Author's Notes: Written for Inkfire's "Politics" challenge on xoxLewrahxox's Bellatrix Lestrange forum.
The challenge theme for the next two weeks is to be: Politics! I thus want you to write a 100-word, 500-word or 1000-word fic featuring a character being involved in politics, judging them, discussing them – anything you'd like, as long as politics is an important theme in your story. I am mostly thinking of wizarding politics and the Ministry of Magic, but if you want to mention Muggle or foreign politics instead, that's fine as well.
Also for kinkbingo on Livejournal – Prompt: "Deep Throat".
1 000 words exactly.
After almost three weeks of hearing Rodolphus brag about how he had received the Dark Mark, about how fantastic it was working for the Dark Lord, and about – in effect – how much better he was than she, Bellatrix snapped. She marched into the meeting hall after one meeting, faced him, and spoke.
"My Lord," she said, "I would like to become a Death Eater."
The Dark Lord, who had been pouring over a sheaf of papers and had scarecly noticed her enter, looked up to meet her eyes, and a sneer formed on his lips. "Pardon me, miss Black?"
"I- I would like to become a Death Eater," she repeated, a little more nervously this time. The way he was looking at her made her shift uncomfortably. "My Lord, I think that I would be suitable…"
"You are a woman," he said, his lip curling. "I hardly think that a woman could serve the Dark Lord… that is… could hardly serve in any way but one…" he added, and Bellatrix's face flamed as his eyes ran slowly up and down her body. She felt a twinge of shame and humiliation, but forced it down, forced herself to breathe deeply and force a bland smile onto her face.
"I would be happy to serve the Dark Lord in any way I could, if it meant that I could bear his mark," she said.
"Would you really…"
"Of course, my Lord."
"Well then," he said, "get on your knees."
"P- pardon?" She had not expected him to be so forward. Was this what she would have to suffer as a Death Eater? Being ordered about like a common whore?
It was a small price to pay.
"On your knees," he repeated firmly, turning his seat to face her and undoing his robes. "And keep your hands off of me," he added as she slowly lowered herself to the ground.
"You will make me a Death Eater if I do this?" she asked quietly, both desperately wanting to look at him and touch him and taste him, but her pride preventing her from doing so if she did not have cause. But, surely if it were to gain a position at his side, even the most degrading of acts would be more than worth it.
"Yes, I will." His voice betrayed not a hint of arousal, simply vague interest.
Bellatrix nodded slightly, then took a deep breath and allowed her eyes to rest on his cock. A pulse immediately ran through her body – so much stronger a sensation than anything she had ever felt with Rodolphus. He might not have sounded aroused, but his cock said differently – hard and flushed and standing up, awaiting her attention. She didn't even have words for how badly she wanted it, but she kept her face smooth and impassive, not letting him see how even the sight of him had affected her. She was doing this to achieve an end, nothing else.
She leaned forward slowly, opening her mouth and using her tongue to guide the head of his cock inside, unable to decide whether the taste was pleasant or not, then quickly reminding herself that that didn't matter. The Dark Lord let out a soft sigh – not quite a moan – and Bellatrix sank down a little further, sucking it as best she could.
Her cheeks burned almost painfully with shame. Bellatrix Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, the good, decent woman whose husband adored her, was on her knees before another man, pleasuring him for the sake of getting what she wanted. For shame. Whore.
Doesn't matter. I can do whatever he wants me to, if it will get me the Dark Mark.
He was bucking lightly against her now, and Bellatrix reached up automatically to touch the part of his shaft that she could not reach with her mouth, but he slapped her hands away.
"I said not to touch me!"
Tears, not of humiliation but of pain, filled Bellatrix's eyes as he bucked again, forcing his cock further down her throat. She choked and her mouth and throat tightened automatically, and it was all she could do not to sink her teeth into the flesh.
Bellatrix felt him wrench her hair, yanking her head back, and she looked up at him with streaming eyes.
"Take it down your throat," he hissed, his voice rougher and harsher than it had been before. "I know you can do it. I know you want to do it. Take it all the way down your throat."
She whimpered, but nodded, anything to get him to stop yanking on her hair, then lowered her head, slipped the head between her lips again, and slowly pushed downwards.
It was difficult not to gag. Twice, Bellatrix had to stop, pull back and start over to stop herself throwing up – the last thing she wanted was to vomit on him. But when she finally managed it, and felt his cock slip deeper into her throat and hit the back, Bellatrix had never felt so gratified. She pushed deeper, her nose pressing against his skin, and her body trembling with lust that she shouldn't have felt.
Married! You're married!
But it didn't matter. It didn't matter that she was married when his seed spurted down her throat, when she swallowed over and over so her throat clenched around him, when he pulled out oh-so-slowly and she looked up at him.
It didn't matter that she was married when he nodded.
"You will have the mark as soon as you desire."
Bellatrix smirked a little and curtsied, then exited, her heart pounding and her head spinning.
She had done it. She had forced the Dark Lord to give in, to give her what she wanted.
The Dark Mark was hers now.
And that shame she was feeling for whoring herself out to the Dark Lord for the sake of a rank in his army?
Blacks were used to using any means to achieve their ends.