My first real hardcore mindfucky story and my first Potter slash story. If I do say so myself, this be some heavy shit. Be forewarned, I am one sick puppy. Anyway, hardcore slash, rape, and some strictly platonic Dumbledore. If you don't like, don't read, and please, review.

Snape yelped when Yaxley shoved him face-first against the ornately carved table. He squirmed restlessly against the silver rope that bound his elegant hands together to rest at the small of his back. His long fingers flexed, his pale hands opening and then clenching again as though grabbing for something that was not there. His black eyes darted frantically around the room, from one face to another, dancing like drops of oil on water. His watery, overbright gaze fell on Lucius. He smirked at the bare desperation in Severus' voice as he spoke hoarsely.

"Please, Lucius, please don't, please," he begged, "Please, Lucius!" A snigger went around the room.

"Listen to it beg."

Oh, Lucius listened alright. He loved the sound of desperation as Severus pleaded with him, his Welsh accent becoming more noticeable. The sound of his Severus begging lit a fire in his nether regions.

Yaxley, leering, trailed his fingers down the death-pale skin of Severus' exposed back; he made a tiny, fearful sound and twitched away, shrinking against the tabletop.

"No," he whimpered—oh he was even whimpering now. Excellent. "Please don't, please don't please don't…" He whimpered, chanting like some sort of spell—though the only effect was to further arouse the onlookers. Yaxley looked at Lucius.

"Do you want to—"

"No, that's quite alright. Do have at, gentlemen, I think I will simply watch for the time being." This sentence was carefully formulated to drive the point home to Severus. He saw it in Severus' eyes that he understood the message.

You are mine. My own, my toy, to be shared like a fine wine with whomever I see fit.

Oh how sweet; Severus had begun to cry. Not properly—yet—but tears escaped his eyes and he was doing nothing to withhold them as Yaxley vanished his trousers. Lucius heard—and felt in his groin—Severus yelp as he cast a lubrication spell. Both understood that this was no gesture of compassion; Lucius merely did not wish to damage his toy too badly. He knew that the agony caused would mostly be mental anyway, and would last, so much sweeter, for much longer if the dark-haired man had no lingering pain to cling to. No way to hide from his true nature; the nature that bled out when Lucius pierced him. The Whore.

Yaxley slid fingers inside Severus and he gasped, eyes wide and then clamped shut against the invasion. Lucius watched hungrily as Yaxley twisted the digits inside, searching, and then finding the place within that Lucius had found so many times. Severus yelped in unexpected pleasure, then whimpered pathetically.

"Please don't, please not there, not there, please—"

"Oh, you like that don't you Whore?"

Severus sobbed, actually sobbed now. He shook his head frantically.

"No, please—" Yaxley ground down on it and Severus screamed, squirming. Then he sobbed, breathing harshly through his teeth, black eyes staring imploringly at Lucius.

Help me, they said. Lucius stepped back, sat languidly in his armchair in a clear response: No.

Yaxley's large hands grasped Severus' small waist roughly as he positioned himself. Severus began to panic now, squirming weakly and begging shamelessly.

"Please don't do this, please," he cried as Yaxley rested against his entrance. "Oh god, please, please don't please don't…"

"Shut up, Whore."

"Please don't please don't please don't—"

Yaxley shoved himself in; Severus screamed, sending exquisite thrills up Lucius' spine. Severus fell silent, eyes falling half-closed as he stopped struggling immediately. Yaxley slammed into him again and again, and Severus simply lay there, making small sounds of pain and anguish, tears coursing down his pale face.

"My god, Lucius, you've been holding out on us!" Lucius smirked; he knew what this kind of talk would do to his Severus. "God, it's fucking tight, I'm gonna come." This was met by cheers from the ten or so others seated and standing around him.

Severus, however, whimpered pathetically.

"Please don't come inside me…" Yaxley yanked his head back by the hair.

"You fucking whore, you should be grateful for your filthy body to be cleansed by such seed." Severus looked at him through weeping black eyes, whimpering in pain and humiliation.


Yaxley pounded in brutally, making Severus cry out, falling back onto the table. Moments later Yaxley groaned loudly, tensing, and Severus cried out in anguish. Yaxley stayed still for a moment but then pulled out, his expression one of awe.

"You have got to try that," he said to MacNair, and the large man grinned wickedly. Lucius watched hungrily as Severus' expression went from the anguish of violation to terror. MacNair was exceptionally cruel.

And cruel he was, pounding inside Severus with no thought despite his pleas for mercy, dragging harsh, blunt nails along his skinny ribs, drawing blood and making Severus try to writhe out of his grasp. When he came, Severus truly screamed, great sobs wracking his scrawny body.

Lucius held back a groan as MacNair dragged Severus down to his knees and forced him to clean the blood and come off with his mouth. Rookwood shoved him aside and proceeded to force his cock down Severus' throat. He gagged, weeping bitterly, but could not resist as Rookwood fucked his mouth until he convulsed and come spilled down Severus' chin.

Crabbe threw him back onto the table and this time Severus did nothing to stop it as Crabbe's clumsy hands grasped his shoulders. He didn't even scream when Crabbe grunted and came into him. Lucius could wait no longer.

He approached slowly, watching absolute terror and anguish fill Severus' features. Lucius grinned. He wasted no time in slipping inside Severus.

"How does it feel, little one," he purred, "to let all these fine people see what you truly are?" Severus squirmed, dread in his eyes as Lucius uttered the word he knew Severus hated himself for, the word that Lucius himself had painstakingly carved into the soft flesh just below Severus' collarbone:


"No, I'm n-not," he murmured weakly, and Lucius thought how hot it would be to crush that last glimmer of defiance. And he knew he could, because he knew Severus. He knew exactly where to touch him, bite, kiss, to make him moan like a slut and beg for release. Severus struggled weakly as Lucius employed all his knowledge against him, leaving Severus whimpering and shaking, self-loathing evident in his dark eyes. And oh how Lucius loved it.

He groaned as he felt Severus tighten around him, and went in for the figurative kill. He angled his hips just so, as he had for so long, and thrust, brutally, into Severus' prostate. He screamed, sobbing anew now.

"Please, please not there," he begged, eyes tight shut against the groans and sniggers around him. Lucius rammed into it again; Severus yelped and whimpered, gasping from the obvious pleasure.

"Come for us, little Whore, give these nice men a treat." He lowered his head, his mouth finding the place behind Severus' ear that turned his bones to gel. He smirked as Severus let out a moan, his face contorted in a heady mixture of humiliation and ecstasy. As Lucius fucked him, he moaned, whimpered, gasped without restraint.

"That's right, my shameless little Whore," Lucius purred. He felt himself nearing the edge, and Severus as well. The real fun was about to start.

"You want to come," Lucius growled, not a question but an accusation. You get off on this.

Severus sobbed weakly, hiding his face behind his curtain of inky black hair. Lucius wouldn't allow that, no cover could be tolerated if his lesson was to fully sink in. He laced his fingers through the fine, dark sheet and yanked. Hard. Severus yelped, staring up at Lucius with those sweet, tearful eyes.

"Beg me." Severus whimpered in weak protest and Lucius savored the sound like a rare wine.

"Please," he finally whispered. Lucius rammed his hips hard, "Can't hear you!" Severus convulsed.


Lucius slammed inside him just so; he knew how to make his Severus come.

And fuck, did he come. Severus' milk-white back arched, his black eyes rolled and his delicate fingers clenched into fists. He screamed in some combination of pain and ecstasy as he erupted and clenched tight enough to send Lucius over the edge.

Severus sobbed weakly into the table as Lucius pulled out. Lucius savored his anguish, pulling Severus' head back by the hair and drawing his tongue up Severus' tears-slicked cheek, then, oh cruelty, turned his head and forced his mouth onto Severus'. His Whore squirmed in protest, but Lucius took his sweet time, forcing his tongue nearly down Severus' throat.

He stared into the watery black eyes for a moment, savoring the delicious betrayal in them. Ha, a traitor, betrayed. How ironic.

And then Lucius did what he knew was to be the nail in the coffin, the cruelest thing to do given the nature of his companions.

He left.

When he came back, after a few hours, his guests were filing out. He bade each goodnight, ever the good host, and then entered the spare room. Severus lay there on the floor, curled in on himself and sobbing. Lucius sat in his armchair and watched, taking in the aftermath of his—there was no more fitting word—torture.

He admired the network of bruises all over the lean, pale body, the fingernail-cuts and bleeding bite marks. He vanished the silver ropes with a snap of his fingers, alerting Severus to his presence. He didn't start, as Lucius had expected, but looked up slowly. Not through fear, but through sheer apathy. Lucius felt it off him in waves; Severus no longer cared what was done to him. His suffering, it seemed, had reached a plateau. His lovely, inky eyes were bloodshot, heavily-lidded and haunted. Lucius beckoned with a single, crooked finger, as one would an animal. Which, for all intents and purposes, a half-breed was. To his delight, Severus managed to drag himself over to Lucius.

Lucius smirked, tilting Severus' head back for a better view of his damaged body. He relished the pained gasp as he lowered his head to the death-white collarbone and bit harshly at the scars there. He hardened as he surveyed the many marks on his Whore's body and knew that Severus would do whatever he was told.

Severus wept anew when Lucius gave him the order, but pulled his zip open with his teeth and sucked him diligently until Lucius came down his throat, Lucius' long—but never truly—healed mark gleaming in the firelight, those five letters that bound Severus to him: W-H-O-R-E.

Later, when Severus had dressed shakily and fallen through the floo to his chambers, he vomited the filthy white essence of six men. He banished the remains of the horrible fluid from his body with a spell long ago learned in restricted books, not long after learning how Lucius Malfoy liked dark-haired urchins with nothing to lose.

Later, when he stumbled into the Headmaster's office, he wept bitterly and recounted the Events, sobbing with the agony of rape heavy in his chest. He allowed himself to be held by Dumbledore, a man wise enough not to offer council but only blind comfort; a shoulder to sob hysterically into as he realized and felt fully what Lucius had done. He screwed up his face and bawled into purple velvet, screaming his anguish into an aged but strong shoulder.

Oh, the agony of being owned.