The Life and Times of Denebola Black

When Deni got back to her own house she looked up at a clock and saw that it was only around eleven; there was still plenty of time to do research and now she had an actual flesh and blood reason. Two hours later she knew exactly what she was going to do. She had eaten, thanks to a house elf that had been told to bring her her meals without her asking while she was doing any sort of research as she knew that she was likely to forget and go without. Afterwards she continued to follow the schedule she had outlined to the Dark Lord and went to take a nap.

When she woke up she dressed and flooed over to the twins' flat over in Diagon Alley. Upon her arrival she was ushed into the kitchen to help making Christmas dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Deni had known what type of food she would be getting when she accepted their invitation, as neither were known for their prowess in the kitchen; their mother had only ever let Ginny help out. But they did make a mean fried chicken.

They spent an amicable few hours talking, dancing like lunatics and generally joking around. They showed her a couple of new things they were working on down in their lab under the shop. She was particularly enamoured with a little pill that would give muggles the disease that had been made up for the movie 28 Days Later. Right now, though, it just made people lose a bit of their skin with none of the blood spittingly murderous side effects. It was figured that whenever their Lord decided that he wanted the muggles and mudbloods gone completely, they would have this to show him. They were also working on a pill that would be more of an innoculation than anything else as they had already made one for the cure. Of course they were all color coded as the candy they had made in Hogwarts had been.

When their conversation inevitably turned itself to her upcoming ball, they told her that one of them would have put in an offer for her but as they were converts like her they assumed that neither one would be considered at all. She then assured them that had they made it through a first screening (the Dark Lord was expecting many offers for her) that she would reject both of them based simply on the fact that she saw them as brothers and would have a hard time when it came to "creating an heir" as she so kindly put it. Both pretended to be offended by the sentiment, but it didn't have the effect they were going for and she started to laugh.

When she left she invited them to come along to the Dark Lord's castle in a little while. She ended up back at her house, where she changed into one of her many outfits she had set aside for the sole purpose of wearing during a torture session. It was a floor length ballgown made out of white vinyl. The fitted bodice was a tank that clung to her every curve until flaring out into a full skirt that grazed the tops of her bare feet. Her hair was bound into a long thick braid with two leather thongs and her pretty face was bare of makeup.

When she arrived at the Dark Lord's castle she went straight down to her private torture arena that had been custom built for her, as no other witch or wizard had ever wanted to delve so deep into muggle tortures; they were all perfectly fine with using their wands. The room was large with cages and various wooden and metal devices scattered throughout, as well as hooks and claws hanging from the ceiling. At first glance one would also label it a death chamber but upon further inspection they would see that there was almost nothing that could be used to kill someone right away. No, while muggles and muggleborns had died within the walls of this room there was not a death to be had that would come quick and easy. From the comfortable seating on one side of the circular room that was overlooking the scene one could see the stains of the blood from those who had spent time under Deni Black's whims.

After she was sure that the new items she had wanted were present she went down to the dungeons to have a talk with her present before she made a spectacle of him. As she was stalking past the many cells in the dungeon, the only sound coming from her being a slight rustle of her skirt, a ragged voice called out to her.

"Mistress!" She stopped dead in her tracks before turning around and slowly walking back to the cell of the offending prisoner.

"Yes, Finnigan?" Seamus had been caught by Death Eaters three months previous. He was their prisoner because he had been found trying to prevent a mass muggle murder near the England/Scotland border. He had been shocked to come to the castle to find that after Bellatrix Lestrange (whom he recognized from the Prophet) was allowed to have her way with him he had been given over to Deni before given the chance to regain any strength. He had tried to evoke compassion from her, calling her Hermione and talking of times from school. All he ended up doing was pissing her off more with memories of people who didn't support her and turned against her until she came to the conclusion that he needed to live because it would be far too generous to allow him death.

"You said that if I behaved and didn't attract attention to myself that I would get to watch the next time you broke someone in." When she gracefully arched one eyebrow to him he quickly added in, "Mistress."

"I did say that, didn't I?" she asked thoughtfully, though he knew better than to answer. "Seamus, why do you want to watch?"

He blushed a bit at the question but he still answered truthfully. "Because even though I cringe at every move and find it horribly distasteful, it also seems to turn me on."

"If I allow you to be there, I can't guarantee that you won't be dealt with yourself. After all, it's not like I'm the only one who will be present."

He found himself cowering under the steady gaze of the woman who he had known since the age of eleven but he nodded his head in understanding. In fact, he wanted to be tortured. He couldn't explain why and quite frankly he didn't want to ponder on the situation, but he had grown to enjoy the pain in a way that was purely sexual; it was an enjoyment that he had never imagined even existed before. While no one was nice to him, they very rarely went out of their way to make sure he had anything harder than anyone else and he felt safe being a prisoner of the Dark Lord despite the fact that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he could be killed at any moment for any disgression whatsoever, no matter how small.

She looked down upon him before rendering her verdict. "I will allow this," she said. "But you will not be the only prisoner watching in that case though you may well be the only one who actually wants to be there." She smiled at the sandy haired Irishman. It was a smile that the world would look at and think that she was a wonderfully content young woman. To him, it looked sinister and sent a series of chills down his spine.

Deni then called a house elf to her and told it to have four particular prisoners moved to the rickety wooden cages that were hanging from the ceiling in her arena and magically reinforced so as to be inescapable. Soon enough she was back in front of the cell of her present. She was surprised to find him sleeping. The prisoners never slept when they first arrived; they were always too worried over what was going to befall them. Though many of these prisoners knew exactly where they were and who took them.

She took out her wand and woke him up. Immediately he was screaming at her, hurling every insult he could think of. She stood there, smiling sweetly at him, causing him to get even angrier until he had screamed himself out. When he was through, she finally spoke to him. "Puppet, you will call me either 'Mistress' or 'My Lady'. Nothing else. By the end of the night you will asking for repentance and begging for forgiveness for your sins. No one will oblige, of course but you will still beg for mercy just the same."

He stood up and laughed at her; the kind of belly laugh that only comes from true amusement. "You think that I would ask you for any kind of mercy?" He sneered at her as though she was nothing but the dirt under his trainers (which were falling apart) before his face morphed into a look of lust and a need to dominate her. "Missy, I don't know who you think you are, but I eat girls like you for dinner."

"Well, you know what they say. Watch what you eat before it eats you." She paused a moment before continuing. "We'll be going now."

"I'm not going anywhere," he returned beligerantly.

"You would rather stay in the dungeons?" she asked. Instead of answering, he stood there staring at her ample breasts. "Well, if you're not going to come willingly....." she let the sentance trail away as she muttered an incantation and waved her wand. He found himself in a Shrew's Fiddle, named for its resemblance to the instrument. At the widest part of the base his head was restrained in a hole with his hands in separate holes further on down the curvy base near where it meets the neck, which rested below the man's posterior. She opened the door to his cell and with another word and flick of the wand a long length of leather went from one of Deni's hands around through one of the holes of the fiddle and back to her waiting hand. The effect was something akin to reins of a orse, only she was pulling the man to steer him where she wanted rather than urging him on from behind.

"What the fuck?" the man yelled out in surprise. Despite the fact that he had already seen quite a few displays of magic, including the one that sent him to the dungeons in the first place, he hadn't given it a second though, thinking that he was in some weird dream or something. He now knew otherwise because he would never put himself in such a precarious position, even in a dream. He was the one who forced his will on women, not the other way around. She pulled on the strap forcing him to move forward. With a look of unadulterated rage he ran fill tilt at her in a headbutt. When he got about three inches away from her spine he was bounced back, landing on the floor with a great deal of pain. While the fiddle did not break, he fely one of the bones in his right wrist break and his head was pulled back in a restricted whiplash.

She spelled him back onto his feet while giving him a disdainful look. "You will not try anything like that again. Now follow me." she commanded. His face was reproachful, but he did as she said and followed, focusing on the pain and what he would do to make her pay. In front of him, her smile turned from sweet to sinister as she cought these thoughts. She wasn't very good at skimming thoughts the way her master was, but when someone was thinking something with such single-mindedness it was easy enough.

When they stepped into the arena she could feel his hesitation at the sight of all the room, filled with items he had only ever seen on the telley or in movies. Some he had never seen at all. As he looked around he saw that there were five people in cages hanging fron the ceiling that was well over twenty feet high. The people were in various phases of malnutrition, a couple looked as though they were new to being prisoners (Seamus was one of these) while one looked anorexic, another barely seemed to have skin at all, being stretched over the bones as well as lacking pigment from all the time in the dungeons; she almost looked like an alien. The final person's stomach was bloated out and looked like one of those children from those commercials that tell how you can help a child for the cost of a coffee. Seeing these people gave him his first true feeling of fear.


A/N so, just thought I'd tell everyone that this story is also on www.grangerenchanted.com and they will be getting the updates for it at least one day ahead of here, so if you really want I would suggest checking there as well. As it is, they already have the chapter that comes after this one. Oh, and please review.