Chapter Text
Bellatrix made confident strides through the manor, walking the pair of them ever closer to the delectable smell of food. Hermione’s stomach rumbled obnoxiously, causing Bellatrix’s lip to curl up into a smirk.
“Now, pet, you will refer to me as Mistress Black in front of company. That includes my house-elves. You will only call me Bella when we are alone, do you understand?” She held the chain loosely in her hand, confident that the girl wouldn’t do anything as stupid as escaping.
Hermione, who walked one step behind her new mistress, nodded quickly. “Yes, Mistress Black.”
“You are a quick learner, little witch. I will, of course, be using that deep seated need to please to my advantage. I find it rather delightful.”
She turned to give the girl a smile over her shoulder - a look that promised heat and pain in equal measure.
“It would be unbecoming to break bread with a slave; as such, you will be seated at my feet whilst I eat. You will remain on the floor until told otherwise, and you will only speak when spoken to. However, despite being known for my sadism, you will not be required to kneel for the entire time. Once I have finished my food, then you will eat. Understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Black,” Hermione replied automatically. Secretly, though, a giddy heat had settled low in her stomach at the idea of being seated at the dark witch’s feet.
As they turned one more corner they reached a door that, Hermione assumed, led to the dining room. Bellatrix put one finger below the girl’s chin, tilted her face upwards, and made firm eye contact with the younger witch.
“You can do this. Ironically, this may be your hardest challenge so far, but I am sure you are more than up for the task. The elves are none of your concern. If they want to look, then let them look. You are there because I wish you to be there.” She gestured to Hermione’s lack of clothing with her hand. “You are dressed for my pleasure. Do not fear the eyes of elves, pet.”
Hermione bit her lip anxiously. She hated the enslavement of elves at the best of times and the idea of forcing them to witness her nakedness didn't sit right either. But she wasn’t in a position to request their consent; she was barely in a position to give her own consent. The whole thing was feeling a little overwhelming.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, as if trying to convince herself to say her next words. “If you find yourself struggling… you may place a hand on my ankle for reassurance."
The dark witch wasn't really sure why she said it. She told herself it would be easier to have a willing slave, and surely that meant they had some support from their owners… right?
"But…do not lift your gaze unless you are told to do so.”
Hermione nodded slowly. She released her lip from between her teeth and quickly soothed it with her tongue. She took a final deep breath and then gave Bellatrix a second, more confident, nod. With that, Bellatrix pushed open the door.
The dining room was far larger than Hermione had expected - and that was saying something. A long wooden table took up the majority of the space but every last inch of the room had been decorated with care; from the intricate crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, to the plush rug beneath her feet, this room was opulence incarnate.
Bellatrix meandered towards the head of the table, where a single place was set. A single tug to the chain lead reminded Hermione to drop her gaze back towards the floor, although so would have liked a few more moments to observe.
The dark witch sat herself in the high backed chair at the head of the table and Hermione sank gracelessly to the floor. She was utterly shocked to find a small pillow placed below the table and she gratefully sat herself upon it. She felt a gentle pull from the chain and watched as the handle was looped over a hook that had been seamlessly attached to the underside of the table.
The room had been empty; but, as if triggered by a silent signal, a flurry of elves appeared from the kitchen. Until now, Hermione had not thought about the fact that house-elves were extremely short and that her position under the table would put her eye level with each and every elf that walked past her, but now she could do nothing but pointedly stare at the floor.
She felt the eyes of the elves burning into her; each tiny pair of feet that walked through her eyeline sent a wave of cold shame through her. She could feel herself spiraling closer to panic with each new sound of footfall beside her and she did the only thing she could - she wrapped her hand around Bellatrix’s ankle as if it were a lifeline.
Hermione, herself, was thoroughly surprised that she was actually clutching at Bellatrix for comfort but it gave her comfort all the same. She knew about Stockholm Syndrome, although it was unusual for it to happen so quickly, but it was the only thing she could think of to explain this new codependency. Because the other option was unthinkable. She refused to even consider that she actually liked the witch. Sure she liked the way they bounced off each other, that they seemed to be on the same wavelength when it came to sex, and the way that Bellatrix’s smile sent butterflies to Hermione's stomach…no. She would not think of that possibility. It had to be the early goings of Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless of her tangled web of feelings for the woman, she needed the support and Bellatrix was - at least for now - willing to give that support.
Bellatrix gasped softly as she felt the girl grip her ankle. Sure, she had said the girl could reach for her for comfort, but she hadn’t expected it to actually happen. Now that it was, she was fighting an internal battle between what she wanted to do and what she needed to do. She wanted to drag the thing up by its hair, strap it to the table, and dine to the symphony of its screams. She wanted - but she wouldn’t give in. She was in this for the long haul…even if it meant playing nice. Her lip curled at the notion but she brushed past her revulsion with a roll of her eyes. After she enchanted her knife to move of its own accord - heaven forbid she stopped eating to comfort the girl - she then reached a hand down towards her new toy.
“Come closer, pet,” she instructed gently, in what she hoped was a comforting manner.
She felt it shuffle closer and she threaded her fingers into its hair, scratching gently and encouraging the thing to rest its head against her thigh.
“That’s my good girl. You are doing so well.”
Hermione shouldn’t have felt comfort from the contact but it was her only lifeline in a swirling sea of emotions. She wrapped her arms around Bellatrix’s leg feeling the muscles of her calf jump under her touch. She knew things were bad if she was willingly clutching someone’s leg for comfort, especially if that leg belonged to Bellatrix Black.
The gentle fingers that combed through her hair soothed her further and as the gentle scratch of Bella’s nails began again, she fully submitted to the feeling. Her breathing levelled out and her mind quietened.
“Remember, pet. ‘Other people’s opinions of me are none of my business’. Do not let the eyes of elves scare you.”
Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on each point of contact with the older witch, the warmth that emanated from her, and the comforting feeling of her hand in her hair. She found that, like this, breathing in the smell of cinnamon and pine, she could allow the world to move on beyond her notice.
After what had to have been a solid 15 minutes, Hermione heard cutlery hit the plate, signalling that Bellatrix was finished. She released the woman’s leg and sat upright expectantly. Her stomach rumbled in expectation.
Up till now she had been fed…not exactly terribly but she was certainly not well fed; stew, bread and gruel, cold tins of beans, and one day for breakfast a single wrinkly apple. Currently she was so hungry she might have considered eating a scabby donkey. Luckily, however, that wasn’t necessary as the food that magically appeared on her plate looked not only edible but spectacular.
Chicken in a white wine sauce with mushrooms and lots of garlic, baby carrots in a herb butter, fluffy white rice with a scent of coconut and jasmine, and a large white roll which was still hot from the oven. She let a small gasp escape her and a voice came from above.
“What is the matter, pet?”
“Nothing, Mistress Black. I was just not expecting my food situation to be…,” she thought for a moment for a polite word to describe her expectations, “adequate, let alone spectacular. I am very grateful.”
“Call it a perk of your submission,” Bella said nonchalantly. “Hungry slaves cannot withstand my training. I need you healthy and strong now, little one. So eat up. Would you like water, wine, or Butterbeer?”
“Butterbeer would be amazing!” Hermione blustered, then politely followed up. “Please, Mistress Black.”
As soon as the words had passed her lips an ice cold bottle appeared next to her plate. For the next few minutes she ate and drank happily. It was the most she had eaten since the battle of Hogwarts, and after months in a tent she hadn’t been exactly well nourished then either.
For the first time since Shell Cottage she was not only well fed but full. She forced herself not to lick the plate clean and instead gently placed her cutlery on the plate.
“Finished, pet?”
“Yes, Mistress Black. Thank you. That was… honestly the best food I’ve eaten in months,” she gushed.
“Yes, well, I’m sure the elves will be happy. Look at me.”
Dark eyes peaked down at her from the head of the table and glinted mischievously. “Now, Miss Granger. Are you hungry for dessert?” She lingered on the last word and Hermione was sure that she wasn’t being offered chocolate cake.
She tingled expectantly and fearlessly replied. “Ravenous, Mistress Black.”
“Very good choice, Miss Granger. Now I am not known for being…lenient, however, considering the circumstances, for today only I will leave this choice in your hands. Would you like the easy way or will you continue to go for ‘extra credit’?”
Hermione knew she never really had any other option. She was a teacher’s pet at heart, a people pleaser. She had always submitted extra lengths of homework, done her own outside reading and taken it upon herself to correct Harry, Ron, and even Neville’s homework. She had even been given a time turner during her third year so that she could take extra classes. She didn’t do things by halves.
She was terrified of what ‘extra credit’ would mean in this situation but still she answered, matter-of-factly. “I will always want extra credit, Mistress Black.”
Bellatrix smirked, one corner of her lip curling up higher than the other. She replied in her sing-song voice. “On your own head be it. Stand up.”
Hermione rose to stand beside the dark witch, steadying herself on the dining table. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, like a war drum driving her into battle. Her mouth was dry, despite the Butterbeer that she had only just finished, and she found herself wishing she had chosen the wine - at least she would have had some dutch courage.
A collection of elves watched her from their posts around the room, but she forced herself to focus only on the woman before her. Nothing mattered but Bellatrix.
Bellatrix deftly unhooked the head from its hook on the table and pooled the chain in a small pile upon the table top. “Hop up on the table, pet, right here in front of me.” Bellatrix tapped the spot that had previously held her dinner plate, a wicked grin on her face.
Hermione gently slid between the dark witch and the table - maddeningly aware of the heat that radiated from the woman’s skin - and gingerly perched herself on the edge.
The two women were so close that Hermione’s knees all but straddled the dark witch’s lap, the ruffles of Bellatrix’s dress tickled the backs of Hermione’s bare legs, and she could smell the subtle hint of wine on the woman’s breath.
“This is what is going to happen, Muddy. You are going to lie back against this table. If you move from where I place you, I will stop. If you close your eyes, I will stop. If you try to cover your modesty in any way… I will not even begin. Understand?”
Hermione nodded, an eager anticipation bubbling under her skin. She had always been eager to prove herself, to be the best in any situation and to receive praise from her peers and betters alike. But there was something particularly thrilling about the prospect of proving herself to such a powerful witch. She nodded her agreement, knowing her eyes were already dark with lust. She could feel her underwear sticking uncomfortably to her as she grew wet once more. Tension and excitement thrummed through her and she felt like there was some charged electric current passing through her body.
With a wave from Bellatrix’s wand, Hermione was pushed further backwards until the table rested against the back of Hermione’s knees as her legs dangled down - although the magic did it with more care than Hermione would have expected from the witch. At the same time the remains of her clothes disappeared, and Hermione was confident that there had been a scourgify thrown into the mix as well. The young witch felt an urgent need to drop her hands to cover her crotch, but with strict instructions to do otherwise she forced her hands to remain at her side.
Shifting her chair back slightly, Bellatrix stood gracefully. She took both of Hermione’s hands in hers and then lifted them, forcing the girl to lie back against the table. As she did so, the two witches were pressed flush together, almost nose to nose. Hermione’s wrists were pressed onto the table above her head, but all she could think of was Bellatrix. The weight of her pressing her entire body down against the table, the feeling of her clothes as they brushed against Hermione’s skin, the intensity of the black eyes gazing down at her in a way that could only be described as predatory.
“Be a good girl and keep your hands just here. I was going to use a sticking charm but…extra credit.” She shrugged.
She released Hermione’s wrist, only to trail her fingers down her forearms, scratching gently at the soft skin. She brought her hand to rest against Hermione’s cheek, cradling it in a reassuring manner.
“You will accept everything I give you and be grateful for it. You will keep your eyes open.” It wasn’t a command, it was an expectation - an expectation that would be met or suffer the consequences.
Bellatrix’s hand trailed even lower, barely grazing across the swell of Hermione’s breast as she did so. She inched ever closer to exactly where Hermione needed her, maddeningly slowly. Hermione’s breath hitched and her fingers twitched as she fought the overwhelming desire to bury her fingers in inky black curls. Bellatrix continued to take her sweet time, enjoying watching the goosebumps appear in the wake of her fingers. Bellatrix’s fingers got within centimetres of Hermione’s core, and then…she continued to stroke softly down Hermione’s legs.
The girl released a frustrated huff, feeling pushed nearly to the brink already. She had been unbearably turned on since their encounter in her bedroom, then had sat with that feeling all throughout dinner, and still she had no release. So for the dark witch to touch her, but not grant her even an ounce of true pleasure was torturous.
“Look at me,” Bellatrix commanded and Hermione’s eyes, which had been staring at the ceiling, snapped to her.
The older witch was once again seated at the head of the table, looking astonishingly regal considering the naked girl lying before her. Bellatrix grasped Hermione’s feet and slowly lifted them to rest upon the table. With a sickening jolt, Hermione realised she was spread wide for everyone in the room to see. She was humiliated…and it was hot.
Bellatrix just took a moment to drink it all in; from the delicate curve of Hermione’s breasts, the deep bruises that were blooming against her throat, down to the tuft of mousy brown hair that sat between her legs. She was a sight to behold, even disheveled as she was, and Bella couldn’t wait to truly ruin the girl. Finally, Bellatrix reached out and lazily stroked one finger along dripping folds. Hermione shuddered under the touch, a groan working its way from her throat.
“You’re practically dripping onto the table, pet. Anyone would think you’ve never been touched before.”
Hermione desperately wanted to close her eyes and avoid the calculating stare of the woman before her, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she flicked her gaze back to the ceiling, speaking her words to the decorative coving instead.
“I haven’t. I told you that I hadn’t.”
Bellatrix scoffed. “You told me you were a virgin. You can be a virgin and still let someone touch your pretty pussy. There is a lot you can do whilst still technically being a virgin, pet. Afterall, I’m touching you and yet, I haven’t fucked you.”
“No one else has ever touched me, Mistress Black.” Hermione admitted, her cheeks flaring pink.
The possessive streak within Bella flared; the desire to mark and claim the girl as hers was all consuming. She longed to decorate the girl with yet more signs of her possession. The bruises from her lips and teeth were already taking nicely, a blooming pattern of red and purple spreading across her throat, but it wasn’t enough - not nearly enough.
It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to plunge her fingers deep into Hermione’s core and relish in the screams as she broke her. Instead she simply muttered under her breath. “The long haul, Bella. The long haul.”
Bella trailed her finger up and down Hermione’s now dripping cunt, but she refused to give the girl enough contact for any form of release just yet. No, she would draw this out. If this was to be the girl’s first experience then Bella would make it one the girl wouldn’t soon forget.
She had known the girl was a virgin for a few days, had suspected it for longer than that, but she had expected her to have had at least some experience. After all, the girl had attended Hogwarts, and Bella knew exactly what went down in abandoned classrooms and hidden rooms…unless things had changed drastically from her time there.
Knowing that hers was the only touch that the girl would ever feel was a heady feeling. Having that kind of control over someone was something that Bella had often dreamed of - to take someone so inexperienced and show them the delights of carnal desire, the sweet release of pain, and the sweet torture of pleasure. And here was a girl not only pure as driven snow, but willing and eager to experience everything Bella had to give her.
Despite everything, Bella couldn’t resist pushing the girl just a little further. She pulled her hand back, noting the wetness that clung to her fingertip, and painted it across Hermione’s right thigh.
“You never let Krum touch those perky little tits of yours?” She asked as she twisted the wet nipple between her fingers. “I recall he took you to the Yule Ball. Quite the love triangle you were embroiled in.
Hermione groaned but no words followed the sound. After a moment of silence, Bella pinched Hermione’s clit between her fingers.
The result was instantaneous. The girl's hips canted upwards as she cried out, the words tumbling from her lips moments later.
“No, Mistress Black,” she cried out. She found that each time she used the honorific it became easier, more natural, and the title did seem to fit the dark lady.
With a pleased smile, Bella released the tortured flesh. “You never let that ginger brat touch you here?” She then pressed her fingers back against Hermione’s clit, drawing tiny circles that drew a large moan from the girl.
“No! We... Ooh. We kissed for the first time during the battle,” she replied, her voice more breath than sound.
“Lucky me,” Bella hummed. Moving her hand to rest atop Hermione’s thigh.
“I will admit, pet, I am surprised.” ‘And pleased,’ she thought. “But I suppose I should warn you.” She rolled her eyes, truly bored of still playing nice but she knew she had to at least give the girl a warning. “I don’t really care if it hurts you, scream yourself hoarse for all I care; in fact, I’d rather enjoy that. But at least you can prepare yourself,” she continued with a dismissive flick of her hand, “if your hymen is still intact this could be painful.”
“I… Yes, I understand, Mistress Black.” Hermione had heard the horror stories about the pain involved in losing one’s virginity, but she had hoped it was just an old wives tale. After all, everything Bellatrix had done to her up until now had felt mind-blowingly good, although she was surprised that she counted one particular Cruciatus Curse in that mix.
“You stopped looking at me.”
Hermione, thoroughly chastised despite the lack of judgement in Bellatrix’s tone, quickly flicked her eyes back to the dark witch’s loaded gaze.
The older witch fixed her with a stare and repeated her previous instructions. “If you move from where I placed you, I will stop. If you close your eyes, I will stop. If you scream or cry or beg me to stop…I will continue.” Bellatrix gave Hermione a moment to absorb the weight behind her words. “Are you ready, pet?”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere in Hermione’s chest. The sheer insanity of it hit her all at once. She was so turned on that it was nearly painful, her arousal already chilling against her inner thighs. There was no way she was backing out now. Had it been Ron standing before her the answer might have been different but somehow having her virginity taken by Bellatrix Black on her dining room table was the only thing Hermione desired in this moment.
“I am. Please, I’m ready,” she begged, and unbelievably, she meant it.
Bellatrix smiled, a cold grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. With one hand on each of Hermione’s thighs, she pressed the girl’s knees toward the tabletop, then with two fingers she gently pressed against her labia until Hermione’s cunt opened like a present. She leant forward slightly to blow a stream of air against Hermione’s clit.
“Oh!” It was a sound of surprise, not of displeasure.
Unable to resist any longer, Bella stuck her tongue out to catch the fresh stream of wetness that flowed from Hermione. The first taste of the Golden Girl on her tongue was sweet yet tangy, and Bella hummed softly in appreciation. She dipped her head back between thin thighs, mapping the girl with her tongue.
Hermione was already dripping wet, and Bella found herself trying to catch every drop on her tongue - a futile undertaking but still fun to try. She ran the tip of her tongue over Hermione’s clit, noting the reactions each flick of her tongue produced. The witch below her ground her hips into her face, a move that Bella wasn’t even sure was consciously made, but the groan of need that followed betrayed just how desperate the girl was for her release. Finally, she captured Hermione’s clit between her lips and sucked.
“Oh fuck!” Hermione called out.
Gone were her thoughts of house-elves. Gone was the shame and embarrassment of her developing feelings towards the older woman. All that remained was pleasure, and a deep need for more.
As the sounds from Hermione grew louder and more frantic, Bella positioned two fingers at her entrance. She pushed slightly, her fingers barely pressing inside the girl, but her fingers were quickly gripped by pulsing muscles - although to pull her in or keep her out, Bellatrix wasn’t sure. Hermione arched her back, pressing herself further onto the fingers within her, yet still she kept her hands exactly where they had been placed on the table.
Bella let herself sink deeper until she felt the thin membrane against the tips of her fingers. A shudder traced its way down her spine and she closed her eyes for a minute to reveille in the knowledge that she would be the first and last to ever fuck the wizarding world’s precious golden girl. She pulled back and looked up at Hermione, whose lust filled gaze was already fixed on her.
“Deep breath, pet. Then, when I start, you are going to breathe through the pain.” She smiled wickedly. “Oh I am going to enjoy this, Muddy.”
Bella thrust her fingers through the barrier, grinning maniacally as Hermione shrieked. The girl’s back arched further still, and for a moment Bella thought she might break her own back, but seconds later Hermione slumped back against the table breathing heavily.
Content that the girl wasn’t going to panic or attempt to pull back, Bella began to pump her fingers in and out, allowing herself to bask in the discomfort that the Golden Girl was experiencing.
Quickly though, it became evident that the Golden Girl in question enjoyed her pleasure tinged with pain as the noises that fell from her were positively sinful. Bellatrix had never heard the witch swear before today and yet now the language fell from her lips like a prayer
“Fuck. Oh. Ah. Shit! Oh God, Mistress. Yes!” A broken string of pleading, blaspheme, and honorifics.
As the pain slowly gave way to a deeper pleasure, the girl once more began to grind her hips down, driving herself further down onto the fingers in the process.
When Bellatrix had her fill of watching the cascade of emotions that crossed the girl’s face, she once more locked her lips around Hermione’s clit, swirling her tongue around and around.
It became clear that the girl wasn’t going to last much longer; between the way she gripped at Bella’s fingers and the hitching of her breath, Bella was confident her toy was hurtling towards her release.
She once more doubled her efforts, her hand moving furiously between Hermione’s legs. Her muscles burned but she didn’t care right now, all that mattered was pushing her plaything over the edge.
Bella began to curl her fingers at the deepest point of her thrust, pressing against Hermione's g-spot. She sucked at her clit, hollowing her cheeks and moving her tongue within her mouth. Her assault was relentless. She felt Hermione start to clench around her fingers but nearly stopped in shock as a voice reached her ears.
“Please, Mistress Black. Please, let me cum! Oh Merlin, please let me?”
Bella lifted her head, releasing her clit with a soft pop. There was no hint of shame on the girl's face as she asked for what she needed and Bella was surprisingly pleased by the Golden girl’s actions.
“Since you asked so nicely… Cum for me, my little Mudslut. Cum like a two sickle whore on the table for all to see. Filthy Mudblood!”
Bella tilted her head down once more, gripping Hermione’s clit between her teeth, nipping it harshly.
“Agh fuck, YES! Bellatrix!”
The young witch clenched around the fingers inside her. Her back arched, pressing her hands further into the table, as her eyes bore into the dark witch’s own.
Bella was shocked once more, as the girl not only came but squirted spectacularly; the juices splattering against her corset. She helped the girl to ride out the aftershocks, slowing her hand as she felt the clenching release. Hermione slumped back against the table, her breath coming in ragged pants.
After a moment, the girl tilted her chin down once more and Bella gave her a toothy grin.
“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, a delightful flush painting her skin.
Bella removed her fingers and brought them towards the young witch's mouth. “Open,” she instructed.
Obediently, Hermione took the fingers between her lips, tasting her own arousal. She hummed softly, a sound of contentment, and carefully cleaned each drop from the digits.
Bella removed her fingers, pleased to see Hermione subconsciously chasing them with her tongue.
“You have done well, Mudpup.” ‘Better than I ever expected,’ she thought. “You do look so thoroughly debauched. Perhaps I should make you the centrepiece for my next dinner party. I hear Golden Girls are rare nowadays. But, we won’t be having visitors until you are properly trained, so you needn't worry about that yet. For now, I believe I promised you a reward for a job well done.”
“That wasn’t my reward?” Hermione asked, still slightly dazed.
“Not even nearly, pet,” Bella replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.