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tamingthemuse prompt Lamia
Jun. 9th, 2007 08:04 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tamingthemuseTitle: Preparing The Vessel
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Implied Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Warnings: Suggestions of past child abuse (very light suggestions) and underage sex
Summary: She was sent to prepare him for her master's use.
Author's note: This story turned out much differently than what I originally intended, but it brought a smile and raised eyebrow from my beta, to whom I am eternally grateful.
The soft susurrus of her underbelly whispered along the carpeted floor as she moved sinuously toward the room holding the young man. His dreams called to her, drawing her closer and closer with their power as she listened to their siren song of fantasy and nightmares.
In her mind, she saw his desires; his wants and needs hidden during the day. They emerged into dreams at night, his conscious mind no longer able to deny or suppress them. They were no more or less than any other; in fact, compared with some that she had taken they bordered on the tame.
She had eaten from some of the most notorious in history. Rasputin with his dreams of power, bondage and domination over a certain group of royals; Jack and his nightmares of blood and gore that he carried over to his waking life. They had sustained her and fed her with their rich fantasies, quenching the unbearable thirst that had plagued her for centuries.
She had her favorites however. The fevered dreams of Mengele as he experimented on the children, trying to determine how twins differed from one another. The nighttime abominations that dwelled in the minds of the German SS officers after a good day at the pens, separating loved ones from the cattle cars and watching the showers through the glass. Their flavor was rich and rife with memory instead of fantasy and they fulfilled something else inside her—her need for the horrors of how humans treated one another. It brought so many buried feelings back to her.
With a nostalgic wave of anticipation, she set her mind to change and grew from the lithe form of the snake to the sinuous fullness of a woman. Her breasts were lush and heavy with large nipples, already pebbled in anticipation of the night’s activities with the still form behind the door. Her body felt ripe and heavy with need as she silently slipped into his mind even as she turned the knob and slid through the crack in the door to survey her prey for the evening.
He slept on his back with his arms thrown out to the sides, spread-eagle on the wide bed. His mouth was open, although no sound escaped him in the velvet stillness that surrounded him; she wondered if her presence had affected him yet when she noticed the tented sheet and the slight flush that pinked his skin. Probing his thoughts, she found a pearl of wisdom, a nugget that would make this encounter more special than any she’d had in a long while.
He was a virgin, untouched by any besides his own hand. He had never felt the tightness of a woman surrounding him or the passionate kiss of a lover. His only experience was in the confines of his own mind.
She would remember this one for years.
With a soft sigh, she made her way across the room to strip the sheet off the lad. He shivered in the cool night air and goosebumps marched their way across his skin, but her eyes were on the prize, the only thing that could fulfill the aching in her groin.
With a shake of her head she took on the face and hair of the woman of his dreams. She crawled up his body and let the petal-soft skin of her flesh rouse him to near-wakefulness, a hazy look in the dove-gray of his eyes that rounded in surprise.
“Hermione?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“Sleep, Draco,” she said, snatching his own name from his mind. “It’s only a dream.”
His eyes closed on a sigh and she pressed her mouth against the soft spot on his throat, directly beside his Adam’s apple. His pulse fluttered like a caged bird against her lips, warm and inviting and tasting of ripe cherries in her mind. He moaned and tried to put his arms around her, but she was faster than that and pinioned him to the bed with a wave of her hand.
She toyed with him as his dreams filled with lusty thoughts of a wild-haired girl with copper-pence eyes, intelligent and witty enough to keep his attention but forbidden because of their differences. Filing the information away, she stroked his length into full hardness before she positioned herself over him, then sat down and took him inside of her heat.
He came fully awake when he penetrated her; she knew it was inevitable since her body temperature was greater than a human’s was. “What—?” he began, but another wave of her hand silenced him and sealed his fears inside his head.
Rocking, she began to feed.
Every horror, every slight, every evil thought the boy ever had came rushing to the surface of his mind, paralyzing him more effectively than her wordless magic had. Memories of childhood traumas vied with petulant words and hurt feelings, childish battles fought and won. The secret rituals that he had been subjected to as a boy to make him a worthy vessel rose and fell, as did the feelings of inadequacy and guilt—both caused by her current appearance as he watched her undulating on his cock, her hips circling and writhing in a figure eight. He watched with a mingled desire and fear that was more than delicious, it was intoxicating.
Her fingers plucked at his flat nipples and teased the faint line of hair that drifted down from his navel to their connection. Her muscles clenched him like his own hand, rippling along his length with years of experience that outweighed his own fantasies and he knew the lie, tasted it on the air as she stilled on top of him. “Who are you?” he asked, finally able to break through the silence and her magic.
“I am many people, but I am not your Hermione,” she said. A moment of ecstasy crossed his features as he began to orgasm, his hips moving of their own accord as he thrusted up into her body without control or conscious volition.
“Then what are you?” he asked breathlessly as her features melded back into her own.
She rocked back and held him within her, imprisoned by her vaginal muscles as she gave him the truth. “Some call me a lamia, a shape-shifting snake. Some call me a succubus, stealing men’s dreams and fantasies and making them real. I have had many names through the years.”
She bent forward and ran her forked tongue over his earlobe. “I have been known as Lilith when I was young, many thousands of years ago. It was the name my husband gave me when I was created.”
“But what is your name now?” he whispered, his fear surfacing again at the feel of her tongue and the remembrance of things that he had read about mythology.
“Now? Now my favorite name is the one that my master gave me. Now, I go by the name Nagini.” She opened her mouth and struck quickly to drink his blood and separate his darkened soul from his body. Her fangs slipped easily into his skin and his mouth opened in a wordless scream that reverberated in her mind. His soul came easily, called by her millenium-old magic that Lucifer himself could neither resist nor deny her. It was her gift.
She understood the importance now of her master’s task. She had to prepare the vessel, taking away the spark of humanity left and readying it for filling with her master’s own essence. He was a strong one, one that would last for years. She would enjoy being his bound slave.
She couldn’t remember when Tom had found her, only that he had fed her beyond her wildest imagination. He had given her male after male, all with a bloodlust that rivaled her own and a penchant for torture that sometimes frightened even her. They were delicious in their own way, but this boy had fed her well. She felt bloated and full from his terrors and needed to find a warm place to sleep it off.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself inward and felt herself shrinking back to the large, heavy snake. The boy lay motionless and silent, although regrettably still alive. She felt him recoil underneath her as she curled up on the bed next to him, hissing and flicking her tongue out to taste the oeuvre of her work.
She felt the master’s call and slithered from the bed after giving the boy one last nip with her fangs. The door opened before her and she left silently, the perfect vessel lying quiescent on the bed. He would do well for her master. She was sure of it.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Implied Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Warnings: Suggestions of past child abuse (very light suggestions) and underage sex
Summary: She was sent to prepare him for her master's use.
Author's note: This story turned out much differently than what I originally intended, but it brought a smile and raised eyebrow from my beta, to whom I am eternally grateful.
The soft susurrus of her underbelly whispered along the carpeted floor as she moved sinuously toward the room holding the young man. His dreams called to her, drawing her closer and closer with their power as she listened to their siren song of fantasy and nightmares.
In her mind, she saw his desires; his wants and needs hidden during the day. They emerged into dreams at night, his conscious mind no longer able to deny or suppress them. They were no more or less than any other; in fact, compared with some that she had taken they bordered on the tame.
She had eaten from some of the most notorious in history. Rasputin with his dreams of power, bondage and domination over a certain group of royals; Jack and his nightmares of blood and gore that he carried over to his waking life. They had sustained her and fed her with their rich fantasies, quenching the unbearable thirst that had plagued her for centuries.
She had her favorites however. The fevered dreams of Mengele as he experimented on the children, trying to determine how twins differed from one another. The nighttime abominations that dwelled in the minds of the German SS officers after a good day at the pens, separating loved ones from the cattle cars and watching the showers through the glass. Their flavor was rich and rife with memory instead of fantasy and they fulfilled something else inside her—her need for the horrors of how humans treated one another. It brought so many buried feelings back to her.
With a nostalgic wave of anticipation, she set her mind to change and grew from the lithe form of the snake to the sinuous fullness of a woman. Her breasts were lush and heavy with large nipples, already pebbled in anticipation of the night’s activities with the still form behind the door. Her body felt ripe and heavy with need as she silently slipped into his mind even as she turned the knob and slid through the crack in the door to survey her prey for the evening.
He slept on his back with his arms thrown out to the sides, spread-eagle on the wide bed. His mouth was open, although no sound escaped him in the velvet stillness that surrounded him; she wondered if her presence had affected him yet when she noticed the tented sheet and the slight flush that pinked his skin. Probing his thoughts, she found a pearl of wisdom, a nugget that would make this encounter more special than any she’d had in a long while.
He was a virgin, untouched by any besides his own hand. He had never felt the tightness of a woman surrounding him or the passionate kiss of a lover. His only experience was in the confines of his own mind.
She would remember this one for years.
With a soft sigh, she made her way across the room to strip the sheet off the lad. He shivered in the cool night air and goosebumps marched their way across his skin, but her eyes were on the prize, the only thing that could fulfill the aching in her groin.
With a shake of her head she took on the face and hair of the woman of his dreams. She crawled up his body and let the petal-soft skin of her flesh rouse him to near-wakefulness, a hazy look in the dove-gray of his eyes that rounded in surprise.
“Hermione?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“Sleep, Draco,” she said, snatching his own name from his mind. “It’s only a dream.”
His eyes closed on a sigh and she pressed her mouth against the soft spot on his throat, directly beside his Adam’s apple. His pulse fluttered like a caged bird against her lips, warm and inviting and tasting of ripe cherries in her mind. He moaned and tried to put his arms around her, but she was faster than that and pinioned him to the bed with a wave of her hand.
She toyed with him as his dreams filled with lusty thoughts of a wild-haired girl with copper-pence eyes, intelligent and witty enough to keep his attention but forbidden because of their differences. Filing the information away, she stroked his length into full hardness before she positioned herself over him, then sat down and took him inside of her heat.
He came fully awake when he penetrated her; she knew it was inevitable since her body temperature was greater than a human’s was. “What—?” he began, but another wave of her hand silenced him and sealed his fears inside his head.
Rocking, she began to feed.
Every horror, every slight, every evil thought the boy ever had came rushing to the surface of his mind, paralyzing him more effectively than her wordless magic had. Memories of childhood traumas vied with petulant words and hurt feelings, childish battles fought and won. The secret rituals that he had been subjected to as a boy to make him a worthy vessel rose and fell, as did the feelings of inadequacy and guilt—both caused by her current appearance as he watched her undulating on his cock, her hips circling and writhing in a figure eight. He watched with a mingled desire and fear that was more than delicious, it was intoxicating.
Her fingers plucked at his flat nipples and teased the faint line of hair that drifted down from his navel to their connection. Her muscles clenched him like his own hand, rippling along his length with years of experience that outweighed his own fantasies and he knew the lie, tasted it on the air as she stilled on top of him. “Who are you?” he asked, finally able to break through the silence and her magic.
“I am many people, but I am not your Hermione,” she said. A moment of ecstasy crossed his features as he began to orgasm, his hips moving of their own accord as he thrusted up into her body without control or conscious volition.
“Then what are you?” he asked breathlessly as her features melded back into her own.
She rocked back and held him within her, imprisoned by her vaginal muscles as she gave him the truth. “Some call me a lamia, a shape-shifting snake. Some call me a succubus, stealing men’s dreams and fantasies and making them real. I have had many names through the years.”
She bent forward and ran her forked tongue over his earlobe. “I have been known as Lilith when I was young, many thousands of years ago. It was the name my husband gave me when I was created.”
“But what is your name now?” he whispered, his fear surfacing again at the feel of her tongue and the remembrance of things that he had read about mythology.
“Now? Now my favorite name is the one that my master gave me. Now, I go by the name Nagini.” She opened her mouth and struck quickly to drink his blood and separate his darkened soul from his body. Her fangs slipped easily into his skin and his mouth opened in a wordless scream that reverberated in her mind. His soul came easily, called by her millenium-old magic that Lucifer himself could neither resist nor deny her. It was her gift.
She understood the importance now of her master’s task. She had to prepare the vessel, taking away the spark of humanity left and readying it for filling with her master’s own essence. He was a strong one, one that would last for years. She would enjoy being his bound slave.
She couldn’t remember when Tom had found her, only that he had fed her beyond her wildest imagination. He had given her male after male, all with a bloodlust that rivaled her own and a penchant for torture that sometimes frightened even her. They were delicious in their own way, but this boy had fed her well. She felt bloated and full from his terrors and needed to find a warm place to sleep it off.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled herself inward and felt herself shrinking back to the large, heavy snake. The boy lay motionless and silent, although regrettably still alive. She felt him recoil underneath her as she curled up on the bed next to him, hissing and flicking her tongue out to taste the oeuvre of her work.
She felt the master’s call and slithered from the bed after giving the boy one last nip with her fangs. The door opened before her and she left silently, the perfect vessel lying quiescent on the bed. He would do well for her master. She was sure of it.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-09 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 11:10 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-10 12:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 11:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-10 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 11:12 am (UTC)That was probably the best compliment that I could have gotten for this story. Disturbing...oh, you bet... :D
no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 10:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-12 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-14 01:11 pm (UTC)I love how you wove the lamia/succubus legend in with Nagini. Very creative.
And our poor Draco --- he's dead meat, literally.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-15 12:18 am (UTC)I prefer to think of Draco as a live...vase, yeah...empty, waiting for the right filler...the right thing to set off those eyes and that hair...:D
wow....
Date: 2007-11-25 10:04 pm (UTC)Ok;
I bow down to the literate altar that belongs to the Goddess Spikespetslayer!! In my own personal paganism, I admire Lilith, and if you can, get ahold of the book: "The Dark Archetype" by Denise Dumars and Lori Nyx. Its a fabulous book, and it covers dark goddesses and dark gods.
Re: wow....
Date: 2007-11-26 01:14 am (UTC)I'm really glad that you enjoyed the story. Your review thrilled me beyond words and I will definitely look into that book recommendation--it sounds interesting and intriguing, and if there's anything I love more than writing, it's reading.
Thank you!
Re: wow....
Date: 2007-11-26 01:21 am (UTC)Liz
Re: wow....
Date: 2007-11-26 01:26 am (UTC)Real name? You mean, in RL? That would be Dedra, from the Gaelic name Dierdre--it means 'bringer of sorrows'. Kind of fits the stories that I write (mostly angsty, twisted fics).
My friends call me Dede or De--feel free to call me either. :D
And do let me know about the rituals. It's been a long time since I've done any ritual spellwork (like, since I was 16-17) but I still find myself interested in it.
Re: wow....
Date: 2007-11-26 01:37 am (UTC)