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hp_ssc_fest2010-08-20 12:13 am
hpsscmods) wrote in hp_ssc_fest2010-08-20 12:13 am
Fic: Sidottu (Ginny/Pansy) by andymort
Title: Sidottu
Author:andymort
Pairing/Character(s): Ginny/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Bondage, D/s, scratching, hair-pulling
Word count: 1,496
Summary: She always knows exactly what I want.
Author notes: So... I’m not sure what happened to my bunny. What was originally supposed to be an angry one-off between Hogwarts-aged girls ended up as established relationship (dare I say it?) semi-fluff between two adults. What the hell? Many thanks to the very awesomeldymusyc for the SPaG scan.
I’ve never quite figured out what it is about this that attracts me so. Not that I’ve ever really given it proper thought – whenever I do think about this, I’m either actually doing it or fantasising about doing it, and then I’ve got better things to do than some kind of psychological self-evaluation.
Right now, my only even half coherent thought about it is that it probably has something to do with how important control is for me in all other aspects of life. I always have to have everything perfectly under control: money, work, relationships, everything. This is the only situation in which I just stop and let myself be taken care of, be used, and this is the only situation in which it feels good. So incredibly, unbelievably good that I don’t know what I’d do if someone said that I’d have to give this up.
I’m standing in the middle of a dark bedroom. Or well, at least it was dark when I last saw it; it was probably closer to two hours ago that my eyes were blindfolded with the grey scarf she knows I love. I was barely fifteen years old when I noticed for the first time how much all the other senses are heightened when one is taken away – even the smallest touch feels mind-blowingly intense, whether it’s a slight breeze from the open window or her long, flaming red hair tickling my bare breasts.
Her fingers gently caress my left nipple, the touch softer than the silk on my eyelids, but still full of possessiveness and authority. I can’t help but to shiver, and I hear her low, honeyed laughter only an inch away from my ear. My hands twitch reflexively, trying to touch her, but of course they don’t move anywhere, as they’re tied in two places – each hand grasping the other arm’s elbow, strong rope binding them at each wrist – and won’t budge the slightest bit.
“Merlin, Gin, fuck..!” I gasp breathlessly, when the goddess standing in front of me grabs a fistful of the shoulder-length black hair at the back of my head and tugs hard. I don’t know what it is about it that makes me wet my knickers every time, but it’s always the same reaction. The times when she’s away from home and I’m alone in our bed, having kept myself at the brink of orgasm for as long as I can, I like to pull my own hair to send me over the edge. I can’t get enough of it, like I can’t get enough of any of the other things that she does to me.
Immediately after the words have left my mouth, I regret them – I know the rules of this game, after all. The fingers twined in my hair pull so hard it hurts, and I hear her whisper even closer than the laugh before. “What have I said, Parkinson? You keep your mouth shut until I instruct you to speak. Or do I have to gag you as well?” She lowers her lips onto my neck and sucks briefly. I bend my head back partly from my own will, and partly due to the new demanding tug, and I feel sharp teeth dig into the sensitive skin above my collarbone. She knows exactly how to bite me; it hurts but not too much, just on the border of pleasure and true pain.
When she hears that I’ve gone completely silent again, she lets go of my neck and lightly licks the place she’s marked before fastening her lips on my own. I answer the kiss immediately, panting softly into her mouth. She’s still the best kisser I’ve ever met, and I can’t imagine ever not wanting those lips pressed against me. They fit perfectly onto mine, warming me from the inside out, tongue slipping between my lips to start a fight for dominance, a fight I always lose.
Still, she’s never completely tender: one hand hasn’t moved from where it’s holding tightly on to my hair, and the other hand’s nails have started scraping their way from my throat to my thighs and back, over and over again. All that touching, all that her, it’s about to make me lose my mind even though she so far hasn’t paid any attention to where I crave it the most, and I push my hips forward a bit to get the message across. I hear that soft laughter again, and right now I can’t think of any sound in the whole world that’s more beautiful. She’s not laughing at me, I know that, she’s laughing with joy and love: it makes her happy to know that she’s put me in this state of utter ecstasy.
To my relief, my tormentor doesn’t tease me too much, but bends down to catch my nipple between her lips. All the air is expelled from my lungs when I feel the hot suction of her mouth, and I close my eyes even tighter beneath the scarf. I can’t help the soft whine from escaping my mouth when her hand untangles from my hair, but I don’t have time to get too disappointed: the fingers slide slowly down to scratch my upper back. When she also moves the hand that was tracing random patterns on my neck and chest down to tease my folds, I’m completely gone. She knows perfectly well how much I enjoy being scratched, and she doesn’t hesitate in taking advantage of this fact every time she’s doing this, slowly making me go mad with pleasure.
Her other hand continues to tease me and my wetness sticks to her fingers, making the touch feel like silk against my skin. A low groan escapes my lips when a forefinger strokes my clitoris, but I’m careful not to let any actual words out. Breaking the rules will only result in more punishment for me – a painfully pleasurable extension of the already torturous foreplay, and that’s not what I need at the moment. I just want to feel her fingers inside me and her tongue where the lone finger is still playing.
As if reading my thoughts, she bites me once more before straightening back up and pushing me backwards, careful not to make me lose my balance and fall. After a few steps I feel the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I sit down, spreading my legs in order to make room for her to kneel down between them. She grabs my thighs and parts them as much as she can; I’d surely fall back if she’d let go, but she doesn’t. I feel her nails dig into my thighs and my breathing quickens.
The need to grab her hair and push her mouth against me is so strong that I can’t resist trying to pull at my bonds. She seems to recognise the familiar gesture and bends down, using her tongue to slowly part my labia. This first touch is always the most intensive one, when I finally feel that hot muscle touching me, and I don’t even try to stop myself from gasping loudly.
She continues licking and sucking my clitoris, simultaneously scratching my thigh with one hand and my lower back with the other, and when I feel the hand from my thigh move to join her mouth, my entire body shivers with anticipation. My body knows what’s coming, knows that I’ll like it; knows that even though I’ve felt the same touch for years now, it only gets better with time. I’ll never get tired of these ropes and this scarf, her hot tongue, long fingers, sharp nails, nibbling teeth…
She always knows exactly what I want. When she feels my body tense and quiver from the force of my beginning orgasm and I once more gasp out her name, she quickly rises up to capture my lips with her own, rubbing my clit with her fingers a few more times to push me every last bit over the edge. I lose my balance as my body shivers with pleasure, but she holds tightly on to me, all the time gently massaging my lower lip where it’s captured in her mouth. Carefully, she tugs at the ends of the ropes binding me and they open in a second, falling down on the bed behind me. I don’t know where she’s learned to tie knots like that, and right now I couldn’t care less. I wrap my arms around her and rest my head on her shoulder.
No, I could never let go of this. I don’t know if I’d enjoy it as much with someone else, but that’s not important now, either. What’s important is her proximity, her arms gentle on my back, her words of love whispered into my hair. This is what I need, to be tied up, tied up by her, to be by her side. Now and forever.
Author:
andymortPairing/Character(s): Ginny/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Bondage, D/s, scratching, hair-pulling
Word count: 1,496
Summary: She always knows exactly what I want.
Author notes: So... I’m not sure what happened to my bunny. What was originally supposed to be an angry one-off between Hogwarts-aged girls ended up as established relationship (dare I say it?) semi-fluff between two adults. What the hell? Many thanks to the very awesome
ldymusyc for the SPaG scan.I’ve never quite figured out what it is about this that attracts me so. Not that I’ve ever really given it proper thought – whenever I do think about this, I’m either actually doing it or fantasising about doing it, and then I’ve got better things to do than some kind of psychological self-evaluation.
Right now, my only even half coherent thought about it is that it probably has something to do with how important control is for me in all other aspects of life. I always have to have everything perfectly under control: money, work, relationships, everything. This is the only situation in which I just stop and let myself be taken care of, be used, and this is the only situation in which it feels good. So incredibly, unbelievably good that I don’t know what I’d do if someone said that I’d have to give this up.
I’m standing in the middle of a dark bedroom. Or well, at least it was dark when I last saw it; it was probably closer to two hours ago that my eyes were blindfolded with the grey scarf she knows I love. I was barely fifteen years old when I noticed for the first time how much all the other senses are heightened when one is taken away – even the smallest touch feels mind-blowingly intense, whether it’s a slight breeze from the open window or her long, flaming red hair tickling my bare breasts.
Her fingers gently caress my left nipple, the touch softer than the silk on my eyelids, but still full of possessiveness and authority. I can’t help but to shiver, and I hear her low, honeyed laughter only an inch away from my ear. My hands twitch reflexively, trying to touch her, but of course they don’t move anywhere, as they’re tied in two places – each hand grasping the other arm’s elbow, strong rope binding them at each wrist – and won’t budge the slightest bit.
“Merlin, Gin, fuck..!” I gasp breathlessly, when the goddess standing in front of me grabs a fistful of the shoulder-length black hair at the back of my head and tugs hard. I don’t know what it is about it that makes me wet my knickers every time, but it’s always the same reaction. The times when she’s away from home and I’m alone in our bed, having kept myself at the brink of orgasm for as long as I can, I like to pull my own hair to send me over the edge. I can’t get enough of it, like I can’t get enough of any of the other things that she does to me.
Immediately after the words have left my mouth, I regret them – I know the rules of this game, after all. The fingers twined in my hair pull so hard it hurts, and I hear her whisper even closer than the laugh before. “What have I said, Parkinson? You keep your mouth shut until I instruct you to speak. Or do I have to gag you as well?” She lowers her lips onto my neck and sucks briefly. I bend my head back partly from my own will, and partly due to the new demanding tug, and I feel sharp teeth dig into the sensitive skin above my collarbone. She knows exactly how to bite me; it hurts but not too much, just on the border of pleasure and true pain.
When she hears that I’ve gone completely silent again, she lets go of my neck and lightly licks the place she’s marked before fastening her lips on my own. I answer the kiss immediately, panting softly into her mouth. She’s still the best kisser I’ve ever met, and I can’t imagine ever not wanting those lips pressed against me. They fit perfectly onto mine, warming me from the inside out, tongue slipping between my lips to start a fight for dominance, a fight I always lose.
Still, she’s never completely tender: one hand hasn’t moved from where it’s holding tightly on to my hair, and the other hand’s nails have started scraping their way from my throat to my thighs and back, over and over again. All that touching, all that her, it’s about to make me lose my mind even though she so far hasn’t paid any attention to where I crave it the most, and I push my hips forward a bit to get the message across. I hear that soft laughter again, and right now I can’t think of any sound in the whole world that’s more beautiful. She’s not laughing at me, I know that, she’s laughing with joy and love: it makes her happy to know that she’s put me in this state of utter ecstasy.
To my relief, my tormentor doesn’t tease me too much, but bends down to catch my nipple between her lips. All the air is expelled from my lungs when I feel the hot suction of her mouth, and I close my eyes even tighter beneath the scarf. I can’t help the soft whine from escaping my mouth when her hand untangles from my hair, but I don’t have time to get too disappointed: the fingers slide slowly down to scratch my upper back. When she also moves the hand that was tracing random patterns on my neck and chest down to tease my folds, I’m completely gone. She knows perfectly well how much I enjoy being scratched, and she doesn’t hesitate in taking advantage of this fact every time she’s doing this, slowly making me go mad with pleasure.
Her other hand continues to tease me and my wetness sticks to her fingers, making the touch feel like silk against my skin. A low groan escapes my lips when a forefinger strokes my clitoris, but I’m careful not to let any actual words out. Breaking the rules will only result in more punishment for me – a painfully pleasurable extension of the already torturous foreplay, and that’s not what I need at the moment. I just want to feel her fingers inside me and her tongue where the lone finger is still playing.
As if reading my thoughts, she bites me once more before straightening back up and pushing me backwards, careful not to make me lose my balance and fall. After a few steps I feel the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I sit down, spreading my legs in order to make room for her to kneel down between them. She grabs my thighs and parts them as much as she can; I’d surely fall back if she’d let go, but she doesn’t. I feel her nails dig into my thighs and my breathing quickens.
The need to grab her hair and push her mouth against me is so strong that I can’t resist trying to pull at my bonds. She seems to recognise the familiar gesture and bends down, using her tongue to slowly part my labia. This first touch is always the most intensive one, when I finally feel that hot muscle touching me, and I don’t even try to stop myself from gasping loudly.
She continues licking and sucking my clitoris, simultaneously scratching my thigh with one hand and my lower back with the other, and when I feel the hand from my thigh move to join her mouth, my entire body shivers with anticipation. My body knows what’s coming, knows that I’ll like it; knows that even though I’ve felt the same touch for years now, it only gets better with time. I’ll never get tired of these ropes and this scarf, her hot tongue, long fingers, sharp nails, nibbling teeth…
She always knows exactly what I want. When she feels my body tense and quiver from the force of my beginning orgasm and I once more gasp out her name, she quickly rises up to capture my lips with her own, rubbing my clit with her fingers a few more times to push me every last bit over the edge. I lose my balance as my body shivers with pleasure, but she holds tightly on to me, all the time gently massaging my lower lip where it’s captured in her mouth. Carefully, she tugs at the ends of the ropes binding me and they open in a second, falling down on the bed behind me. I don’t know where she’s learned to tie knots like that, and right now I couldn’t care less. I wrap my arms around her and rest my head on her shoulder.
No, I could never let go of this. I don’t know if I’d enjoy it as much with someone else, but that’s not important now, either. What’s important is her proximity, her arms gentle on my back, her words of love whispered into my hair. This is what I need, to be tied up, tied up by her, to be by her side. Now and forever.