I had written this months ago for a community on livejournal. I thought I should post it here too :)
It would be almost impossible for anyone to astatine what was bubbling below the surface of Voldemort's undeniably brilliant, but clearly twisted mind. His snow white and slightly distorted face was expressionless, other than the slight curve in his lips and the gleam that shone from his dark, blood shot eyes. It could almost be described as a gleam of eagerness, if there was not an air simmering below that seemed more like a predator waiting for the right moment to clench its claws into its prey.
In Voldemort's eyes he thought the description was rather appropriate for he had his prey. However, he would argue the hunt was minimal. Instead, it was more appropriate to describe the situation as a mouse that had collapsed in front of a serpent rather than wasting the energy to flee. That is if a mouse would enjoy being consumed.
His gaze swooped down to observe the figure in front of him. Her dark eyes stared at him transfixed by his every movement with complete adulation shinning forth, seemingly with no logical reason. Inky strands of her hair were splayed around her aristocratic face and her chest which was as naked as the rest of her body. He supposed it was an appealing sight and, despite the rituals and transformations that he had put his body through, the part of him that was still a man was aroused by what was laid out for him. However, it was not just because of her naked body. No, it was her position that truly appealed to him: Her arms were spread and bound tightly to the headboard of the bed and her legs were tied in a similar matter rendering her completely vulnerable. He had considered blindfolding her, but he was too amused by the desperation shinning forth in her eyes.
Over the years, many of the young aristocratic elite of pureblood society had come to stand before him and one by one he had broken them so that they realised that he was their master. Of course, most had understood the basic notion that they must obey him, but few realised exactly what it entailed. They may have been rich with pure blood flowing through their veins, yet each one was destined to bow before him and submit to him completely.
Each of his recruits learned those lessons in different ways, but he was determined that they would all be instructed in that all important rule. For some it clicked the moment they entered his awe inspiring presence, others required a dose of the Cruciuatus Curse to realise the consequences while others required to be teased about the rewards of service to him. However, by the end, the result was always the same. One by one, they would murmur 'My Lord' in reverence, collapse to their knees and eagerly crawl forward to bestow his robes in kisses having become aware of what an honour serving him truly was.
This woman was only one example of the many of her kind who had come before him. Admittedly, she was more ascetically pleasing than others, her gender was a contrast and she learned faster than most exactly how he should be treated. Yet, her arrogance and sense of superiority remained. It would need to be conquered.
Over time, he had tried a variety of techniques. He had duelled and taught her while in the process moulding her into one of his most powerful tools to unleash onto his enemies. However, while she bowed and declared her loyalties, the arrogance gleamed forth in her eyes and the complete worship that he sought was not fully there.
It did not take more than of a skerrick of his considerable brain power to develop a solution. As, while she had not displayed the complete obedience he wanted, there was no escaping the lust and longing that bubbled forth undaunted and obvious to anyone who observed her.
With only a passion filled kiss and a few whispered commands he had her in exactly the position he wanted with the exact gaze her sought shining in her dark eyes.
"Master," she murmured softly her bound fingers trying to escape, but from their direction he knew it was only so she could touch him. His gaze returned to her worshipful face though he had no desire to respond. Swiftly he moved closer and with one swipe of his hand he slapped her across the face. She was startled for a moment, but, as he knew it would, it swiftly disappeared and the hunger in her and his eyes appeared to intensify.
Striking his hand forward again, he dug his nails into her chin and kissed her forcibly. His cold mouth pressed against hers. After only a moment, his tongue joined the assault, snaking into her mouth. His nails dug into her chin harder. She did not whimper and when he lifted his lips from hers he could taste her blood on his tongue.
Pulling away, a smirk slithered onto his features, but he did not allow the rest of his emotions to be displayed. No, he never did. Besides, the triumph he felt was minimal. After all, he always knew he would be victorious.
Having him so close, her hands continued to struggle to touch him and she could not help but whisper his title again in longing. He answered her silent pleas, but only so he could quench his own desires as accomplish his own aims. His mouth moved lower over every inch of her body, his teeth sunk her flesh in various places marking her as his own. She never complained and her silent and vocal pleas only intensified.
When, he finally shrugged off his robes and took her. Her cries of pleasure only intensified until she came screaming, "Master." Even when he stood, arranging his robes back to their usual standards and untied her, the gleam he desired still remained. All he could now see reflected in her dark eyes was complete obedience, undaunted by her previous views of her own superiority.
She was his.
Just like they all would be.