The Head Boy's Secretary

CockroachWaltz: Sorry, didn't get around to responding until today. Thanks. This story is supposed to be scary.


Vic: Well, he had to eat it. I would imagine Voldemort has some nasty desires hidden from the public eye. This man created horcruxes (something that is supposed to be despicable) and also kept a cave full of corpses. I'm sure he could have a shit fetish. Hitler was rumoured to, did you know? I like him to have things in common with Hitler for some reason....Oh and Riddle/Voldemort might be reading Mein Kampf in this story. I will also try to keep up with the religiosity of the tale.




Chapter Ten: The Dark Art of Submission


The next week Alice returned to the cloisters, Riddle’s secret lair of the Restricted Section. He went back to being charming. Alice was relieved that she needn’t be as frightened as last time. For upon entering the library, she seriously considered fleeing to the Ravenclaw common room to hide it out. But eventually, the Head Boy would get her and demand why she hadn’t resumed attendance to the job. So she dared not.

Alice knocked and was told to enter. She waited as he checked something he was working on and then brought his undivided attention upon her. He clapped his hands almost jubilantly, evidently pleased by her return. In some respect he was aware he had nearly frightened Alice off.

“And so…We continue today. The agenda in order is to teach you submission. Specifically, submission to me…which is different than to any other man you may encounter.”

Alice looked away from him, remembering. He told her he wanted to be revered like a god last time! This must be what he was alluding to.

Riddle came closer to Alice, invading her personal space. She felt his presence, overpowering and taking her. She felt belittled and small already. It was rather insulting, but what she could do? He was the authority.

“'Sir' is much too common a formality. You will now call me ‘Master’ and only master at all times.”

Alice felt more like a servant girl than ever. “Yes, Master.”

“I will set you to a number of tasks, different from your secretarial duties. This will help you, missy. For when you’re a married lady, running your husband’s menage… You will be ready. There is much to learn from servitude and giving a man his due pleasure. From the process, you will become my trained submissive!”

Alice sneered at him coldly, “I learned it all at the knee of my father, thanks.” Or rather sometimes, when she blundered quite literally over the knee of her father. Alice had witnessed plenty at the hands of her father who imposed his will and demand for obedience as the head of the household.

Riddle bent down and got eye-level with Alice. “Here is my list for this afternoon’s duties. Be done with them by six….Or suffer my…displeasure.” Alice did not like the way he said, “displeasure” almost as if he would enjoy it if she failed!

“Yes, I will. Yes,” she said breathlessly, again frightened. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He snapped irritably.

“Yes, Sir. I mean, Yes, Master.”

“That’s better. Now take off your robes….”

Alice slid her heavy school robes off and was reduced to just standing in her shoes before him, clad in pleated skirt, knee-highs and a crisp, white shirt.

He handed over a funny white linen rag and nodded curtly. She understood she was to wear it to keep her face and hair clean. “Good girl. Now off you go.”

Alice wore the rag over her head like the tea-cozy was a bandana. He’d retrieved it from a House-elf in the kitchens, surreptitiously snatching the tea-cozy from a laundry basket. Alice deduced that he must of pilfered it off an elf that worked at Hogwarts. Furiously she wondered how much the Head Boy was getting away with....She'd never imagined he was capable of theft. All knew him as a model of good behaviour, but Alice was learning the truth.

She was taken to trimming candlesticks, organizing his small apothecary and then dusting shelves. She even got on her knees to scrub the flagstones until they gleamed with such effulgence, that one could see a reflection in them.

She was polishing a giant net of skulls, whilst clearing spiders and their webs off it when she looked up, forehead crinkled in deep thought. Upon reflection, she was prepared to reveal something she had gleaned today. The evidence mounted that her inferences were indeed accurate.

“You used Anthony before, didn’t you? You used Anthony Edwards. And you’re using me for Secretary now.”

There was silence in the study, perfect golden silence. Riddle’s quill stopped. He stared. “Yes, I did,” he flatly confessed.

He tried to hide the fact that he was genuinely piqued, shocked by her perspicacity.

“But how did you know, Miss Alice?” He'd asked casually. But the cogs in his brain were whirring like mad. Riddle was burning to know what was motivating her to seek the truth.

“I- I see what you’ve done to him, M-master! You’ve hurt him and you’ll p-probably hurt me the same! Don’t! Don’t you dare!”

Riddle could barely conceal a grin. He wanted to smile, but he wanted to gain the girl’s full trust back. He understood at least in principle that true submission, required surrender and absolute trust. Voldemort believed he could earn trust, but in truth never did with anyone, not even his all-male followers.

The quill came down with a direct, intentional thud. And as usual he acted completely unruffled despite the lack of trust.

“Never, Miss Alice. I will never hurt you. You are being a good, and albeit right now a silly servant girl. There is no harm that can come by pleasing your Master. You are doing fine. Come here…”

He held out his arms to her, as if not a threat. Like Christ welcoming his flock. Or like a congenial father.

Alice dragged her feet, dreading approaching him. But she went to the work desk. Riddle hugged her paternally, gathering her in his arms, and sat Alice on his knee.

“Dear Alice….I beseech you to understand, how very much I like you! And you’re so good at what you do.”

“I suppose so…” said Alice faintly. She no longer felt like herself. “M-master…I thank you for allaying my fears.”

Riddle let her go then, glad to have that “thing” off his lap. He didn’t want to do it, but he understood that this girl saw parallels between himself and that of the iconoclastic pastor, her father, Reginald Whitman. He must show her affection, however untrue his feelings were.

The hourglass kept time, in cadence to the work. Alice listlessly looked up from scrubbing, dusting and cleaning, seemingly forever watching the sands fall. Here time was slipping by, when she should be out with friends in her year. Instead she was with the older; much more mature Head Boy. She’d rather be playing games with fellow schoolmates in the courtyards! Skipping around the castle after class, with time to kill before dinner. To have not a care in the world like a little girl should be!

She was told to sit and work the Hogwarts accounts (a Head Boy duty) and in the meantime compose mysterious messages to an unknown group of people. Alice felt like an adult here like a big girl. In a way she thought it was like she was his wife, being a good helpmeet. She was beginning to feel proud, prouder than she’d felt of her achievements in awhile.

Alice was bright. She realized the enigmatic memos were a code. And that they probably had something to do with those hooded figures she saw kissing his ring! She burned to know the truth and vowed she would find out the names of those people who had knelt before him that day.

She stared at the back of Mr. Riddle who was facing the blackboard, his voluminous black robes sweeping behind him. The cane happened to be hanging nearby. Alice was fortunate that he hadn’t used it again.

Riddle was standing back, appraising a long litany of voluminous, archaic writing. His hands were clasped behind his back, turned away from her, where he faced the blackboard. Hundreds of numbers and symbols were etched on it. Whatever it was, Alice knew only a brilliant mind like his could decipher it. But perhaps she was quick enough to crack the code of his messages….

“Master....Who were the people in the masks?”

Riddle’s face drained of colour when he heard this, and lost his concentration. He didn’t like the level of inquisitiveness this young girl, near woman was evincing. He must squash it and soon!

He stepped back and faced her. His dark eyes were ablaze. Alice was sure she had angered him again. Without thinking, her eyes looked at the cane and she prayed he wasn't going to flay her again.

She watched him gazing at her, and waited for an answer. She studied his eyes and saw that his lashes were long like a girl's. But it just made his eyes more beautiful, and yet masculine still.

“Concerning you - that is neither here nor there. Meddlesome, irritating child…Get up and re-fill my wine flask.”

Alice hesitated. He could see she would object.

“Do it,” he rasped irritably. “At once!”

Something about his commands frightened her to action. She obeyed and went to get a fresh bottle, uncorking it and pouring one. Riddle turned angrily from his blackboard, no longer wishing to focus on it, as Alice’s thought had distracted him.

She slid the goblet onto his desk, next to his notes. Stiffly, Alice said, “I am not yet your Maid. Nor shall I ever be your maid. And nor am I as low as a House-elf!”

Riddle grabbed her wrist, tempted to punish her for such insolence. “You will do as you’re told,” he said quietly. “Without question or complaint. No need to get your knickers in such a twist girl!”

The last of the diatribe was more lighthearted. Riddle wanted to forget how she was looking for information. He knew she was using her own investigation methods for an answer to what he was. And that should be none of his Secretary’s business!

He still held her wrist, threateningly and Alice quailed. She shook her hand, in an effort to wriggle free.

“Now let us see what you’ve done.”

Six o’clock. The time had flown by.

Riddle inspected everything with keen eyes; the darkness in them seemed to radiate a glow. The study was cleaned from top to bottom. It was a new abode, simply immaculate. It looked like a different room altogether.

Alice kept her head bowed modestly and clasped her hands by her navel. This was behaviour she had learned for whenever daddy reviewed her work. Alice dared not move until Mr. Riddle made his judgment….

“Not half as bad as I expected it would be without magic. I am surprised a witch could handle herself so well. I must commend you for industriousness.”

Alice kept her head bowed modestly; trying not to look too pleased with herself. “Thank-you, Master.”

A burst of bright light, a spell was produced out of nowhere. He’d moved the chair across the room. Riddle went to sit leisurely.

He took his time. He seemed to be getting comfortable for something. He parted his school robes, and loosened his tie and the cuffs of his shirt rolled up. Next he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad, handsome chest. Alice wanted to go now. She wondered if she could just quietly leave….

She tiptoed, starting towards the door. But immediately he spoke, “You…. Come and kneel at my feet.”

She turned back disappointed she couldn’t be let off. She saw him sitting there like a prince on a throne. The long wand pointed to where she should kneel. Like a doleful saddened animal, being put to humiliation she prostrated.

Humbly the girl looked up at him. She was the picturesque version of beauty in all its simplicity. In this moment, Alice Whitman shone with truth. But Tom Riddle did not appreciate true beauty or truth in any form.

“Aren’t you aware of the effect you have on me?”

Alice just looked dumbfounded.

He twitched, his head turning downward, with impatience. “Don’t you understand that I….desire you?”

In a sense, Tom Riddle was aware of the innocence. The Secretary was only fourteen years old. He felt like it was best to address this now, get it out in the open. The Head Boy who always held things back, keeping his thoughts in mystery, hidden under the surface, could hold back no longer....

Alice said, “You have an effect on me. Er – I think. I dunno but…I didn’t think you noticed what you d-do.”

“Certainly, Alice. I certainly did notice your progress. It is going along well! The questions remains though….Are you aware of mine?”

“Your what exactly?”

“My desires,” he hissed powerfully.

She shook her head.

“As promised, I shall teach you. Train you in the art of submission.”

His teeth gnashed with a rage Alice would never understand. “Worship me…Worship my manhood….No. I am more than that. Worship this….”

Rapidly Riddle took his pants down. The flesh of his dick was visible to Alice for the first time. In fact, the first time she’d ever seen a man’s penis up close.

Her gray eyes fluttered with bright-eyed interest and wonder.

Riddle smirked at her expression.

It was a clean foreskin. In all its audacious glory, spanning nearly ten inches. It had never been circumcised, as was the practice for European-born babies of that era.

Alice was brought to tears by it. That was the thing that had entered her the other night. He had entered her, his presence, his being had been in that! And all of it had been inserted inside her. It had hurt her. He had hurt her.

She started to weep. She was just a child, a little girl being touched by a man who shouldn’t be.

Alice boldly came out with it. “Mr. Riddle…I feel like this were a-a…. Like an Arithmancy problem I can’t get right! I can’t do this….It doesn’t feel right. Please, don’t make me.”

Riddle was growing increasingly infuriated. And this Ravenclaw was silly to refer to an Arithmancy problem, when he just wanted her to shut-it, so he could fuck that mouth!

“Oh, how I hate crying!” he seethed. His rage was boiling inside. If she didn’t stop, he would torture her to within an inch of her life! “Crying children. Crying babes! I hate them all! I could not bear it in the orphanage.”

“Where you grew up? Oh, do have pity on me, Master!”

Instinctively, Alice was desperately grabbing at the possibility that this young man, this handsome monster she dealt with could show just a shred of mercy. So she grabbed his robes, still knelt in the position on the floor. She clutched at them desperately and pulled.

Alice looked at him, and pondered if he ever felt pain, like the pain he subjected her to last night, when she was locked in the coils of the Devil’s Snare and he used the Cruciatus curse.

In a flash, Riddle saw this going through her mind.

“You must experience pain. It is a part of your submission to me, my slave.” His voice was tender, sickeningly soothing.

Alice gulped. She watched him pry her fingers free of his robes, so patient. Alice realized he knew she would obey for sure and he took his time. A single tear squeezed out of her eyes. Riddle frowned at it with disapproval.

The wand ignited by another spell. She clutched her throat like she was choking to death.

The spell had been engorgio. It had elongated her neck, by several inches. It was done so that her mouth could be put to service easier. It worked perfectly for deep-throat penetration.

He shoved her head forward and Alice had her mouth to his member. It was cold, and very slippery.

She did not look like a sweet little girl anymore. Rather like an obscene, brazen harlot, sucking off her master because if she refused, he would punish her severely.

All ten inches was inside her mouth now. Riddle brought the shaft, up and down, up and down. He guided her along, riding his shaft in her mouth.

Smack! Smack! And now he slapped his cock against those childish, puffy cheeks.

His dark eyes became maniacal. With almost child-like delight he said, “Sucking my cock to the root you are! To the root! Ah!”

He was getting release from it. Young Voldemort sighed and screamed, and screamed and sighed again.

Alice was frightened by the emotional display. That was more emotion than she’d ever seen from him. His body was shaking eratically, especially the hand that held his wand....

“Eat of my seed, sow.” Something warm and frothy went down her throat. Alice was ashamed to be reminded of butterbeer, but knew it was ejaculation.

“You have a good tongue for fellatio. I shall have to use it again.”

Alice felt grave and reflective from the abuse. She mumbled tearfully, “Yes, Master.”

Riddle looked on at this person he used, and felt like she was lifeless. Young Voldemort looked at everything as if it was all outside himself. All his life, every living thing seemed as lifeless as a corpse from his vantage point. Except for him. He was the exception, the one thing that was special.

And right now he felt exceptionally alive. Alive and satisfied from the relief Alice brought him.

Alice couldn’t help but take hold of his cock and cradle it in her hands. In anger, she squeezed his balls. She was mad that this didn’t hurt him in the slightest.

The spell was lifted and her throat was reduced to perfectly normal size.

Riddle was brought back to his senses, the usual modicum of calm restored.

He brought his hand down on top of Alice's head. She was reminded of when she got a blessing at mass. Daddy had often done this for his family and his whole congregation.

And now Riddle was doing the same. He seemed to be ordaining her, as he stared and kept a heavy hand on her head, looking at her face. “You performed fellatio well…Very well…”

Alice was made to finish him off by sucking his fingers as he steadily stroked his wand. Clearly, like a wizard of some bearing, he held his wand in greater regard than an instrument that could potentially create children.

Alice was forced to suckle his long fingers clean of Merino ink stains. The taste of ink was sweet. His fingers shook with supressed power in his blood-filled veins.