Born To Raise Hell

Title: Born To Raise Hell
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Peter Pettigrew/Walden Macnair; Peter/Macnair/OMC
Challenge: Response to Easy Pairing Challenge #6 for the Rat\'s Tale Fuh-Q-Fest:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Rats_Tale_FQF/
Summary: Wormtail has begun to wonder if joining the Death Eaters was a good idea after all; however, he discovers a rather persuasive reason to stay...
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M/M slash, BDSM, threesome, extreme violence, rape, torture, mutilation, cannibalism (sort of), character death (not main), watersports, high squick rating, probably AU
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K. Rowling. My demented fantasies are at fault for this little fic, and the arethusa weed is my own invention.

Peter Pettigrew suppressed a sigh, struggling not to furrow his brow in disappointment. The gathering together of Death Eaters had been fascinating, to be sure, with the mysterious, gloom-laden atmosphere, dark robes and masks, and it was a rare treat to be allowed inside so palatial a house as Malfoy Manor, which was the venue for this assembly of Lord Voldemort\'s followers. His initiation, meeting the almighty Dark Lord at last, and the pride (laced with pain) of receiving the Dark Mark had been a series of momentary thrills - but the whole event had not lived up to the wild fantasies that Peter was ashamed to admit he had every night while alone in bed. There were no orgiastic revels, no bare-breasted women dancing themselves to ecstasy, no virgin girls or boys dragged into the circle to be cruelly ravished by all and sundry. Instead, the Death Eaters were made to listen to Lord Voldemort pontificating for ages on the paramount importance of pure wizarding blood, and then there were plates of dainty finger food and drinks and people milling around, socialising, just like at any other aristocratic soiree.

With a heavy heart, Peter wondered if he had made the right decision in joining the cause of the Dark Lord. All these glittering, alluring people he admired from afar and wanted to befriend - Bellatrix Lestrange, rumoured to be a whip-wielding bitch goddess who saw men as little more than worms to be crushed beneath her spike-heeled boots; Lucius Malfoy, who vastly preferred the affections of his own sex and had merely married his luscious lesbian wife Narcissa to beget an heir; Antonin Dolohov, the feared assassin who was said to possess the darkest secrets of inflicting rapture and agony on male and female flesh alike, with a strong preference for the very young and most vulnerable... they seemed as cold, distant and unattainable as the beautiful girls and boys Peter had lusted after as a lonely Hogwarts student.

It was more than desire for power, wealth and prestige that had tempted Peter to offer his services to Voldemort. His fondest hope was to find someone who could help him bring his deepest erotic daydreams to life; the dark, forbidden sensual delights of his subconscious that he was afraid to speak of aloud. He had so much wanted to believe the whispered tales of Death Eaters being decadent and amoral, no carnal pleasure being too shocking or extreme for their enjoyment. To his great mortification, Peter had reached his current age in a sad state of relatively little sexual experience. A few clumsy, fumbling attempts at mutual masturbation in the Hogwarts boys\' toilets with Remus Lupin, one of his best friends at school; a drunken visit to a busty, potion-bottle blonde prostitute in Knockturn Alley that had ended in premature ejaculation and many privately shed tears... Peter Pettigrew had grown from a plump, shy boy into a pudgy, timid, painfully socially inept young man. He was not really unattractive - there were many who would have admitted he was rather cutely appealing, if he had bothered to ask them - but he was hindered by a burdensome lack of confidence.


Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Peter stood in the corner clutching his glass of wine, disappointment and self-pity beginning to rear their ugly heads. After the initial welcome, nobody seemed to be interested in talking to him at all. Miserably, he wondered if the Death Eaters would accept the excuse of a headache for his making a premature departure. He was casting his eyes around the room for an opportunity to make a discreet escape when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and heard a voice next to him saying, \"So you\'re our little unregistered Animagus, then? And what kind of animal is it that you turn into?\"

Peter almost jumped out of his skin, but managed to politely squeak out in reply, \"A - a rat, actually.\" Sweet Circe, he had never dreamed that Walden Macnair, the Dark Lord\'s executioner, would seek him out. Peter had been introduced to the tall, burly, well-muscled man earlier that evening and found him extremely attractive, but he had felt too intimidated to say anything of consequence. Yet Macnair seemed to be very interested in Peter\'s company, and in no hurry to seek conversation elsewhere.

\"A rat, you say? Very useful. Sneaky little buggers who can squeeze in anywhere, do anything without being noticed, rats are... that\'ll come in very handy in the Dark Lord\'s service.\" Macnair gave Peter an approving smile, and the Animagus could not refrain from blushing.

\"Let\'s go outside where we can actually hear ourselves think,\" Macnair said, downing in one gulp the very potent-seeming liquor in his glass, and discarding it on the nearest polished surface. \"If I have to listen to that septic git anymore, I\'ll kill him.\" He jerked his thumb at Igor Karkaroff, who was regaling a rather bored-looking Lucius Malfoy and an increasingly annoyed-looking Narcissa with the virtues of Durmstrang versus Hogwarts as a school for their future offspring. \"And the Dark Lord wouldn\'t like that at all.\"

Feeling slightly dazed from all this sudden, flattering attention, Peter abandoned his own drink and followed Walden outside. Leaning up against the garden wall, Macnair drew something from a pocket in his robes and lit it with his wand. He handed the cigar-shaped object to Peter, grinning. \"It\'s arethusa weed. Strong stuff. It\'ll put hair on your chest.\" Peter took a drag on the burning cheroot and struggled not to cough as the bitter-tasting smoke hit his lungs with the force of a sledgehammer. His eyes were tearing, and he was struggling to clear them by blinking rapidly when he heard Walden ask, \"So, young igreigrew, I\'m surprised to see you\'re not after the lovely ladies in there tonight...\"

Peter handed the cheroot back to Macnair, and managed to gasp out, \"Er, no, I...\" as he blushed again. Macnair saw the expression on Peter\'s face and chuckled. \"Relax, Peter, it\'s all right... to tell you the truth,\" he added, bending closer and lowering his voice, \"I\'m not interested in any woman under twenty feet, myself. Don\'t tell his Lordship, though. He doesn\'t approve of fraternising in that way with non-humans. But I\'m not so fanatical about that stuff as some of the others. I joined the Death Eaters to have a good time. Born to raise hell, me...\" Walden laughed again, and inhaled more of the arethusa weed\'s smoke. \"What do you say to me setting us both up with a couple of giantesses tonight? I know where the giants are camped... we could Disapparate right now and be there in no time... I\'ve got a girlfriend of sorts up there. Asherah. Fierce, she is... you take your life into your hands every time you fuck one of those big bitches. You don\'t please \'em, they\'ll rip your head off and shove it up your arse... Ash\'s got a younger sister, Lirza, who\'d like you, I\'ll bet - but you might have to fight her boyfriend Karkus for her...\" Macnair smirked as he handed the cheroot back to Peter, who was now looking extremely pale.

\"Er, um... giantesses... they\'re rather, ah, big, aren\'t they?\" Peter squeaked apprehensively. Inside he felt more miserable than ever. He desperately wanted to impress this gorgeous Death Eater, but ever since childhood even the thought of giants had frightened him out of his wits. Macnair rolled his eyes, but smiled again as another idea struck him.

\"I get it. You\'re into blokes, aren\'t you? Well, nothing wrong with that at all,\" he told Peter as he took back the arethusa weed for yet another drag. \"I like a bit of that now and again myself... in fact, if you feel like leaving the party early, I could take you someplace where we could both have a really good time. Find ourselves a pretty boy-toy to play with... what do you say to that?\"

Breathing an inward sigh of relief, Peter nodded. Pretty boys sounded a much less daunting prospect than giantesses. Gender was not the thing that mattered to Peter about sexual partners - as long as he got some pleasure, anything was fine with him. And as he watched Macnair crush out the cheroot and followed him back into the house so they could both say their farewells to the Dark Lord, Peter knew that pleasure would soon surely be forthcoming.

As they left Malfoy Manor, Walden Transfigured his and Peter\'s robes into jeans and shirts. \"We\'ll be going amongst Muggles for this little adventure, so we need to blend in,\" the executioner chuckled darkly before both men Disapparated, re-emerging near a small Muggle night-club that upon entry proved to be a smoky, dark little place full of extremely loud and dissonant music. It did not take long for Macnair to seem at ease there, although Peter still felt extremely hesitant and nervous, relaxing somewhat when Macnair brought him some sort of alcoholic drink. It was aromatic and tasted rather pleasant, although it seemed far less intoxicating than Firewhisky.

Macnair lost no time in making conversation with several good-looking young men, and soon was making his way back towards Peter with a particularly attractive one in tow. A slender youth, taller than Peter but much shorter than Walden, long black hair and seeming to be in his late teens. Probably too young to be at the bar, but more than old enough for whatever Walden had in mind...

After making conversation with the boy for a while, Walden managed to persuade him to accompany the two Death Eaters to rented rooms a short distance away, up a rickety flight of stairs into a dingy chamber lit by one of those \"electrical\" lights instead of enchanted candles, where all three men undressed. Peter felt uncertain about revealing his rather rotund body, especially when Macnair stripped, showing off his taut, toned and hardened physique, but the lithe and graceful boy seemed just as attentive to Peter as to Walden, nestling between Peter\'s legs on the lumpy and uncomfortable but sufficiently large bed to surround his cock with a hot and eager mouth. At the same time, Walden lubricated the boy\'s arse and began to slam into him hard.

\"Nice and tight,\" Walden growled, winking dangerously at Peter, who was lost in the pleasure of the boy\'s wet mouth and sensual tongue. It took him only a few minutes to climax; he found himself blushing with shame at coming so early, but the boy was not the least bit perturbed, swallowing Peter\'s seed with relish and promptly abandoning himself to the relentless pounding of Macnair, whose stamina and virility seemed astonishing.

It was not completely clear at which point everything started to go wrong; the exact moment when the slow glissade from the real world into a surreal realm of horror began, but before Peter realised what was happening, Walden was thrusting much too hard into the boy and making him scream. A problem that Macnair solved by pulling his cock swiftly from the boy\'s arse, turning him over, drawing a viciously sharp ebony-handled knife from his nearby pile of clothes and slicing out the boy\'s tongue. Peter suppressed a shriek of his own, suddenly afraid for his own life, but Macnair was oblivious to his companion as he slashed and gouged at his victim with the blade, carving new, raw and bleeding openings to fuck in the skin of the broken, wretched boy. Alternating between wielding the knife with one brutal hand and crushing the boy\'s throat in a bruising grip with the other...

\"Hold his arms!\" Macnair snarled at Peter, who was too terrified to do anything but comply, seizing the flailing victim\'s arms the moment Macnair flipped the boy over with one hand, the other seizing his wand and belt. Walden Transfigured the strip of leather into a fearsome-looking flogger, its many tails braided with bits of razor-edged metal. Losing no time, Macnair brought the whip down hard across the boy\'s back and buttocks, slicing almost to the bone with every stroke, soaking the dirty sheets of the bed with pools of sticky, dark blood.

Peter felt like he wanted to retch. His knuckles were white as he kept his grip on the wrists of the boy, who had ceased struggling and gone limp as a corpse in his hands. He kept his gaze riveted on Macnair, unable to look at look at the pulped flesh of the victim without feeling the bile rise in his throat. Macnair\'s eyes were rolled back in his head, his face contorted in a snarl like a wild beast\'s as he reduced the boy\'s hide to nothing more than bloodied shreds.

Flinging aside the whip, Macnair retrieved the knife and turned the boy over onto his back, cutting his eyes from their sockets and swallowing one, holding the other out to Peter on the flat of the blade. \"Take it,\" Walden urged, his maddened eyes inviting Peter to join him in some ghastly, arcane ritual of bonding. Revulsion churned in Peter\'s stomach, battling the fear that rose slowly inside him and chilled his blood. Fear eventually emerged the victor, however, and Peter hurriedly gulped down the gory, jellied morsel as Macnair grinned in approval and rewarded him with a fierce, almost wounding kiss upon his stunned lips.

\"You\'re a Death Eater for real now, boy,\" Walden laughed darkly, before ending the tortured victim\'s existence with a final gash across his throat, and at last allowing himself to climax in white-hot spurts at the mere sight of all the bloodshed that so enraptured him. He began to dress hurriedly, indicating for Peter to do the same; when both men were clothed, Walden brandished his wand with a roar of \"Incendio!\" Flames burst from the bedclothes, swiftly consuming the bed and the boy\'s corpse before spreading rapidly to the walls and floors of the room.

Walden and Peter fled the building, waiting until they were a safe distance away to Disapparate, and soon Apparated outside what Peter supposed was Walden Macnair\'s abode. Peter remembered little else of those few moments afterwards; all that his shell-shocked mind could comprehend was the overwhelming need to find a bed and feign sleep, which he did until the blissful oblivion of real slumber overtook him. Thankfully, he did not dream at all - his mind would be free of the horrors he had been party to until the following day...

Peter awoke to the sensation of cool, clean sheets, silk perhaps, against his naked flesh. He was lying on his back, spread-eagled and bound to the four-poster bed. As the traumatic events of the previous night came flooding beck to him, he started to struggle, but stopped as he saw a nude Walden Macnair kneeling between his legs to suck his cock. Walden\'s lips felt even more skilled and sensual than the Muggle boy\'s had; his tongue swirled exquisitely around the head of Peter\'s swollen prick and down over the shaft. Peter moaned, his hips lifting involuntarily at each delicious motion of Macnair\'s mouth. Macnair gently cradled Peter\'s ball sac in one hand, softly pressing the tender skin with his broad fingertips; the other hand was wrapped around the base of Peter\'s erection, holding it firmly as Walden too dee deep within his throat.
\"You did very, very well last night, Peter - so I thought you deserved a little reward,\" Macnair whispered, grinning devilishly as he pulled his mouth away from Peter\'s prick. Macnair then took some vicious, silver-jawed clamps from the bedside table, attaching them to Peter\'s nipples and scrotum. The searing, jagged pressure bit into the tenderness of Peter\'s flesh, but the pain was not unbearable. Rather, it heightened the building excitement as Peter watched Walden take up a vial of lubricant and pour some into his palm. Panting with anticipation, Peter waited for Walden to untie his legs and push them back to thrust inside him, but instead, Walden smeared the viscous liquid all over Peter\'s hardness and into the crack of his own arse, straddling Peter and impaling himself on the bound man\'s cock. Peter ed aed aloud as Walden rode him, sliding the tight, heavenly heat of his channel down over Peter\'s aching, seeping, needing prick over and over again.

\"I\'ve got that cock of yours charmed so you won\'t come too soon - not until I give the word,\" Macnair hissed, moving so as to intensify the pleasure of Peter\'s engorged shaft pressing against his prostate. Peter could only sob and beg in utter ecstasy as the luscious clenching of Macnair\'s inner muscles sent bolts of bliss all through him for what seemed like hours on end. And when Walden finally removed the clamps and the spell to allow Peter his release, it was the most deliciously explosive climax, a rapture almost tinwithwith pain in its intensity, nearly simultaneous with the spattering of Walden\'s own seed across Peter\'s dampened skin.

Freed from his bonds at last, Peter lay sweating and sated in the strength of Macnair\'s arms until Walden reluctantly sat up. \"Need to piss,\" he explained to Peter, but he was stopped by Peter\'s gentle hand on his elbow and a lecherous gleam in Peter\'s eyes.

\"You can do it in my mouth, if you want,\" Peter whispered lewdly, and Macnair laughed, ruffling Peter\'s hair and telling him fondly, \"You\'ve definitely got potential, young Pettigrew... I reckon you\'ll be fun to have around...\"

And as Peter guzzled every golden drop, he found himself believing that he could easily get to enjoy this life with Walden, and grow to revel in the darker side of being a Death Eater.

~ Fin.