SD: CH169 - A STUDY IN SURRENDER

Some people craved the sweet pleasure of submission. Some wanted the heady sting of pain. Some had no choice. For some, the darkness inside

Some people craved the sweet pleasure of submission. Some wanted the heady sting of pain. Some had no choice. For some, the darkness inside could only be eased with the dangerous games they played with predators.

Cho fell in at least one of those categories. Or perhaps, all of them.

She knew it. Had known it for years. 

Ever since she first imagined what it would feel like to be made to kneel. 

It used to scare her — that thought. The quiet hunger curled up in the base of her spine, whispering fantasies in the dark. Hands at her throat. Commands in her ear. Skin flushed, bound, bare.

And not because she was weak. But because it felt like freedom.

Because it meant she didn’t have to be perfect anymore.

She could be messy. Raw. Open.

She could belong.

Cho had kept those thoughts in a locked box behind her polished smile and Ravenclaw uniform, behind clever glances and perfect posture. No one ever suspected.

Not Cedric. Especially not Cedric.

He touched her like a museum piece. Like he was afraid she’d break if he pulled too hard, held too long, whispered anything dirty. He wanted her soft. Graceful. Sweet. He didn’t want the part of her that ached to be bent over an altar and used like a prayer.

But Harry...

Gods, Harry.

Harry had looked at her like he knew. Like he had seen every filthy thought she’d ever tried to drown in textbooks and tea. Like he knew what she was hiding the moment she tilted her chin and tried to pretend she wasn’t begging for him to grab her by the throat and remind her what her body was for.

He hadn’t just touched her. He’d marked her.

Like skin remembered ownership. Like fate had stitched his name into her somewhere she couldn’t reach.

And now, every part of her was hungry.

She wanted his hands on her hips, pulling her back as he whispered that she was his. She wanted to hear her own breath break when he told her she couldn’t come unless she asked. She wanted to kneel, open her mouth, and feel the weight of him on her tongue like a sacrament.

She wanted to be held down, not because she couldn’t fight — but because she didn’t want to.

She wanted the rules stripped away. 

She wanted her name to stop mattering.

She wanted to be taught obedience. 

She didn’t want romance. She didn’t want flowers. She wanted a bloody collar and a whisper that said good girl when she earned it.

She wanted to crawl, just once, and look up and say, please.

And for Harry to smile and say, prove it.

“What I do… it isn’t just pleasure. Or pain. It’s a rabbit hole so deep down, that before you know it, I will own you.”

Her thighs went damp at his words. Her mind… burning.

She was terrified. She was ecstatic. 

But above all, she was ready.

“Show me.”

A slow smile formed on his lips, and he reached for his wand, and the world changed.

At first, Cho only blinked — trying to make sense of things. Her mind scrambled to categorize it — a transfiguration demonstration, a show of power perhaps? Wizard machismo? 

But it was none of those.

The stone floor rippled like water under pressure, then sank, becoming black marble — sleek, cold, flawless. Her shoes clicked against it now like she was standing on a palace floor, not a school. The wooden desks snapped in half, then began to transfigure. Some became pillories, gleaming with reinforced iron bars. Others folded into sturdy benches, leather-padded and heighted to just the right angle for someone to be bent over and taken. One lengthened into a frame, cruciform, with velvet-lined cuffs waiting at each corner.

Heat coiled in her belly like something feral. Merlin! Had Potter just read her mind? Was he a Legilimens? No, she hadn’t felt even the slightest bit of intrusion, and she had always kept such desires in her deepest trenches of her dark heart. 

The air dropped ten degrees as the windows sealed shut, and her body thrummed, skin tightening as cold met heat. She could hear the leather unfurling on the walls, the metallic chime of chains descending, the click of brackets locking into place.

The walls retextured themselves—stone smoothing into lacquered wood, then melting into padded black leather panels, interrupted only by rows of metal studs and hooks. Already, ropes were slithering across the walls, hanging themselves like trophies, each length braided perfectly. Thicker coils rested on shelves—red, black, violet.

A tall cabinet materialized near the far end, its glass doors yawning open to reveal its collection: gags, collars, floggers, paddles, clamps—each pristine, each wickedly designed.

A long chain dangled from the ceiling, its base ending in a padded cuff. A mirror appeared behind it, floor-to-ceiling, perfect for watching someone suspended in their own surrender.

Run, some part of her whispered. 

She should have.

But she couldn’t move.

Her legs were jelly. Her pulse was thunder. Her thighs squeezed together on instinct, uselessly trying to quiet the ache already burning low in her belly. Every time the room changed, it changed her too — stripping something away. Her pride. Her pretense. Her sense of being in control.

And Harry—Merlin, Harry—stood silent in the middle of it all, shirtless and commanding like this was his birthright, like the dungeon had been waiting for him all this time.

He didn’t even look at her.

And somehow, that made it better and worse.

The professor’s old desk morphed into a bed, or something close to it. Black-stained wood with metal brackets on all four corners, carved with restraint rings, headboard fitted with padded straps, a velvet mattress dressed in deep crimson silk so dark it was nearly black. Pillows appeared, soft and inviting and shaped to prop limbs. 

A vertical rack bloomed out of one corner — a cage, tall enough for someone to stand inside. The bars were narrow, gleaming, fitted with interior rings. There was only one purpose for a cage like that.

Candles ignited along the walls without touch — not warm and welcoming, but red, their flames flickering with low, intimate menace. They cast long shadows across the implements. Shadows that moved even when the room stood still.

Cho’s mouth had gone dry.

She could barely breathe.

She turned toward him — the boy who had remade the room with a single wave. He stood there, calmly, with barely a breath short. Like he hadn’t just shattered her expectations of what power looked like.

And then he spoke.

“Come closer.”

Something in that voice called to her, stirred something inside her. The world seemed to spin, as if she were standing in the eye of a hurricane while the madness of the storm whipped around her. She already had known Harry for his skill — at Quidditch and at duelling. And now, she had seen his power. Her self-preservation instincts steamed her to run, flee this man and this moment before everything changed. 

Before he changed everything.

But she was a moth to his flame — dangerously curious about something undoubtedly hazardous to her sanity.

“About time, really. I was about to leave with how long you were taking.”

She hadn’t planned to say that, hadn’t planned to act like that, but it was an automatic response, a defence mechanism. Cho teased and pouted, sassed and misbehaved. That’s who she was. Nobody was allowed the privilege of seeing her toss away her pride for them.

Nobody that didn’t force her to, anyway.

But Harry Potter was different. Something about him brought that strange stirring again, this time accompanied by the urge to sink down to her knees, to spread her legs and bow her head in that simplest of submissive postures.

“Little Queen bee,” said Harry Potter with a teasing grin. “This is the only chance you get. Walk away while you still can.”

“Why?”

He motioned at the dungeon formed all around them. “This is all that waits for you. If all you want is to lie back and have your pussy licked and fingered, run back to little Hufflepuff boyfriend.”

An unfamiliar feeling settled over her. Cho had been blessed in life by being smart, pretty, and having the right set of skills and personality that drew people to her. The number of times she had been rejected, romantically, sexually or otherwise had been too few, enough to count in one hand and have fingers left over.

It took her a moment to realize what it was she was truly feeling.

Embarrassment. Embarrassment and shame. He was looking down at her without knowing her. Thinking she wasn’t up to handling the seductive darkness he was about to unleash upon her. That she should return to the safety of vanilla seduction.

She could, but she wasn’t going to.

Cho raised her chin and folded her arms and said. “No.”

Harry Potter smiled. And it was a dark thing. Cho wondered how many had truly seen the darkness behind the Boy-Who-Lived. A little scouring of the Hogwarts gossip vine had told her how Potter had caged the Gryffindor broom Romilda Vane before the end of the term, quickly followed by drilling Ginny Weasley’s tight pussy. No surprises there, since Vane would want Potter on her notches, and Weaslette had been vying for Potter’s attention before she had first stepped into Hogwarts.

But Harry Potter hadn’t stopped there. Rumors about Hermione Granger living with him at his new and shiny apartment had been the talk of the town. With Granger’s affliction and her private dormitory, she had officially become his bedwarmer and mistress at Hogwarts, and he was known to spend half the nights satiating her needs. Cho had heard MacMaillan claim that Potter was ploughing Hannah Abbott’s fields, while playing something fierce with Susan Bones at the same time.

Irrelevant, childish things. Cho doubted any of them, save perhaps, Granger, what with her affliction — might truly be able to satiate Potter’s darkness. Maybe he had indeed fucked his way through the list, only to find them useless and unsatisfying and dropped them like yesterday’s trash.

Cho approved.

“No?” asked Potter.

“No,” she repeated, her body throbbing with arousal. “What’s the worst you can do anyway?”

She had never been this turned on so quickly, or with such little physical contact. Despite that, one thought was running through her mind on a loop.

What are you doing?

When the big bad wolf tells you you’re free to go, a smart person leaves. That was the standard philosophy. Apparently, Cho wasn’t as smart as she thought she was, because not only hadn’t she left, but she had taunted him. She was setting herself up for a corrective punishment, and coming from Harry Potter that could probably be far more than she was equipped to handle.

And yet, when he looked at her, she felt something.

“Little Queen bee,” Harry said again, and Cho felt the condescension dripping off his tongue. “It’s not what I can do… but what you think you can take.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Damn. She had almost stammered. Unforgivable.

“Shall I name them alphabetically?”

Cho nodded.

“Ball gag. Beating, soft. Beating…. hard.”

Cho was acutely aware that he was studying her reaction to every item he was mentioning. She winced at ‘beating, hard’, not just because it surged her arousal, but because it fell right in her private list.

The list that would have sent Cedric ‘Good Boy’ Diggory running for the hills.

“Blindfolding. Being serviced. Biting. Breast Bondage. Breast whipping.”

Cho was breathing fast, her fingers clenching rhythmically. Potter shouldn’t have known of these. There was no way he would know how much she craved them. Nothing in her carefully crafted public persona alluded to them.

“Branding.”

Her gaze jerked at his, that one word enough to knock her out of the arousal-fueled daze. “I thought you were a Gryffindor, Harry Potter. Surely you wouldn’t do something so crazy and foolish as to brand me without my consent?”

She knew how big of a political mess it would cause should it be discovered. Harry Potter was very influential, powerful and with his recent elevation as Lord of House Potter and Black, his Order of Merlin, and his recent associations, one could claim he was one, if not the most influential bachelor in Wizarding Britain right now.

Still, none of them would stop House Chang from fileting him down like a pig if they came to know of it.

She half-expected him to backstep. Maybe apologise. Maybe even make a neutral comment or ask for her consent.

“Boot worship. Bondage, Light. Bondage, heavy.”

….He didn’t. Instead, he chuckled. “That’s all we have under B. Let’s stick to these until we’re done. If we’re done.”

The way his gaze clawed at hers told her that he wasn’t the one that would drop it midway.

“Did you think I’d bend you and fuck you till you were unconscious, Chang? Here’s the truth. We won’t have sex. You will service me. I won’t be easy on you, just because you have been treated like a frail little flower by that Hufflepuff. Are you up to it, Little Queen Bee?”

Cho swallowed again. “I don’t want you to go easy either.”

The words were mostly bravado, and she had a bad feeling that it would take only a matter of minutes for him to push her deeper than she had ever imagined before.

Harry gave her a searching look. “You’re not what I expected, Cho Chang.”

I am not what I expected right now either.

Cho didn’t know how to respond, so she tucked her chin down and stared at her knees. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it made her feel strong, as if defying his expectations freed her to be complicated.

“Strip.”

A shiver ran down her spine, as Cho pressed the hidden rune engraved on her bra, making it snap and fall down to the floor, revealing her taut form. She had lonely breasts, perhaps not as large as that cow Bones, but enough to make breast play interesting, and her nipples were excitingly pink against her pale skin.

“Spin around,” he said. Cho pouted at his lack of comments on her body, but spun around to show her back. 

“Now take the skirt and knickers off.”

Another press, this time on her waist, and a similar fate befell her skirt, revealing her panties. Teal, delicate, and ready to be torn off. Slowly, Cho hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and shimmied them down her legs. He didn’t need to tell her to make an effort to make it look sexy, swaying her arse from side to side as she worked her underwear down her legs. She noted the way he eyed her body like a piece of tasty flesh, as she tossed the underwear away.

Picking her wand, she pointed at her innerwear.

“Incendio.”

Between the flickering flames devouring her underwear, she met his gaze.

I’m not going back. What’s the best you can do to me?

Harry came closer, and squeezed her arse. Cho shivered as his fingers slowly crawled up to her tailbone, up her spine to her right shoulder. His other hand palmed her left breast, ran his hand down her belly, all the way to her waist. He hovered over her clit, teasing her, before withdrawing all the way back to her left shoulder.

The bastard! He was playing with her!

“Cho, look at me.”

Her eyes wide, Cho met his gaze. If he wanted to see distress, he’d find composure. If he wanted to see embarrassment, he’d find challenge in them. If he wanted —

“Are you wet?”

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. Slowly, she nodded.

“Show me. Put two fingers in your pussy.”

Her stomach did a weird twist. Her left hand dipping into her folds, her eyes fluttering closed, Cho touched herself. Harry grabbed her wrist, squeezing just enough that her eyes popped open.

“Show me, my little Queen bee.”

“I’m not your Queen bee.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “But you are still mine. Now, show me.”

Cho held out her open wrist, two fingers coated in cream. The smell of her arousal was strong. Harry inhaled it. 

“Clean your fingers.”

Another surprise, and perhaps, a little irritation. Usually Cedric would —

“I’m not Cedric Diggory,” he said, not for the first time making her wonder if he was a Legilimens. “I’m not going to finger you, lick your cream. You are here to serve me, Cho, not the reverse.”

A brief flare of irritation came to her, before she put her fingers into her mouth, tasting herself.

Strong. Almost citrus-like. Maybe she should change her diet a little.

“Aroused, are you?”

Terrified, really.

“Are you? Or have you been lying to yourself?”

Cho opened her mouth to protest, but 

“Now, kneel.”

Cho shivered as a thick, dark mat formed on the floor, expanding in her direction. Keeping her as composed as possible, she slowly stepped on the mat, and met his eyes defiantly.

Make me, her eyes said.

Harry pressed against her shoulders, and Cho’s will gave away. She dropped down, kneeling.

“Raise your wrists.”

Black and silver cuffs came flying, padded with soft fabric with gleaming steel on the outer side and set with heavy D-rings. Cho felt them settle on her wrists, binding them. Heavy, probably a pound each.

“Kneel up and put your toes on the mat, ankles bent.”

Cho let her heavy wrists drop to her sides and adjusted her feet. When Harry dropped to one knee beside her, she was nearly overcome with the urge to lean into his warm, hard body and cuddle against him. 

She bit her tongue to get herself under control. Cuddling would only reinforce what he thought of her.

Cuffs went around her ankles.

“Up. Follow me.”

He was now standing on the metal rack. The horizontal boards were evenly spaced, starting at the floor and going all the way up to the ceiling. Deceptively simple, almost decorative, but with each step she took, Cho knew that whatever was about to happen would be anything but simple.

Really? Who knew Harry Potter had this in mind? That he was an experienced player that could either read a person’s body language like nobody’s business, or his skill with Legilimency was subtler than anything she had ever encountered.

“Back against the bars. Arms up.”

This time he didn’t wait for her to set the pace, but hooked a finger in the D-ring of her right cuff and forced her hand up. She stumbled, eyes wide, but then quickly got into position. Summoning a strap from the cabinet, he quickly secured the hand, followed by the left.

“Is this the light bondage?” Cho asked softly, eyeing him. Her hands were spread up and to the side, wrists just slightly above shoulder height, with enough room to move and bend her elbows.

Harry snorted. “Barely.”

She shivered again.

He looked at her hands, and then lifted her right leg up, and strapped it in place, securing the ankle cuff to the next bar down, and finally tied the left ankle to the lowest rung of the restraint wall.

Cho wavered, upper body tilting to the side as she tried to adjust to the position. Utterly exposed, her breasts and her pussy were easily accessible. 

“This… this isn’t bondage?” 

Damn it. She had just stammered and squeaked. Could she behave any more like prey?

Harry was smiling. Reaching over, he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over the corner of her mouth. Cho lowered herself to reach him —

And then found that she could go no further.

A disappointed expression lay on his features. “I am not going to make love to you, Cho Chang.”

“What? You.. you’re serious about the no-sex thing?”

Harry wordlessly summoned a whip. “You thought I wasn’t?”

She didn’t respond. Eyes fixed on the whip. 

“Are you… are you going to use that?”

“What?”

“T-that!”

“Ask me properly.”

Cho fumed. He was really going to make her say it.

“Are you going to whip me, Master?”

In response, he summoned a blindfold, and slipped it over her head. Instantly, a strange, seductive darkness engulfed her world, and Cho felt his fingers trail across her supple cheek.

CRACK!

Cho flinched, the sudden snap of the whip feeling like a curse. She whimpered, turning her head into her arm.

In the ensuing silence, her ragged breathing was the only sound. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted her head.

“You… you jerk!”

“Excuse me?”

“You scared me.”

The hilt of the whip pressed against her chin, forcing her head up.

“Tell me, Queen Bee, have you ever not been in control?”

The blindfold didn’t stop her from being flabbergasted at his words. “I — I don’t understand.”

“In the past, have you ever not been in control?”

 Cho swallowed. “No… No, I have not.”

“Have you ever wanted to not be in control?”

For some reason, she felt like crying.

The whip retreated and snapped against the floor again. Cho flinched at the sound and let out a little cry, though she couldn’t see that it was nowhere near her.

“Please — master.”

“Please what?”

“I — I don’t know,” she dropped her head. “Show me. I — I don’t know what you want.”

The blindfold vanished, and she felt him grab her by the hair, forcing her to look in his bright emerald eyes. And then he spoke.

“I do.”