A/N: This chapter's a little more sadistic (and shorter) than the others, I find.

Sorry for the long wait, it just took me a while to find out what to do to make the plot move along. I already have a plan for the following chapters, so please be patient with me.

Again, I apologize for the shortness of these chapters. That's just the way this story is moving along. Just think of it as being a many many chaptered story in the end, though I doubt it will be novel-length.

A great many thanks to my reviewers, your compliments are the reason I keep writing this evil story... That and the fact that this plot bunny has vampiric teeth and was gnashing them threateningly at me lately.

Un-beta'd, as usual, though Word has not found any mistakes.

"How does it feel, pet?" Voldemort hissed, scratching up along the inside of her thigh with a sharp fingernail, "How does it feel to be completely owned?"

She did not answer; too busy trying to ease the pain of his newest marks. He smirked cruelly. His brandings would not vanish nor cease to burn anytime soon and, when they did, she would tear them open again in a fit of self-loathing.

"No, really, pet, I want to know." He pressed, grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him.

She winced and then forced her facial feature into apathy. He dug his nails into her chin and pinched her most sensitive spot, making her gasp in pain.

"Tell me," he commanded, "tell me what it's like to be dominated to be my slave and have no hope of escape."

When she did not answer yet again, he grabbed a fistful of her curly red hair and pulled at the same time he pinched. She screamed and he smiled evilly.

"Or do you like the pain?" He asked softly, brushing his lips against her ear, "The pain makes you feel closer to them, doesn't it? It makes you feel like you'll die soon and get to join them."

He made her cry out in pain twice more when she managed not to answer despite the magic forcing her to answer. She whimpered and he scoffed openly.

"If only they could see you now." he hissed, then repeated it in Parseltongue, enjoying her shiver of revulsion, "If only your brothers, your parents... and your dear Harry, of course, could see you now."

She was crying now, even as he left her and got off the bed. He walked to the fireplace, turning his back to her as he did so. He picked his wand up off the mantelpiece and flicked it, Summoning a black bathrobe. He slid it on and turned to look at her. She was helpless, broken and sobbing, now sitting pathetically on the bed.

"If only they could see their darling Ginny Weasley now." He whispered menacingly.

She stared at him with a suddenly hollow gaze. All the fire, the spirit she had had, was gone now. Voldemort laughed. It appeared he had broken another toy... pity, seeing as she had been most fun to break and bleed.

"Oh dear, whatever shall I do with you now?" He murmured mockingly, "You're no fun if you cry..."

A small ghost of a glint of comprehension shot through her brown eyes; a last hope, perhaps? She did not think he would let her go back to her fellow captives and tell them how to bore him, now did she? She was horribly mistaken if she did, that was certain. He would have to watch what he said more carefully now.

He frowned, "I can't have you running about with a loose tongue, kitten. You should know that by now."

Her eyes widened. He rarely called her anything. Sometimes 'girl' and he called his slaves 'pet' only when he knew they were breaking. 'Kitten', however had only been used twice before: when he had announced the fate of the prettier and younger captives and when he had killed the spying Narcissa Malfoy. The girl had a good reason to be terrified.

"But you want to die, don't you, kitten?" He continued, amused by her horrified expression, "So we can't have that..."

She was now clutching the bed sheets to her form, shivering and shaking with fright. The sheets, wrapped so tightly around her underfed form, collected the blood of her fresh wounds. She was prettiest when cut and freshly shagged, he mused. No wonder he had not disposed of her until she broke, even if she was annoying at times.

With obvious malicious intent, he beckoned to her with a crooked finger. Despite her earlier silent defiance, she could not disobey a physical order. So she walked jerkily across the room to his side, her eyes wide with anxiety and fear of what would come.

"How to keep a tongue from loosening?" Voldemort asked himself, forcing her to look at him with a long-fingered hand and a cruel smile tugging at the sides of his mouth.

She whimpered and tried to shrink back, but her grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. She pulled the sheet up to her mouth with two clenched fists, oblivious to the nice view he was getting of her bony curves that were still pleasantly shaped despite her lack of proper nourishment. She was absolutely terrified with the mere notion of having her tongue cut out.

"However, that would make you unable to scream pleas and names..." He added, amused that she sighed so audibly in relief.

He smirked at her and she closed her eyes in terror. Or was it to hide from his sinister appearance? He was insulted to say the least. Voldemort was not pleasant to cross at any time, but when he was insulted... Well, he tended to leave behind all reason.

"Then again, screaming is not all that pleasant. Silent horror works as well." He finished.

Her eyes widened yet again. It was rather impressive to see the little red-head's eyes swell to the size of teacups due to her own imagination. He would not cut out her tongue, that would render her completely useless to his Death Eater's pleasures. No, he would remove her voice. Not just a silencing charm, oh no, those could be easily broken.

He conjured up a pair of manacles for her wrists and clasped her bony wrists with the harsh metal. It would chafe and cut her, but that was part of the fun. He put an arm around her waist and proceeded to forcefully drag her to his personal potion room, which was down a flight of stairs. She squirmed pathetically and he dug his nails into her arm. She stopped.

Once in the potion room, he brought her to the wall. He pinned her against the wall and chained her to a metal rod attached firmly to the stone. He had used the same room to torture his last kitten, though she had been allowed to die in the end. He would not be so generous this time. He bit down on her lip in a cruel version of a kiss before proceeding through the massive shelves of potion ingredients.

"There is no potion in existance that can do this for me, but fear not, kitten. If Lord Voldemort can fashion a way to bring himself back from the dead, he can surely manage this."