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Some snakes kill by venom, and those who don't will kill by constriction.
Those who kill by constriction do not stop until the prey stops breathing, as many think, but when the heart of the prey stops beating.
"Hold still and suck in." Came the command, along with a violent knee bashing against her spinal protrusions - leaving trails of broken capillaries. Careful fingers snagged hard at the strings against her back, and, with breath catching in her throat, the steel further enclosed like a serpent attempting to fell prey.
"You are not sucking in properly." The voice hissed. "Are you wanting to play games in the chair again?"
With a sharp intake of cool air, the final strings were pulled and gnarled, and Bellatrix's fingertips went white as she gripped onto the dressing table.
She tried to catch her breath, as heat began to let itself known against her. It began folding itself over and she tried desperately to keep her arms straight against the weight, to prevent herself from bending completely over the table.
"You are... beautiful." The voice was soft as it curled around her eardrum. A hand snaked round her front and found her breast. It squeezed, before falling lazily back down her metal torso and skirts. Bellatrix chanced glances at them both in the mirror, but her hair fell long and unruly over her face.
With hands clasped at her waist, Cassiopeia spun her around without much force.
She didn't dare look her in the eyes.
"I long to feel this way again." Her breath was far too warm. Bellatrix backed into the dressing table, knocking over several perfume bottles, but fingers reached her neck. She felt cradled as another hand found itself at her lower back. It felt almost comforting; to be held in such a way. In a way that she had long since forgotten. Although her great-aunt had closed in on her, there was still enough distance that only a hip urged dangerously against her stomach.
She felt a hand in her hair, running through the lengths of it. Her scalp still felt sore from how hard Cassiopeia had been brushing it several hours before, she could almost still sense the boar bristles digging out the newly formed scars.
She knew that those large dark eyes were looking down through their lashes at her, watching her as though she were a doll she had just created. A thumb pressed lightly against her open lips.
"Why won't you look at me?" She brushed her cheek across her face, closing the gap a little more, and whispering into directly her ear. "I am beautiful, too." Bellatrix felt the garnering fingers begin to trace circles at the bottom of her spine. Tendrils that elicited her hairs to stand on end, and goosebumps formed across the length of her body. A thirst for more suprised her, and the ice began to thaw, and she felt her hips move involuntarily towards the predator.
Cassiopeia moved her head round once more, watching Bellatrix as she cradled her. She couldn't quite decide whether she enjoyed her lack of eye contact more than if she had broken it. She had always broken it before. Has she grown more daring?
Her hand left her face and fell to her chest, feeling every inch as she pushed it down the side of her waist and onto her hip. "Mmmmmm." She marvelled at the creature who shared her hot blood, although she knew she often chose to suppress it. She clasped at shining ruffles of satin. She loved the girl in skirts, each layer as lavish as the last, each layer more beautiful than the last, as she began to slowly pull each one up.
When her claws found bare skin, and stroked softly at her thigh, Cassiopeia smirked when the breath of her great-niece grew ragged. She was silent, yes, but she couldn't mask her arousal from her. She could almost feel her ache as her hand left, and she had her arms around the girl's neck once more. Bellatrix was hiding behind her mass of hair, how cute. Cassiopeia raked back the curls and pulled them back.
"Look at me." She said, her eyes an inch away from a glance, but the girl only whimpered and her skeletal chin jutted forward, her stare fixated on her great-aunt's lips. The older witch smirked once more and brought her lips to her neck, nipping briefly, before trailing her monstrous tongue across a thinly veiled cartoid artery. She watched carefully as Bellatrix's eyes fluttered and closed. Consent.
"Spread your legs." Cassiopeia commanded.
As she felt her great-niece's legs open against her, the older witch immediately brought her leg inbetween them. Sliding her thigh tightly through them, closing the gap fully, a moan escaped her throat as she felt the girl's juices drape across her skin.
A hand fumbled and found the back of her leg, and attempted to draw it closer.
"I am not a vampire." She asserted. "I need no invitation." Yet she had to admit she felt pleased that Bellatrix wanted more, and the girl began to pant as she rocked her leg against her with more force. She looked so beautiful as her lungs scrambled for air, her breath tearing hot against her neck, the corset seemed to be restricting her breathing much to her liking.
Her great-aunt drew back a little. She knew she was examining her further and taking in all of her detail, etching every moving she made into her memory. She had been worked into a vigor now, and she wanted nothing more than to look the older witch in the eyes and kiss her, to feel that tongue dance inside her mouth. Kiss her like she had seen other people, who were in love, kiss.
Cassiopeia lifted her up fully onto the dressing table, and pain shot through her side as her knickers were ripped from her body. A pain that melted away with anticipation as her great-aunt lowered herself and grabbed at her knees to pull them apart.
"I am beautiful, too." She repeated, and Bellatrix could barely register the words as a finger plunged inside her, and beckoned at a part of her that had never been touched before. Her hands gripped at the wooden dressing table, turning white once more as she felt the older witch drawing out her soul.
Cassiopeia withdrew and plunged in once more with an added finger, and Bellatrix moaned. She flinched and expected a strike at her noise, but instead her great-aunt began to pump her fingers in a rhythm that suggested she wanted more. She wanted more as Bellatrix wanted more.
"Tell me I'm beautiful." Cassiopeia said, through her moans, but Bellatrix wouldn't look. She felt unable speak admist the catching of her breath. She knew what she looked like, her face had haunted her dreams as well as her nightmares.
She felt the older witch's head lower further, and she felt a wet swipe at the place she needed most. She didn't fully understand where it was that she needed it most, until a tongue found itself there, flicking and pushing, making her feel dizzy as the fingers were deep and coercing inside her.
Bellatrix felt her stomach begin to flutter as her urge began to build in a feeling she could only liken to rage, and then a clever swipe from her great-aunt made her forget herself. She did look. Cassiopeia's raven hair flared almost perfectly in a mass around her legs. It was long and perfectly straight, where Bellatrix's was a mess of waterfalls and curls. Her skin was ivory, and, although a little gaunt, her cheekbones were strong. Her lips swollen red, with lipstick smudged down her chin like blood. Her eyes were dark, almost black, yet shaped more like Andromeda's or Narcissa's. She was a true embodiment of the vestige in Black beauty. In pureblood royalty.
"You're - beautiful-" She panted, low and gutteral, and watched as Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed, and the older witch sighed heavily before releasing her fully. She then stood and towered over her.
The cold returned.
NB: 'THE CHAIR' IN GREEK MYTHOLOGY: As a punishment by Poseidon, Cassiopeia was placed in the heavens tied to a chair in such a position that, as she circles the celestial pole in her throne, she is upside-down half the time. The constellation resembles the chair that originally represented an instrument of torture.