The Head Boy's Secretary

Chapter Twelve: Black Sacrament at Midnight


He could hear a muffled stirring beyond the secret entrance just as midnight came. In the shadows it was he of course who waited.

Alice was at the concealed secret entrance in the Restricted Section. She made the door materialize through magic.

She was a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Her mind fell back to fantasy as comfort. Donning a white muslin nightgown, she felt like a bride on honeymoon. She enjoyed toying with the idea that this was an excursion to consummate marriage. Alice always had a tendency for the winsome and fantastic, but she didn’t know how unrealistic it was with the Head Boy.

He’s already taken me from behind, Alice thought introspectively. She was disheartened that he hadn’t thought to master her front. She wanted him to, for without that she was worthless. Already ruined by an improper gesture. Her mum Evelyn would scold her. Wryly mum would shake her head and say “Damaged goods!”

In her hands she took the upside down cross as knocker. It got through one knock, when she knew who appeared.

Bathed in the dappled moonlight, which was patchy from the mullioned windows he stood. Tom Riddle looked just the same as this afternoon dapper in his same-old finely tailored clothes.

He was reproachful, arms crossed over his chest.

“Master,” Alice curtsied in her long nightgown. She must show off as a well-mannered, worthy girl. So he’d finish it tonight. She knew whatever he wanted her here for at such a late hour must be sexual. But what was in store would only disappoint young Alice. He had no plans to take her virginity. It would be a sacrament much darker than giving oneself to a man.

Taken by the elbow, Alice descended a narrow corkscrew stairs. She enjoyed being steered along to whatever destination, which was clearly not going to be the Study. She did enjoy his domineering attitude, and admired that he was such a confident man.

Again she thought of the fantasy of playing husband and wife. Tonight he’d consummate it. She would learn to “love, honor and obey.” Well, Alice thought, she certainly didn’t love him. But it was sort of required already that she honor and obey him.

It became darker. They lit their wands together. The Restricted Section’s cloisters and chambers had been holed-up probably since the seventeenth century.

On hanging tapestries were hideous demonic faces. She felt like they were closing in on her.

They finished going down the winding corkscrews.

But Alice believed in Riddle’s protection. She innocently believed this boy could never kill. It wasn’t a possibility, despite her learning just earlier of the Dark Art’s notorious reputation for murder. And yet she was perceptive, just as she was naïve. A startling combination.

They came to a small room that was domed. It had a raised platform. On the platform was a liturgical table.

Riddle found some candelabras away from the altar. Alice watched, taking in the atmosphere. She enjoyed it immensely. For it looked like a room in a church. Alice hadn’t stepped inside a church for over a year, and she missed it.

There was a presence, around them. She thought of it as the Holy Ghost, and she could feel this power even stronger in a place of worship. If only she’d known that she was probably feeling the horrific duplicity of the presence of….Lord Voldemort.

Candles emitted substantial light to the room. Her face made a pearly glow in the candlelight.

In the lacy frills of the long white nightgown, she looked angelic and pure. It was the thing Riddle was attracted to. He wanted this girl’s purity and her innocence because it would amuse him to no end to steal it.

Alice looking around thought it like a special mass for candlelight vigil.

Riddle kept turned away from the light. He paused in thought, his face remaining inscrutable as ever.

“Undress…I am going to examine your body beforehand. There is something I will need to do.”

“Is this once again - that illness you checked for the other week?”

Riddle’s eyelashes fluttered and he jerked his head slightly. This was because he was lying, but Alice didn’t realize. “Yes, it is a healing procedure. Undress, Miss Alice.”

Riddle turned his back on her. He wanted to look on voyeuristically, but must act the gentleman instead.

Alice’s nimble fingers quickly undid the buttons. She slid off her white stockings and slippers.

Riddle knew when she was done. Calmly he urged, “Lie down.”

Alice climbed onto the altar, and lied flat on her back, feeling the coolness of the surface against bare skin.

Her vulnerability on display made her blush with shame. She cupped her vagina.

Riddle let Alice keep her hands there, he said nothing but took out his wand, and with it traced the curve lines of her neck, then down her chest and to the pelvis he stopped. Alice believed he might be performing a non-verbal spell, but he wasn’t this time. This was not a Healing procedure, but sexually charged. Her fourteen-year-old self had no realization of it.

And Riddle took to seducement. And now Alice knew this couldn’t be for the “illness." And yet she knew he was attracted to her and was still hoping he’d master her tonight.

With relish Voldemort ravaged kisses onto the body of the girl. With practiced hands he primed her for sex massaging all the most erogenous zones. With Alice’s hands still clasping her vagina she felt the clear, liquid oozing forth.

Something inside Alice snapped. She was awash with guilt. It's origin was fear, a repressed sexuality like in her favourite novel, Dracula.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if in terrible pain.

She heard above, “What is it, Miss Alice?”

“I am sinning before your eyes, Master! I can’t stop masturbating. What is wrong with me?!”

“Nothing,” said Riddle calmly.

Riddle demonstrated, making a point by placing his hands with intention on her forearms, and went to her lips. He delivered a good kiss – so firm it made her lips swell.

Moaning, her legs were spread, willing him a chance to get inside. Alice of course longed for it - wishing he would take her. She abhorred getting it from behind.

A trickle of clear liquid escaped her hands and she shook.

“Nothing is wrong with you. You are a girl – a young woman. It is natural.”

But Alice was almost as much a religious zealot as her father, Reginald Whitman had been. “But it is sinful – against God the father! I should be punished for this!”

“No! It is not!” he snapped irritably.

“Dig your fingers in….Feel the pleasure. It is yours!”
Alice looked at him closely, wondering if she should abide. There was a small smile etched on his face - like he knew something he wouldn't share. And there was something....

But still she dared not disobey and because she was being ordered to by a man, she believed it justified the activity and absolved her from the sinfulness of the act.

There was a volley of kisses and Alice drove her fingers inside. All the while, feeling the Head Boy cool lip's. And then his alabaster hands - with a touch just like possession. She was his belonging – he owned her but it was an attractive and propitious thing to be owned by such a man as he!

Riddle took great pleasure in watching for he knew what he really wanted.

Finally he took her hands away from her pelvis and spoke with a sensuality. His voice like melodious music that made Alice not fear God and the sin of wantonness. “Come little trollop…It is time we went further. Back to your – illness. I have not yet finished….”

Alice tilted imploringly upwards, “Master – what will you do?”

Riddle did not answer but made a near robotic hairpin turn. His robes cascaded softly down his side. Alice hadn't noticed a black chest there before and he extracted something out of it.

"Once there was a girl...," he began. His voice held that melodious charm again and it soothed Alice of her fears. "She attended mass every Sunday most assiduously....she memorized the psalms. It seemed to all the world that everyone should be pleased with her....and they were. But this girl held a deep, dark secret....Miss Alice can you guess where such a secret would lie?"

"Inside the girl I guess," dithered Alice nervously.

"Perfectly correct. Inside was a terrible secret...."

Riddle had already turned back to face her, and Alice remained staring in the opposite direction. She missed it when a dollop of wax fell just beneath her neck, searing her collar bone.

Alice screamed, and her body writhed up towards Riddle. He was holding a candlestick.

"What was that for?"

"I am marking you for the procedure! It will hurt but I assure you....you won't die! Now back to the story.

"Now the girl held a secret, as I told you a moment ago."

Alice forced herself to pay attention to his words and not his actions. "Yes, Master. And the girl went to worship and knew all she could about faith."

"Right....Now one day as she was growing up...She noticed changes in her person. She was no longer a little girl....she met a young man and did horrible things with him. She degraded herself, Miss Alice. And it was because she wanted to, it was her choice.... The duality of her nature had been revealed.

"This girl - now woman was a trollop like you, or worse a minx and then she made herself into a harlot and a whore!"

"I am no whore! How dare you!"

"Quiet. The possibility exists within you, dear Alice. You are woman - Daughter of Eve and a sinner."

Alice's gray eyes had flashed but now she lowered her gaze humbly. Under his cold, dark gaze Alice realized he couldn't see her as she was. She was just a collective thing of womanhood - with the inborn evil inside. Under his gaze she mustn't think or be who she was - just to be right in the knowledge of her sinfulness - as Daughter of Eve.

"This little girl...Could of been anyone female, she represents them all," Riddle was whispering with tender affection, as he peered over Alice. Underneath the surface was a misogynistic hatred. "My mother - Merope who whored with an aristocratic muggle to gain wealth and position! Or Evelyn - your mother who refused to submit to her husband and forced the man to divorce her! And you Alice - You who are masturbating still as we speak."

Alice began to cry. This sounded too true.

"I don't want to be bad! I don't want to masturbate and I don't want to be a bad woman - a whore or like my mum, a bad wife. Please help me, Master Riddle!

"Look at how wet I am. I should be punished for this excess of pleasure!"

Alice looked down at her spread opening in desperation.

Riddle was smiling broadly now. "You will be punished, Miss Alice. I can assure you - it comes to all women in the end. It will not be my doing though. You will not know when it comes to you, I suppose! But be assured - women like you always suffer!" Riddle had become inflamed again, with a sinister tone.

And Riddle spoke directly of Merope Gaunt. "Again like my mother...The whore who bled to death upon birthing me! She got her just desert in the end...Despite being magic she died an untimely death. She would not save herself even for my sake....," and Riddle invented to scare Alice, "Perhaps because she believed she was already lost."

Alice felt a wave of true sadness overcome her. She almost felt sorry for the Head Boy suddenly.

"Why listen to me confiding in you....a silly girl is all you are. As if you were one of my most intimate friends!"

Alice snapped back into reality, and almost stopped crying. "Your friends? But then, who really are those men in the masks?"

"I have told you before - it is not your concern."

"Yes, Master," she said guiltily. She was sorry to be so inquisitive. Her father had often rebuked her when asking too many questions - saying it was uncalled for in women.

"Now the old ways - your Christian religion has got it right. And I know such great magic that will cut off your pleasure forever- irrevocably."

Alice sobbed and cried, "Yes, please! What is it?"

Riddle was still smilingly smugly. He knew this had been the perfect way to persuade her to go along with the procedure he would subject her to next. Riddle was familiar with the beliefs Reginald Whitman inculcated into his daughter and he had used this knowledge to sway her.

"First turn over and so I may continue your sacrament."

Alice was more than willing and she laid prone on the altar. Tom Riddle hovered above, and she was comforted.

"Oh, Master! You have not forsaken me! You are here to save me tonight."

Riddle paid her words no mind - in reality this talk of faith and God or what have you met nothing. It meant nothing to him. Nothing.

But he played along a bit anyway. "Your soul. I am here to save your soul. The flesh of the body is of no consequence to that precious thing we call a soul...." His voice held a sarcasm, but it was difficult for Alice to sense it.

Alice screamed again twice as Riddle sprinkled fat dollops of wax on the back of her neck and the small of her back, just above her pert behind. Riddle had finished with the candle wax. This ritual was going to bear marks: one on the navel above her bush, one behind her vulnerable neck and one on the small of the back, three altogether. It was at once like a triangle and also was like the trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Riddle rolled the girl's body back again she would rest on the table on her back. He put genital weights atop her breasts that pressed like stones. They made it impossible to rise in protest and knew this would hold her for the painful magical rite about to be performed.

"Obscuro!" Alice was blindfolded.

"You won't want to look at the sight," he assured her. Acting the merciful one, he patted her hand.

Riddle raised a cunning little dagger. He looked ugly - he had nearly transformed his appearance but now she couldn't see. Gone from being sexy and fluid in his motions as the proverbial seducer. He was ugly and almost beastly. But Alice could not see the true person or being that was Tom Riddle - he was always hiding.

With hands he cleaved Alice's limbs apart, so her opening was spread. Next he took the dagger. It disappeared in the hollow of the tight opening. The knife poked and prodded until he found what he was looking for.

He peeled and sliced away with the blade. Alice could have screamed the school down if they weren't so deep under the castle in a warded off location.

Tom Riddle paid her cries no care. He continued to work, a mass of blood oozing from the pockets of now loosened flesh. This would serve the girl right. Young Voldemort felt righteous in depriving this creature - woman - of pleasure.

She would no longer be tight even though he hadn't taken her maiden head. Furthermore her clitoris would be his!

Proudly Riddle held this beautiful confection of femininity in his hand. He marveled in that he had it. It was a soft loam and vibrant and throbbed with life. He was glad that this life force of her sexuality was no longer apart of her.

Alice blindfolded and unable to move under the magic of genital stones sobbed and made primitive noises to attract attention. She was in so much pain words couldn't come out.

Tom Riddle of course didn't care. He busied himself by retrieving a bottle from his pockets, which were full of all sorts of odd things. A bottle was full to the brim with blood. It was the blood that he'd grown after her menarche. He bottled her clitoris, and for now it was stowed safely in his pocket.

He went back to Alice. He took the ripened artificial clitoris from the box where he'd been keeping it for weeks. It was now a cursed object that would fester inside. Soon the curse would spread all throughout the body.

And Riddle knew the magic to attach a new clitoris to the body of the girl.

Like an animal having a meal - he devoured her pussy and enjoyed the scent and taste of blood. His horcrux work had given him an unusual appetite for it - because it was sustenance that would sustain him. The blood was even better when it came from the pure and innocent.

The tongue inside her felt good and Alice slowly grew comforted. The dislodgement of the apparatus connected to pleasure produced an aching, dull pain. But it started to recede.

All too soon Riddle was biting on her, yanking at the remaining flesh. The next day there would be scabs all over down there, and Alice would refrain from crossing her legs for weeks, lest she disturb the wounds.

He hated her and therefore enjoyed hacking at the body with his strong, youthful teeth. And blood dribbled down his chin and he smiled bestially. He hated her. Hated her magic, her beliefs against the Dark Arts, her love of inadequate parents like a father that abandoned her. Yet he would never admit it.

And he was full of lust for strange perversities none would ever understand.

The blindfold was removed and the stones taken off. The first thing Alice saw was that unwavering dark gaze on the handsome face looming above. Shadows framing it in the candlelight.

"You have been cleansed....I have eradicated your sinful tendency for pleasure."

Alice smiled, relief spreading into peace of mind. She was reminded of mass again, especially as she watched her beloved Master's face, admiring the shadows dancing from the candlelight.

"This is the cup of my blood," piped up Alice.

Riddle intervened at once familiar with it, "The blood of the new and everlasting covenant." Ironic that he would chant this with her after a ritual, he thought. Considering that he was undergoing a process for everlasting life himself.

And Alice finished, "It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven...." And Alice believed that through his prodigious magic he had done a favour . Alice was entirely convinced. She was cleansed of the sin of pleasure.

Riddle turned rigidly away again and looked to the box again. Etched on it were scorpions and serpents that Alice had not seen before. She admired it even for its dark quality. Yet it was true she much preferred kittens and fluffy bunny rabbits to snakes and bugs. But he was a boy and a Slytherin boy at that she silently countered.....

Riddle didn't turn around which only increased Alice's anxiety when he spoke. "Turn over and prepare to serve your Master again."

Alice with quick witted intelligence, objected vehemenently."That dirty thing again!"

"It is not dirty. Most creatures like yourself do it. Now lie back the other way."

Alice dared not disagree and she believed she was his property. If she was his wife she knew she would be allowing him to have sex however and almost whenever he desired.

Alice pressed her face against the altar of the table, filled with regret that he hadn't shown her the respect of taking her virginity. Why couldn't it go proper since he had her?

Tom Riddle returned. Alice could not see but his fingertips were wearing blades.

The bladed fingers scraped her back and clung to her as he fucked inside her rump again. It was inhuman - and demonic looking. Riddle was a gargoyle- like demon perched atop the altar pressing on this creature. For he looked at Alice Whitman sometimes as nothing but a creature or a thing. He was unable to emphasize that this little girl might have real feelings even for himself.

"I did so enjoy keeping you bound like last time...." And so once again his wand sprung forth cords that tied her at ankles, breasts and thighs.

He licked the hole, but only because he knew it bothered Alice. He hoped she would have the urge to empty her bowels again - but alas no dank piece of stool came out. He would have enjoyed smearing it on the her skin to make her suffer.

Tears did not stop flowing and Alice shivered within the coils of the rope as he sodomized and she could just make out the presence of Master Riddle in the periphery. There was an icy breath of death breathing down her neck - it was cold in here and he was cold too.

At the end of it all he scooped her in his arms and took her up to the Ravenclaw common room. The both of them invisible of course.

Alice listened to the lonely thud of his footsteps making progress. She clung to his neck feeling infantile. It was just like when daddy would carry her off to bed sometimes and Alice couldn't help but share this.

The next day after a sordid fit of repeating nightmares Alice awakened for classes. Her pelvis itched and burned. What was more, she saw strange black markings on navel, back of the neck and her back.

And Tom Riddle had taken her real clitoris for himself. He bottled it and considered using it for a dark potion. He put it on the shelf of one of his secret laboratories hidden in a secret passage in Hogwarts.

And all day whenever Alice thought of last night's sacrament to save her from sin (as she so believed) she near fainted at the grisly vulgarity of it.