Sins of the Father

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first story I have posted on this site. It's really dark and the first scene chapter has rape in it. I repeat again, this chapter alludes to very dark torture and has a disturbing rape scene. Please be kind, feel free to review, and keep in mind that I edit my own stuff.

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Cold stone scrapped along her back. It dragged at her skin, flaying it open. She knew that she was caking the ground with her dirty blood, the red liquid staining the cracks in the stone. Her head was throbbing from where it had been smashed against the hard rocks underneath her. As the man above her pounded into her painfully, she absentmindedly wondered if she was bleeding from her head as well.

The man above her was recklessly slamming into her. It seemed to her that he was attempting to fuck her to death, which very well could
have been the case. She realized, in the back of her head, that she also must be bleeding from between her legs, her filthy blood splashing around his cock.

It gave her pause to think that for someone who cherished purity above all things, the man inside her was exceedingly becoming tarnished by her blood.

She had never anticipated that the first time she would ever have sex with someone it would be like this, but then again, so many things in her life had not gone the way she had imagined. She had been prepared to spend the rest of her days as a common Muggle, going to University to become a lawyer, a doctor, or even a professor. She had wanted two point five children with the man that, preferably, would have been the only man to ever rest himself inside her. She also imagined that he would be her equal on all levels, challenging her at every turn. She was going to help change the world with her formidable courage, knowledge, and compassion. She was going to have a normal life, with a normal husband, normal job, and a normal career.

Instead, she was locked in a dungeon, being used as a pawn, a bargaining chip, in a struggle that had been brewing for over a thousand years. She had decided to become friends with Harry Potter and that had made her a target before she was even a teenager.
She also happened to be the most brilliant witch the Wizarding World had seen in a generation. Being born a Muggle, however, made her prey. Not many could stomach the idea that such a worthy and gifted witch was of common, even dirty, blood. She was being punished for something she had no control over; which seemed just like something the Wizarding World would do.

For hundred of years, an undercurrent of tension between purebloods and Muggle-borns had existed. Both groups were at fault, and many had been hurt, or even killed. Families, livelihoods, friendships, and society itself had been changed and disrupted. For hundred of years things had been bad off, at a slow boil, until a lonely boy named Thomas Marvolo Riddle had upped the stakes.

Long, blond hair swarm into her vision, disturbing her thoughts. She looked up into the face of the man violating her, only to see detached, soulless grey eyes searing into her. His face was as blank as the mask he usually wore, and she would have been convinced he wasn’t enjoying himself if it weren’t for the smirk across his bloodless lips. He wasn’t even sweating, his body as cold as the look in his eyes. His strong body continued to propel itself into her and, for the first time since becoming a witch, she prayed to God, to any God, to save her.

She was painfully aware of how long the torture had been going on. She had been at the hands’ of Riddles followers for months now, and each one seemed to have a particular punishment they enjoyed inflicting on her. For days on end, Goyle would starve her, always helping himself to large portions of the finest foods in front of her gaunt face. Once finished, he would watch as she hungrily ate the scrapes he threw at her, telling her that Mudbloods only deserved to eat like the dogs they were. Crabbe would force her to clean the dungeons, making sure she scrubbed every surface, sometimes even scrubbing her own blood out of the cracks in the stone floors. She was forced to make sure everything gleamed, while he rested, reminding her that Mudbloods were only illegal slaves. Rodolphus Lestrange usually took his anger out on her, torturing her with instruments he had created himself. Whips that had multiple tails on them would lash across her back, the nails and screws on the end of the strips of leather tearing away her flesh. His wife would join him sometimes, and she would be forced to watch as Bellatrix would get on her knees and pleasure her husband as he beat the young prisoner. Sometimes, Bellatrix would torture her by herself. She was really jealous of the time her husband got to spend with ‘the Mudblood whore’ and would tell the girl that their time was special. Occasionally, she would black out from their combined assaults on her. The Carrows would verbally torture her, telling her that everyone and everything she had ever loved had been destroyed. They would talk to her about her parents and laugh, saying that the Grangers had clung to each other as they were being Crucioed. They laughed at her tears, Alecto Carrow licking them off of her face once.

Malfoy, however, had a different kind of torture. He wanted to break apart her soul, not just casually torture her or physically hurt her. He knew that she was strong enough to be able to withstand the punishments the others’ handed out. He wanted something that would stick with her until she died. Something that she would feel every time she opened her legs and gave a man the misfortune of sticking his dick there. Something that she would feel when she gave birth to her mudded children, knowing that they were passing through something that had once been used by the pureblood above. He wanted to, hard, rough, and bloodily, drive the idea that the only place that Mudbloods like her deserved to be were underneath pure wizards such as himself, allowing themselves to be used as the cunt holes that they were. He particularly liked when he was able to shut her up by stuffing his cock down her throat, telling her that that was the only time she should ever use her mouth in a wizard’s presence.

Lust seemed to be his vice, a deep, disturbing lust, and he employed his abilities to her.

He came suddenly, flooding her body with his seed. He collapsed on top of her, not moving as his dick finished spurting inside her. He could tell she was having problems breathing, but what did he care? His dick finally stopped and it began softening, He pulled out and kissed her forehead ever so gently, almost as if he were her lover.

“You’re always so good to me, pet, you know that, hm?” He continued laying on her for a second, reveling in her struggle to capture breath. Slowly, he pushed himself off her, standing up and then retrieving his wand. He cleaned himself up with a lazy flick, and then looked over her. He cleaned the blood from between her legs, but left the rest of her body bloody. “That was quite the excursion, wouldn’t you agree? You must be hungry. I’ll have to send Goyle down,” he chillingly said, laughing as he finished dressing. He took one last look at her and left, leaving her to wallow on the ground.

She prayed. She prayed for liberation, trying to remember the prayers of her youth. She prayed, wishing to see the sun again and the way it glints of the snow, or new flowers. She prayed to be able to dance in the rain again, to feel a cool autumn breeze on her back. She prayed for hot, sweltering summer days. She prayed for a full stomach. It had been months, and still she prayed for these things. She prayed to see the stars, and to see the freckles on Ron’s face or the glasses that rested on Harry’s nose.

She rolled over onto her side, hoping to be able to alleviate some of the pain on her back and between her legs. A dull ache was thudding through her center, the same feeling she always got after Malfoy left. She closed her eyes and tried taking a deep breath, only to have a racking pain shoot up through her stomach, causing her to open her eyes in surprise.

She sighed and looked over her shoulder at the blood that she knew was there, congealing on the grey stone.

She prayed.