A/N: WARNING! This story contains rape and degradation. Do not read if this will be a trigger to you.
Hermione cried out as he thrust into her. She hadn't been anywhere near ready, and the pain from her maidenhead being torn rippled through her body like a current. The cell was hot, too hot, and the sweat dripping off of her coital partner was not helping the situation. Her long locks stuck to her skin uncomfortably, the moisture causing them to frizz even more.
Luckily, or unfortunately, for her, the pain that she felt distracted her from the discomfort of sweat-covered skin. It wasn't supposed to hurt for this long, but the haste surrounding her situation was most definitely the cause of that. With each time he pounded into her, a new wave of pain emerged.
Naturally, she felt ashamed. Her vehement resistance had inadvertently clued her assaulter in on the fact that she was a virgin. He had smirked widely, cruelly, before continuing his molestation with more eagerness than before. How he had managed to get turned on in this situation only reinforced Hermione's deep-seated beliefs that he was sick and twisted.
In her three years of being a prisoner, she had been mostly left alone. Captured by Snatchers and tortured by none other than the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione had lost her fight. At least she thought she had.
The sound of her cell door opening no longer startled her. It simply meant that another Death Eater was on the way to force her to eat. Most days she would resist, hoping to starve to death, but almost as often she'd find herself giving in and taking the nourishment that allowed her to suffer for another day.
But now, something had changed. The head of the household, Draco Malfoy (who had recently inherited the position due to the passing of his father, Lucius Malfoy), had taken an interest in her. With Lucius in charge, nobody touched her. She was Muggle-born, after all. Apparently, Draco was the type of man who yearned solely for a hole to thrust into. She wondered idly if he would get the same pleasure from a gap in the stones of the walls.
"That's right, you Mudblood bitch," he growled as he dominated her. "Just lie there and take it. It's all you're good for, anyway."
Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. The boy she'd known in school existed only as a passenger in the body of the man above her.
Perhaps he was right. At this point, she had been caged up for so long that she would be unable to do much more than sleep. Her only purpose could very well be acting as a warm place for men to enjoy.
The pain, physically and emotionally, was crippling. Hermione felt worthless.
A/N: What did you think? Please leave a comment, as this is my first time writing something dark. Feedback would be greatly appreciated!