God really doesn't exist.
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***** Okay, this has major rape scene. DO NOT read if you are only going to get offended and send me a flame. You may send me a flame it you don't like my style of writing, but not if this majorly offends you. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*****
DO NOT own Harry Potter, it belongs to the gracious J.K Rowling (who is taking her time in writing the last few books).
******************************************************
Breath caught in his throat. Heart beating rapidly, mind racing fanatically; was it sane to think this about a person you'd never met before. Never had a conversation with before; only sneered at them, insulted them, watch them pawn over one person time and time again.
Ha, Ha. No, it was far from sane. Far from anything logical, anything rational, anything real.
Especially seeing as though she was a Weasley, and he, a Malfoy. But he had to have her, had to taste her. Had to know what she felt like, beneath him, against him, him within her. He had to.
But he was patient. He waited for just the right time, when no one could disturb them, where no one would find them. He watched her, day in and day out. When she ate breakfast with Potter, studied at the library with Granger, or trained for Quidditch with her brother. There were times when she was alone; when she was vulnerable. But they were limited, so he would have to act quickly when he decided he had waited enough.
And sure enough, three days after Christmas, and three before the New Year, he had granted himself ready. And the timing couldn't have been better. Still trapped in her Christmas bliss, she was often by herself, burying her head in new love potion books she had gotten for Christmas, or immersed in prancing around the new robes she had gotten from her brothers. Daydreaming endlessly, completely unaware of the demonising grey eyes that never ceased in shadowing her.
It was on one of these dream filled days, when she had placed herself on the steps out side the astronomy tower, head immersed in her potion book, body covered in new velvet robes, that she found out that life isn't always full of dreams.
A slight crash at the bottom of the steps disturbed her concentration. A lean shadow prancing on the wall caught her attention as she moved closer to the where the commotion had commenced but moments before. Once reaching the bottom of the stone steps, however, she was greeted with nothing but the flickering of the candles against the walls. Closing her book, she reached for her wand, her eyes looking furiously at the surrounds she found herself in.
"Hello" her timid voice called, echoing down the hall. Piercing her gaze down the far end, she drew all her attention in trying to make out a figure in the looming darkness and so, had no sense of the body behind her. It moved slyly from the shadows, making no sound as it approached her. She had no idea, until, all in one go, a hand grabbed her wand from her grasp, covered her mouth with the other and began to drag her into the darkness behind her.
She withered and struggled with all her might. She screamed and kicked until she was out of breath. But it was no use, he was so strong. She heard him whisper something, before the feeling of tight ropes wrapping her hands behind her back clouded her mind. She felt herself being dragged into a empty, and dusty, class room. He whispered something else, and this time, a large black cloth covered her eyes, while another wrapped itself around her mouth. He placed her on the floor, his knees resting on her parted legs so she could stop kicking him. He could have easily silenced her with a spell, but he found that her protests would be so much more of a turn on.
And then carefully, and ever so sensuously, began to undo the buttons to her cloak. Undoing it all the way to the bottom, he was frustrated to find that she had two shirts on underneath, as well as a pair of pants. So being as impatient as he was, used his wand to rip them apart.
Once more, he found his breathe caught in his throat, his heart beating rapidly and his mind beginning to blur, when he was faced with nothing but her cotton underwear. Slowly, as though fearfully, he moved his hands to cup her breasts. He kneaded them, holding them, moulding them to the picture he had always placed in his mind. He moved hi hands behind her and, ignoring her muffles of protests, undid the strap. Picking up his wand, he placed the tip and both the straps, and quickly burnt a line through the both of them, before throwing it away to the side of him, not caring where it felt. The sight in front of him was more than he could have imagined. Leaning his head forward, he captured on breast in his mouth, kissing it, licking it, sucking it; doing all things that only a lover could do; all the while still ignoring her protests. Feeling himself getting harder by the minute, he moved his attention to her knickers. An evil smile of satisfaction crossed his face when he discarded them in same fashion he had done her bra.
Holding her legs beside him, firmly as to avoid her kicking him, he looked at her longingly; her curls where as red as her hair. Reaching for his wand, he muttered a spell that kept her legs in an upright position, but apart enough for himself to move within her. He moved forward, eyes never leaving her, as he reached forward, placing one hand at her opening, moving her folds apart. Her muttered protests became louder as she wriggled her upper body; but it was useless against the spell he had placed upon her. He moved his middle finger up and down her a few times before moving he hand away and his head forward. And, where his finger had just been, his tongue commenced.
She tasted like a salty honey. Her withering had ceased and he new, against her will, she was enjoying this.
A few moments later, he pulled away, his mouth full with what he was about to be covered in. What blood he had left in his mind raced straight down to increase him as he began to undo his robe, and then unzip his pants. She must have recognized the sound, because immediately, she began to wither and protest again. Except this time, her protests seemed clearer.
"Please" he heard distinctively. "Please don't do this"
Holding himself in one hand, the other placed beside her carefully, holding him up, he rubbed his head against her a few times, where his tongue and finger had ventured before, before entering her.
She clenched her teeth, moved her head side to side, screaming slightly.
He only moaned. In complete and utter bliss.
She had never been taken before; he was he first time. And he had never had such an ego boost in his life. He moved himself all the way in her, before pulling back out, and repeating his moves.
He was enjoying every minute of this, and had every intention to make it last as long as possible.
She, on the other hand, felt as though she was being ripped apart. It burnt, it shredded, it slashed and it tore, all at once. She was begging; pleading; crying to the one above, wanting this to stop more than she had wanted anything in her entire life. Instead, it seemed to go on endlessly.
His rhythm picked up, his pace increased; her tightness was too much; almost overwhelmingly so. His eyes would close; placing this even in his mind to remember for years to come, and then they were open; watching himself as he moved in and out of her, before resting on her chest. She was trying to pull herself back and in doing so, raising her back away from her tied up hands. He caught of sight of the tears falling down her cheek.
Closing his eyes he thrust once more, twice more, a third time, before groaning loudly; holding the base of his pelves right up against hers. He had never felt anything so incredible in his life. His back arched as his head fell back. Sweat beads covered his body, his once perfect hair now floppy against his face. Rocking back and fourth a few more times, to really intensify the pleasure, he finally removed himself from the shaking body beneath him.
Once his panting subsided, he quietly dressed himself, listening to her whimpering.
He had finally gotten what he had been obsessed with for what seemed an eternity; and it had been worth every minute of it. He didn't regret it in the slightest. Picking up his wand, and patting down his robe, he made his way to the door of the classroom, with a sedated smile planted on his face. He paused when he came upon a book she had dropped as he dragged her in.
'True Love; is he really the one?'
He smirked when he saw a picture of a blonde haired man with bluish-grey eyes on the cover. He threw the book over to her, then muttered a line that banished the spells he had placed upon her. She automatically turned over, her back to him, and curled up in a ball. He felt the undesired feeling of guilt as he watched her naked form sob continuously.
But then reminded himself that he was a Malfoy, and she a Weasley.
And that she was nothing but a lay. A good lay, but a lay all the same.
Well, what do you think?
*****************************************************
***** Okay, this has major rape scene. DO NOT read if you are only going to get offended and send me a flame. You may send me a flame it you don't like my style of writing, but not if this majorly offends you. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*****
DO NOT own Harry Potter, it belongs to the gracious J.K Rowling (who is taking her time in writing the last few books).
******************************************************
Breath caught in his throat. Heart beating rapidly, mind racing fanatically; was it sane to think this about a person you'd never met before. Never had a conversation with before; only sneered at them, insulted them, watch them pawn over one person time and time again.
Ha, Ha. No, it was far from sane. Far from anything logical, anything rational, anything real.
Especially seeing as though she was a Weasley, and he, a Malfoy. But he had to have her, had to taste her. Had to know what she felt like, beneath him, against him, him within her. He had to.
But he was patient. He waited for just the right time, when no one could disturb them, where no one would find them. He watched her, day in and day out. When she ate breakfast with Potter, studied at the library with Granger, or trained for Quidditch with her brother. There were times when she was alone; when she was vulnerable. But they were limited, so he would have to act quickly when he decided he had waited enough.
And sure enough, three days after Christmas, and three before the New Year, he had granted himself ready. And the timing couldn't have been better. Still trapped in her Christmas bliss, she was often by herself, burying her head in new love potion books she had gotten for Christmas, or immersed in prancing around the new robes she had gotten from her brothers. Daydreaming endlessly, completely unaware of the demonising grey eyes that never ceased in shadowing her.
It was on one of these dream filled days, when she had placed herself on the steps out side the astronomy tower, head immersed in her potion book, body covered in new velvet robes, that she found out that life isn't always full of dreams.
A slight crash at the bottom of the steps disturbed her concentration. A lean shadow prancing on the wall caught her attention as she moved closer to the where the commotion had commenced but moments before. Once reaching the bottom of the stone steps, however, she was greeted with nothing but the flickering of the candles against the walls. Closing her book, she reached for her wand, her eyes looking furiously at the surrounds she found herself in.
"Hello" her timid voice called, echoing down the hall. Piercing her gaze down the far end, she drew all her attention in trying to make out a figure in the looming darkness and so, had no sense of the body behind her. It moved slyly from the shadows, making no sound as it approached her. She had no idea, until, all in one go, a hand grabbed her wand from her grasp, covered her mouth with the other and began to drag her into the darkness behind her.
She withered and struggled with all her might. She screamed and kicked until she was out of breath. But it was no use, he was so strong. She heard him whisper something, before the feeling of tight ropes wrapping her hands behind her back clouded her mind. She felt herself being dragged into a empty, and dusty, class room. He whispered something else, and this time, a large black cloth covered her eyes, while another wrapped itself around her mouth. He placed her on the floor, his knees resting on her parted legs so she could stop kicking him. He could have easily silenced her with a spell, but he found that her protests would be so much more of a turn on.
And then carefully, and ever so sensuously, began to undo the buttons to her cloak. Undoing it all the way to the bottom, he was frustrated to find that she had two shirts on underneath, as well as a pair of pants. So being as impatient as he was, used his wand to rip them apart.
Once more, he found his breathe caught in his throat, his heart beating rapidly and his mind beginning to blur, when he was faced with nothing but her cotton underwear. Slowly, as though fearfully, he moved his hands to cup her breasts. He kneaded them, holding them, moulding them to the picture he had always placed in his mind. He moved hi hands behind her and, ignoring her muffles of protests, undid the strap. Picking up his wand, he placed the tip and both the straps, and quickly burnt a line through the both of them, before throwing it away to the side of him, not caring where it felt. The sight in front of him was more than he could have imagined. Leaning his head forward, he captured on breast in his mouth, kissing it, licking it, sucking it; doing all things that only a lover could do; all the while still ignoring her protests. Feeling himself getting harder by the minute, he moved his attention to her knickers. An evil smile of satisfaction crossed his face when he discarded them in same fashion he had done her bra.
Holding her legs beside him, firmly as to avoid her kicking him, he looked at her longingly; her curls where as red as her hair. Reaching for his wand, he muttered a spell that kept her legs in an upright position, but apart enough for himself to move within her. He moved forward, eyes never leaving her, as he reached forward, placing one hand at her opening, moving her folds apart. Her muttered protests became louder as she wriggled her upper body; but it was useless against the spell he had placed upon her. He moved his middle finger up and down her a few times before moving he hand away and his head forward. And, where his finger had just been, his tongue commenced.
She tasted like a salty honey. Her withering had ceased and he new, against her will, she was enjoying this.
A few moments later, he pulled away, his mouth full with what he was about to be covered in. What blood he had left in his mind raced straight down to increase him as he began to undo his robe, and then unzip his pants. She must have recognized the sound, because immediately, she began to wither and protest again. Except this time, her protests seemed clearer.
"Please" he heard distinctively. "Please don't do this"
Holding himself in one hand, the other placed beside her carefully, holding him up, he rubbed his head against her a few times, where his tongue and finger had ventured before, before entering her.
She clenched her teeth, moved her head side to side, screaming slightly.
He only moaned. In complete and utter bliss.
She had never been taken before; he was he first time. And he had never had such an ego boost in his life. He moved himself all the way in her, before pulling back out, and repeating his moves.
He was enjoying every minute of this, and had every intention to make it last as long as possible.
She, on the other hand, felt as though she was being ripped apart. It burnt, it shredded, it slashed and it tore, all at once. She was begging; pleading; crying to the one above, wanting this to stop more than she had wanted anything in her entire life. Instead, it seemed to go on endlessly.
His rhythm picked up, his pace increased; her tightness was too much; almost overwhelmingly so. His eyes would close; placing this even in his mind to remember for years to come, and then they were open; watching himself as he moved in and out of her, before resting on her chest. She was trying to pull herself back and in doing so, raising her back away from her tied up hands. He caught of sight of the tears falling down her cheek.
Closing his eyes he thrust once more, twice more, a third time, before groaning loudly; holding the base of his pelves right up against hers. He had never felt anything so incredible in his life. His back arched as his head fell back. Sweat beads covered his body, his once perfect hair now floppy against his face. Rocking back and fourth a few more times, to really intensify the pleasure, he finally removed himself from the shaking body beneath him.
Once his panting subsided, he quietly dressed himself, listening to her whimpering.
He had finally gotten what he had been obsessed with for what seemed an eternity; and it had been worth every minute of it. He didn't regret it in the slightest. Picking up his wand, and patting down his robe, he made his way to the door of the classroom, with a sedated smile planted on his face. He paused when he came upon a book she had dropped as he dragged her in.
'True Love; is he really the one?'
He smirked when he saw a picture of a blonde haired man with bluish-grey eyes on the cover. He threw the book over to her, then muttered a line that banished the spells he had placed upon her. She automatically turned over, her back to him, and curled up in a ball. He felt the undesired feeling of guilt as he watched her naked form sob continuously.
But then reminded himself that he was a Malfoy, and she a Weasley.
And that she was nothing but a lay. A good lay, but a lay all the same.
Well, what do you think?