November 1971

Castle Lestrange

"You seemed… erm… more into it tonight than usual, eh?" Rodolphus grinned a bit as he lay on his back beside Bellatrix, and she couldn't help grinning as she lay in a bit of a mess. She had done exactly what her lord had commanded her. Lie on her back and think of her master. And the grinding had suddenly felt good. The rubbing had suddenly felt satisfying. It was him in her mind, and so she'd moaned a little, and she'd even wrapped her arms around Rodolphus and hummed a little wordless plea as he'd neared completion.

She took a long, hot shower to clean herself up, and as she did, she pulsed her fingers between her legs and smiled a little as she thought of why her throat was so sore. His cock jamming down her throat had made it sore. She remembered the taste of her master's come, and she moaned softly.

"You all right, Bellatrix?" asked Rodolphus from the bedroom, and she laughed a little at herself as she finished soaping off. She rinsed off and dried herself with a towel, and as she pulled on a nightgown, she hummed a happy little tune. Yes, she thought. She'd been more into it tonight. She'd sleep well tonight.

What a scandalous little harlot she was.

She wanted all the darkest things for her sex, and her water cracker husband would give her none of them. But Voldemort had gone rigid in his trousers when he'd been in her mind and had read her fantasies. Bleeding. Whipping. Spanking. Drinking his come. Taking him up her arse. All of those things and more she wanted. All of those things and more he wanted to give her.

Tom Riddle had craved those things as a young wizard, but he'd never found a young witch who wanted them back. All the girls who had found him handsome had just wanted him to put his cock inside of her and pump it a few times until one or both of them found some satisfaction. But at the slightest suggestion of choking, a girl would panic. It had happened more than once; Tom Riddle had learnt quickly that he'd have to hide his proclivities or else Obliviate the witches he horrified.

Even on the Continent, the best he found was a Vampire who liked playing with blood, but it was in the wrong ways, and she was hundreds of years old and unattractive. Never had there been anything like this - a Pureblood witch, young and beautiful, obedient to him, devoted to his cause… craving things like this. This was… this was a dream.

It had been five days since he'd shoved his cock down her throat. He'd tried to give them both time and space, but he'd been stressed today. Someone from the Ministry had succeeded in raiding one of Voldemort's secret vaults at Gringotts under the guise of seizing illegal assets. Furthermore, an Auror had overheard a conversation between Avery and Nott in the White Wyvern and had needed Obliviation. It had been sheer dumb luck that Avery had been suspicious of the Auror. So today had been a stressful day.

And when he was feeling stressed, Voldemort wanted relief. And right now, relief might come from her. He peeled back the sleeve of his robe and touched the tip of his wand to his left forearm. He dug the tip of his wand against his Dark Mark and shut his eyes, and he imagined her face. He imagined her wide, dark eyes, her full lips, her pale cheeks. He imagined her wild black curls, her tiny waist. He imagined her, and he whispered,

"Bellatrix…"

Then he pulled his wand away and swallowed hard, and he paced in his sitting room. It was late. She was probably getting ready for bed at her home. He didn't care. He was in his own chambers. The House Elf would show her up here when she came to Malfoy Manor at his summons. He paced and paced, his bare feet dragging on the rug, and he tried to decide what to do to her tonight.

He would tie her up and choke her, he thought. Blindfold her, tie her up, choke her. She wanted it. Rodolphus wouldn't give it to her. He would give it to her. He started to pant a little just thinking of doing that, and then he found himself thinking more about Bellatrix in general.

She was a very brave soldier. She was almost terrifyingly courageous in battles. She adored casting the Cruciatus Curse on prisoners for Voldemort. She never hesitated to kill for him. She gave him everything. He had known her since she'd been a child. She'd been Dark then, even then, so Dark. She'd always been Dark to her core, frightening her mother and confounding her father. She'd gotten into all sorts of trouble at Hogwarts. She'd been matched to Rodolphus Lestrange, but it was an entirely loveless union. The two of them were not even procreative. They were just… there. Together.

"Enter." He looked up when there was knocking on his door, and he wandlessly unlocked and unwarded it. The door swung slowly open, and Dobby, the Malfoys' House-Elf, skittered away as Bellatrix slipped into the room wearing a long, heavy velvet traveling cloak.

"Master," she said breathlessly. "I came immediately at your summons; forgive me that I've got a nightgown on."

"There's precisely nothing to forgive about that," Voldemort smirked, and Bellatrix's lips parted a little. She smiled a bit and lowered her hood, and she pulled at the tie round her neck. She let her cloak fall, let it pool like water at her feet, and she approached Voldemort in a wispy white nightgown.

"Master," she whispered, "I've been imagining you."

"Good girl," he nodded, "but tonight there will be no imagination. I called you here for satisfaction. For the both of us."

Bellatrix's eyes blazed, and she nodded. Voldemort tentatively reached for her hand, wanting for some reason right this moment not to hurt her. He'd hurt her later; right now he didn't want to. He led her slowly through the sitting room into his bedroom, and he stood beside his heavy, dark blue bed. He peeled Bellatrix's nightgown up and over her head. He slid her knickers down, and then he just stared.

Small breasts, round and pretty. Perfectly round. Little puckered nipples, pink even in the dim light. A flat belly, smooth with youth, and a narrow waist giving way to little hips. Smooth skin, so, so smooth. He coursed his hands over her, and Bellatrix tipped her face back a little as she felt his touch. He bent and brushed his lips against hers, and then he whispered,

"Get the fuck on the bed. Now."

"Ungh… yes, Master." She scrambled backward onto the bed and lay on her back obediently, staring at the ceiling.

"Arms up," Voldemort barked, and when she quickly did as he said, he Conjured ropes binding her wrist to the iron bars of the headboard. She moaned softly, and Voldemort smirked more than ever. He yanked at the tie he wore round his neck, with a formal white shirt beneath his velvet robe, and he wrenched it over his head. He untied it and then approached Bellatrix, and he used the black tie like a blindfold, covering her eyes and binding it up behind her head. Bellatrix gasped a little, and when Voldemort climbed onto the bed, he muttered,

"Open your fucking legs."

She did, parting her bent knees for him, and he immediately, roughly shoved two, then three fingers into her body. Bellatrix keened and writhed, shocked by the invasion. Voldemort began pounding his three large fingers in and out of Bellatrix's body, shoving them into her over and over again until she squealed and pounded her feet on the blankets.

"Calm down!" he barked at her, and she tried her best, panting through her nose and lying more still on her back as Voldemort wrenched and shoved and yanked his three fingers in and out of her. He used his thumb to play with her clit, and he decided he wasn't going to stop until she came. He flicked at her clit as he abused her entrance, which was getting hot and swollen, and Bellatrix cried with a mixture of pain and pleasure. But soon enough, she was moaning relatively consistently from what seemed like something very enjoyable. She twitched around his fingers, and suddenly Voldemort thought he was going to come in his trousers.

No, he thought, for that thought was ridiculous. He had hardly had any contact with his own cock. But this was so stimulating, watching her like this, watching her blindfolded and bound, yanking at her ties, thrashing, unseeing. She felt so good, tight and wet, her body fighting his fingers even as she gave way to orgasm. She felt ridiculously good clenching tightly around him, convulsing just a little where she lay as her walls clamped and contracted. Everything about this was so good. He needed to kiss her.

"Bellatrix."

He bent down and smashed his mouth against hers, yanking his hand from her body. She squealed in surprise at the feel of his kiss; she'd been blindfolded and hadn't seen him coming. Her mouth fell open, and he shoved his tongue into her mouth. She couldn't touch him. Her hands were bound. But he could touch her. He squeezed at her breast, and he did. He kissed her hard; he dragged his tongue around and sucked on her lip and then…

And then he came.

He couldn't help it; it just happened. There was come pumping into his trousers as he propped himself above her with one arm and played with her breast with the other hand. He growled in frustration and pulled his mouth from hers as the white-hot pleasure rushed through his veins and went straight to his head. He tipped his head back and listened to her panting and hers mixing together in the bedroom's air.

"Bella." He had had more plans than this. He had wanted to fuck her tonight. He had wanted to fill her with his come. He had wanted to clutch at her waist as he pounded her from behind.

"Other times," he whispered, and Bellatrix just breathed heavily in confusion from beneath him. She'd understand, he knew, as he crawled off the bed and pulled out his wand and said very deliberately, "Tergeo."

She knew the Siphoning spell. She'd know he was cleaning up a mess in his trousers. Indeed, her lips, wet and full from his kissing, parted with comprehension, and she whispered,

"I can stay and wait, Master, and keep pleasing you."

"Other times," he said again." He Vanished the ropes around her wrists, and he pulled his tie off of her eyes. He picked up her nightgown and knickers from the ground and handed them to her, and she shook like mad as she dressed. He stood rather awkwardly as she pulled on her traveling cloak and slid on her flat shoes, and he gulped as he told her,

"I am glad you answered my summons."

She gave him an almost amused look, and she shook her head helplessly.

"Master. As if I could ever refuse you anything."

His breath hitched oddly at that, and he nodded firmly. Yes. She was his slave. His servant. A good one. He would give them both what no one else had given them. And there would be other times. He walked over to her and kissed her forehead, and he murmured,

"Goodnight, Bella."

She bowed her head deeply, curtsying a little, and she reached for his hand. She kissed his knuckles as she was bowed down, and she said in the most obedient, loveliest voice he'd ever heard,

"Goodnight, my lord and master."

Author's Note: I have surgery tomorrow (nothing scary; just getting my tubes tied! Woo hoo!) so it will likely be just a few days before I can update. I appreciate your patience. Hopefully I'll be back on my feet ASAP. This story is dirrrrrrrrty but fun to write. Yes, I will write Part III of the Storm Series soon, when my head is in the right place to do that story justice. Everyone's patience with me in general right now is more than appreciated. :)