Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter.
I never know what I like more. Him torturing his victims as I sit at his feet, his hand stroking me languidly as I watch him torture random faces. His hand bringing me to release as I scream to his victim's last breath. Then lay flushed and panting against him, nuzzling into his legs as I lick my essence from his fingers. He loves it, and I'll do so because.
But then there's times when he's torturing me, and I can't help but scream, scream in bliss as he helps me destroy my body. As he marks me as HIS. Even if I am a possession I'm his possession and I can't help but realize that means something. Maybe not to the rest of the world, but the Death Eaters revere and honour me; I must be worth something, I have to be. He pants my name out like a spell, bringing me closer into his trap as I clench the bed sheets in my hands and angle my body. Upper body pressed against HIS mattress and my back arching up towards him. His nails dig into my hips and he actually screams my name as he comes, my shifting to much for him. I mewl in protest. Why won't he move? I know I can't help myself. It's not allowed; I'm his period. He chuckles softly and I almost melt.
He pushes against my back, his mouth on my neck as those languid strokes start again. I'm being attacked from front and back even though he's already had his pleasure. He wants to give me pleasure; it was something I had to earn. It took months of frustration and heated moments before he had me; he had all of me, and he said that I had earned it. I knew then I wouldn't leave. I couldn't leave. I had earned something, which meant I was worthy enough to receive it.
So as I sit here by his feet on display for the world to see; seeking his touch like a whore. I can't help but smirk as they fall. It was my master and I that lived, his servants following in duty.
"Come my pet," My green eyes snapup to him.
"Coming Master Voldemort,"