The Burning Pen

"What Was I Thinking" Series
"#3 ~ You Shouldn't Walk About in the Dark"
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 3 ~ Q & A Session #1

Hermione looked at the Death Eater jacking himself off and watching her expectantly. She had never seen a man masturbate before, but was thankful his manipulations were hidden under his robes. She was worried. She had never been good at story-telling.

“Um...I’m not that good at storytelling,” she said to the masked man.

“Really,” he said shortly as he started to rise, brandishing the dagger, “too bad for you then.”

“But, but I could tell you anything you wanted to know, if you’d ask me. That would be good, wouldn’t it?” Hermione asked desperately, perspiration rising on her brow. The Death Eater quirked his head at her, considering. Then he sat back down, and resumed his slow massage of his cock beneath his robes.

“Yes,” he breathed, “I think that would be acceptable.”

His eyes swept across her body appraisingly.

“You’re a small woman,” he observed, “how tall are you?”

“Five three,” Hermione replied, nervous under his fuzzy gaze.

The movements under his robe increased.

“How big is he?” the Death Eater asked, his breath coming in small gasps

“About six three,” she responded.

“No. How big is his cock? How long?”

Hermione hesitated.

“How long?” the man demanded, his voice becoming dangerous.

“Twelve. Maybe thirteen inches,” she said, feeling horribly embarrassed.

“That’s big. That’s very big. He must hurt you. Does he hurt you?” he asked, still working his hand up and down.

“Sometimes,” Hermione whispered, knowing the real answer was pretty much always. A good hurt, though. But she didn’t want to tell this man that. It said too much about who she was, exposed too much of her dirty little secret.

The Death Eater bent over in the chair, his hand stopping. He muttered something under his breath, and held very still. Then he took a deep breath, and straightened, looking directly at her.

“Do you like him to hurt you? To fuck you hard?” the man asked sharply, as if waiting for her to lie.

Hermione shut her eyes. This was too horrible. This man was asking her intimate questions and jerking off ... his cock in one hand, a knife in the other. A knife meant for her, and soon if she didn’t satisfy his questions. She didn’t want to die like this. She forced herself to answer.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Yes, what?” came his terse voice.

“Yes...I like him to fuck me hard, “ Hermione answered, her eyes starting to well up as the man started to work his hand again.

“Why?” the man asked, his hand moving faster.

Hermione half raised her head off the bed. “Why what?” she responded, not understanding the question.

“Why do you like him to fuck you hard, there’s got to be a reason,” the Death Eater grimaced, “other than you like it.” He looked hopeful. Dangerous and hopeful.

Hermione studied him, took a breath and decided the truth would be the best response. So much for secrets.

“I’m a masochist. I need pain to...to be satisfied.”

The Death Eater threw his head back. “Yesss,” he breathed. He was silent for a moment, leaning back forward, his hand active beneath his robe, the dagger in his other hand slowly slipping. He started rocking his body.

“Does he beat you? Whip you? Do you like pain like that?”

“No, he only fucks me the way I need. That’s enough. We don’t do those other things. He’s enough by himself, “ she said, her voice low, wondering what would happen when he came.

“Tell me where he fucks you, what parts of your body?” he gasped, his robes rising and falling with his efforts. “I know your pussy. Your mouth?” he asked, studying her full lips as he worked his hand frantically.

“Yes,” she answered, becoming frightened by his ardor.

“Can you swallow him?” She couldn’t see it, but she was sure the man’s eyes were glazing.

“With help...a spell,” she answered, feeling just as violated as if he were touching her.

“A spell...: he groaned. “Your ass? Does he fuck you there too?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Damn.” the Death Eater said in his wavering voice. He leaned back in the chair, kicking his legs out in front of him and groaned, his hand motion stopping as his body stiffened. Hermione noticed little bouncing movements beneath the fabric...he was coming. Gods. Was he going to kill her now that he got off?

The Death Eater’s head dropped to his chest, and he shuddered a little. He rested that way for several minutes, then his head lifted and he stared at Hermione. He removed his hand from beneath his robes, wiping it on the outer fabric. He stood up and walked over to the bed, lifting the dagger. Hermione closed her eyes, sure that death had come for her.

“Oh, Severus,” she thought.of him. How distraught he would be at her death. Tears filled her eyes at the idea of her lover without her. He had gotten used to her, opened up to her and now...now she wouldn’t be there for him. And she knew he would blame himself, for not being here. She wouldn’t be able to tell him it wasn’t his fault. How cruel was that?

The Death Eater brought the dagger down and sliced through the white fabric of her t-shirt, barely grazing her skin. The tight cotton sprung away, exposing her full, hard-tipped breasts.

“You lay here for a while,” he said, making no attempt to touch her. Instead, he turned and pulled his chair back to the perimeter of darkness, and settled there in the shadows, falling silent. But Hermione still could hear him breathing heavily.

Then she heard him softly say, “Scourgify.”


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A/N: well...we have some “dimensions” now...wow. Wowee. Severus should be a porn star. Long John Silver got nuthin on him. “The Big Bat” perhaps?

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