displayed like a common tattoo in this Muggle club, and Severus yanks his arm away from her. "You will not touch what our Lord has claimed as His," Severus says, the faint hum of adrenaline dancing along his nerves. He curses the day that he met Bellatrix and the day that he agreed to participate in this farce, when her hand tightens on his arm.

Agreeing to take the Mark, yes – but Severus had not agreed to submit to Bellatrix's every whim, to be the playtoy of any Death Eater with money and pure blood.

"He hasn’t marked all of you, has he?" Fingers slipping under his shirt, she draws her sharp fingernails along the soft skin of his belly, across the waistband of his trousers, along the clear outline of his cock. The scrape of her nails against his skin is delicious, painful – Severus leans into the touch and then curses his traitorous body for responding to her.

"If we’re to celebrate his anniversary properly, then Snape needs to have a spanking," Filch says with a greasy leer.

Severus leans away from the man and into the sharp cage of Bella’s nails. "There are limits to the favor that I owe you," she says, a hint of warning in her voice.

"Without me, you’d have …"

"I’m not afraid of the doddering old Headmaster, and gratitude for the convenience that you provide will only gain you so much, you witless fool. I can make my own way into the castle to see my beloved fiancé."

"With me against you, you'd have very little luck at that." Filch prods Severus’s shin with the toe of his boot and Severus parts his lips in a silent snarl, cursing Bella and the useless squib in equal measures.

"There are limits to the favor," she says again, her wand aimed at Filch.

"Fine," he says. "I want to tie him up and then watch while you spank him."

Severus casts a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, watches her chew her lip with sharpened teeth. "No permanent damage," she says. "Our Lord is unhappy when others trifle with his playthings."

Filch’s gaze darts to the ugly Mark visible on Snape’s arm, and he nods. "But he should be dressed for the occasion."

Bella drapes an arm over Severus’s shoulder, and her fingers wander down his chest to tease his nipples. He shudders at the sudden pain of her sharp nails dragged across his skin, at the dark look of glee that darts across her face.

Without looking around the club for the Muggles, Bella conjures a tall mirror, and Severus is forced to watch the changes that she inflicts on him.

One of Bella’s hands grasps Severus’s hip, pulls him back against her body where she rocks against him, her hipbones prodding his arse. Her other hand holds her wand with casual competence. Severus closes his eyes and refrains from pulling away from her.

It’s his hair that she changes first, Filch howling with glee as Bella turns it into short curly locks, shiny and clean and topped with a ridiculous Muggle birthday hat. Severus grits his teeth and curses the day that indolent, pureblooded Bella bothered to learn about foolish Muggle customs.

Lucius arrives then, at the head of a group of Death Eaters who are already drunk. They snicker and point at Severus, earning a matched set of stinging spells from Lucius. "Quiet, you lot," he says and turns to compliment Bella on her handiwork before taking a seat. His pets drop to their knees in a semicircle around his chair and Lucius relents, lifting the stinging hex from them. "Goyle, get me a drink. Crabbe, footstool. LeStrange, I want you to suck me off."

Lucius smirks at Bella and flips his pale hair over his shoulder. Severus looks up to see Bella’s glare, her fury obvious at Lucius’s theft of her fiancé.

With sharp jabs of her wand against Severus’s skin, Bella strips him of his shirt and trousers, leaving him clad in only his gray underpants. She sneers at them, tracing his jawbone with the tip of her wand, and with another jab, transforms his pants into a lacy, frilly thong.

The lace cradles his balls and frames his cock, and the silky texture of the thong is enough to make Severus weak at the knees, but he wins the fight with his rebellious countenance and remains impassive.

Lucius, with LeStrange’s head bobbing up and down in his lap, laughs at Severus. Severus feels the blood rush to his cheeks at Lucius’s mockery, and he forces himself to focus on the stretch of Rodolphus’s lips, the wet gleam of his saliva and the fleeting glimpses of his tongue. Severus curses Lucius and the extensive family fortune that promoted him through the Dark Lord’s ranks without leaving him in this humiliating position. But for blood and money, Lucius would be on his knees too, his hair in curls and his body at the whim of Bella, his misfortunes paraded in this tawdry club for any Muggle to see.

"Look at his blush, Bella," Lucius says, his hands tangled in Rodolphus’s hair. Severus watches Lucius push down on his pet’s head to force Rodolphus to deep-throat him, watches the bulge of Lucius’s cock in Rodolphus’s throat.

Bella watches them as well, her chin resting on Severus’s bare shoulder and her nails cutting deep scratches along the lines of his collarbones. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t challenge Lucius for his treatment of her fiancé, but with a flick of her wand, she conjures a new outfit for Severus.

Watching himself in the mirror, Severus bites his lip until he tastes bitter blood flowing over his tongue. The lacy thong is covered with a lacy skirt, a stiff ruffled thing that barely hides his genitals. A translucent camisole in a vivid purple that matches his birthday hat covers his torso, leaving his nipples bare. Bellatrix rubs circles around them with her red fingernails, leaving matching red circles of sticky lipstick on his neck with her sloppy, possessive kisses. Severus curses Bella, the day she learned how to apply makeup, the day she bought her first wand, and the day she learned these spells.

Filch steps forward, an eager look twisting his mouth into something like a smile, a coil of rope in his hands. "He’s beautiful like this," Filch says to Bella, tracing the curve from Severus’s jaw to his shoulder with rough fingers.

"Bind him, then," Bella orders, and gives one last rough tweak to Severus’s left nipple.

Despite the rough skin of Filch’s fingers, he is gentle, careful, precise. The ropes chafe against Severus’s skin, they apply enough pressure to spur his heart to pump faster but not enough to cut off circulation.

Severus’s heels are brought up to touch his arse cheeks, his elbows bound behind his back, each knot tied with loving attention by Filch. Severus can see Lucius Malfoy still, can watch LeStrange suck his cock and Crabbe suck his toes, but Severus’s attention is focused inward, on his blood vessels and soft tissues and their responses to the rope, to the jab of Filch’s erection against Severus’s cheek, to the stinging pain of Bella’s sharp nails drawn down his spine.

Filch is finished, finally, the ropes brushing near Severus’s nipples, near his balls, along his thighs. It is close to the friction that he needs, but it is not enough and when he feels a final thrust of Filch’s cock against his ribcage before Filch steps away, he whimpers.

Bellatrix homes in on the sound, a predator attracted to easy prey, and inserts her fingers into his mouth, wetting them with her saliva before tracing them down his spine and along the crack between his arse cheeks, lingering for a second with those sharp fingernails digging into him.

Lucius moans and pushes LeStrange away, forcing the man to a kneeling position on the floor. With a sly Slytherin grin, with his cock gleaming in the dim light of the club, Lucius beckons to Argus Filch and offers him a wand.

"I’ve heard that you’ve been having troubles with that Kwik-Spell course, Argus," Lucius says. His fingers linger on Filch's hand and his mouth stretches in a wicked smile while his hand still strokes his cock. "My Lord has ears everywhere, and has learned of your troubles. We are all saddened that a fine pure-blood like yourself should be reduced to this state. I want to help you, to encourage your progress by letting you cast a spell for once."

Filch’s eyes widen and he flicks his tongue out to moisten his lips. "Really?"

"Of course," Lucius says. "I've spelled my wand for you so that it will work. Just turn the empty bottle into anything you like and Bella there will use it to spank Severus."

Lucius passes Filch the empty fire-whiskey bottle and Severus’s eyes widen. He’s again at the mercy of the squib, and he curses Bella, curses her rash attempt to visit her fiancé that led her to owing Filch a favor.

Filch takes his time, his gaze fixed on the wand in his hand for several long moments before he turns to Severus and his expression changes. The wand remains in his hand, held with the awkward grip of a toddler clutching a favorite toy, but he ignores it and walks toward Severus. There’s something close to compassion in his eyes, and as Filch’s fingers skitter across Severus’s cheekbones, along the line of his jaw, Severus knows that the man has seen his fear.

A burning lungful of air, too much oxygen to enter Severus’s veins at one time, makes him light-headed, and he tries to freeze, tries to hold himself entirely still, but Filch is too close. The squib, the loathsome man who had so disgusted Severus, sees his every quiver of shame and fear.

There’s nothing of mockery in Filch or in the swirl of his fingertips against Severus’s face. Filch’s hands tangle in Severus’s hair for a brief moment, but the pain of the fingers caught in his tangled hair is enough to reorient Severus, to anchor him and to reassure him.

As much as the taut ropes will allow, Severus moves, leans into Filch’s touch. Underlying the sense of shame that this squib has seen his weakness, his fear, Severus finds comfort in his touch, in this care and concern that he gives without reserve, without mockery or taunts.

With an elaborate, awkward flourish of his borrowed wand, Filch turns the empty bottle into a large feather, white and soft. He stares at Severus for a moment and then turns to Bella, shrugging as though disappointed.

Severus takes a deep breath and dares to look up, thanking Filch with a brief look in his eyes. Filch nods and takes a step back, ceding his place to Bella.

Bella is not so easily appeased, and Filch's compassion comes to naught. She passes her wand over the feather, spelling it, and Severus shudders as she steps up to him.

The feather lands on Severus's bare arse like a flail, stinging with force that has been boosted with one of Bella's spells. He bucks and squirms, restrained by the ropes, and she laughs at his struggle. The feather lands again and again, Bella's nails digging into his shoulders, Bella's spell cracking open his skin. Severus's arse burns, the feather making him whimper with a fresh jolt of pain each time it lands. He bites his lower lip, and Bella stops.

Her fingernails carve out a path along his vertebrae, and Severus curses her and the day that she sharpened them.

She spanks him with her bare hands then, her long nails stinging on the fresh welts. She rubs the stiff lacy skirt against his arse until he whimpers, trying to thrust against the ropes that bind him.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Severus draws a deep burning breath when Bella stops. His rasping breath turns into a sob when the ropes are loosened and he falls to the ground.

"Cousin, I am disappointed. You know that Our Lord gave Severus to me, and when he hears of your presumption ..."

"There's been no lasting damage done," she says, reaching out to Severus again. Her poison red nails scrape against his cheek, and he bites his lips to hide a wince.

"You've marked my pet," Regulus says, "and you, Malfoy, sat there and allowed this to happen. Need I remind you –"

They interrupt him with a chorus of denials, and Filch chimes in with his own apology. Severus dares to look up through his eyelashes at them, watching them turn pale as Regulus's hands clench into fists.

"I will not forget this, you may be assured of that. If my pet has suffered at your hands, I will transfer every ounce of pain from him to you and amplify it threefold. Our Lord will hear of your disobedience. Now, leave us."

Regulus gathers Severus into his arms when their footsteps have died away into silence. With a gentle touch, he heals Severus's arse, and then restores his clothing. "Are you well?"

"Yes, Master."

Severus blesses the day that he met this man, blesses his gentle touch and his sweet words. If he's bound as another Death Eater's slave, it's a blessing to be bound to Regulus. He leans into Regulus's arms, taking comfort from his Master. "Please ..."

Stroking Severus's lank hair, pressing kisses to his temple, Regulus says, "Yes? What can I do for you, my own?"

His Regulus, blessed with blood and money, blessed with the Lord's favor had been gifted with Severus as a pet, a mere toy – and yet, there's a peace in this submission, there's a haven in his Master's arms.

"Master ... take me home?"

With a smile and a kiss, Regulus gathers Severus up and Apparates him out of the club. Severus clings to him through the disorientation, clutching Regulus's broad shoulders as they land in the Black family home with a crack.

Regulus kisses him again and carries him over to the bathtub, filling it with a spell. "Let me wash away their touch, pet. Let me pamper you and we will celebrate your anniversary here."

Severus takes a deep breath and, submerged in the soapy water, floating in a warm world where the hated touches and public humiliation are only specters, he surrenders to Regulus's touch. "As you wish, Master," he says, and with all his power, he blesses Regulus Black for his rescue.