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She Will Burn	By : lexyhamilton Category: +G through L > Hunchback of Notre-Dame, The (Disney) > Hunchback of Notre-Dame, The (Disney) Views: 9176 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the cartoons of Disney Studios, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-She Will Burn
- 1
Title: She Will Burn
Pairing: Claude Frollo / Esmeralda
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s not my fault that in God’s plan / He made the Devil so much stronger than the Man.
Warnings: Non-con. Bondage. Sadism. And definitely AU.
A/N:For this one, I decided to write a series of six 100-word paragraphs into one continuous fic (six being the minimum number of parts of a Catholic mass, and also having a rather deliciously schizo connection with the devil).
Because I just couldn't find good fics about these two. Any recs besides the sadly shut-down Frollozone? :*(

Kyrie (Word count: 100)
Esmeralda could only hear him coming when he reached the wooden steps that led to the bells. Her wrist bled sometimes from the chafing chain. It was infuriating, how he kept her caged in the tower, knowing any Gypsy’s strongest aversion. She hated herself, too, for succumbing to her hunger and living on-- wretched as an animal, Judge Claude Frollo’s dirty little secret kept discreetly hidden from the Parisian public. Not from God, however, and she suffered the consequences of the man’s internal turmoil. She huddled into the corner when she heard familiar creaking, and fervently prayed for a dagger.

Gloria (Word count: 100)
He felt for his weapon under the shifting black velvet of his robe. It was time to purge the devil from the holy interior of Notre Dame. From his heart, he knew he could never remove the vileness—lusting after her in reveries during dull ceremonies, pursued and seduced by her in his nightmares, waking up shivering, guessing well enough she had sent out her wanton spirit as a succubus. Today he would ignore those impish eyes afire with anger, the tapered waist begging to be gripped, the raven mane glinting in the sparse sunlight. She must be purged away.

Credo (Word count: 100)
His resolve melted down when he saw her exposed shoulders. The chains rattled as she struggled against him— compelling him to force her, in her infinite wiliness, sinking him further into Hades.
“Filthy Gypsy,” he muttered through teeth clenched in pleasure, taking in her unbathed odor, confirming his distaste for the impurity of her race. He watched the siren’s face go from indignant to pained, but he knew well that, in her heart of hearts, she laughed in glee at his downfall. She quaffed whatever purity he had remaining in him, sullying him further with every thrust of his hips.

Sanctus (Word count: 100)
She watched him in disgust, rutting above her, his gaunt face contorted into an almost gargoylian grimace. He held her free arm down into the floorboards with a deceptively delicate hand, suppressing most of her struggles with his weight, but not nearly enough to allow herself to surrender. She chanted the sole prayer she knew to the Holy Mother, still half-expecting the villain to be shot down from heaven in her almost childish idealism, but only received a harsh slap against her face.
“Do not profane the Holy with your insincere prayers!” he screeched, just as his orgasm engulfed him.

Benedictus (Word count: 100)
His palm stung pleasurably, and he saw his mission. He tore her dress down in the back to expose her half-starved torso, and retrieved the riding crop from his belt. It cracked crisply against her tawny shoulder blades.
“There is no God for you, conniving witch!” he shouted, his voice shaking with excited triumph, loud enough to be heard over her wretched sobs. “Only repentance… and even that will not retrieve you from your blazing lair in Hell!”
Frollo marveled at how purging it felt flaying this devil incarnate, compared to everything he heard or said in the cathedral downstairs.

Agnus Dei (Word count: 100)
He left her, collapsed and bleeding, immensely satisfied and reconciled with God. It was hard not to believe his words-- her prayers and hopes now hollow. The skin of her back burned more acutely than on the stake—that cursed day she sold her soul to him in fear for her life, screaming for salvation through the smoke, but only condemning herself to his supposed mercy.
She spotted something metal on the floor through her tears, and brought it closer with her foot. Renewed in her faith, she slipped the dagger dropped so carelessly into what remained of her dress.
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She Will Burn