Warning: Violence & Extreme Dubious Consent
Part One: The Bargain
A snickering guard's laughter resonated within the darkened dungeons, his grip tightening on a blood dripping whip, speckles of the dark liquid covering the floor like stars covering the night sky. A darkened figure, garbed in black judicial robes, a crimson ribbon fluttering behind, swept the empty, forgotten corridors of the dungeons. His footsteps echoed, alerting the hopeless prisoners of the foreboding sense of death. He clasped his pale hands together, spindly fingers entwining as his rings of emerald and ruby gently clinked against one another. The Minister of Justice had arrived.
"Minister Frollo!" the guard gasped, eyes widening in terror at the sight of the towering, menacing man whose granite eyes shimmered in disapproval as he narrowed his hardened gaze upon the blubbering guard.
"What are the charges?" he asked, his deep, baritone voice sending tremors through the stone walls. The guard shivered, lips quivering in response beneath his thick mustache where bits of breakfast were stowed away.
"Thievery, Your Honor," said the guard, "She's been restrained for three days." Trembling in the brooding presence of the Minister, he slid to the side, allowing the bright glow from within the prisoner's chamber to spill into the corridor. The orange pool of light cascaded upon Minister Frollo's tall frame, accentuating his stark features. He craned his neck and peered in, a black eyebrow shooting up in raw suspicion. Inside, a curvaceous body hung motionless from a set of rusted chains which were bolted to a brick wall; her head hung low, ink black hair shielding a beautiful but battered face.
Minister Frollo growled in satisfaction. He'd been expecting her. He twisted his dry lips into a wicked grin, and it stretched across his aged face, nearly reaching his ears.
"Leave us be," he said, gracefully waving a slender hand towards the guard who quickly scurried away at the command, his clanking armor fading away as he scampered down the lonely corridor.
The Minister entered the grimy cell, slamming the door behind him, causing the prisoner's head to shoot up like a child waking from a terrible nightmare, drenched in sweat and panicking. However, her nightmare was existent and on-going. Red-rimmed, emerald eyes fixated on the skeleton draped in Death's garments, and she shivered in alarm.
He neared her, cocked his head to the side, and jutted his chin out, cynical eyes watching her down the length of his aquiline nose; she was delicious. Her arms were pulled back, chained to the brick wall behind her alluring form, causing her chest to jut out due to the uncomfortable position. And the Minister's eyes drank in every curve of her plump, succulent breasts, sweat glistening upon them and slipping down their shapely form into the crevice between them.
He bit his lower lip and attempted to regain his soundness by straightening his narrow form and placing his needy hands, which longed to run across her shapely figure, behind his back, pale fingers entwining.
"I'll make this simple for you, gypsy. You give me what I ask for and I'll let you walk out alive. An offer I'm sure you cannot refuse," he said. His voice slightly cracked due to her appealing position which stirred a burning sensation in his loins. She teased him. Even in confinement, even in the nethermost, murkiest chamber of his dungeons, she tempted him. And as a means of suppressing his enduring, lustful passions, he began pacing the room, dense footsteps falling upon the blood stained floor, a rosary wrapped around his thin wrist swaying back and forth like a pendulum with his every swift movement.
"However, should you fail to comply with my demands I'll have to bestow upon you a befitting punishment. Is that understood?"
"I'm not afraid of you," she hissed, fury brewing within her gut, bubbling forth from her luscious lips. Her emeralds narrowed on his daunting frame, her gaze burning through his robes and setting his him aflame. She loathed him, and until the end of time, she'd use her every breath polluting his order and denouncing his reign.
"I believe you," he said flatly, "But I do trust that you have neither the authority nor the time to make such accusations, for as we speak my men are on the hunt, searching for that diminutive hideaway you so dearly consider to be enthralling. I, most assuredly, can guarantee you-"
"You'll never find the Court of Miracles," she interjected, her body lunging forward, chains rattling in the dead silence that followed her revolting words. She was lovely when draped in frustration, and the Minister grinned; his plan was unraveling perfectly.
"Correct you are, my dear," he said. Drawing near, his large frame towering above her, he forbiddingly ran a thin finger down the side of her hot cheek. His touch sent a cool sensation throughout her body, yet she refused to admit it, for he was a foul, loathsome beast. And though his peculiar gesture made her stomach churn and her heart ache in a strange and unexplainable way, she couldn't help but to shudder in odd excitement at the feeling his dark and mysterious presence brought her.
"However," he began, absentmindedly twirling a finger into one of her ebony locks, "I am willing to make a bargain with you. Give me the location of the Court of Miracles, and I'll let you walk out of here alive."
"Never," she said, turning away from him, allowing her lock of hair to gently slip away from his parched finger; the silky touch of her hair had felt heavenly.
"I expected you'd say that," he said, withdrawing from her and steepling his fingers. "I suppose I'll have to change my methods."
Her brows knitted together in confusion as he crossed towards a wooden table which lay to the left of the small, dingy cell. A puddle of dirty water drowned its crooked legs, and a few splotches of crimson, which the gypsy assumed was blood, coated the countertop; the foul decoration of past victim's fluids was a worrying sight. The gypsy swallowed hard, daunting visions of unbearable torture swirling in her head; the crack of a whip filled her ears and made her jump, the pinch of clamps made her knees buckle, and the touch of hot wax dripping onto her goose bump skin nearly had her yelping in fear.
Silence entered the room and took a seat, and as she impatiently awaited her death sentence, vowing to seal her lips at all costs, a sound drew her from her thoughts. A golden ring, an emerald stone perched atop, fell to the table. The clanking sound shoved silence out of the room, and the gypsy stiffened, hands balling into fists within the metal restraints, chains slightly rattling. Another golden ring fell to the table, a red diamond hitting the wooden surface, and she clenched her teeth.
Minister Frollo rubbed at his naked fingers before turning his attention back to his prisoner. The anxiety in her eyes was captivating, and to know he had sublime power over her weak emotions was gratifying as it was engaging. Growling lowly, he neared her again, his body pressing up against hers, forcing her into the damp brick wall behind.
"Tell me, gypsy. Where is the Court of Miracles?" he asked, a wandering hand climbing up the length of her leg, fingers digging into her flesh and leaving red imprints behind like a trail to be followed.
"You're dirt," she said, shivering in disgust at his actions while devastatingly trying to keep her secret kept.
"Don't insult me, you filth!" he snapped, a free hand snatching her by the neck. She stifled a breath and suppressed a cry of fear, but his grip didn't prove to be treacherous, for the rapid beating of her heart pounding from beneath his grip enticed him, and the soft touch of her flesh upon his own aroused once dormant feelings. Slowly, he loosened his hold, fingers gently sliding down her neck.
"Perhaps you aren't so filthy; perhaps you're sweet," he said, his desperate lips sinfully approaching her inviting neck where the beat of her heart beckoned him to draw near. "Shall I have a taste?"
His words pierced her, created a hole within her chest, and she fell cautious, confused, and oddly curious. But it was the way she parted her delicious lips in hesitation, and the way her shinning emerald eyes lost themselves in his question, which ultimately pulled at the rusted chains binding his suppressed longings. His lips gently brushed against her neck, and she winced; whether it was from disgust or shock, she didn't know. However, his breath warmed her and invited her to lose herself within his madness and to give into corruption. She refused, temporarily.
Tarnishing her, he ran his tongue along the length of her neck, and she gasped, chains rattling from her sudden jolt. His lips pressed onto her flesh, teased her earlobe, and carefully trailed down the work of her jaw line, nearing her quivering lips. A hand entangled itself within her raven hair, and she cursed him over and over; yet, when he claimed her lips with a kiss, darting his tongue into her hot mouth and scavenging every area he could, the world fell apart and burned. Her mind screamed obscenities, her body fell weak, and her lips unfaithfully deepened the forbidden kiss. It was unwelcomed, but needed; it was toxic, but relished. He was warm, as if the sun lived within him, and she craved it; however, it was the fires of hell which warmed his blackened soul, and to the flames they committed.
His hand, stripped of golden ornamentations, lifted her skirts and trailed up her thighs, pausing at her most intimate region which was aching for him. From within their mad entangle, she felt his lips jerk into a wicked smile and before she could pull away and protest, a single finger slipped inside of her hot core. Her breath hitched, eyes widened, and her sanity fled her; She wriggled beneath his tall frame, ashamed at her desire to have more of him within her needy cunt. And as she hopelessly forced to break free, her every movement caused him to push his finger deeper, motioning it into a 'come hither' gesture.
She trembled and bit her lip in disgust at her sickening needs, but he reveled in the inner war she waged with her conscious.
"That's a good girl," he purred into her ear, relishing the very taste of the words that slipped through his lips. She lightly moaned in response, unable to control herself as the sweet feeling of his finger wiggling inside of her brought waves of pleasure upon her neglected body. He began to plant hot, feverish kisses down her collarbone, his lips branding her with his desire as a free hand snaked up her waist and caressed her breasts. She didn't protest, didn't fight, or disagree. She simply gave in to the inevitable fall.
Relishing her wet, hot, tightness, he slipped another finger inside of her, causing a loud moan to escape her shaking body. He silenced her with a rough kiss, forcing his tongue in between her delicious lips, choking her and claiming her right to speak. With his two fingers snug deeply within her, twisting and soothing all her itches, he further tormented her by pressing the pad of his thumb onto her swollen clit, slowly and carefully running small circles over it. She moaned into his mouth and tore her lips from his as her need for air became more than necessary. She was panting, chest furiously rising up and down against his warm body, half-lidded eyes focusing on the blurred gleams of his golden rings lying on the table.
"Tell me," he said in hoarse voice, breath tickling her neck. "Tell me where it's hidden and I'll set you free."
She shut her eyes, the golden blur vanishing from her mind, and slumped forward, forehead resting upon his shoulder as his fingers continued to swirl within her. A deep chuckle rose from within him, for he knew she couldn't bear the pleasure much longer. And to heighten the sensation, he further pressed the tip of his thumb onto her clit, building pressure and building regret in her heart.
With her head resting upon his shoulder, taking in his scent, she dared to contemplate.
"No," she gasped, voice hoarse and broken. He growled in frustration.
"Well, I suppose release will never find you," he hissed, removing his fingers, her sweet ecstasy dripping down his hand. He withdrew from her, his sudden warmth leaving her body cold, and she shuddered from the realization of being denied release. He refused to spare another glance at the gypsy and strolled towards the wooden table to collect his valuables. His game had been fun while it lasted, but it was a game nonetheless.
"Disgusting," he said while rubbing his fingers together, her hot fluids staining his pale skin. Scowling, he carefully adorned his slender fingers with the golden rings, as if they gave him comfort in returning to his supposed cleanliness and celibacy.
"Please," she begged pathetically, sweat sliding down her cheeks. "Please don't leave me like this."
He halted, spindly fingers dripping with her ecstasy clutching the brass handle. For a moment he was silent until a thought blossomed in his darkened mind.
"I do not believe it is in your authority to make requests," he said, relishing her sigh of anguish that followed. "Well, no matter," he continued, easing the door open, "I'm certain you'll soon appreciate my generosity, gypsy. I'm a patient man, and should this little escapade of ours continue to carry on, then I shall be more than willing to oblige until your lips have spoken fact." He curtly smiled before stepping into the dim-lit hall and shutting the door behind, leaving her alone to rot in her misery.
For hours her legs trembled, her heart raced, and her body craved his touch; it was diabolical. However, as Minister Frollo returned to his quarters, gracefully gliding down the dungeon halls, he couldn't resist the urge to slip his fingers into his mouth and savor the gypsy's sweetness.
A/N: If you liked it, tell me what you think! :) Reviews are appreciated.
