A/N: I don't condone erotic asphyxiation.
WARNING: the following might be a little...unsettling. But, if you're reading Bellamione…well then this warning really serves no purpose now does it?
Push me.
And then just touch me.
'Til I can get my,
Satisfaction.
I wish you were my boyfriend.
We've apparated back to your little slice of paradise on the far side of Azkaban. You're so crazy; you missed your time in here so much you decided to live here.
In an enormous suite on the very spot where your old cell used to be.
There's no place like home. The rooms all have your unique decorative flair; the burgundy leather whips help to offset the gunmetal grey of chains and pokers and you even accented your favorite branding iron with a lovely bouquet of lilies.
I can hear snoring.
It's him.
We pass by your bedroom door and in the dim light I can see your husband passed out and pitching a tent under the bed sheets.
You in your nightgown, his sleeping, it's an equation I compute all the time.
Why you still stay married to him I'll never quite understand.
Torture worse than any dismemberment or cruciatus was whenever you'd chain me to the desk in your bedroom. From there I'd be forced to watch him struggle to pleasure you, and vice versa. All the while I struggle to keep vomit from getting on your floor.
You tug me along by my manacles, and I can't help but wonder if the chain between the handcuffs is long enough to fit around Rodolphus Lestrange's throat. It's good enough to choke him, maybe.
If it were longer, I'd strangle him 'til that tent collapses. That's a valuable lesson to learn here in Azkaban. Choking buys you time, but strangulation is a more permanent solution to any problem. He's a big man. He's gotten quite fat since the Overlord took over. Wait, that's an understatement, he's obese. The Death Eaters are like royalty now, and he decided to eat like royalty.
Sleeping on top of that bed he looks like a beached whale on a coroners table. His apnea-ridden breaths gurgle through his open mouth with each rise and fall of his chest. Each smelly breath a puff of pollution. Smog.
I hate it that he touches you.
"Let me clean you up pet." You coo, and with a few flourishes of your wand I could actually eat off of my hands without fear of disease.
You lift my arms up over your head, fitting your body snuggly between my elbows. My manacled hands are resting between your shoulder blades. You breathe against my temple, while you press your barely clothed breasts against me. "Oh my muddy puppy, how I've missed you."
Tonight will be good; you only call me that when you're undersexed.
You suckle on the Ace of Spades, before you smash your pillow lips against mine, and we stumble across the carpet of your living room like lovesick teenagers. The kiss is desperate. I fall to the ground on my back yanking you down with me. Lusty eyes glare at me through a jungle of curls; you squirm and begin to rub yourself against my leg. Sans underwear. Your arousal soaks through the fabric of my jumpsuit with each thrust.
Tribadism is what it's called, and it's one of your favorite pastimes, among other interesting hobbies you possess. I think of it as you're marking your territory. You bite your lower lip to stifle a moan.
Things didn't start this way between us; no relationship ever does.
"Wakey wakey little mudblood..."
I lift my head off of the moth eaten pillow at the singsong voice. Instantly my gut plummets inside me at the sight of the source of my wakeup call. The moonlight still streams through my cell window. Merlin knows what time it is. But what are you doing here now! I'd only just finished crying myself to sleep over our last session. And I can only sleep on my stomach tonight, my whip wounds have yet to heal. My legs are still so sore since you decided to stab me with a fork you were eating dinner with. You draw nearer and like a wolf, the whites of your eyes reflect back in the moonlight. I'm starting to shake.
"Wha-what do you want? Haven't you hurt me enough!" I can only stammer, I'm shaking so much.
"Still your tongue filthy creature!" You snap at me. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. You step closer. Stay back, stay back please stay back. Now you're pulling out your wand, Merlin save me. Harry? Ron? Anyone? Please!
I'm completely paralyzed with fear as you lean in and sniff my hair.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod... I feel something warm and wet on my ear. It's your tongue. "You're lucky the Dark Lord wants to keep you alive." You whisper. "If it were up to me, I'd have put you in a coffin." Then there's a pinch on my earlobe. Your teeth. "Though...I do find you delectable in those rags, you dirty mongrel. Under all that filth is something I want, and I always get what I'm after." Your wand caresses my jawbones and with your free hand you force me to look in your eyes. They look rapacious. You're bringing my forearm scar to your lips and you sniff it before running your disgusting tongue up the length of the word mudblood. The saliva trail left behind feels like its turning to ice in this cold air. Goosebumps are starting to form on my skin.
"You're going to torture me again!" I cry out.
You laugh. "You call it torture…I call it foreplay."
What're you doing now...oh god. You push me over so hard onto my back, my wounds that were just beginning to heal are ripping open. I'm screaming in pain. You can only smile. You straddle me and bring both of your hands up to grip the collar of my jumpsuit. Oh no you're not planning to...RIP! I'm so cold...
"Oh how lovely...". The nail of your pointer finger grates down the skin of my chest, down to my navel and ventures further down than I'm comfortable with. No one has ever touched me or seen me naked before. I was hoping to make Ron my first, and now this monster is about to have its way with me. Your mouth is hovering dangerously close to my left breast. I'm hyperventilating. You notice. "Remember our fist little run in mudblood? Back in my sisters manor? When you so foolishly tried to lie to me about breaking into my vault?" Your tone is teasing, and here come my tears. "You were lucky that my dear sister was around, the things I wanted to do to you then." What's that! Your fingers are down...oh god. Why are you doing this! Haven't you humiliated me enough?
"Do you like this muddy one? You're so damp already...you must want this." I feel disgusting. I feel so dirty. Merlin, Jesus, Mary, Joseph...get me through this. Wow, I find faith at the most inopportune times. I feel so, so, so dirty.
Teeth like daggers bite down on my nipple so hard it draws blood. It hurts so badly. You look up at me and smile; your nasty teeth are stained a hideous shade of red. Your tongue darts out to lap up the bleeding.
"Why are you doing this! Filling your mouth with my dirty blood! You don't know were I've been!"
You sit up and smack me hard across the mouth. The force of the blow splits my lip. "Bold words filthy one. But know this, I do so love to get...dirty. Can't fault me for wanting to take a romp in the mud." You force your own mouth hard against mine, I can taste my own blood in your mouth as your tongue rams inside. Down below your fingers are playing with my folds, the edge of your nail grazes my...umm...clit and I can't stop my hips from bucking up against you. Now I feel even worse. We're both women. You've got to be at least 20 years older than me. Oh, this is so wrong on so many levels. I have to stop this. I know.
I bite down hard on your tongue; so hard I can feel my incisor go right through the meat of it. You're trying to pull away but I don't let up just yet. I want you to feel pain. You tug and tug your face from mine; you can't quite reach your wand that's fallen to the floor. I get you in the jaw with an uppercut from my left fist. You whip backwards, a piece of you inside my mouth. This is so gross.
"FUCK!" Blood is positively pouring from your mouth.
I make a run for the open cell door and spill out into the hallway, my bare feet slipping on some unknown liquid. I make it to the heavy doors of the utility stairwell just as I hear your screams get louder. Don't look back, don't look back, don't fucking look back! Keep running!
I'm down three flights before I can hear voices in the distance. Someone must be coming up the stairs! Shit!
My kingdom for a wand! I try to force open one of the ward doors, but it won't budge. It's magically sealed shut. The voices are growing louder. There's several of them.
Shitshitshitshit! There are footsteps stomping up the stairs and this damn door won't budge. Definitely sounds like more than one set of feet. You'll have probably made it to the stairwell by the time I go back up, and who knows what's down below...oh Merlin...
"Oy mates, look what we've got here...It's the mudblood...must've gotten out of her cage." A man's voice directly behind me, and his breath is so hot and humid. It's Fenrir, I can smell him. His big hands grab on to my shoulders and he spins me around to face him. My arms fly up to cover myself and it's too late, he's already trying to pry my arms apart. "Kinky little thing, all ready to go." He's grabbing my head with his nasty sweaty hands. His companions push their way around us and I can feel their eyes on my body. Oh god now my body is up against the wall, and he's pulling what's left of my jumpsuit off. The tears are burning my eyes as he removes my last barrier. His touch is rough, its awful, it's predatory, his hand is pressed against my torso traveling lower...now I can hear a belt buckle coming undone behind me...please just let me die right now...please.
"STUPEFY!". He's knocked away by a powerful explosion, and he starts tumbling down the stairs. I look up to see you running toward me with your wand drawn. Your entire chin is stained red.
"You stay away from her cur!" You shriek and fire another bolt at Fenrir. I'm cowering in a ball on the floor and you stand over me. I crawl toward you and wrap my arms around your calf, and I cling to you.
"Mrs. Lestrange! We found her out here on the stairwells escaping, we were trying to bring her back to her cell."
"LIAR! How, pray tell, does escorting a prisoner require her to be naked and you to have your trousers around your ankles, sporting an erection!" Your hand grabs on to a lock of my hair and you tug it hard. "The mudblood is mine. If anyone touches her, so help me you'll be begging for death when I'm through with you." The men all stiffen and Fenrir adjusts his pants. "Return to your patrols all of you."
I want to thank you but the words won't come because you've yanked me by my hair to my feet. "Don't think that I'm through with you yet mudbloood." You pull my face impossibly close to yours. "You're coming with me to my bedroom…" Your lips are curling to form a bloody demonic smile. "And I want you…to bite me again."
And so began our little love connection.
The first time we had sex, it was…rough. You broke both one of my legs, my clavicle, and two of your fingers. You healed me, and after another long torture session, we lay in a tangle of naked limbs on your floor and you held me tender until I fell asleep. The crying at night stopped after that.
And oh the things you said to me that night.
No one has ever talked to me like that in my entire life.
Right now it's hard to talk to you with a mouthful of tongue. You're hungry tonight. My hands roam over the Braille of your chest as you shrug out of the nightgown you've been wearing. A spotlight of dusty moonlight lands right on your breasts. You're so aroused you could cut glass.
A constellation of freckles lies to the lower left of your navel on the universe of your body.
Trying to explain this, what we have, to Harry and Ron was like arguing ancient runes with a gold fish. Harry was disgusted (no one hates you more than he does), and Ron couldn't believe I just didn't kill you when I had the chance. They never understood. Boredom was killing us all slowly, and you keep the boredom away. Besides, you were my protector. You killed people for me. If that's not devotion…
Pulling out your wand you use it to cut my jumpsuit open, before handing it to me while making a circling motion.
You want to play your favorite game.
You roll onto your back, and your legs spread open like a book. I lean forward take that first taste; the best taste when you slightly jump at the contact. With a flick of your wand, ropes appear out of thin air to wrap around your neck, twisting tighter and tighter, like a leash.
Imagine my delight to learn you're a hypoxyphiliac.
When the brain is deprived of oxygen, an accumulation of carbon dioxide occurs, it is then that one can achieve a state of hypoxia. One will become giddy and lightheaded. Adding an orgasm to that, you said, is like going to a higher state of being, if just a for a few seconds. A rush that you crave like a drug. This is how I know you love me.
For those minutes I bring you to climax, I literally hold your life in my hands.
It's your secret.
Your fetish.
It's the irony of ironies. You love to be tortured. You've let me hit you, bite you, tie you up, whip you, brand you, stab you, choke you. It's your own dark, twisted fantasy, and you chose to share it with me. Rodolphus doesn't love you like I love you.
I'm face deep in you when I pull the end of the rope tighter, just in case you weren't certain of how much I love you. The pressure in your head is making your eyes look like ping pong balls. The skin of your face gets redder and redder with each struggling breath you fail take. To expedite the process I grab a fistful of your hair and yank it hard, forcing you to sit upright and depress the spongy arteries of your neck even more.
You come hard, your body twisting up against the ropes, all while laughing out like a delighted child.
We kiss, and all I can taste is you. "Oh my darling mudblood, no one understands me quite like you do." You reach out to touch me, trailing a line down my abdomen.
What're you trying to say, I ask, and watch as you coat my chest with your saliva, running your dagger tongue across my heart
"Rodolphus, he bores me. He is one and done. You…you're like forbidden fruit." You bite down hard on my right breast and start to suckle. I provide your nourishment.
I hate that the bastard is still alive, I say, cradling your head against me. Let me kill him for you I say into your hair. You don't need him.
Lifting your head up from my breast your lips curl into a devilish smile. "Do I sense a bit of jealousy?" You say with a smirk, and I can't help but pout. Sometimes it works with you.
"Aww my pet…he's no threat to you." Your fingers are leading an expedition across my stomach, and I suck in a deep breath through my teeth when you spread me open. An inquisitive set of fingers pops in to say hello while you bring your mouth to mine. The tip of your tongue dances across the top of my incisors; that's my cue to bite down on it. You shudder and moan and whimper.
You're so strange it's beautiful.
You suck on my lower lip. "Wasn't it nice seeing your old friends today?" You ask while pumping your fingers in and out of me. In and out. In and out.
I have no friends, I say between grunts. My hips are rising slowly, my body pulling you into me deeper.
"Longbottom looks so much like his dear old dad. Pity the apple didn't fall too far from the tree." Your nails graze my insides. "Oh and the French one…she's got some fight in her…shame that she chose to align herself with the wrong people. Too many boys on this side."
And what about me I say.
"You…are my dirty little secret." With your hand still inside me you lean up to kiss me. I'm nearly there. It's ferocious, how you kiss, I can barely breathe. I've never kissed anyone like you. Boys. Men. Then there's you.
You poisoned my sexuality I say. My climax hits like a fist to the face.
"Au contraire," You purr. "It's you who poisoned me."
A/N: Lyrics from Benny Benassi's "Satisfaction"
