Like a Bat Out of Hell

Chapter 5: Like a Bat Out of Hell

“Come, Narcissa, time for lunch.”

She watched the final fluttering of a bird. The cat had finally caught one.

“Narcissa!”

“Coming, Mum.”

She had to withstand the glare of her parents and two older sisters. One was not late to lunch or anything else unless it was something to which one was fashionably late. Would she ever get them straight? The oldest sister fell into the routines naturally. The middle sister had a nonchalance that somehow saved her. Narcissa had her problems. And there were more important things such as watching a bird die. It would sustain her for weeks. This afternoon at the dance lesson she would imagine performing a dying swan. Tonight the evening shadows would remind her of the twitching animal and its slow subsidence. She knew she had to hold the images close and make them last. It had been a harsh lesson that she was not to help the animals on the estate die.

By the time she was off to school, she had learned acute observation. Proper young ladies did not initiate painful and humiliating experiences, but they could watch. The trick was knowing where and when to watch. It was an acquired skill, and when she noticed a boy running along a high ledge, she could tell he was not a natural athlete. He was showing off for the girls, and one day the show-off fell.

“How sad,” said one young girl as they carried him off for repairs.

“Yes,” said Narcissa.

Boys, on the other hand, could inflict pain if they were powerful enough and sneaky enough. Narcissa decided early that sneakiness was the better quality since it let one inflict pain longer without suffering consequences. It was her fourth year, and the lateness no particular credit to her considering her upbringing, when she discovered arrogance was nearly as effective as sneaky, and she discovered this by observing one boy in particular. Even though they were in the same House, it was not easy to meet him because of his predilection for buxom older girls.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” she said on the train at the beginning of her fifth year.

“Hello, Miss … Black, I believe. We met at a dance this summer, did we not?”

“I’m gratified you haven’t forgotten me.”

“Never,” he said. “I do recall your family remarking on your outstanding performance on your exams.”

“You are too kind,” she said. “I recall hearing you did very well.”

“Well, a gentleman can’t be a swot,” he replied. “You must excuse me, but I’m due at the Prefects’ meeting. Ah, I see that you are one, too.”

“I’ll be there in a minute after I’ve stowed my luggage,” she said.

He nodded and headed toward the Prefect car. She had already stowed her luggage, but her honed instincts told her that following Lucius Malfoy at a discreet distance would be rewarding, and indeed it was as several scruffy first-years were put in their place. They were still nursing their subtle injuries when she passed them.

The connection of others’ pain with more intimate feelings came slowly. It wasn’t one of the standard items in a nice girl’s repertoire. After the first several experiences, she concluded that if she were better endowed, she might have learned more quickly. She had been accompanying Lucius on his Prefect patrols as providing opportunities, and after several incidents, she noticed a tingling in her nipples.

She later thought the tingling must have shut down part of her brain because after one incident, she challenged Lucius by saying, “If you’re that hard on them, you’re going to be reprimanded.”

She was afraid the fun would be over, but he took it differently. “Who’s going to tell?” he asked. “You?” He reached out and twisted her nipples. She gave a cry of surprise and backed against the wall, looking wild and panting. He was looking at her strangely.

The next patrol, they went to a part of the castle she had never visited. When they seemed miles from everything, he turned and faced her. “Are you going to snitch?”

“About what?” she asked.

“This,” he said as he pinched her nipples.

She backed against the wall. The tingling spread. She said, “Don’t hurt me.”

Her eyes opened wider as he stepped closer to her. He reached inside her cloak and put his hands on her waist. She tingled all over. She slowly put her arms around him. They stood, holding each other.

Several years later, Narcissa was standing alone in front of a fireplace in Malfoy Manor. She had been pacing the floor in the study and fuming, but now she was standing and fuming. Lucius had not given up his predilection for buxom women, except they were now buxom younger women. Lucius thought it could be excused because they weren’t witches and hence didn’t mean anything.

He occasionally said, “But I tortured her, dear.”

“I’m certain you made her squeal,” she would reply.

For the last six months she had refused to let him touch her, but she was thinking the plan had miscarried since he had become indifferent to her in every way. That afternoon, however, her oldest sister had visited with some delicious gossip.

“The Dark Lord is displeased with your husband. He plans to correct him tonight at the ceremony.”

After much begging and cajoling, her oldest sister agreed to lend Narcissa a costume and sneak her into the meeting.

Now, Narcissa was watching Tom address the crowd with Lucius kneeling at his feet. Tom seemed to look at her directly in the eye as if he were doing this for her. She realized her hands, under her robe, had moved to touch herself.

Punish him for me, she found herself thinking. She thought Tom looked straight at her and read her mind. She felt his gaze. She felt the moist warmth.

Tom was reciting her husband’s transgressions and flicking his wand. At every lash, Lucius drew into a tighter ball and bit back a moan. At every lash, the ball of lust inside Narcissa grew tighter as she bit back a moan.

The final admonition arrived with the final lash. “You consort with unclean women.”

Lucius squealed.

Inside the room, the group trembled and released its tension.

Inside her knickers, Narcissa trembled and released her tension.