Midnight Games

Narcissa’s gasp is quick, quiet and sharp.

She tugs on the rope that is strung from the head of the bed to her wrists, holding her hands firmly together above her head. The bind is cutting into her skin; there are vicious red burn marks where her wrists have rubbed against the rope. Each tug makes the head board creak and groan, and each writhe of her body makes the bed sheets rustle.

She is blindfolded with a soft silk scarf. Next to her head, on the pillow, is another scarf, ready to be balled into her mouth as a gag. Each sound is sharp – the crackle of the fire, the faint squeak of the bed springs, the distant hoot of an owl outside in the distance. Narcissa is aware of every movement her sister makes, which causes each hair on her naked body to stand on end.

Bellatrix is beside her on the bed, sitting back on her haunches. She smirks as she holds the clothes peg between her bony forefinger and thumb, red painted nails glimmering in the soft firelight from the hearth. She poises it around Narcissa’s pink, erect nipple. She releases her grip on the clothespin, closing it inch by agonisingly slow inch.

She bites her crimson lip and arches a dark eyebrow as she watches Narcissa’s face contort in pain. She can tell from the way that Narcissa is arching her back that this is painful, that it is causing sharp stabbing sensations to run from her nipple up through her breast.

How she loves playing these games with her sister, these secret midnight trysts in Narcissa’s bed chamber. She knows how much Narcissa loves it when she crawls onto the bed and deftly clamps her hand over her sister’s mouth. She loves to watch the aroused fear in Narcissa’s sharp blue eyes as she twists the rope around her wrists, binds them to the bed and then taunts her. It makes her so wet, hearing her sister’s agonised groans and sobs. Furthermore, she loves how wet it makes Narcissa; the pain, the fear, the suspense.

She has so much control over Narcissa, and Narcissa willingly submits. No one would ever suspect that Narcissa – good little blonde-haired-and-blue-eyed Narcissa – is such a wanton pain slut. But, oh, Bellatrix knows; she knows and she loves it.

Narcissa whimpers and tugs on her binds.

“Shh, sister,” Bellatrix coos. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Narcissa furrows her brows and mewls, stretching her neck back; Bellatrix catches a glimpse of sweat that has gathered on it. She sees the muscles in Narcissa’s throat flex as the woman swallows before letting out another pained moan.

“Shh, don’t be such a baby.” She places a palm on Narcissa’ thigh and feels her sister jump. She smiles. “Honestly,” she scolds in a quiet voice, travelling her hand up the blonde’s leg towards her sex, “anyone who came in here would think that I was torturing you.”

Bellatrix’s hand brushes over Narcissa’s bush of hair before she slips a finger into the woman’s slick folds. Her smile broadens as Narcissa tilts her hips up and spreads her legs wider, wanting Bellatrix to delve deeper. “My, you are so wet,” she breathes.

Bellatrix glides her fingertip over her sister’s clitoris before quickly snatching her hand away. Narcissa lets out a soft protesting cry and lifts her head from the pillow, parting her lips to beg her sister to touch her there again.

Bellatrix is quick to act; she kneels forwards and grasps the clothes peg on Narcissa’s nipple and twists it slightly, which is enough to send an agonising stab of pain through the blonde’s breast. Narcissa throws her head back again and cries out.

“Silly girl,” the brunette chides, lifting the finger she had just swam through Narcissa’s cunt to her mouth. She spreads her sister’s juices across her lip, smudging her red lipstick before sliding her tongue out and licking the thick smear away.

As Narcissa gasps and catches her breath, gulping and blinking back tears behind her blindfold, Bellatrix calmly plucks up another peg from the pile by her side. She opens it and let it snap shut with a click. Casting her heavy lidded eyes down at her sister, she tuts and, as she leans over the woman, says, “Do be quiet, Narcissa. You don’t want anyone to wake and come to see what the racket is, do you?”

Bellatrix doesn’t give the blonde a chance to relax; she grasps the swell of Narcissa’s breast in one hand and delicately closes the clothes peg over her nipple. She smiles again as her sister holds back a shriek, shuddering in pain.

Certain that the peg is in place, Bellatrix sits back on her haunches and soothes, “Good girl. See? I told you it’s not that bad.”

The pegs pinch. They squeeze Narcissa’s nipples, trapping the blood and turning them a stark shade of white before they grow a livid deep purple. The pain is relentless, piercing the nerves like fine needles jabbing into flesh. It makes Narcissa breathe faster, sharper. It keeps her on edge, keeps her almost there, almost at her peak. The pain keeps her disciplined, too; Bellatrix loves discipline. Seeing her sister obey her, fighting back screams of pain and pleasure makes Bellatrix so aroused, so power hungry.

Placing her bony hand on Narcissa’s stomach, she kneels forward again and smiles down at her sister. “Mm, you’re doing so well, Cissa,” she purrs. She runs her hand down her sister’s abdomen to her sex, toying her fingers within the woman’s curls as she plucks up another peg, opening and snapping it a few times.

The bed creaks as Bellatrix shifts, climbing over the blonde’s outstretched leg and kneeling between her thighs. She gazes down between Narcissa’s legs, seeing her sex slick with juices, swollen with arousal. “Oh, my,” Bellatrix says as she opens and closes the peg quickly again. “Oh, this is going to hurt, Cissa dear.”

Narcissa knows what’s coming. The moment Bellatrix hooks her finger against her labia and pulls it open, she tenses up and lets out a protesting whine, struggling in the binds. Her heartbeat thuds furiously and a fresh wave of sweat breaks out on her forehead. She can feel the pain coming. With her eyes trapped behind the blindfold, she can’t see what Bellatrix is doing and it makes her anxious and excited. She trembles and her thighs shake. Each breath is quick and laboured. “B-Bellatr—“

“Quiet,” Bellatrix commands in a stern, cold voice. Narrowing her eyes, she bends down and opens the peg, positions it over Narcissa’s labia and closes the clothes pin.

There is silence.

Bellatrix casts her eyes up. She smiles.

Narcissa is biting her lip and she has arched her neck. The brunette can see the muscles straining in her throat as her sister fights back a scream of pain. Sitting up, she casually stretches her arm out and daintily picks up another peg. She wastes no time; she crouches back down, grasps her sister’s other labia and clamps the clothes pin on it.

This time, Narcissa lets out a faint, high pitched sob.

“You are doing so well, Cissa,” Bellatrix coos as she reaches for another peg. She snaps it open and shut before lowering it to her sister’s sex and swiftly clips it next to the peg she has just affixed, grinning at the way Narcissa is writhing on the bed and gasping in agony.

The brunette reaches for another peg and she parts her sister’s outer lips to reveal her slick, swollen red inner ones. “Ooh, Cissa, you’d better bite your tongue, sweetie. This is going to sting a little.” Carefully, she pinches the fleshy spot just next to Narcissa’s clitoris and clamps the clothes pin down on it.

Narcissa shrieks.

Snapping her head up, Bellatrix grasps the peg she just attached and twists it sharply. “Quiet, Narcissa. You must be quiet, or we’ll be heard.”

Narcissa writhes on the bed and yanks frantically at the binds, grunting and sweating through the agony that sears through her sex. The pain is excruciating, but it builds her closer, arouses her more. She is getting so close to her peak, so close to release.

Bellatrix can tell she is, too. “Only a couple more to go,” she whispers as she takes up another peg. She lowers herself between Narcissa’s legs and delicately places the clothes pin on the other side of her sister’s clitoris, glancing up at the blonde as Narcissa writhes and arches her back more.

Pushing back her black hair from her face, Bellatrix kneels up and takes the last peg, snapping it open and shut loudly. “Last one,” she whispers. Reaching up to the scarf by Narcissa’s head, she balls it in her bony hand and then moves it over her sister’s mouth, ordering, “Open up.”

Narcissa opens her mouth and protests quietly as she feels the material being stuffed into her mouth roughly. She tries to move her tongue against the fabric, feeling her mouth grow instantly dry as it soaks up her saliva.

“Now, shhh,” Bellatrix softly says as she leans down to her sister’s sex. “This is going to hurt most of all.”

She can see how much Narcissa is trembling. Her thighs are shaking, her muscles are twitching and her breathing is fast and erratic as she fights with the pain that wracks her body. Biting her lip, Bellatrix aims the peg down. She arches her brow and carefully closes the peg over the swollen bud of her sister’s clitoris.

It is as if Narcissa has received an electric shock; her body arches off the bed, which causes all the other pegs attached to her body to slightly tug at her most sensitive spots, heightening her pain to extreme levels. She can’t thrash like she wants to. She can’t scream like she wants to. She is trapped in this prison of pain, this bondage of mere clothes pegs. Narcissa pants desperately and flexes her feet, twists her hands and utters strangled cry after strangled cry, all muffled by the gag in her mouth.

Bellatrix simply sits back and watches, waiting for the right moment. God, Narcissa is beautiful when she contorts in pain, when she is so helpless. Her sister’s body glimmers with perspiration and she lolls her head frantically from side to side, gritting her teeth into the silk scarf. Each bead of sweat looks like a jewel, the way they shimmer in the soft glow of the crackling fire in the fireplace.

Bellatrix wants to touch herself, wants to slide her fingers into her cunt and stroke until she comes. She can’t, though; leaving the pegs on for too long would cause pain beyond pleasurable. Licking her lips, she kneels up and gazes down at her sister, listening to each broken sob and hitched breath, each creak of the bed springs as the blonde writhes and each groan of the head board as she tugs on the binds. Leaning over her sister, she whispers, “Brace yourself.”

Through her suffering, Narcissa hears Bellatrix’s words and she utters another muffled cry, jerking frantically at the ropes around her wrist. Bellatrix licks her lips and raises her hand. She waits until Narcissa has breathed in, letting her sister bask in the anticipation of what’s to come next.

Narcissa takes in a sharp breath.

Swiping her hand down, Bellatrix hits the peg on the blonde’s left nipple sharply. It snaps from where it is clamped and flicks off.

Narcissa arches her back and lets out a muffled shriek as blood instantly pools back into the spot and ignites her nipple in stabbing pain. There is a deep groove where the peg had cut into the sensitive bud. It goes from violent purple to a deep, angry red.

Bellatrix swings her hand back again and rails it back down, slapping off the other peg. Her sister shakes and she watches the blonde’s chest distend as she fights to take in breath through the pain.

She can tell it is mounting, that her sister is inches from climaxing. She can see it in the way Narcissa is trying to roll her hips, how she is sliding her legs over the bed.

Raising her hand again, Bellatrix waits until Narcissa has taken another breath before she flings her hand down and snaps off one of the pegs from the blonde’s outer lips. Narcissa’s body jerks to the side and she cries out, followed by a loud gasp.

Oh, she is close.

Bellatrix flicks the other clothes pin off. Her sister arches her back and shrieks around the gag in her mouth again. She sees the way Narcissa’s muscles twitch, the way they do when she is moments from coming.

Oh, yes. She is very close.

Bellatrix swipes her hand down on the pegs on either side of Narcissa’s clitoris. Her sister stiffens, her breath catches in her throat and she lets out a sob before gasping and lurching forward.

She is right there.

Bellatrix waits for her sister to take in her final breath. She watches as beads of sweat trickle down her forehead and sees her pulse beating fast and hard in her neck.

Narcissa takes a breath of air. Bellatrix instantly flicks her hand down and snaps the peg off her sister’s clitoris.

The bed creaks and the head board groans as Narcissa lets out a cry and then tenses up as her orgasm takes over her. Her body jerks and shakes and her sex pulses violently as it clamps and surges through her release. The pain is the culmination of her peak, pushing her body into an ethereal climax.

She feels like she is flying, like she is somewhere way above the clouds, on a plateau that only such intense pain can transcend her to. Each nerve ending is alive, each breath burning in her lungs and her head is spinning as her body ripples with pleasure. It is such an intense sensation; it’s as if her body has been pushed into a whole other world entirely, her mind swept up in the pinnacle of fear, thrill, arousal and pain all rolled into one.

Narcissa isn’t sure how long she is suspended in that state of being, feeling her body succumb to wave after wave of pain-induced pleasure, but as she comes down, she pants, trembling, shaking, shivering. She collapses, limp and weak, suddenly overwhelmed with sensation and pain and she sobs, the first of her tears pricking her eyes from behind the blindfold.

Bellatrix leans over her sister and grasps the scarf, tugging it gently from the blonde’s mouth. Narcissa takes in a sharp gulp of air and then lets out a loud whimper.

“Shh,” Bellatrix shushes, pressing her finger to her sister’s lips. “Shh, Cissa. You’re okay.” She moves her other hand to the bind around Narcissa’s wrist and fiddles with it, untangling the knot and releasing her sister’s wrists. The blonde’s arms drop limply and she allows herself to be gathered up into Bellatrix’s arms, shivering and twitching violently.

“Shh, Cissa,” Bellatrix soothes as she slides the blindfold from her sister’s face. Dropping the scarf to the side, she moves her hand to Narcissa’s face and smears her tears away with her thumbs and then leans down to kiss her cheek. “You’re okay. You’re all right.”

Narcissa clutches desperately at her sister’s arms and whimpers, breathing heavily. She is descending, coming down, crashing back to earth. The fall is always hard, always overwhelming and it engulfs her into tears. She turns her head and buries her face into Bellatrix’s arm, and begins to weep quietly.

“It’s okay,” Bellatrix croons as she smooths back Narcissa’s damp, sweaty hair. She helps Narcissa under the covers and pulls the blankets up to keep her warm.

Bellatrix holds Narcissa until her sister has calmed, until she is quiet and no longer shaking. Only when Narcissa has fallen asleep does Bellatrix silently climb out of the bed, gather up her clothes pegs and rope, and then make her way back to her bedroom.

How she loves their midnight games.