starduchess (starduchess) wrote in do_me_veela, @ 2013-01-11 12:21:00 |
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“Severus, you are a valuable servant
to me,” hisses the Dark Lord at each
new gathering of his inner knights.
The faces around me are anticipatory,
waiting and watching with dark intent
for the display of pain and mutilation
that takes place within these halls.
He never disappoints in these matters.
“Crucio!” I fall to the floor writhing,
screaming out loud for their ears to see,
but inwardly my blood, it sings. It greets
the activation of my nerves with open
arms. The muscles contract in spasms
of ecstasy only marred by the knowledge
that he is not the one who has the right
to me. The others think I hate this
as they all do, but that is not the case.
I yearn for the strongest curse to run
along my spine, teasing my being with
the release of endorphins, satisfying
the itch which lies beneath my skin. But
it is not complete; my soul-call goes
unanswered, and I, alone.
Screams echo and I know they come
from me. Agony flows through my being
as my body changes, morphs into a
beast, dark and eternal. I wish to die,
to end this suffering; yet I feel it is right,
if only a special one was here to balance
the dark with light, to share the pleasure
and the pain, to make it all glorious sin,
who would not detest, one who would not
despise nor loathe the darkness within.
The medi-witch asks the headmaster
what she should do; no answer need be
given; none can help until I find the one,
yet his smile gambles another solution,
a risk to take which might ease my life
in the meanwhile, a venture that leaves
me empty, burning with shame as I open
myself to him who but provides -- albeit
he does not know it -- relief for my own
pain-filled desires. Whips and crucios
work in conjunction to lessen the itch,
but devoid of devotion, they leave me
hollow inside, ever waiting in loneliness.