Warnings: bestiality, non-consensual sex, violence
Sirius lay in a strange bed. He knew he wasn't in Azkaban, at least, because nothing could feel this good there. Smooth, warm skin pressed against his back, and the hand that traced its way down his stomach and took hold of his cock was sure and knowing.
He placed his own hand over his companion's, interlacing their fingers, and together they rubbed and squeezed his erection. A tongue traced a wet pattern along his ear and the back of his neck, and his cock throbbed pleasurably, and he was warm and safe and loved...
...and suddenly awake.
The heavy collar buckled around his neck clanked against its chain, attached to the wall above, when he moved his head. Cold from the stone floor seeped into his flesh through the thick layer of his coat. Somehow, despite these discomforts, his erection never flagged.
He was so hard it hurt, but it was wonderful, and Padfoot curled into himself and lapped at his straining cock with his tongue, soothing the pain and ratcheting the pleasure higher. His precome tasted better to his doggy sensibilities than it had the few times he'd tried it as a human--layers of flavor and scent unfolding across his tongue--and his mouth watered, slicking everything further. He humped the air instinctually, but even that otherwise useless movement slid his enflamed cock across the roughness of his tongue. A tight sensation gathered in the pit of his stomach.
"Oh, naughty, naughty," Bellatrix said.
Padfoot jumped. He hadn't even heard her come in, which, with his hearing, should have been impossible. Defiantly, he swiped his tongue across the head of his cock again.
"No more of that," Bellatrix said more sharply. "Or I might just have to take that nasty tongue and cut. it. out."
Padfoot rolled over onto his stomach, stifling a whimper as best he could. The cold floor burned against his exposed erection, and he struggled against the desire to rub himself to completion against the flagstaff tiles. The mad bitch would probably threaten his cock if he did something like that.
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed at him. "Up!" she ordered.
Padfoot stared at her. She pointed her wand at him. "Wingardium leviosa."
His paws scrabbled for purchase on the floor as she levitated him, high enough that the collar around his neck bit into the flesh and choked him. Padfoot's tongue flopped out of his mouth as he panted for air.
A quiet Finite incantatum was all the warning he had before he crashed to the floor once again. Not for the first time since being deposited at Bellatrix's, he wished his animagus form were a cat. Ordinarily, he couldn't stand the wretched beasts, but at least they could be counted on to land on their feet.
Bellatrix stared down at him where he lay sprawled on the stone floor. "Up," she said, and Padfoot rose onto legs that trembled in spite of himself. She pointed the wand again; Padfoot mostly managed to not flinch. "Petrificus totalus."
His muscles went rigid and he began to list to the side, but the chain caught him before he could tumble to the ground. The collar threatened his air supply for the second time in as many minutes, but now he couldn't even gasp for breath. For the first time since he'd found himself in this hell, Padfoot looked voluntarily at Bellatrix, willing her to see the desperation in his eyes. His breath whistled slightly every time he inhaled, and spots began to swim in his vision.
Bellatrix smiled, crossed the floor to his side, and poked him with one forefinger. Padfoot found himself nudged to a more stable position. His breathing deepened immediately, and his vision cleared.
"Caring for pets is such a responsibility," Bellatrix mused. "You have to feed them, walk them, keep them from suffocating themselves...take care of all their. needs."
She rested her hand lightly on Padfoot's shoulder, as though in some obscene parody of loyal hound and gentle mistress. And then her hand slipped down along his flank and across his belly--if Padfoot hadn't already been immobilized by her spell, then he would have frozen in stunned disbelief--and brushed against the tip of his still-hard cock.
In his mind, Padfoot shied away from her in horror and disgust, but his muscles wouldn't obey him. Bellatrix's thumb and forefinger encircled his cock and slid upwards in a slow, controlled glide. Her hand on his exposed cock, without even the nominal protection of its furry sheath, was an almost unbearable intrusion. Her thumb swiped across the thin fluid filming the tip.
Bellatrix's hand lifted, and for a sickening moment Padfoot was certain she was going to put her thumb into her mouth to taste him. But then she grasped him half-painfully and began jerking him, her eyes fixed on his. Her tongue darted out to lap at a bead of sweat on her upper lip.
The slip-slide of her hand on his cock was relentless, and his unwilling orgasm was wrung from him more quickly than he thought he could manage to come.
"Finite incantatum," Bellatrix said, and Padfoot collapsed on the floor in a pile of loose and trembling limbs. She wiped her wet hand on his coat and left without a backward glance.
Bellatrix stayed away for over a week--he thought; it was harder to pay attention to time as a dog: everything felt like either now or a lifetime away, unless he really concentrated--but he knew better than to feel hopeful. She'd stayed away longer and still returned eventually.
The quiet creak of the door drew his attention, and Bellatrix slipped inside. "Doggy gets a treat today," she said, smiling at him. Padfoot shivered.
"Do you know what this is?" Bellatrix continued. She held an open hand out to him.
Padfoot tilted his head. He couldn't see well enough to make out more than the fact that it was small and shiny. It smelled of metal, though, and of blood--Bellatrix's and someone else's.
"It's a portkey," Bellatrix said. "A very special portkey. If I die, my body will be transported to the Dark Lord on the instant. And then he'll come here, and take my naughty little dog with him, and punish him most severely. Do we understand each other?"
Padfoot growled low in his throat, and Bellatrix smiled brightly. "Good," she said. The portkey she slid onto a chain around her neck and then let drop so that it nestled between her breasts. She placed a hand over her heart, as though to reassure herself of its presence, before her fingers flicked open the top button of her robes. And the second. And the third.
When all of the buttons were undone, she shrugged her shoulders, and the robe crumpled to the ground. She was naked underneath.
Feeling queasy, he watched with unblinking eyes as she crossed the room, her hips swaying, and lay down beside him. One hand reached for his head, and he pulled away unthinkingly.
Bellatrix pursed her lips. "I could use Imperius, I suppose."
This time when she reached for him, he let her grab hold of the scruff of his neck and tug his head down to her breast. He licked her nipple, then tested it between his teeth, not quite daring to bite. Bellatrix sighed in response.
The scent of metal and blood assaulted his nose, the portkey resting bare inches from Bellatrix's hard nipple. If he lunged for it, he might snap it off before she could react...but could he kill her before she reached either the portkey, her wand, or the chain that weighed down his neck? Padfoot whined in the back of his throat, and Bellatrix laughed, her breasts quivering under his tongue and teeth.
He couldn't stay inches from the portkey and not try something, and trying anything would be suicide, so Padfoot licked a long swipe down Bellatrix's stomach to the apex of her spread thighs. He snuffled at the triangle of musky curls and then swiped his tongue across the moist, tangy folds of flesh. Padfoot's tail drooped in shame, even as the scent and taste of Bellatrix hardened his unwilling prick.
"Yesss," Bellatrix hissed, one of her hands coming down to twist painfully at his ear.
He whimpered, and she arched her back, spreading her legs wider. He lapped at her cunt, slipping his tongue partway into her wet, glistening hole, then licking upwards to her swollen clitoris. The small nub of flesh twitched, and he circled it with his tongue. He could feel strands of saliva sliding over the edge of his curled lip, connecting his mouth to her exposed body with a dozen clear threads. The image was distasteful--the only connection he wanted with his cousin was a severed branch on the family tree--and he licked her with greater determination.
Bellatrix shoved his head downwards, and he took the hint, tracing his tongue slowly along the folds of her labia, then following the same path back. She moaned and let him continue. His prick was hot and heavy between his legs; Padfoot could feel drops of precome collecting at the tip and falling to the floor.
Suddenly, Bellatrix pushed him away entirely. He pulled back to sit on his haunches, confused and wary. She didn't look displeased with him, though, and after she'd caught her breath she turned over onto her stomach and raised herself to hands and knees.
Scrabbling at her back as he mounted her was better than coming; he left long scratches behind the path of his paws, dark against her pale, pale skin. Bellatrix only moaned and pressed back against him more urgently. He surged forward, but couldn't quite manage to get his cock aligned correctly; she had to reach back to guide him into her. The pleasure of each thrust into her wet, clenching heat was undeniable and terrible, and he whined deep in his throat. Bellatrix answered with a throaty moan; he wanted to rip her larynx out.
All too soon the knot at the base of his cock began to expand. The undeniable instinct to press forward conflicted with Padfoot's heartfelt revulsion at the thought of being tied to her for half an hour or more. Fortunately, Bellatrix seemed to have her own reasons to avoid that scenario; she shoved her hand between their bodies, holding the base of his cock and forcing his thrusts to remain shallow.
Without warning, Bellatrix shuddered in sudden orgasm, and her cunt tightened around him in a series of pulses. The sensation was more than enough to set Padfoot off, as well; he yipped and came inside her shivering body. He panted for breath a moment, and then withdrew, making sure to scrape his nails down her back as he dropped to all fours again. His legs felt unsteady; he lay down and closed his eyes, while Bellatrix's footsteps across the room echoed in his ears, followed by the rustle of her clothing. When the door creaked, he slitted his eyes open.
Bellatrix paused at the open doorway. "Sirius?" she said, laughter audible in her voice. Padfoot curled into a miserable ball, stifling a whimper. "Good dog."