|hellovtkt (hellovtkt) wrote,|
@ 2010-08-31 21:54:00
|Entry tags:||cassandra/gellert, harry potter, kink bingo, novus mundus|
Title: drifter's home
Pairing: Cassandra Vablatasky/Gellert Grindelwald (Novus universe)
Summary: They never quite see eye to eye.
Word count: 1423
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Prompt: chastity device
She ached. It had taken both members of her detail to get her back into her room despite the fact that she had tried to walk out of Gellert's office. It had been a foolish notion, because the only reason that she should have tried to walk out was to salvage her pride and she had no pride left to salvage. That was the truth of the matter. It had been surrendered up sometime during the half an hour that she had been in his office.
There was no reason that it shouldn't have ended the same – with some loud argument. Cassandra should have pitched a vase at his head and he should have spelled her until she cried, but apparently, there was a reason that this didn't end the same way, because, if nothing else, Gellert Grindelwald could only be pushed so far.
Normally, Cassandra was just very, very good at finding that delicate balance between when he Crucioed her and when he killed her.
She curled up on top of her bed, bringing her robe in against her. It was what she had been wearing when she had entered Gellert's office and she figured that it was a small kindness that he had let her leave in it.
She pushed her head into the pillow, ignoring the way that her hair was still half in her face. One of her hands clutched at the robe and the other went up to find a firm grip in her own locks. She wanted to stay here for the next week. She knew that it wouldn't work that way. She knew that, come tomorrow, she would be expected to look presentable and then to present herself to Gellert. He was having a dinner and one of her tantrums wasn't an excuse for missing it.
Cassandra took in a slow, uneasy breath. She tried to figure out exactly how things had gotten out of control, because he hadn't said anything at all when she had walked in, despite the fact that she knew that he had killed the boy that she had been with for the evening. Surely, that was too cruel for even him. He was dark and he was twisted, but at the end of the day, perhaps she had always thought that she was protected from that side of him. She was Albus' – and didn't that make her a little safe?
That theory had been quickly disproved as she had moved to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He had shook his head and without blinking, without even raising his voice, he had told her to remove her robe and to bend over the desk.
Some part of her instantly rebelled against such an order. She didn't like being issued commands – and this was hardly decent behavior. Something in his gaze made her halt her tongue for once. She wanted to walk out of this alive. Carefully, she had slipped the robe off of her shoulders, leaving it folded on the back of the chair and moved over to where his desk was.
She felt horrifically exposed, which she supposed was the point. His office was just a little too cold to be comfortable, making the hairs on the back of her arms stand on end. As she moved, Cassandra kept her head tucked down, not daring to make eye contact with him.
“This is going to be the last orgasm you'll have for awhile,” Gellert warned, sounding almost bored. “I'd enjoy it.”
Cassandra looked back over her shoulder, her expression sharp. Her hair curved over her shoulder as she stared at him. He was much closer than she had expected. He was already standing almost directly behind her. One of his hands pressed down between her shoulder blades, forcing her to look forward again. The other moved down, in between her legs, to start clinically tracing her clit.
“It occurs to me that our current system does little to dissuade your little rebellions,” Gellert said. “Perhaps I've been too lenient in my treatment of you.”
Cassandra didn't understand what those words meant. She was blinking far too much, chewing on her lower lip. Her hands were curled on top of his desk, her nails biting into her palms as she tried to piece together exactly what was going to happen. Because this certainly didn't hurt – it wasn't exactly pleasant, because it wasn't as if she hadn't seen Gellert do this to other woman. He was indifferent and cold, but, if nothing else, he knew the workings of the human body.
Unwilling, she let out a heavy breath and shuddered. He shifted his hand, pressing his fingers inside of her; it was somewhat too rough. His fingers were large, calloused, and her fear was keeping quick time with what he was doing to her. That seemed to count for very little, however. He continued to stroke at her insides, thrusting his fingers, scissoring them, working her body against her in every way until she finally gave way and came; the sounds that welled up inside of her throat were quickly bitten off into the side of her cheek.
And then he was readjusting his grasp on her body. His hands – which, surely, could both wrap around her hips completely – nimbly flipped her so that she was on her back looking up at him. He pushed her backwards, sliding her across his cleared desk.
He wasn't going to - ?
He reached down and slid his wand out, a motion that seemed disgustingly practiced to her gaze. Some part of her quietly wished that she had learned to fear this action by now, but something inside of her resiliently kept throwing herself back against his will even though there was no chance of winning. She had no power here – no rights -
“I tire of your disobedience, Cassandra,” Gellert said. He was looking steadily down at her; the hand not holding his wand came to a rest on her knee. He smiled. “I haven't tried this spell before. It should be fun.”
His wand made contact with her skin, on part of her labia. If there was a word that he whispered, she missed it entirely, because she was letting out a gasp of pain, pushing up against the hold he had on her knee, trying to move away. The sensation was quite peculiar, but hurt all the same. She could feel the broken skin, could feel the way that the blood was slipping away from her body, hot and smooth, to pool on his desk. It took her several extra seconds to process anything other than the pain – but when she shifted again, trying to calm herself so that she didn't incite him further, she realized that there was something else.
Was that metal?
She stared up at him and she knew that her expression had to be one of surprise. He didn't say anything at all. He didn't falter, but simply moved up a trace amount and pressed in again.
He repeated the action over and over and each time Cassandra was certain that she couldn't stand it any longer. She felt torn apart, raw and ragged. Her legs were slick with her own blood.
As soon as he was finished, he drew back for a moment, studying the piercings that traced their way up and down. There were six in each row, pristine and silver despite the blood that was still sluggishly dripping around them.
Gellert twisted the wrist that was holding the wand, drawing forth a silver-colored ribbon. He didn't look at her before stepping back in.
She would never understand how he managed to lace the ribbon through with how large his fingers were. But he did. His motions were smooth, almost nimble. With each press of the ribbon, she could feel her skin being drawn together. It was perhaps worse than having the metal put it in the first place. His spell hadn't been designed to heal her and she could feel the skin tearing further as he bound it shut.
He straightened up when he was done. She was still splayed across his desk, trying not to shiver openly, although she felt dizzy and nearly nauseous.
“I spelled the ribbon to match whatever it is you're wearing,” Gellert said as he turned away to pick up her robe and hold it out to her.