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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
A/N: Review replies can be found at: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/15639-review-replies/

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Thanks Serpent In Red for being my Almighty Beta.

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The Apprentice

Chapter 30

The room in itself was dark with only a few specks of moonlight peeking through the shadows cast by the large tree in front of the window. It suited him just fine. He didn’t need more light for what he came to do here. Slowly, he glided forward. The black robes rustling softly around his feet were the only noise that accompanied his imposing presence. Inside his striking ivory-coloured face, his eyes turned into small, reflecting crimson stripes when he focused his attention, immediately recognising his target by the mess she’d made of her bed. The other girl was lying still, perfectly poised; her long, silvery-blond hair flowed down over the tattered, extra thick blanket she’d on – the hair almost seemed to glow, to shine, and to demand his attention. His mouth curved up in a mocking smile, and his wand flashed, deepening the sleep of the part Veela. Another quick wave of his wand and a golden hum spread outward swiftly; he followed its trajectory briefly with a self-satisfied smirk.

Then, he turned back to the scattering of limbs everywhere on the other bed and chuckled softly at the complete unlikeness between the two occupants of the bedroom.

‘Charming, Hermione,’ he commented, amused.

She was lying on her side with her back turned to him, fully exposed to his gaze since the one sheet she’d used to cover herself got tucked somewhere around her left leg some time ago. Her brown, bushy hair was in sharp contrast next to her white bedding, and he couldn’t remember seeing her wear that bluish, slightly stained nightgown before in his presence. She’d probably deemed it too short around him, he figured. Her clothes were always modest, unlike some girls her age he’d seen wandering around in nothing more than what he’d describe as underwear.

Tentatively, he sat down on the bed next to her. ‘Hermione,’ he whispered, stretching out his hand to touch her hair.

A loud snore greeted him, and he froze when she abruptly flipped around to her other side. Some incomprehensible muttering left her lips as she curled up into a ball around him. His face contorted in pain when her knees impacted hard on his back. Still, she did not wake, which was odd considering that the spell he’d used on her should’ve made her extremely responsive to his touch. His forehead creased. What had she done? Long, spidery fingers curled around the mug on her nightstand and brought it to his nose. The fingers that still rested in Hermione’s hair tightened as he smelled the specific odour of a household Sleeping Potion, and a scowl erupted on his face as he placed the mug down.

Unexpected.

He’d not thought she’d be clear-headed enough to consider this innocuous solution. Apparently, he should’ve placed a stronger spell on her, but he hadn’t wanted to arouse suspicion about her condition, and henceforth, she’d been able to think and take her symptoms away. Undoubtedly, the mother hen would’ve had no suspicions to hand Granger this potion after the girl’s “trying” day. And he was certain said girl would’ve kept enough apart for dilution to control her symptoms during her waking hours.

For a moment, he contemplated nicking every last bit of said potion from the Burrow and leaving her in the condition she was supposed to be in when he arrived: wanton and lusting for him. But it wouldn’t be too difficult to brew a new stash – the ingredients were common after all. Plus, his cock was stirring and he would have absolutely no time tomorrow. The idea of taking her here, right under the nose of those despicable Order Morons again, was incredibly appealing to him and he could undo the potion’s effects easily when she woke with a well-placed jinx. No, that she wasn’t squirming now was only a temporary relief.

‘Clever girl,’ he whispered in satisfaction, stroking through her hair, causing her to stir.

‘All wrong,’ Hermione mumbled against his legs, ‘wrong. Stupid badger.’

‘By Merlin, pick a decent animal, Granger. Of course it’s stupid and annoying; it’s Badger,’ he replied, placing his hand on her shoulder.

‘Granger,’ he hissed under his breath, shaking her somewhat.

‘Uh?’ She blinked, mowing her arms around. ‘What?’ she muttered dazed, her hand flying to her face to rub her eyes. ‘Is it morning already?’

She stretched out her body, looked up … and yelped when she saw him. His hand was on her mouth in a flash. ‘Try not to wake up the entire household, Granger,’ he said conversationally as if it were the most normal thing to drop by someone’s bedroom in the middle of the night, ‘unless you prefer to go to several redheads’ funerals tomorrow?’

Instantaneously, her eyes flashed to Fleur in concern. Is she all right? I should’ve taken the couch downstairs. Hermione let out a relieved breath when she noticed the shallow movements Fleur’s chest was making. She’s still alive. Thank Merlin.

‘I didn’t come here to kill anyone,’ Voldemort said, drawing her attention back to him.

‘Then what are you doing here?’ Hermione hissed, turning to her back to relieve the strain on her neck from looking up sideways.

‘I was concerned for your well-being,’ he smoothly said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. My well-being, yeah, riiiight, because you caaare.

‘Well,’ she said triumphantly with a daring, smug smile on her face, ‘my well-being is perfectly under control.’

He smirked. His upper body shifted, leaning over hers sideways as he placed his hand on the mattress next to her right shoulder for the necessary support. His wandhand was still resting on his lap. Yet, Hermione suddenly wished she was in a more upright position. She felt incredibly vulnerable lying on her back when that penetrating gaze of his got focused on her.

‘Perfectly under control you say?’

The almost innocent upward lilt of his voice indicated a question that she knew was not one by a long shot. No, this was a threat. Uncomfortably, Hermione squirmed underneath him, even more so when she noticed that glint in his eyes – that pleased, obnoxious, I-know-something-you-don’t glint.

Mummy! I missed something.

‘A Sleeping Potion, how creative of you,’ he breathed against her lips.

Subconsciously, her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. Hermione’s eyes flashed sideways to Fleur.

‘Oh, don’t worry; the nice Veela is resting comfortably. She won’t wake unless I allow her to, and I do not feel so inclined at the moment,’ he paused, tilting his head, ‘Hermione,’ he whispered against the skin of her neck, eliciting a shudder from her body.

‘So very responsive you are to me,’ he licked that vulnerable spot in her neck, which sent delicious tingles through her and made her jerk slightly, ‘even with your symptoms suppressed.’ His wandhand slipped underneath her shirt, caressing her stomach gently. ‘Do you know what the problem is with suppressing your symptoms, dear?’ His hand moved up and massaged her breast.

‘You’d get pissy?’

‘Hmm …’ He cocked his head, contemplating her suggestion. ‘Besides that,’ he added, watching her entertained.

Besides that? Wasn’t one pissy Lord Voldemort enough? Although, come to think of it, he didn’t seem very pissy at all. Nope, he appeared to be … happy as if she’d done something that would assist him.

Crap.

She racked her mind but came up empty for something else that could give her a problem. There simply was no side-effect to using a diluted Sleeping Draught to overcome lust. If one wanted, one could take it indefinitely. In its diluted state, there were no dependency issues or other health risks. She just couldn’t see the problem, and there obviously was one because he seemed far, far too pleased for someone who’d just been thwarted in his plans.

‘Nothing?’ he asked teasingly. ‘No ideas whatsoever from the Gryffindor know-it-all?’ He smirked as her body shifted in response to his fingertips travelling lightly from her breast to her neck.

However, right now, Hermione really didn’t care much about his taunts or comments or whatever the hell it was she’d missed as long as he kept using his fingers so expertly on her skin.

‘Well, I suppose you’re not to blame for not having been exposed to the more pleasurable side of the Dark Arts. My bad,’ he added cheerfully.

Hermione’s eyes widened when he stopped his caress and placed the palm of his hand – his wandhand! – firmly against her.

‘I shall correct that blatant omission in your education immediately. Ardor Volúpio!’

Before she had time to say or react in any manner, his hand swooped down over her body that arched from the electrifying sensation his touch elicited. Her head swept back, eyes closing. Her hands mowed around for something to hold on to. Fingertips clutched into the mattress, grabbing the sheet. Her legs shook, toes tingling.

Then, whatever the hell he’d done to her in the afternoon, was back. Tenfold. She felt that terrible need rise and rise and rise. The potion she’d taken was grossly ineffective – like a single drop of water falling in the desert: vaporised by the overwhelming heat. A lust-filled moan left her lips as she dropped back into the mattress, opening her eyes to stare at the culprit.

One extremely desirable culprit, her dazed mind corrected.

The way he held himself and moved … oh so fluidly and graciously, like he floated through the air; the power he controlled and exuded … so much power, it made her head spin; and his mind, all that knowledge … she wanted it. She wanted it all.

Now.

Her hand snatched out, grabbing the front of his robes. She pulled; yet, he wasn’t moving. So, she pulled herself up, wanting to meet that deceptive mouth of his and kiss him into oblivion. Or better yet, make him kiss her into oblivion. She was so hot, too hot. It burned all over her body, causing little drops of perspiration to trickle down her neck and back. He had to make it go away. All of it. She’d do anything for him. Her lips tingled and she was about to make contact when his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

‘No, Hermione,’ he breathed against her lips, causing her to lick his.

His soft chuckle danced around her body, making her shiver. And she captured his mouth with hers and tried to deepen the kiss immediately. For a brief moment, he indulged her, and then, there was a crack. She was all alone in bed. Before she could scream out her frustration, there was another crack and he reappeared in one of the rickety chairs by the table.

Immediately, Hermione tossed away the sheets, flung her legs over the edge and rose to her feet. Desperate to get to him, she ran and smashed into an invisible barrier in front of his body. For a while, she tried basically everything she knew to get rid of that obstacle blocking her path. Voldemort didn’t say a thing while she exerted herself. He merely sat there; his arms crossed over his chest; his snakelike face perfectly schooled to reveal nothing; and his legs stretched out, feet crossed at his ankles.

Finally admitting her defeat, Hermione cried out her frustration to the ceiling and dropped to her knees, breathing fast and heavily.

‘Are you done?’ he inquired coolly.

‘Please, please, please,’ she breathed, brushing her hair out of her wet face.

He smirked, suddenly leaning forward and cupping her cheek.

‘Ooooh.’

She closed her eyes at his touch. This was heaven. Divine.

He let go.

Hell. This was hell.

‘Please,’ she implored again, scooting as close as she could to the barrier, to him. ‘I’ll do anything.’

‘Anything?’

Thoughtfully, Voldemort tilted his head while Hermione nodded vigorously to support her statement.

‘You are quite delightful, and trust me, on your knees, begging for my mercy, you are positively appealing, pet. However, that being said, you still need to learn a thing or two about self-control. And I would be a slacking master if I omitted teaching you.’

She groaned, dropping her head in despair. She couldn’t wait. She needed him. He had to take that burning ache away. And the heat, the everlasting heat, it was maddening. She couldn’t see straight. Everything was itching. Everything!

Control, what control? Fuck control. Fuck me!

Voldemort smacked his ghostlike, transparent lips together in quick succession. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he commented conversationally.

Thirsty? Fine, I know a place where you can drink. Here, down below.

‘Hmmm… let me see, coffee. Yesss, coffee will be much appreciated,’ he said, staring pointedly at her.

He wanted coffee? Now?

Baffled, Hermione just sat there. She had to have heard wrong. There was no coffee here. Well, downstairs, there was. But she couldn’t go there. Not like this. Searching his physique for a clue to whether or not he’d been serious, Hermione became more and more anxious that he had been. He wasn’t acknowledging her presence anymore and had transfigured the chair into a comfortable recliner, lounging like he had all the time in the world.

‘I … I can’t go to the kitchen,’ she whispered, worried.

Coldly, Lord Voldemort’s eyes flickered to her.

‘What if they see me? There could be Aurors there.’

He shrugged. ‘You can stay here.’

Hermione let out a relieved breath.

‘On the ground, on your knees, never getting a release and,’ he checked the time, ‘I will leave in two hours tops, no matter what condition you’re in.’

Her eyes widened. ‘B-but,’ she stuttered, shocked.

‘Coffee.’

Two syllables, one word, that was all he offered.

Hermione braced herself before scrambling to her feet. Hesitantly, she walked to the door, her mind going over her lousy situation rapidly. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. If someone saw her … But if she made it, he would–

Wait a sec!

Swiftly, she turned around. ‘You will help me if I bring you your coffee?’

A slight upward curl showed around Voldemort’s mouth, and for a second, his slit-pupils focused on her with a vicious delight before he turned his head away and seemingly stared out the window as if the scenery were mighty interesting, much more so than the now conflicted girl in the room.

‘Voldemort?’ Hermione asked with emphasis, wanting to get some kind of reassurance she wasn’t going down there for nothing.

There was no reply.

‘My Lord? Master? Please,’ she tried.

‘One hour and fifty-five minutes.’

The door flung shut behind Hermione’s running form, causing him to grin at her sudden haste. This was going to be real entertaining. She’d forgotten to ask something pretty vital. His eerie laugh filled the room, and Fleur briefly stirred as if she’d a nightmare.

Hermione was glad Ginny’s bedroom was on the first floor. She didn’t want to think about having to sneak down all the steps, past all the chambers. Now all she had to worry about was someone being in the kitchen when she got there. She rested her ear against the kitchen door. It was quiet. So far, it seemed like their nightly watchers were all outside. She hoped it would stay that way as she entered the kitchen and closed the door carefully behind her. All that sneaking around at Hogwarts surely paid off now.

Within no time, she held the bag of coffee beans in her hand and dumped them in Molly’s coffeemaker. She was about to wave her wand to activate it when she recalled how much of a ruckus that machine made. She’d wake up the entire household and alert everyone in a six mile radius.

‘Muffliato!’

Next, she jabbed her wand at the coffeemaker and she looked nervously to both doors in the kitchen, waiting for someone to detect the loud noise of grinding beans and the high-pitched “squee” of the motor over her Muffling Charm. When the grinding was done and boiling hot water poured on the coffee, she leaned against the kitchen sink, absentmindedly scratching herself in an intimate place. It brought her no relief. She was absolutely certain now he needed to bring her. Bouncing on her heels, she stared at the coffeemaker, willing it to move faster. When it was nearly done, she summoned a mug from the cabinet and barely waited for the dripping to stop before she poured. Glad it was done, she hurried out of there and tiptoed up the stairs, avoiding the fourth step which always creaked. Swiftly, she moved indoors, her eyes blinking at the blazing light that greeted her as she walked to Voldemort and held out the mug, making sure not to smash it into the barrier.

‘Your coffee, my Lord,’ she said politely.

He didn’t move. He just kept watching the scenery. Hermione furrowed her brow and looked into the mug. It was perfectly fine, just as he always took it. Why was he ignoring her? Could it be because she was standing? Careful not to spill the hot beverage, Hermione moved to her knees and repeated her offering.

Voldemort turned his head, shot one glance in the mug and said, ‘I take milk in my coffee after midnight.’

Hermione bit her lip, forcing herself to stay quiet. Countless descriptive terms, none flattering, rushed through her mind as she scrambled back to her feet.

Milk, he wants milk. Arse.

She was about to open the door when a bolt of yellow struck her. She felt a snap of elastic and fabric falling down her legs. Shocked, she looked down. Pooled at her feet were the remainders of her underwear. He’d shredded them. Taking a deep breath, she decided not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her protest – her nightgown was long enough to cover her private parts anyway. Ignoring the fabric on the floor, she moved along.

However, when she got to the refrigerator, she was faced with another problem. What kind of milk did he want? If he wanted skimmed milk, she had a problem because Molly only bought whole milk, the fattiest kind. But he could also prefer evaporated milk as many did in their coffee. And she also had a bottle of goat’s milk, soy milk and even a can of coconut milk. Though Hermione doubted he wanted them in his coffee, she wouldn’t put it past him to say so just to make her go down again. So, she picked up the tray from the table and placed the mug and five little jugs (for each flavour milk) on it, poured the milk in them, and grabbed a couple of bags of sugar in her hand on her way out, just in case he’d suddenly decide that he liked sugar in his coffee after midnight.

‘Your coffee, my Lord,’ Hermione said, sitting on her knees in front of him again. ‘I have whole milk, evaporated milk, goat’s milk, soy milk or coconut milk for you.’

He glanced sideways and almost lost his composure at her display of little milk jugs. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly before that cool, blank façade returned.

‘No sugar?’ Voldemort said sweetly.

Haha! Got you. I knew it, Hermione thought triumphantly, opening her hand and dumping the sachets on the tray. ‘How many sachets, Master?’ she replied in a similar sweet tone of voice.

She held her head down to avoid him seeing her expression, but she basically sensed his glare, burning into her.

Glare all you want, I won’t have to go downstairs again.

‘One is fine,’ Voldemort replied evenly.

As she waved her wand, adding the sugar to his mug, she looked up expectantly for his choice in milk. He picked whole and that was the end of that song and dance, Hermione knew.

She was wrong.

‘Forgot a spoon?’ Voldemort said, eyeing her triumphantly.

Crap.

‘Or do you expect me to stir with my finger?’

I have a finger for you. Yet, she raised her wand to mix the beverage instead.

‘Oh no,’ Voldemort said, amused. ‘Coffee needs to be stirred by a spoon not magic.’

Oh, of course, now he’s suddenly promoting Muggle methods.

However, there was no need to walk down for a teaspoon. Hermione flicked her wand at the door. ‘Accio teaspoon!’

She resisted the insane urge to stick out her tongue at him and waited till the spoon fell in her hand. Again, she offered him the damn mug, and again, he merely eyed her, not accepting it.

‘Coffee is supposed to be steaming hot. Even insipid Muggles know that much, Mudblood,’ he sneered.

‘Let me guess, using a Heating Charm is out of the question,’ she sneered back.

‘Naturally,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Reheating coffee is plain revolting. I am glad your tiny brain at least knows that.’

With a smash, she slammed the mug back on the tray, coffee sloshing over the rim and her hand. She completely ignored that he had a point - it didn’t even sting a little bit to come in contact with the lukewarm fluid.

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk, still so little self-control,’ Voldemort taunted as she rose. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered when she was about to pick up the tray.

Confused, Hermione left it there and turned around.

‘Raise your nightgown and spread your legs.’

Her excitement rose, feeling her belly clench, as she eagerly complied to this demand. Finally. Action. She’d been dying during his coffee theatrics.

‘Good girl,’ he purred behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding his other out to show her the two balls on a string in his hand.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Hermione curiously.

‘You’ll see … or rather feel. Open your mouth, they need to be moisturised.’

He inserted them into her mouth, and as they pressed against her tongue, she realised there were little ridges on them. She felt utterly ridiculous, standing there with two balls in her mouth.

Great, I am a hamster, Hermione thought, giggling and thus nearly spitting the balls out prematurely.

‘Since they will go inside you, I recommend you take your job seriously. It won’t be my problem if getting them in hurts you,’ Voldemort warned, kissing the crook of her neck.

Even that minor bit of attention, him holding her against his body, that one kiss, his breath against her skin, was enough to make her come undone. Her aggravation with his ridiculous demands had slightly taken away her attention of the force of her lust, but now, her body was throbbing in desire again. Reflexively, she sucked on the balls, twirling her tongue around them, while she rubbed her back against him. This was nice. She moaned, wanting more.

‘That’ll do,’ he said with contained laughter in his voice, removing them from her mouth. ‘Bend over. Hands on your ankles.’

It was a bit hard to achieve since he held his arm around her waist, keeping her nightgown up, but she managed, waiting eagerly for what was to come. However, when his fingers stroked her sex, her knees buckled and she realised why he’d kept his arm around her waist, for she would’ve fallen flat on her face otherwise. He yanked her back on her feet roughly and hissed, ‘Keep still, Granger.’

She yelped when he slapped her bottom. Of course, there was no way she could stay still when he expertly teased her clit with his fingers as he inserted the balls into her core. She kept standing, but that was all. Hermione wriggled and twisted, trying to give an out to this earth-shattering pleasure rushing through her. It was far too much and she just had to move or she’d go crazy. She knew it.

Voldemort clicked with his tongue disapprovingly. ‘It seems you’re incapable to follow even the simplest of commands, Mudblood,’ he spoke amused. ‘Perhaps a good spanking will get your brain to start functioning again? Let’s see if ten will do the trick.’

Before she had a chance to process his words, his hand landed on her bun with a harsh smack. Another yelp left her lips, but beside pain, she felt something else. Confused, Hermione squirmed slightly as he called out ‘one’ and smacked her again. This time, she noticed what sent that delicious feeling through her: it were the balls, moving forward inside her with his slaps.

‘Two,’ Voldemort coolly said, ‘you do the rest of the counting.’

Smack!

‘Three,’ she yelled. Her left cheek stung and burned red already from his hard slaps. However, the balls gave her a whole different sensation as they massaged her walls with their movement. And she wanted to feel that again.

‘Four.’

And again.

‘Five.’

And again.

‘Six,’ Hermione moaned in desire. She wanted to touch herself, wanted to touch him, wanted to turn around and fuck him, but she also wanted him to continue this. Even if it hurt. And it did. But it also felt soooo good.

‘Seven.’

Too good. She couldn’t take it. It was just too much pleasure.

‘Eight!’ she howled. ‘Oh God, stop, please.’

‘Nine,’ she moaned. ‘Please, it’s too – too much.’

He merely chuckled. ‘It’s punishment, Granger,’ he said, caressing her red and painful behind gently. ‘You’ll just have to take that last one.’

Smack!

‘Ooooh.’ Her legs gave way again and she dangled in his arms, rubbing her thighs together to relieve some of the aching pleasure.

‘I didn’t hear you count,’ Voldemort said blankly, pulling her back on her feet. ‘Put your hands back around your ankles. We’ll do that last one again and should you fall or fail to count, I will start anew.’

She swallowed. Not ten more! She’d be ready for the permanent ward at St. Mungo’s then. Her mind had no more room for any more of these delicious, over-the-top sensations running amok in her body. She had to keep standing, had to take this last one, had to count out loud. Hermione bit her lip; her whole body tensed for the impact.

‘Maybe then, you’ll learn to behave,’ Voldemort added coldly.

Smack!

‘Ten!’ she quickly yelled, swaying on her legs as pleasure and pain soared through her once more.

Breathing heavily, she realised she’d done it. She was still standing. No more. Thank Merlin.

‘Good girl,’ Voldemort hissed. ‘Now go get my coffee.’

She crashed to the floor in a crumpled and panting heap as he let go. For a moment, she just lay there, not caring about anything but the itching pleasure. She ran her hands over her body, wanting to satisfy its needs. It was soaked in perspiration, she realised, trying to cool down the heat. And failing miserably. She had to get a release. This had to stop.

A not so gentle kick in her behind made her scream at the top of her lungs. Her hands flew to her hair, clutching on it in despair. Too much, far too much.

‘Coffee, Mudblood. I won’t ask again.’

Ask? Gee, someone’s in need of a dictionary.

Trying to regain her composure, she took several deep breaths before carefully scrambling to her feet. She wobbled a bit at first, so she stayed still, waiting until she was certain her legs would hold her when she moved.

Merlin, I am exhausted and we’ve hardly done anything.

‘It’s the lust spell,’ Voldemort explained. ‘Since you foolishly thwarted my first one, you got stuck with the repercussions of the enhanced version. It’s a significantly larger drain on your energy and you’ll only notice it when you’re not engaged with the object of your desire.’

Here, he looked positively smug in her direction.

‘I noticed I was tired during,’ Hermione lied, wanting to wipe that smug expression of his face.

‘Oh really?’ he asked teasingly, taking a step back in her direction. ‘Should I test that?’ he added, flexing his hand.

‘No,’ she said fearfully, hurrying towards the tray, ignoring his laughter. As she bent over to pick it up from the floor, the balls moved inside of her, and she was just in time to grab the nearby chair for support and lower herself carefully to her knees.

Oh God, this is going to be problematic.

She squirmed her thighs together and shook her limbs as if to shake of the bliss. Determined, she grabbed the tray and got up carefully. This wasn’t going to work. With a flick of her wand, she banished the tray to the kitchen.

‘Smart move,’ Voldemort complimented, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. ‘I was already wondering how you’d go down the stairs with your hands full like that.’

The stairs! Oh no.

Horrified, she looked at him. ‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘don’t make me –’

‘The longer you’re under the spell, the worse it gets, Hermione. If I were you, I’d hurry and get that coffee before you become incapacitated.’

‘Please.’

‘Go.’

Resigning to her fate, Hermione walked out. At the top of the stairs, she looked doubtful. Walking horizontally didn’t give much of a reaction, but going vertically probably would. She didn’t want to crash, so she grabbed a hold of the railing with both hands and started moving. It was as bad as she’d expected. Delicious tingles danced in her belly, skating over her nerves to her extremities. More and more of her fluids dripped from her fanny, sticking to the inside of her thighs. And a couple of times, she had to stop and rest her head against the wall. If she didn’t think Voldemort would’ve done something to alert him if she removed the balls, she would’ve yanked them out. But right now, she felt it was not a good idea to tempt him even further. When she was downstairs, she let out a relieved sigh.

Made it.

Being beyond caring if someone could be there or not, she walked into the kitchen. It was empty. Leaning against the kitchen table, Hermione flicked her wand. Coffee beans flew into the coffeemaker again and she quickly made another cup. When It was done, she realised she’d forgotten to muffle the sound of the grinding. Yet, nobody had come.

Hermione frowned.

Come to think of it, she had screamed rather loudly, and nobody had come then either. What had he done? She walked to the window and stared out in the dark, looking for their nightly watch. She felt relieved when she saw movement beyond the pond. They were alright.

Wanting to avoid having to listen to another complaint about the temperature of the coffee, she moved away from the window and continued her task. Just in case he planned to alter his choices in what he wanted inside his coffee, she put the new cup along with new little milk jugs and the sugar and a teaspoon on the tray. She just knew if she were to assume he wanted the same thing, he’d torture her by altering it.

‘Wingardium Leviosa!’ she cast, making the tray hover in front of her.

When she got to the hall, she levitated it all the way up the stairs, landing it in front of Ginny’s bedroom door before moving up the stairs herself. Don’t ask how, but she did it.

Lord Voldemort was lounging in his reclining chair when she entered, the tray hovering behind her. She lowered it at his feet, and then, knelt down herself; her face as red as the ripest tomato. For a brief moment, she paused, catching her breath and her sanity, and pushed her desire away.

‘I have your coffee, my Lord,’ she said humbly.

Voldemort turned his attention to her tray and smirked. ‘Do you have such insignificant memory skills that you couldn’t recall what I had in my coffee?’

‘No, my Lord, I just wanted to offer you the choice again,’ she replied crafty.

He snorted. ‘You mean you were worried I’d have you go downstairs again,’ he said, glancing at her mockingly.

Hermione remained silent. Her head bowed to the ground. That way at least he couldn’t use Legilimency and torture her further for what was in her mind. Suddenly, his hand was in her hair. She jolted in surprise.

‘You do look positively delicious in this posture, pet,’ he said sibilantly, petting her. ‘I’ll have my coffee the same way.’

‘Whole milk and one sugar sachet, Master?’ Hermione asked. Eh, she wasn’t crazy. If she’d just added it, he’d have told her he always drank his coffee black. She just knew it.

‘Yes, my little one.’

She could tell by the entertained tone of his voice he’d realised she’d seen through his plot. She’d been right. He was planning to have her go down again. Well, she just had to make that impossible by doing nothing wrong. Carefully, she added the sugar and milk, placed the teaspoon in the coffee and held it out to him, lifting her head. His hand dropped to her neck and she briefly swayed when his long fingers massaged her muscles.

He was trying to get her to spill, she realised panicky. Fortunately, she’d been able to keep the cup level, and a triumphant expression appeared on her face as she said once again, ‘Your coffee, my Lord.’

For a brief moment, it was silent.

‘Was that milk hot when you poured it in?’ he asked sweetly.

Hermione groaned in irritation. She wanted to scream ‘Noooo!’ at him because he knew full well the milk was cold when she’d poured it.

‘Did you want it hot, my Lord?’ she asked. Even though her words were polite, the gritting of teeth surely wasn’t.

‘I think I do,’ he said viciously, giving her neck a good squeeze before ushering her out with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Hermione sighed and placed the coffee back on the tray. Stomping out of the bedroom, she didn’t see the Dark Lord shaking with laughter in his chair. Not much later, she was back and they went through the same song and dance routine again. Finally, Hermione had his coffee done to perfection.

Or so she thought.

‘Is that decaf?’

He had to be shitting her.

‘No, it is not,’ she snapped. ‘I also don’t have a straw or a little umbrella or a chocolate chip cookie with it. And oh my, this is a red mug. You can’t possibly drink coffee from a red mug. The insolence. It needs to be green. So I bring a green one, but then, it’s a mug. And you need a gold, no, silver-rimmed cup for your highness’s lips. Eek!’

He’d yanked her from the floor with a fist in her nightgown as he’d exited the chair. The gown’s fabric protested against this rough treatment but held long enough for him to toss her into the chair before it ripped to shreds. His magic curled around her and the chair shifted, changing from a comfortable recliner to a cross between a medieval torture instrument and a gynaecology chair. She tried to get out, but leather bindings formed around her wrists and neck and yanked her back into place, her hands tied behind her head. Her legs were thrust into the stirrups. Metal chains clasped into place, making it impossible to move them. His hand curved around the cord dangling out her sex. Roughly, he yanked the balls out in a single move.

‘Oooh!’ Hermione moaned, squirming in her binds.

Then, Voldemort waved his wand and the stirrups parted. Further and further. Stretching the limits of her leg muscles, while exposing her most intimate areas fully. Then, another wave and the chair moved through the air, turning the back up, so she was sitting ramrod straight with only a little board underneath each cheek for support. It was actually quite painful to sit on these hard boards after he’d spanked her, but that was the least of Hermione’s worries.

‘I am going to fall,’ she said panicky, for she had the feeling she was sliding off the chair, and then, she’d be hanging on that tight collar around her neck.

Voldemort stepped between her legs. ‘You will only fall if I wish it or if you move too much without orders.’

That wasn’t much reassurance to Hermione, tuning her fear up a notch. ‘Get me out of here!’ she yelled.

He closed the distance between them, pressing his tall frame against her while placing one hand on her hip and another underneath her chin. She gasped from the contact she’d wanted and suddenly had, closing her eyes to savour the feeling.

‘Yessss, that is it, Hermione,’ he stated calmly. ‘Breathe and relax. Feel my body against you. You can’t fall now, can you?’

Lightly, she shook her head, her nose rubbing against the robes on his chest. ‘But I am scared I will … later,’ she said hoarsely.

‘Will I let harm befall upon you?’ he asked mildly.

‘Well …’ Hermione made a face and looked up to meet his eyes. ‘You are who you are.’

‘True,’ he acknowledged. ‘But do you think I will damage you beyond repair?’

Thoughtfully, she took in his words before answering. ‘Not now.’

A knowing smile curved around his mouth. ‘Insightful answer,’ he complimented, staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

‘How come nobody heard me scream?’ Hermione asked, not quite liking that response and desperate to change the attention away from it. ‘What did you do to them?’

‘I placed them temporarily out of sync with the rest of the world.’

Hermione gasped, horrified. That was an incredibly dangerous curse to cast. Even more forbidden than the Unforgivables. It could cause a crack in space and time, and as such, destroy everything. She only knew about it because she had to read all the rules before she was allowed possession of the Time-Turner. The curse itself, however, was kept classified. There wasn’t a single textbook in the world that still contained the words. Because it was so dangerous, for once, all the Ministries of the world had agreed on one thing: This curse should be banned by all means necessary.

‘But – but …’

‘It only works for a limited amount of time and space. After that nature kicks in and resets the situation; so, I have to undo the curse before we all perish,’ he added lightly.

His fingers trailed past the collar around her neck. It was a nice feeling. A really nice feeling. She didn’t want him to stop. But she didn’t want the world to end either. Shouldn’t she say something about that curse?

Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione, she told herself firmly, the end of the world will be his end, too. He wouldn’t have cast that spell unless he can control it.

Her mind reeled about how powerful he had to be to force this spell to work. It was inconceivable, especially since he had it working for quite some time now. According to “Guidelines and Rules in Dimensions” it was only possible to do this for a few minutes before space around the area would start to rupture. And in one rare occasion, there had been a temporal incident with time shattering instead of space. The US Ministry had done all they could to seal off the dangerous area permanently. Even Muggles had heard of the Bermuda triangle and the strange things that occurred there. What they didn’t know was the cause: the Magical Research Base at the bottom of the Atlantic where Albert Monocle screwed up big time. No pun intended.

Yet, right before her stood a wizard who didn’t break a sweat performing exactly that spell. Amazing. Unbelievable. And oh so desirable.

‘How can you possibly keep it so stable?’ Hermione asked curiously.

‘I made a slight deviation in the wording,’ he responded casually. Then, he tilted his head and watched her thoughtfully. ‘No rant about the illegality of the curse?’

She made a face. ‘Why bother? It would be like talking to a brick wall.’

He snorted. ‘No stop or we’ll all going to die?’

‘I don’t think you’d risk your life, so you have to be sure of your abilities to cast it.’

‘And you’re confident in my insight of my magic?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, do you think I will allow you to suffocate?’

‘No,’ she answered immediately. He couldn’t afford her to die since it would mean his death, too.

‘Then, trust me,’ he breathed against her lips, watching delighted how she tried to move her head to close the distance. Her panic had briefly thrust away her lust, but he knew how to revive it. ‘Trust me to know that you will enjoy this.’

She bit her lip, unsure.

His fingernails raked over her naked body, making her twist and moan.

‘Say yes, Hermione,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Say yes, you know you want to.’ He licked her earlobe. ‘Your whole body is expressing your need beautifully.’ He licked the skin along the rim of her collar, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin just below it and sucking hard. She’d have a hickey there in the morning.

‘Say yes, my little apprentice, and you will get exactly what you deserve,’ he added darkly in her other ear. ‘Trust me,’ he ended, gazing directly into her eyes.

I do, Hermione realised as she drowned in his gaze. ‘Yes.’

His gaze intensified as he tilted her head and captured her lips with his mouth. For a while, they did nothing else but kiss and she loved every second of it, especially the part of him roaming his hands through her hair during. When he brought his hands down, caressing the side of her body, he broke off the kiss. A stream of hissing noises left his lips against her glistening skin; magic coiled around her, like a brush of cool wind against her hot flesh. Hermione couldn’t help it – she arched her back in reaction and slid off the chair.

But his hands were already there, underneath her thighs and he held her up, preventing her from suffocating and pushing her back on the seat, shaving her already reddened buttocks on the hard boards. Hermione winced but couldn’t focus on the pain when his body pressed back up against her. Harder this time. She really did like that feeling of being held so tightly.

‘Careful, dear,’ he whispered against her skin. ‘I did warn you not to move.’

‘What did you just do?’ Hermione asked, wondering what that spell was for.

‘This,’ he said, smirking wickedly, and then, Voldemort touched her cheek with his lips softly.

Swiftly, he trailed kisses all over her jawline, and with his hands, he kneaded the muscles at the back of her legs. Then, he stopped and looked at her expectantly. The weirdest thing was that it didn’t stop. Wherever he’d just touched her with either his hands or his mouth, she still felt it. She was still being kissed, her legs still massaged, while he just stood there, doing nothing. Hermione realised that had to be the spell’s doing: It made her relive every touch, every caress, every kiss over and over and over again.

‘Oh yesss,’ Voldemort hissed, pleased, ‘and I plan to explore every inch of your sweet, little body tonight.’

Then, he began his assault in earnest. His fingertips followed the contours of her body, dancing lightly over her skin. Goosebumps erupted in its wake, while his mouth licked and sucked his way across her collarbone. Hermione twitched, nearly sliding off the chair again.

‘Careful, or you’ll fall,’ he warned teasingly, placing featherlight kisses on the inside of her arms.

It was the most unusual experience of a lifetime. An unending, growing number of caresses and kisses stimulating her body all over. She didn’t know where to look, what to do and how to take this overpowering pleasure. And he hadn’t even touched her most sensitive areas yet!

Then, his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them mildly. With slow circular movements, he explored every inch of skin and then flipped his thumbs over her nipples. His eyes trained on her breasts, he began working her nipples into a hard peak with an interchange of soft caresses, squeezes and pulls. Suddenly, he pinched them real hard and she let out a surprised shriek.

‘That hurt,’ she accused, pissed at him because he knew that spell of his would make her feel it continuously.

‘Which you will love when I combine it with this.’ His mouth curved around her nipple, and then, he sucked hard.

Electricity shot to her core and she let out an excited moan. Teasingly tardy, he moved his mouth to her other breast and hovered above her nipple for a moment – forcing her to deal with the continuous sensation of being sucked, caressed and pinched harshly in her nipple. Hermione’s face was beet red and she’d closed her eyes, her face contorted in what many would misperceive as pain. His tongue flicked out, barely touching her other nipple. She bucked in her restraints, slipping off the chair’s seat again. He’d caught her underneath her thighs but lower than before, allowing the collar to dig into her throat. As she gasped for air, her world swirling, he captured her nipple and sucked on it hard. Her ragged scream made him smile while she bucked against him, unable to stay still, trying to get away from what was the most exquisite torture she’d ever felt.

With absurd ease, he lifted her back into the seat and watched briefly how she caught her breath – her face perspiring and her eyes gazing at him with wild amazement.

‘How, oooooh,’ she squirmed when another rush ran through her.

‘Feels nice, doesn’t it?’ he breathed against her ear, holding her in place with his body. ‘Pain, pleasure, a brief lack of oxygen, all of it can severely enhance your climax. And you will come for me many times tonight, little one.’

‘Oh yesss,’ Hermione moaned. That was exactly what she wanted, needed.

He chuckled, his hands stroking the outside of her thighs, the top of them ... He watched amused how she braced herself when his fingers darted closer and closer to the more sensitive inside of her thighs. As expected, she couldn’t keep still and he had to press his hips against her lower body to keep her seated, while she yelled out her delight upon his exploration of her legs. Placing both hands firmly on her hips, he abruptly squatted, pressed his mouth over that sensitive nub and sucked. Her whole body thrashed, and he stepped back, watching her fall and scream out her first orgasm at the top of her lungs, until she gagged and coughed for air.

He waved his hand through the air and she landed back in her seat, gasping and shivering from the after trembles of her high, while he closed the distance between them.

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god,’ Hermione breathed, bewildered.

‘How’s that?’

‘Amazing,’ she whispered, out of breath, ‘and ooooooh, it’s not over.’ She groaned, screwing her face together.

His hands grabbed her face, tilting it slightly. They kissed with extreme verve, deeper and deeper, till the world swirled around her again and her muffled scream accompanied her second climax. When he stopped kissing her, she didn’t even notice, the feeling was still there: on-going, relentless, exhilarating. Her whole body was caught in this frenzy. She’d no idea one man could stimulate her in so many places at the same time. No idea one man would own her body, her pleasure, and then, up the ante to the next level and the next. It felt like a thousand hands were touching her, a thousand mouths kissing her, and she lost all concept of reality as she reached her peak over and over again, her pussy clenching painfully at the emptiness.

Her vision obscured by the stars that kept shooting from her oxygen deprivation, she’d no idea he’d long ago stepped away from her and seated himself in the chair, watching her intensely as she came for him. Multiple times. So many times, he’d lost count, while he kept repositioning her back on her seat whenever she’d dangled on her neck long enough to his satisfaction. He could tell she was completely out of it, had stopped caring about anything else but enhancing her pleasure. She no longer fell from her seat; she pushed herself out of it, wanting to come quicker. Harder. Judging from the pool that had formed underneath her, she was succeeding. He had to keep a close watch or she would kill herself in her current state.

But he didn’t mind that. He loved watching her like this. She was magnificent in her surrender, her body completely at his disposal. He loved seeing her writhe and twist, trying to satisfy that one need inside he hadn’t quenched yet. Her expression became more and more a show of that aching pain, that crazed desire to be filled. By Him. It aroused him to hear her scream, see her ache for his presence as her inner muscles clearly clenched at a void that would seem larger to her with every passing second.

And they call the Cruciatus Curse torture, he thought mockingly. Amateurs.

As Hermione reached another orgasm and ejaculated, again, he decided it was time. Lithely, he exited his seat and approached her naked, glistening, shaking body, dangling once again on the leather collar – not even caring she was suffocating. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed her back in her seat. Another flick and his robes opened, making his rock-hard cock spring free. It had been in that condition for quite some time now, and it was finally going to be where it wanted: inside her tight, wet, hot cavern.

With his hand, he brushed the tip against her opening. Hermione’s immediate reaction darkened his eyes in lust. She gasped in surprise, her pupils so wide he was sure she couldn’t see a thing anymore. Her hips jolted forward as she tried to get him inside, merely succeeding in falling. He yanked her up, roughly.

‘Stay still,’ he hissed.

His voice froze her in place, though she was still trembling in need. Carefully, he placed the tip against her opening again and put his hands on her hips, grasping her firmly. He could tell from the way she held herself she was using up every last bit of her restraint not to move. Deliberately slow, he pushed the head inside, taking expert care in monitoring her facial expressions. She obviously wanted a lot more, judging by that lovely tortured look on her face. It made him want to prolong her suffering, just to lengthen the proof of his dominion over the girl. So, he eased himself out again and was instantaneously rewarded by her desperate cry and the hopelessness, which hang around her like a dark aura. Such a wonderful dark aura. He could bathe in it. Delicious.

‘Beg,’ he ordered with vicious delight.

‘Please.’

‘Beg for my cock, pet,’ he said, rubbing the tip around her wet opening. Sweet Salazar, how he longed to be inside of her.

‘Please, Master, please enter me. I am yours to fill. I need your cock inside of me, please. Please.’

He wiped a strand of her hair out of her face and kissed her mouth hard. ‘You are so lovely when you admit who you belong to, Hermione. Tell me.’

‘You. I belong to you, my Lord.’

‘Yes, you do, pet,’ he said; his index finger drew circles around her opening, ‘so wet you are for me, so needy for my cock, so desperate to be taken by your master. You’ve become quite the Mudblood slut, have you not?’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ she said obediently.

‘Mudblood sluts need to be punished by their superiors, don’t they?’ he took her nipple in his mouth again.

‘Oh yes,’ she groaned, ‘Master, please punish me!’

He bit down. Her pain-filled scream was music to his ears. So, he rose again to witness her variety of expressions as he inserted his finger inside of her and massaged her inner walls. She clenched at him in reflex, frustrated by the lack of girth. He chuckled. ‘So wide you’ve become in your desire; here,’ he withdrew his finger and pushed it into her mouth, ‘taste yourself, little one.’

Moaning, Hermione licked and sucked his finger.

‘That mouth of yours is born to suck cock, Mudblood. When I find you worthy, you will be taught to take all of me there. But right now, you’re nothing but a worthless cunt ready, able and willing to service,’ he hissed demeaningly, watching how she sucked his finger harder and harder with each insult he tossed her way. She was loving it. ‘So, worthless cunt, what are you?’

‘A worthless cunt,’ she replied, feeling her belly clench.

‘What exactly?’ he added, frowning at her previous insufficient answer.

‘Your worthless cunt, Master!’

‘And don’t you ever forget it,’ he coldly spoke. ‘You’re mine. Mine to use in whatever way I deem fit. You will learn to obey me fully, cunt.’

Slowly, he eased himself inside of her, enjoying how Hermione tilted her hips, accommodating herself for his considerable length and girth while his pulsing shaft filled her completely. She was such a perfect fit. He relished in the feel of her muscles clenching around him, massaging him wonderfully.

Her face was set in wondrous relief, loving how finally that aching emptiness had been cured. How he forced her to stretch herself as far as possible. This was bliss.

‘You feel delicious around me, little one,’ Voldemort breathed, keeping his position by pushing his hips firmly against hers. ‘But I believe your previous exercise has widened you a tad too far. You seem positively too comfortable with my presence. Let’s rectify that.’

He placed his palm above the place they were joined and hissed something in Parseltongue again. The words lingered around her, made her even wetter. She loved the sound of it. Then, he pressed hard with his palm and she felt her walls move, tightening her around him, making him feel harder, larger and thicker. She squirmed slightly in discomfort. Now, it felt painful to have him there like he was stretching her to the point of rupture. And then, he started to move out … oh so dilatory and slow.

Yes, she wanted that huge thing out.

But as he retreated, that unpleasant, unwelcomed, aching emptiness rose again. And she no longer knew which was more undesirable: out or in? When only his head was still in, she groaned in frustrated need.

Then, he started filling her up again. In that same tardy speed. Making her walls feel every inch of his advancement. She tried to relax, but the pain made her even tighter. He bumped her cervix when he was fully sheathed again and she screamed, begging him for mercy.

‘Whose cunt was this again?’ he viciously asked, staying put.

‘Oh god, yours. Please, it hurts.’

‘And you will learn to take the pain for me, pet. You will learn to love how your discomfort pleases me. One day you’ll beg me to take you like this. You’ll beg me to hurt you more.’

She squirmed.

‘Oh yessss, delicious,’ he hissed, ‘squirm, move, fight me, do whatever you like, little one, it only makes you clench around me more. I love it.’

‘Please.’

‘You want me out?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Very well,’ he said evenly, moving out in a steady and controlled manner.

As he retreated, Hermione noticed that aching pain rising again, that undesirable feeling of having a huge empty cavern inside your belly, a void that required filling to stay alive. Her blood throbbed inside her and she let out a desperate scream.

‘No! Stay, please!’ she yelled.

He smirked knowingly and withdrew from her fully. Her muscles clenched and unclenched at nothing. After being filled, it was even more painful to not have anything there. Merlin, she needed him. It hurt not to have him inside. But it hurt to have him in, too.

‘In or out, Granger? If your silly mind can reach one simple decision?’ he sneered, pressing his tip against her again.

Her belly pooled in need. Lust rushed through her.

‘Do you want to be thoroughly shagged?’ he added, watching amused how his spell did its work. ‘Fucked till you can no longer move? Ravished till the point of rupture?’

‘Ooooh, yes,’ she moaned.

‘Then, shut your trap and take it, bitch,’ he hissed, slamming into her in one sudden, hard push.

‘AAAHHH!’ she shrieked, clenching around him in reflex as if it would stop his advancement.

‘That’s better, cunt, service me.’

He began moving in earnest. Hermione twisted and writhed in her bounds, feeling him stretch her, hard, and unable to stop him. She came long and hard, screaming his name loudly at her release.

But he wasn’t done yet. And he started anew, pushing her boundaries further and further until she hardly recognised herself. She regressed into a screaming, panting, helpless, lust-filled thing, aimed at fulfilling her completion alone. He drew blood with his nails, bit her, withheld the air from her lungs, pounded into her with a vengeance, and she begged for more. She felt helpless, conquered, and desired in his care, as his cock touched every inch of her insides, thrusting, pulsating and rubbing. He made her yield, just like she’d always wanted. He forced her to deal with the pain, forced her to surrender, forced her to admit what she was. His property. His Mudblood. His slave.

In return, he gifted her with knowledge, power and unbelievable ecstasy – pleasure beyond her wildest imagination.

And Him.

What more could she possibly want? The most powerful dark wizard around had chosen her. It was a heady feeling and she climaxed hard upon the realisation. This was where she belonged. This was who she should be. His.

She rode out her orgasm upon his continuous thrust. His white face was perspiring heavily as he had to do all the work since she was restrained to the chair. His upper body arched, she could see his muscles working. He was magnificent. Lean and strong. And his stamina was beyond belief. She’d lost track how many times he’d made her scream, but he had yet to come for her. And her insides were already raw from the long term friction; her legs were screaming for release from the extension they were held in; her arms had lost all feeling from being held above her head for so long and her neck had an ugly red welt from the leather collar cutting into her skin every time she’d lost her seating.

Yet, none of that mattered when he turned up the heat again. She didn’t even notice the soft creak of the bedroom door opening.

‘Harder,’ Hermione moaned.

‘My pleasure,’ Voldemort replied, panting while pointing his wand to the door.

‘Oh my God!’ Molly slapped her hand in front of her mouth in horror while Arthur reached for his wand. Too late.

They were flung through the air and slammed into Ginny’s wardrobe, unable to move and forced to watch.

‘Get off her!’ Molly yelled, panicking when strands of Hermione’s former nightgown filled her mouth until she could no longer talk or breathe through it. Her nostrils flared in distress.

‘Leave her alone, sick bastard!’ Arthur added, just before Hermione’s shredded underwear flew into his mouth and another strand of nightgown wrapped around his head, keeping it in. He sputtered briefly but grew silent when his efforts to spit it out were fruitless.

‘Nice, students,’ Voldemort mocked. He slammed into Hermione and grabbed her head with both hands. ‘Show them how it’s done, Mudblood.’

He licked her lips. In response, Hermione opened her mouth, allowing him full access. He took full advantage of her offering, exploring her moist cavern to his full content, while he let go of her head, raking his nails over her body once more. He moved away from her mouth and angled his upper body backwards. Disappointed, Hermione let out a soft moan.

Yet, she stopped being disappointed when he cupped both her breasts and fondled them, squeezing harder and harder. He pinched both nipples at the same time he rotated his hips, forcing her to feel his cock at a different angle against her sore walls. It was an electrical overload in her brain and she screamed and bucked against him, dangling on her neck once more as she slid off the seat. His hands moved to her now exposed back. Spreading his fingers wide, he made sure the audience could see him dig his fingernails into Hermione’s skin before he tracked them all over her back as she slowly suffocated on her collar. Everything danced when he cupped her arse, fondled her cheeks and lifted her up the seat once more. Then, he began to pound into her all the while trailing her skin with his nails everywhere, leaving bleeding stripes in his wake, touching every inch of her body.

‘You deserve this punishment, don’t you, Mudblood?’ he hissed.

‘Oooh,’ Hermione moaned. ‘Yes, my Lord. Punish me.’

‘This is what your kind is good for, born for. Show our captivated audience how well you fuck; how much your cunt desires my cock; how well you follow my orders.’

‘Whatever my master wants,’ she replied, out of it as she felt the onset of another climax.

‘You will scream my name when I tell you to come.’

He rotated his hips again and Hermione opened her mouth.

‘Not yet, whore,’ Voldemort snapped.

Sweat dripped off her forehead as she desperately tried to stop her oncoming orgasm. ‘Please, please, Master, I can’t hold it.’

‘Control yourself, wench,’ he hissed, placing his finger on her clit and massaging it expertly.

‘Please, please, please,’ Hermione begged as she felt the impossibility of stopping what was inevitable. ‘Please, Master.’

‘Go,’ he barked.

He felt her ejaculate around him as she yelled his chosen name upon her completion. Her inner muscles kept clenching and unclenching as he kept himself still inside of her, watching her spiral out of control for him. Again. With a vicious smirk, he glanced sideways to the mortified faces of his captives before he focused back on Hermione. He’d planned to come into her pussy, but the sudden redheaded intrusion made him consider a more entertaining and creative method. To his delight, Hermione winced when he exited her. She’d have a hard time sitting and walking for a long time after this.

‘Missing my cock already, Mudblood? Well, of course you do. Mudblood holes need stuffing, don’t they?’

He tilted his head, watching her expectantly for the appropriate answer as he saw in her mind how her body was again becoming one aching throbbing mass of pure unadulterated lust.

Hermione nodded vigorously.

‘I have just the solution.’

He twirled his hand through the air and a double-shafted vibrator landed in his hands. It was thicker and longer than him, and he took great delight in seeing her eyes widen in a combination of fear and desire. He held it in front of her mouth.

‘Open wide,’ he mocked.

She complied immediately and he pushed it halfway in. ‘Suck,’ he ordered coldly. ‘Show me how well you perform.’

As she licked and sucked on the device, she enjoyed his degrading comments, his threats about what he was going to do to her next and for how long. Her body showed everyone just how much she liked it, as she was flushed and perspiring in excitement.

‘Good girl,’ he purred, petting her on her head as he slowly withdrew the toy.

A cord of saliva trailed from her mouth to the tip and it only broke when he positioned it in front of her rosebud and vagina. Unseen to the Weasleys, he flexed his magic and helped her relax her anus as he pushed both shafts into their respective cores as far as possible. Hermione stayed as still as she could, but she still winced and twisted at the agony of the size of it all. Her already fully abused vagina was protesting vehemently against this renewed entry, and her anus merely felt strange, itchy – almost like that huge thing had somehow shrunk upon entering. Hermione frowned, not knowing it was exactly what had happened to the anal toy since Voldemort had merely wanted to horrify the audience, not rupture her inexperienced bowels to shreds.

Then, he turned the vibrator on, and she bucked and screamed violently from the sensations that rushed through her.

‘Perhaps a lower setting?’ Voldemort grinned.

He waved his wand, and she stopped thrashing around, even though the vibrations still felt wonderful inside.

‘One more opening to fill,’ he said, smirking at her.

More leather leashes appeared and wrapped around Hermione. Two formed a cross over her chest, pushing up her breasts as they tightened into her skin. One swung around her waist and several others twirled around her upper thighs and crotch, securing her to the chair until she couldn’t move an inch anymore. Then, the stirrups vanished. Tears sprung in her eyes and Hermione yelled in pain as her cramped up legs suddenly moved; her feet were folded underneath her arse, and then, another belt tied her ankles to her upper thigh. Voldemort checked if she was firmly secured and then, he lowered the chair until she sat on her knees before him, his rock hard cock pulsating in front of her face.

Fascinated, Hermione watched how it seemed to have a life of its own. She couldn’t resist herself. She had to lick it. So, she did. Her tongue flicked out and touched the head. It was softer than she expected, but the taste wasn’t at all pleasant, making her withdraw while Voldemort chuckled in delight.

‘You’re such an eager little cocksucker, Mudblood. Let’s see if you’re any good.’

He placed his hands in her hair and pushed the tip against her lips. ‘Open wide. I better not feel any teeth or you will regret it.’

Reluctantly, Hermione opened her mouth, allowing him to enter. Gently, she began to suck and lick, twirling her tongue around his shaft while keeping her teeth behind her lips, ignoring the sour taste of his precum. She changed the pressure at his command, followed every single one of his instructions, and began to enjoy the way he shifted on his feet when he liked something she did.

Soon, soft moans erupted from his throat, making her feel firmly in charge despite her tied up and submissive position. Hermione absolutely loved how much of an effect she had on him this way. She smiled as his hands tightened in her hair as if he had to steady himself. And she tried to take him in farther, but her restraints held her back.

‘Ooooh, yessss,’ he hissed sibilantly, ‘that loud, insolent, ever babbling mouth of yours was made to suck dick.’

He shifted his hips and pushed in farther than was comfortable for her. Her gag reflex, however, kept her throat closed. A normal reaction, especially for a first timer, but it complicated matters. Voldemort pulled back and tried it again, reaching the same effect.

Too bad.

It seemed he had to teach her how to do this properly some other time. He knew he could force her to deep throat him, but it might do more damage than the brief gain he’d get from it.

Besides, he preferred his audience to witness how much of a hold he already had over the girl and what better way than have her come screaming for him.

Again.

He smirked and withdrew his cock from her mouth. With a flick of his wrist, the chair flew up and he yanked out the vibrator.

‘Time to finish this, witch,’ he hissed, slamming into her again.

He could tell from her facial expression it wouldn’t take long. Lust spells were so useful. She was so far out of it, he wondered how much of her environment she really perceived. From the looks of things, not a whole lot. Too bad Legilimency on a dazed mind was a pretty useless endeavour, otherwise he’d be an eager intruder.

However, right now, he had to settle for her body. A quite delicious little body. He wouldn’t mind having those legs around him.

A snap of his fingers and the bounds on her legs vanished. Hermione let out another pain-filled scream when her legs stretched out, causing her muscles to cramp. He captured her mouth with his, muffling her sounds and pulled her against him, yanking her legs up to show her what he wanted from her. When she regained control over them, she obeyed eagerly, wrapping her legs around his back.

Next, he unlocked her arms, placing them around his neck. When he was sure she had a firm hold of him, he banished the chair, taking a couple of steps to push her up against the door. He loved how she thrashed in his arms and he could feel the onset of his climax approaching. When he felt her clench around him upon her orgasm, it pushed him over the edge as well and he spilled his semen inside of her, breaking the curse she was under.

Hermione had her head tilted backwards, leaning against the door as she panted heavily, feeling exhausted and sore unlike ever before. Finally, the world had come back into focus and she looked up to meet his two red eyes, gazing at her expectantly.

‘Wow,’ was all she could utter, still clinging to his tall form.

He smirked smugly, causing her to roll her eyes.

‘No regrets?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘You might have in a couple of hours,’ he teased warningly, ‘you’re going to be sore all over.’

‘Already am. Don’t care,’ she replied shortly.

‘I take it you enjoyed yourself,’ he said, amused at how she missed the Weasleys’ presence by being so utterly focused on him. As she should be.

‘Very much,’ she acknowledged. ‘How about you?’

‘Hmm…’ he tilted his head teasingly as if he had to think about it.

Hermione lifted the arm behind his back and slapped him teasingly on the head.

‘Oww, eh!’ He grabbed her wrist. ‘Never start something you can’t finish, Granger.’

She wiggled her eyebrows at him daringly. ‘Who said I can’t finish?’

He snorted and shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to, so consider yourself lucky. Do you think you can stand?’

‘Ermm… I suppose.’ She looked down thoughtfully.

He held her tightly, waiting for her to catch her footing. When he was sure she wouldn’t collapse, he stepped away from her, opening up the entire room to her view. Hermione slapped her hand in front of her mouth as she let out a horrified gasp. Quickly, she stumbled to the side and pulled her dressing gown around her exposed body as fast as she could.

‘I think they saw the entire show already, dearest,’ Voldemort said with a teasing wink as his robes had magically folded around him when he'd stepped away from her.

The furious glare she sent his way made him chuckle in delight. Abruptly, he turned away from her and swirled to the captured couple, halting right in front of them.

‘It’s time we have a little chat, blood traitors,’ he hissed threateningly.

xxx
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The Apprentice