Monsters

We, all of us, are monsters. I don't mean that in a metaphoric, dear God, the humanity sort of way. I mean literally. She is Veela, I am... whatever I am-- werewolf, beast man-- that confusing cross of man and beast and Tonks, she's a Metamorphmagus.

In a perfect world, in a sane world-- no, in a plain world where heterosexuality is the norm, this would be every man's fantasy; two women together. Fleur doesn't just want cunt. She craves it. She needs it like I need raw meat. On a good night, it just makes me feel inferior. On a bad night I want to explore how far I can push myself to watch.

This is a bad night.

The rule is that I cannot touch myself. I cannot get aroused by these two beauties on the other side of the room. Fleur asks Tonks to look like her little sister Gabrielle. She says it with that lilting French voice, almost affected now so that the rest of us will not forget that she is an unusual little flower. So pretty, so fragile.

I do not transform, but this close to the moon, sometimes I want to see her bleed.

I growl.

"Lover, if you cannot be'ave, ve vill tie you up again!" Fleur's tone sounds almost as dismissive as it does excited. She'd like nothing more than to tie me up again. To pull her "Gabrielle" closer to me, to cut her skin, that soft pale, childish skin-- to remind me what I monster I am for wanting to violate it, for wanting to defile her little sister.

Tonks is already wet. It's no surprise. Fleur has the hemp rope out again and she's dragging it around her body, looping it in all of the places she'll pull it through. She drags it between her legs and the soft rope comes out glossy wet from her cunt. The lips are flushed and spreading.

The rope is dragged to tie down her breasts, knots around her nipples so that they will be brushed and squeezed by the soft rope. The hemp rope was made soft by me after hours of burning off the fuzzies, after being washed and drained and dyed, all by hand, each time working down the fibers, making them smooth.

The ropes are around Tonks as Gabrielle in a tortoise pattern over her belly. Her hands are tied behind her back. Gabrielle is smaller than her sister, but of age by now. Tonks can't replicate her completely.

The way that Tonks is tied up-- the ropes slide through the livid middle of her cunt. It spreads her open-- cunt and hole exposed. Just like Fleur likes it, just like I want to see it.

I wasn't around for the dialogue of why Tonks was willing to do this. It seemed like she'd been battered around by witches flirting with bisexuality in clubs and bars, but never willing to commit to her, to this. She knows she's here to get fucked by Fleur, but it's the best that she can get. Fleur is the best that anyone can get.

Fleur is behind her, long, pale hair waving in the slight wind from the fan. It's a hot day in the bedroom-dungeon. Fleur looks like she wants to eat her, and I know that she does. Desperately. Already her nails are clawing up Gabrielle's belly. Fleur grabs the ropes, pulling and shifting them so that the now sodden ropes work in long, dragging lines through her spread folds. They glisten and I can smell her cunt from here. She wants it- fingers-tongue-dildo; she wants everything Fleur is going to give her.

Tonks isn't as convincing because of her eyes-- her defiant Black eyes. No matter how hard her mother tried to love it out of her, she had the arrogant Black family eyes. Those could never be Gabrielle's. A blindfold maintains the illusion.

The squelching noise describes Fleur's fingers sliding into her. Fleur knows just how to drag the edge of her nail over Tonks's clit to make her whimper. A practiced whimper that makes her sound like Gabrielle, because it's Gabrielle that she wants and who it will be when she is no longer in school.

One big happy family.

I want to see her used. I want to know how meek her sister is, and I wonder if I'll be able to join Fleur and Gabrielle if Tonks stays; if she'll be mine to enjoy when Fleur needs this.

I want to touch myself when Fleur stands in front of her and sinks to her knees. I can't see much from here, but I can hear it. There's slurping as Fleur tongue fucks her. I know just when she slides in her fingers carefully because of the jangle of her silver bangles. It is the only thing she wears when we do this.

Tonks has been hooked to the ceiling. She's not suspended, but should she start to fall, it will catch her. Her arms are up between a spreader bar as are her legs. She can barely move and yet everything that Fleur does to her-- eating her cunt, fingering her, pinching her nipples till they're blood red-- makes her writhe and move and shriek so beautifully.

My hands whiten on the arms of the chair. This is not my place. This is not for me. This is for Fleur.

Always Tonks tries to lift her leg over Fleur's shoulder, to hold her in, to direct her, but Fleur knows Tonks's body too well. She will not let her come until she's good and ready.

Fleur tells her that she'll get to come when she fucks her.

I sit up, paying special attention now.

The dong is ridiculously huge. It turns on with a loud buzzing noise. Fleur straps it to her body with a few decisive snaps. It's so lewd and enormous on her tiny frame, and yet it's impossible to laugh at it, because when she wears it, she commands it.

She grabs the ropes keeping Tonks up and bends her over, retying the knot so that her arms are pulled back, straining against the rope. Fleur walks around to the other side, to her face. Tonks opens her mouth and Fleur gags her with it and then pulls it out while it's still dripping saliva in a lonely trail from her mouth to the tip of the giant dildo. Now that it is wet, Fleur pulls back and slaps her on the face.

She hopes it bruises. Tonks' head stays low, but she is grinning.

Fleur turns Tonks around pulling her arse up so that she could see the pale, heart-shaped arse and the flushed spread cunt with wet ropes holding it open. She gives the beautiful arse a hard smack or three, just because she can. She adds another couple of light slaps to that red cunt. Then she presses her pale hands between her Gabrielle's cheeks.

"Wheech 'ole I wonder," Fleur muses.

She pulls back and slides the tip of her strap-on expertly between the two holes, stretching that line between cunt and anus, riding it back and forth a few times before she grabs Tonks' hips and slams into her.

Tonks's legs nearly buckled with the harsh entry. Her face flushed as well as her young, thin frame. It was glorious to watch. She rocked against the bindings, the clever knots set in place to tease her nipples, rube her clit, the cock splaying her open, vibrating deep inside of her.

Tonks was panting; drooling with the sensations as Fleur literally pulled the strings, moving her fine macramé of Japanese ropes to slide here and there, letting Tonks feel exactly what she wanted her to feel exactly when she wanted her to feel it.

Fleur's vaginal and anal plugs whirred muted inside of her, but there was a tell-tale drip of clear juice, glistening down her thighs, mingling with the sweat as she drove into her harder and harder. Fleur's head rocked back when she came, but still Tonks had not.

Fleur pulled out of her, the dildo dripping, and Fleur buried her face inside of her, taking a smaller dildo to fuck her with as she sucked and kissed her opening, tongued her arse and bit and sucked anything her mouth came near. Her other hand strummed the workings of the ropes around her, tweaking her nipples until she'd pulled the shuddering release right out of Tonks, who fell to her knees finally. Fleur wrapped her arms and legs around her while they kissed.

We are all monsters. We all need monstrous things sometimes. Tonks needs to get fucked. Fleur needs cunt. And I need to know that the raging beast in me will never hurt my Fleur, no matter what stage of the moon or how goaded I am.

After everyone's bindings have been lifted and the sun starts to rise, we fall asleep.