Bellatrix Lestrange did what her Master wished, nothing more, nothing less.
She would lie on his bed as he penetrated her. He would hiss with pleasure, but he would never look at her face or kiss her. He looked only at her body. He wanted her to be nothing more than a body, a slave. He could not trouble himself with more than that.
She kept her eyes focused on his face, knowing he could feel her adoration radiating all around him, though he did not look up to see it in her eyes.
Whenever she tried to make a move, he would restrain her and say, "Lie back."
She would reach for his face, and he would slap her hand away, repeating, "Lie back."
One kiss. Just one. Please, she thought.
When it became too much for the Dark Lord, he told her, "Turn over."
"B-but, My Lord…" she began to protest.
He cut her off. "Bellatrix. You do not want to test me."
Obedient, she turned over to lie on her stomach. He entered her once again, continuing to work toward his own climax.
She ached as he pushed deeper and deeper inside her, but she said nothing. She never complained. It was not only because he would never heed her complaints – it was because he had chosen her to pleasure him. Out of any woman he could have had, he chose her.
The different position suited the Dark Lord much better; he was getting closer. Bellatrix could tell by the way he tightly clutched one of her breasts and breathed heavily into her ear. Despite her ache inside, she smiled.
Minutes later, she felt that familiar burning inside her pussy, meaning he was coming. "Bella," he breathed, finally relaxing and moving off her back to lie beside her.
"Was it as pleasing to you as always, My Lord?" she asked, trying, as always, to meet his eye.
"Better," he replied, still not looking at her.
She was still horny. She could never quite get there with him – he never allowed her to be on top. She began to finger her clit, imagining the way he had said her name during his orgasm.
He noticed, commenting, "You still want to play."
"I always want to play with you, My Lord," she replied slyly.
He deliberated for a moment, then told her, "Come here."
She hesitated, uncertain.
"Come here," he repeated. He made it clear that this was not a request.
He was looking her in the eye, and her uncertainty vanished. She sat up. "How do you want me to be, My Lord?"
He reached out, placed his arms around her hips, and guided her to where he wanted her. With her cunt in the perfect position above his mouth, so that he could lick it. Her scent was pleasing to him. Salty, lusty. Lusty for him.
"My Lord, you… you please me so…" Bellatrix gasped. She hadn't been expecting this at all.
"Don't expect it often," he warned her. "But because you are a good servant, your Lord will reward you on rare occasions."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, My Lord…"
This was ecstasy – no, there were no words for it. This was more than she had ever expected from him. She adored and worshipped him beyond belief, but he had always been average as a lover because he thought mainly of pleasing himself. But when he was generous, that was a different story. And she was already close, so close…
He stopped without warning. Her tension that had been building disappeared as quickly as it had come. He pushed on her hips, indicating that he wanted her away from him.
Disappointed as she could be, Bellatrix moved aside. She felt as though she could cry.
"That's enough for today, Bellatrix," he said. "Go now."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but the disappointment she felt was nowhere close to her level of frustration.
Hardly believing her own actions, she climbed on top of her Master and rubbed against him. His cock hardened as her lips crushed against his, a kiss worth all that she had ever wanted to give him. She could taste herself on his tongue.
He didn't want to get hard again. He wanted her to go away so that he could rest. But Bellatrix no longer cared about what he wanted. Her own desires were taking control.
Voldemort wasn't sure, but he almost thought he was enjoying it.
He kept his composure and waited patiently. Once her primal instincts were satisfied, she waited, breathless, for her punishment.
But it never came.
"Master, I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear.
"Bella." Normally he said her nickname with something that seemed like affection, but his voice was filled with menace this time.
She closed her eyes, wishing he would just get on with her punishment.
"Bella, do that again," he hissed.