A Brave New World

once again, we find ourselves back in the darkest corner of my brain, searching though the cesspool of ideas that hide there to come up with this offering. this is entirely my idea, though the characters and places and things come from the very talented j.k. rowling and her disgustingly brilliant mind. i make no money doing this and seek little more than a bit of praise here and there.

this chapter contains rape. please do not read if you do not care for the subject matter. you have been warned.

this chapter is dedicated to Angie. she knows why and i can't thank her enough. hope you like it, hon!


A Brave New World
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Lord Voldemort

My name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Tom Riddle for short. I am also known as the Dark Lord and He Who Must Not Be Named. I am Lord Voldemort, the most infamous Wizard this world has ever seen. Without question, the greatest sorcerer in the world. That is now an uncontested statement. Those that conspired to put and end to me and my abilities, to my beliefs, are no more. My legions of loyal supporters rose up and aided me in putting an end to my enemies once and for all.

Those that fought along side of me were handsomely rewarded. Severus Snape, my most capable and devious spy, has control of the school that was once like a prison to him. He rules it as he sees fit. It is my understanding that he is as much a tyrrant as I am known to be. There are rumors that several students have simply vanished. Naturally, Severus assures me that there is no reason to believe that. But I can tell by the smirk he wears on his face that he is, simply put, lying his arse off.

Lucius Malfoy has been made Minister of Magic. He sees it as an opportunity to use his power. It is, in fact, a puppet's position. He does nothing without my final approval. I am well informed as to what the man does and I make sure that none of his little escapades leak out into the public and make him look more the arse than he is. Though, at present, he is currently enraptured with the little mud blood wench Granger. If I had my way, the chit would be dead. But she keeps Lucius busy when he isn't at work and for that... I cannot harm her. Yet.

That does not mean that the need to destroy one of Potter's little friends won't strike me later and force my hand.

Perhaps some of you wonder how I managed to put an end to Albus Dumbledore and his savior, The Boy Who Died At Severus' Hand. It was simple. Dumbledore thought love would be enough for Harry James Potter to end my life. But love is never enough. And the boy had yet to learn that hate is as powerful an emotion as love. Sometimes even stronger and deadlier. Lily Potter gave her son her undying love and, for a time, that protected hum from me. But love doesn't last forever.

It was a simple enough task for Severus to convince one and all that he had repented his ways and was, in fact, sorry for the heinous and horrible things he'd done. So simple that no one ever questioned his rapid turn about. No one saw beneath the thin layer of lies and deceit. Not even Dumbledore, that buffoon who thought to challenge me with a mere child. For years, Severus spied and lied. Even when I was without my own flesh and bones, he served me faithfully. Only he knew what was happening when Potter started school. He knew that I was a parasitic passenger in Quirrel's body.

Severus not only led Dumbledore's Golden Boy to his doom, but he was the one chosen, out of all of my loyal followers, to end Dumbledore's pathetic life. Only moments after his curse took Potter in the chest, he used the same curse to put an end to all of the lies and spying he'd been forced to do over the years. The look that passed his face as he realized that he was truly free was like watching an addict being given his drug of choice in mass quantities. I shall never forget the look of rapture on Severus' face as the old man fell in a heap next to his boy.

How it would have pained Dumbledore to know that Harry Potter's death was nothing more than a lie. A lie constructed by myself and Severus Snape. Potter's mind turned as he grew older. I can't say for sure if it was my constant presence in his life or if it was the fact that he discovered that he was being used by Dumbledore. Which ever it was, something drove Harry Potter into my waiting arms. And I accepted him there gladly. Because of his turning to the Dark side, the entire world changed for all of the Wizarding community. My minions and I are in control of all.

As I stated previously, Lucius is Minister of Magic so that I can control him. While he is undoubtably an obediant minion, he tends to think more with his pecker than he does with his head. So I keep a tight leash on him. If the words blonde bimbo were ever used in connection with him, no truer words could have been spoken. Though he is undoubtably intelligent and more than capable, his libido sees him into more trouble than any man I've ever met. How Narcissa has put up with him this long is a complete mystery to me.

I have rewarded my faithful servants well. Narcissa has been through several toys, though it would seem she has found some that will survive some of her more violent tendencies. It would seem that the Weasley twins are made of sturdy stock. Draco fancies himself in love with the youngest of the Weasley males. This despite the rumors flying that Narcissa has insisted he marries young Pansy Parkinson. The boy seems to be dragging his feet about such a union. Not that I can say that I blame him there. I have seen the girl and.... All I can say is the bulldog I fed to Nagini last night looked better. And I was given a very good view of his backside.

You have seen the spoils of war my faithful ones were given. I know you wonder what I have claimed for my own sordid purposes. For myself, I chose someone a touch more hardened than the children that fought Dumbledore's war for him. I prefer to have someone who knows precisely what I'm capable of and, consequently, will be very shocked by the new levels of depravity that I will sink to. For myself, I have chosen among the older ranks of the magical community. A Witch with both intelligence and the hard arsed attitude that makes her both soft and tough at the same time.

For my prize, I chose Minerva McGonagall.

The woman has, over the course of her years as a Professor at Hogwarts, developed a tough exterior. It has served her in good stead as one of the staff, though it hasn't always prevented her from exhibiting some favoritism with certain students. Her time spent within the hallowed halls of one of the greatest schools for teaching Witchcraft and Wizardry to the magical youth of Europe was made somewhat easier by her ability to, for the most part, shut out the students. Not that she didn't look upon them all as her own children, that one never having had offspring of her own. But she treated them as if they were children she'd had, only never known about.

Minerva McGonagall had her favorites, though she remained very low key about them. Naturally, Potter was one of them. The Granger girl had been one, too. She'd had her favorites from each year, despite the fact that she tried very hard to keep it from everyone. Upon claiming the woman as my prize, she'd told me point blank, in her no-nonsense tones, that there was nothing I could do to her that would truly terrorize her. She told me that she'd spent too many years with her students, seen them make far too many mistakes, to be afraid of anything I could throw her way.

It was her tone, the words she spoke, that decided my course of action. I searched through the work houses and prisons that had been established to house the insurgents since I'd taken control until I found exaclty what I needed to make my plans at humiliating the former Headmistress of Hogwarts suffer. I found the perfect pawn buried deep within one of the work houses. The girl was dirty and bruised, having been forced to perform back-breaking tasks in the kitchens of a hotel that was frequented by many of my ranks. I was certain, upon looking at the girl, that she had suffered all forms of abuse at the hands of my faithful followers.

The woman who ran the hotel was only too happy to hand the chit over to me. She returned to the Riddle family home with me, where my personal House Elves cleaned her up. She was given potions to help heal her bruises, wounds and aches and pains. Food and drink in great quantities were supplied so that she grew strong and healthy. She was treated like a princess while she recovered from the abuse heaped upon her at the work house. When she was fully healed, it was time for the real abuse to begin.

Minerva is kept on a leash in my private rooms. It is most humbling to see her with a thick leather strap locked about her throat, the chain lead attached to one of the posts at the end of the bed. There is a low pallet for her to sleep upon at the end of my bed and she spends much of her day sitting upon it. Compared to some of the other pets that my minions have taken, Minerva is treated very well. She is not physically abused, nor do I force myself upon her. She is given food and clothing. She is allowed a bath before bedtime. The only things she does not have are friends or her wand. I might be the most powerful Wizard in the world, but that does not mean that she can fell me in my sleep with a simple spell.

No, her torture, her... punishment... will be of the mental variety. Minerva is a tough woman and physical pain will only go so far with her. But mental torture. Now that is something that will see her in tears and begging me to be merciful. Not to her. But to my chosen victim. The girl rescued from the work house.

Though Angelina Johnson has long been out of Hogwarts, she is still now as much a Gryffindor as she was before she graduated. Being a Gryffindor, she would fall under Minerva's care and concern.
No matter that she hasn't been in school for some time. Minerva would still see the young lady as one of her own. And that is what will work in my favor. Because I will be able to submit Minerva to every ounce of skill gifted to me as the Dark Lord though the screams and agony of Angelina Johnson.

Well over a month has passed since the young woman was brought from the work house to my estate. A month in which she has been made healthy and whole again. Today is the day that she and Minerva will see one another again. Today is the day that the real hell will begin. For the both of them.

It is now nightfall and the sounds of my Death Eaters reach my rooms. I cast a silencing spell. Not to block out the sounds of my loyal followers moving around on the floors beneath us, but to keep the sounds of pain locked in my rooms. The screams, sobs, moans and begging that are to come are a symphony for my ears alone. No one will be allowed to take part in this perverse and far too satisfying round of torture other than myself and my companions for the evening.

To date, Minerva has not suffered my wrath. My time has been consumed with stamping out rebellions that flare up in Scotland, Ireland and France. Britian is completely under my control. Because of my inattention, Minerva has become complacent. I plan to change that as rapidly as I can.

I watch her a moment or two, remaining silent and almost invisible. She sits on her cot, a book cradled in her hands as she reads by the light of a nearby candle. I take a moment to study her, noting that there are small age spots on the back of her hands. There are also wrinkles marking her age. She is young by the magical world's standards, but recent events have taken their toll on her physically. It all started with her brush with Dolores Umbridge. She might have survived the spells cast upon her, but she was affected by them, none the less.

There is a knock at my door and I idly wave my wand at it, making the panel swing open. I nod at the darkly clad figure standing in the hall just outside. He pushes the girl in his hands forward, forcing her into the room before him. He is obviously young and new to the ranks for, even for a Death Eater, he is most anxious to prove himself worthy of the mask and robes he wears. He is over-zealous in his treatment of Miss Johnson and already there are bruises marring the youthful perfection of her skin.

The sight of her pain sparks some fire of rage with in me and I point my wand at the masked Death Eater, snarling out the Killing Curse at him. "Avada Kedavra!" The body drops bonelessly into a heap. True, I plan on torturing Miss Johnson so severely to the effect that she will undoubtably end up with physical and mental bruises and scarring. But that does not mean that I spent a month's time making her healthy for someone to do that for me. Almost before I can think it, there is a second black robed figure in the doorway. He silently carts off the body of his fallen compatriot, stopping long enough to close the door behind him.

With another silent spell and wave of my wand, the door is locked and the room warded. The three of us are utterly alone.

Minerva is staring at the girl with large eyes, unable to believe that her former student is once more standing before her. The girl is having a difficult time looking at one of us for any length of time. Her eyes, wide and round with both fear and disbelief, move back and forth from her former teacher to myself. "Miss Johnson?" Minerva finally asks.

"Professor?" Angelina returns. By her tone of voice, it is obvious that she doesn't believe what she sees. I watch silently as she takes in the leash and collar that keeps Minerva tethered to my bed. The girl flicks her gaze toward me and I can see the look in her eyes. She is picturing my naked body on top of Minerva's having my wicked way with her. There is revulsion and fear there. To date, I have not indulged in such an ordinary act.

Glancing at the girl, I find that the idea has more merit than I care to admit. Despite her years playing Quidditch, she still has a soft and pleasing form. She is nicely shaped, with curves everywhere that draw a man's eye and make him curious as to what lies beneath the cloth of her garb. She has healthy sized breasts, not too large nor too small. They are somewhere in the middle and the palms of my hands itch to cup them and feel their weight. I want to squeeze them until she cries out. With pleasure or pain, it doesn't matter. For the first time in years, I feel a faint stirring of urges long thought dead.

Her hips flare out, while her waist is narrow and trim. This gives her a lovely hour glass shape that I find compelling. In comparison, Minerva is scrawny and thin. Her hair is worn long and loose, which I find more appealing than the strict, stiff bun that holds her former Transfigurations teacher's hair captive. Perhaps later I will be allowed to run my fingers through her long, silken looking tresses.

"Why is she here?" Minerva asks me, her eyes locked on me accusingly. "What purpose would it serve to have her here? Haven't you humiliated me enough?" As she speaks her last sentence, her hand gestures to herself in a motion that encompasses the collar and leash. To this, I merely smile.

"No, Minerva. I have not. I haven't even begun to humiliate you," I tell her softly, my voice so low that the two women stare at me a moment before any kind of expression passes over their faces. There is confusion and concern on young Angelina Johnson's face while Minerva's bears the fear that tells me she knows that I have something planned. Something unkind. Something not meant to be done directly to her. My smile widens and it is with smug satisfaction that I notice the slight shaking of Minerva's thin frame.

"Please, Tom. Don't..." Minerva begins. Her words bring my ire to the fore and I turn on her, eyes blazing with rage. Within barely the time it takes her heart to beat once, I have my wand pointed at her.

"Do not ever call me by that name, Minerva.You will not like the consequences you will incur, should you do so again," I warn her softly, my voice hissing out between clenched teeth. She pales and gives a slight nod of her head, but says nothing more. The entire time, the girl watches us with horror scrawled across her face. I risk a glance at her and a quick trip into her mind and find that she is still oblivious to what will happen here momentarily. All I do find is her fear for her beloved Professor McGonagall.

I debate as to whether or not I wish to see Miss Johnson chained to the wall. There is something about the rattle of chains when one is in the midst of the Cruciatus Curse that simply makes me giddy with joy. In the end, I decide that having her unbound will work best. That way, her body will do whatever it choses. I do so like to see my victims flop about like fish out of water.

"Miss Johnson," I begin, my wand held loosely in my hand as I take a step forward. "You have been brought here today as a means to punish Minerva. While she has done nothing to warrant punishment, she has yet to acknowledge that I am her Lord. Her Master, if you will. Since she is more inclined to be less staunch when it involves one of her precious Gryffindors, I will ask for your assistance in this matter. I could torture her, but I believe she is made of sterner stuff. She simply will not give in were I to abuse her own person."

The girl's eyes widen as she looks upon me. I can see a faint flicker of understanding flare to life in her eyes. She shakes her head mutely, glancing from me to Minerva and back. Almost unconsciously, she takes a step back and inches further away from me. My smile only widens, stretching my thin lips further.

"That is why you are here. I know that Minerva will be more receptive to doing as she's told if she watches me... torture someone she cares deeply for. Since the only man I know of that she cared for is deceased, I will use one of her former students. To be more precise," I flick my wand at her and watch as the girl stumbles with the slight force of my silent spell. "You."

"Leave her alone. She's nothing to do with this," Minerva says indignantly, a touch of pleading in her words. I turn to smile at her.

"She's everything to do with this, Minerva. She is the key to gaining your loyalty. At the moment, you do not believe you will be made to suffer at my hands. I must disabuse you of this silly idea. To do so, I will need to lay harm upon someone who you have some kind of fondness for. That will be your task, my dear," I now turn to look at the young woman in the room. "To be writhing and screaming in pain. To beg me to end your life when you feel you've taken all the pain you can handle. To take even more, because I'm the most sadistic bastard you will ever encounter and I take great joy in seeing others suffer at my hands."

Angelina Johnson makes some small noise at the back of her throat, her eyes gone so wide that I can see much of the white that surrounds the ring of color. I watch as she seems to struggle for thought, then that famed Gryffindor courage of hers comes into play and the fear seems to leave her. Her back straightens and her eyes narrow at me. I watch her hands clench into fists, then her arms cross over her chest, just under her bosoms. The action pushes to twin mounds up and that twinge of something hits me again.

I realize that I'm feeling lust for the chit and something amazing occurs. There is a stirring in my loins when such parts of me have long remained still and motionless. I have, in my long and difficult life, felt lust. At one time, I thought I was in love with a girl. But the emotion was foreign to me. And the girl ran from me in fear. I will admit that I did not express my feelings to her well. Some might say I have issues. I decided when I was young that I would give up pleasures of the flesh. That does not mean I am without needs and desires like other men. I have simply done a better job of holding them at bay than other poor souls.

"Do to me what you will. That won't make Professor McGonagall submit to you. Torturing me will only make her despise you more. Make her fight you," the girl tells me forcefully.

"Does she look as if she's fighting me? The woman is nothing more than a dog at my feet," I gesture to her with one hand, drawing Miss Johnson's attention to the collar locked about her throat. "And I shall do with you as I please. I do not need your permission to do so. So, since we understand one another, let us start."

I can feel the fear that is hidden by her bravado. I can taste it clogging the air. What a lovely thing to have glide across my tongue. I shiver with anticipation of what is to come. Angelina stares at me with wary eyes, her posture one of defiance. I can see in her stare the belief that she can outlast me. That she can survive anything I chose to throw at her. The girl is so silly and naïve and it is a moral imperative that I prove to her just how deluded she is.

Casually, I lift my wand and point it at her. For a moment, I am silent as I ponder what it is I intend to do first. Simple is usually best. And so are the old favorites. I smile and give a small, mostly for show, wave of my wand. "Crucio!"

Angelina falls to the floor with a hard thud, her body jerking with the intense pain in the curse. I can tell that she will not be able to withstand much of this kind of abuse. Already, she has bitten her lower lip and blood dribbles from the gash. Her fingers are curled into her palms, cutting the flesh on her hands as she tries to fight the overwhelming power of the spell. For me to cast something as destructive as this, there is little thought involved. I have heard Bella say that one must put all of their hatred into the curse. Perhaps that is true for some people. For me, it is a simple matter of willing the correct amount of pain into the magic as I use it.

A soft shriek manages to slide past her lips as she continues to convulse on the floor. Finally, after several long moments, I cancel the curse and allow her a moment's rest. Ignoring her, I turn to look at Minerva. The revulsion that she feels is plain to read in the expression she wears upon her face. I smirk at her. "This is but a taste of what she will suffer, Minerva. This girl will take every last ounce of pain and anguish she can. And it will all be done for your sake. You will learn to kneel at my feet, to bow down and kiss my hand when it is presented to you. You will grovel and beg for my attention and affections as if you were little more than a common dog."

"Piss off!" is the reply that greets my words. I turn to find Miss Johnson once more on her feet. She is unsteady and pale, but the anger that burns in her eyes has not yet dimmed. She is still under the misconception that she can with stand anything I can throw at her. Such a silly little girl.

"She is a fighter, isn't she?" I ask, turning my attention back to Minerva. "This should be most enjoyable. I do hope she doesn't give out too soon and beg me for mercy."

Minerva opens her mouth and I can see the retort on her lips. But it dies and she closes her mouth. Instead, she merely shakes her head. I don't know if its meant for her dear Miss Johnson, a mute attempt to tell her not to goad me any further, or if it is a plea to me to not hurt the girl too much. At any rate, she remains silent. I give her a look that is neither pleasant or foul, but she sees the warning all the same. She subsides on her cot, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I am in the room, you know. Don't talk about me like I'm not here, you shriveled up old prick," the girl spits venomously at me, drawing my attention back to her. I raise an eyebrow at her, the look in my eyes one of both surprise and amusement. It is more than obvious to me that the words are more for show than for any other reason. Her fear is growing thick, a near tangible thing that feeds my cruelty and my burgeoning lusts.

"Crucio!" is my reply. The spell takes her full in the chest and sends her to the floor again. The young woman writhes in agony, her eyelids squeezed shut as she howls with pain. Her hands, twisted into claws, dig into the floor as she flops about as if she were a fish out of water. I know from past experience that, with the way she thrashes and slams into the floor, she will be battered and bruised in the morning. Her limbs will grow stiff after prolonged exposure to the spell as her muscles tighten and lock from the waves of pain that come with the curse.

I hold the spell, enjoying the way the girl's body jerks. The movements loosen the robes she wears so that they slide off her shoulders while the thrashing of her legs sends the hem of the garments up over her thighs. The skin there is firm and looks as if it will be soft to the touch. I can see the play of muscles as she fights the waves of pain. Her years playing Quidditch did much to enhance the tone of her thighs and my mind wanders to the notion that it must serve well when she is being ridden or is riding a man. To have such strong limbs wrapped so securely about her partner, helping hold her in her seat or keep him lodged deeply within her.

The picture is almost more than I can bear and I suddenly wish to have those same long legs wrapped tightly about my waist as I plunge the thick length of my cock into her body. Willing or unwilling, it makes no difference to me. I will have her whether she wishes it or not. The thought fills my mind as I watch her with dispassionate eyes. Still I hold the spell so she continues to mewl and whine, her body arching and spasmadically jerking as if she were little more than a marionette on strings.

Sadly, I am growing bored with using the Cruciatus curse on Miss Johnson. Her reactions are typical and tedious. Silently, I cancel the spell and watch as her body, still plagued with large amounts of pain, continues to jerk and twitch upon the floor. Slowly, she stills. Her chest heaves, making the mounds of her bosoms rock and sway. My eyes are captivated by the sight and I watch unabashed as she struggles to regain her breath, an action which only serves to make her breasts jiggle more.

By now, her clothing is twisted around her lean frame, effectively showing me each curve, each hill and valley. Miss Angelina Johnson is a well put together young woman and know that she will not escape this meeting suffering only the effects of the Unforgiveable curses. I continue to watch her, nearly forgetting that Minerva is in the room with us, and wait for her body to relax. It takes several long moments before the girl is not gasping for breath and her body is no longer spasming violently.

She lays silent and still for many more moments before opening her eyes so that she can, once more, glare up at me. I know the smile that spreads my lips is not nice. I know that she understands its meaning when her eyes widen and a soft whimper escapes her. I am certain she can see the lust burning brightly in my eyes and that she knows it is all for her. That she will not leave here until I have fully slaked my thirts upon her body. Within her body. I fully intend to use any orifice that pleases me. And my pleasures will be many.

"Imperius!" I call out, smiling at the spell hits the girl with all the force of a speeding feather. She shows no outward signs of being affected, but looks are always deceiving. I step closer to her, my wand still held loosely in my hand. "Stand and disrobe me. Then I want you on your knees where you will service my cock like the whore that you are."

Technically, she isn't a whore. Yet. But, after her time with me, she will be suited for little else. I will see to it that she is cast out into the streets with no other options open to her. Prostitution will be one of her only options. She will be lucky if she does not meet up with one of my Death Eaters on a bad day. I watch as she struggles with herself, trying desperately not to obey my orders. But the effects of the curse are strong and she finds that she cannot resist my commands.

Slowly, with much effort, she gains her feet. Her hands shake as she slowly draws my lose clothing from my body. I can see the revulsion in her eyes. Little has changed in my appearance since my rebirth in the graveyard all those years ago. I still bear a striking resemblance to a snake, my skin very pale and cold to the touch. Those parts of me that mark me human and male, however, are very much the same as they were before my disappearance the night I killed the Potters.

My cock is long and thick, flushed pale pink with the desire that courses through my veins. I watch as Miss Johnson's eyes are drawn to it against her will. Her hands clench as she fights with herself for a few moments. Then she drops to her knees before me and slowly takes the head of my erection into her mouth.

The pleasure is exquisite. I groan loudly as she sucks me in, the interior of her mouth a hot, moist cavern that sucks almost greedily at my length. My eyes slide closed as she begins to bob her head up and down on me. I can tell that she is struggling with each and every motion and it is this knowledge that makes me so hard for her. So eager to bury myself within her feminine core and fuck her until I am senseless with my pleasure and she is screaming for mercy. I plan on taking her as harshly as I can and using her however I chose.

Her movements are deliberately rapid and I know that she is trying purposely to make me reach my climax rapidly so that this entire affair is over with rapidly. She does not know that I long ago learned how to control my urges so that I can last as long as I need to. I plan on thoroughly enjoying every moment of Miss Johnson's torture.

She is still trying to speed my release up, her mouth moving over my so rapidly that I can barely feel the wetness of her mouth around me. Frustrated, I reach down to grasp her head between my hands and I hold her still. Then, I begin fucking her mouth, my hips slamming my cock into the orifice with hard, long strokes. She is choking and sobbing around me, her hands clawing at my wrists in an attempt to force me to release her. I only tighten my hold, the sharp edges of my nails digging painfully into her scalp.

Her lips are stretched wide around my length and I know that she will be bruised from this come the morning. That only makes me use her with more force. I can hear her breath, harsh and painful, blasting out of her nose each time she struggles to take in air. I will be forced to release her from my grasp soon, lest she suffocates on me.

Minutes tick by and still I hold her head captive with my hands. She is crying softly now, tears sliding down over her cheeks while I continue to rape her mouth. The pleasure of the act is beginning to overwhelm me, letting me know it is time to drive my cock into other parts of her body. I withdraw from her mouth and step back, staring down at her. Her face is wet with her tears, her eyes alight with disgust and self-loathing. I motion to the bed with one hand. "On your feet. Shed your clothing. Then get up onto the bed," I instruct her.

Once again, Miss Johnson struggles to fight the curse and my orders, but she has no choice but to do as she's been told. She gains her feet slowly, her hands once more shaking as she reaches for the clothing I've allowed her to wear. The robes fall to the floor first, then the gown she wears beneath them join the rest of her garments on the floor. She is left naked, as she was neither allowed nor given under clothes. I am given a lovely view of her spectacular athlete's body as she fights the move to the bed.

Her legs, as I mentioned, are long and lean. Her arms are the same, the muscles in both sets of limbs well defined from all her years playing Quidditch. Her breasts are firm and full, sitting high upon her chest. When she turns, I am given a lovely view of her firm backside. Her buttocks are tight and round and another surge of desire runs through me at the thought of invading the crack between those lovely cheeks. My cock jerks with the mental image, growing larger and fuller. She hurries up onto the bed, obviously hoping that complying will make the experience go faster for her. How mistaken she is.

She lays in the center on her back, her body stiff and rigid. She is afraid of me. Afraid of what is to come. And I do not care one whit that she will not be ready for me. I intend to take her that way. In pain and suffering. I want her to know who is in control here, who is the Lord and who is the servant. She is for my personal use and she will know it. I have the freedom to simply toss her aside when I am done with her and there is nothing she can do to change that fact.

I move slowly to the bed, stopping long enough to force Minerva to look up at me. There is a deep sadness in her eyes and I smile, not unkindly, at her. "You can put an end to this. All you have to do is simply submit to me. Tell me I am your Lord and Master and I will graciously free the girl from any furhter torture."

I can see in her eyes that she is giving consideration to the suggestion. She does not wish to see her former student abused in such a manner. But there is a streak of stubborness in Minerva that clouds her better judgement nearly all the time. This is one of those times when she is going to chose her convictions over that which she knows is the right thing to do. She hangs her head in shame and I am almost disappointed in her lack of strength. I pass her by and climb up onto the bed.

Angelina Johnson is once more watching me with frightened, wary eyes. She knows what is to come and wishes to beg me not to do it, but knows that I will not listen and grant her clemency. I decide that I will have her follow my orders for a moment or two, just to watch her fight the spell. It will, I know, make my desire grow even stronger than it already is. Settling on the bed near her feet, I prod her legs further apart so that I am allowed an unobstructive view of her feminine core.

"Spread your legs, girl. Show me my prize," I tell her in a soft, deceptive voice. The muscles in her thighs quiver as she fights the command but, in the end, shifts them further apart so that I may study the thatch of dark hair covering her pubic mound. She is, naturally, closed off to me and dry. Fear does that to a woman. And Angelina Johnson is afraid. I can see the fear lingering in her eyes, marked by the paleness of her cheeks and the way she clenches her hands into fists at her sides. I nod and smile magnanimously at her.

"Very nice, child. Very nice. Now, you will touch yourself. Pleasure yourself for me. Show me how you masturbate when you are alone in your bed at night," I order. She bites her lip, her hands shaking at her sides as they lift ever so slowly. I watch as they flutter across her thighs toward her center, her fingers moving much like spiders as they walk their webs. Gently, she pinches her nether lips, her pulling and rolling the flesh until it swells ever so slightly. Then she dips a finger tip in between the slowly parting flesh.

Her touches are light and gentle and, despite herself, she soon begins to take pleasure in the touches. As she is still afraid, she doesn't come to full arousal, but there is still some dialation of flesh as blood slowly gathers in her very center. Gradually, she slips a single digit into the lightly moistened channel of her vagina and begins sliding it in and out. Her legs fall further apart so that I can see all of what transpires. Lust rides me and my gaze is a greedy one as I imagine my cock replacing her finger. The organ twitches with life as I continue to watch her self-exploration.

Soft pants of air pass her lips as she continues to stroke herself. Her nipples have hardened slightly, partially from her stimulating digits and partially from the chill in the air. Her hips are starting to shift in time with her thrusting finger and I know that my time is at hand. I do not wish to see her bring herself to completion. As much as I would enjoy such a display, I wish to use her. She is my key to bringing Minerva to heel. Angelina Johnson must suffer so that my slave acts as I expect her to. It is time to act.

I move forward quickly, one hand grasping her wrist so that I may pull it out of the way. Her slight haze of sexual pleasure fades rapidly and leaves her staring at me with wide eyes. My free hand moves to shove her thighs further apart. I then take my cock into my hand and guide it in between her swollen nether lips. There is just enough lubrication to allow me full penetration. But I know it will soon be gone. Her fear will see to that. And then the real pleasure will begin for me. I thrive on the sounds of pain that my victims make. I revel in the fear that pours from them like a river, flooding the room and my senses with its sharp, putrid taste. My lust soars and builds at the violence and force that I use. Whether my victim struggles or not will make no difference. I will be harsh and cruel and I will find my release in such actions.

With determined, forceful thrusts, I begin driving my throbbing member in and out of her tight, barely moist channel. Her body tenses beneath mine, her muscles straining in their rigidity as she fights the pain that I know is already consuming her. I know I am well endowed, but it is not enough. I truly want the girl to suffer my wrath. So I cast a spell that will enlarge my manhood and lengthen it. The pressure of her walls closed around it grows more intense as I stretch and fill her. A whimper rolls up and out of her throat, music to feed my savage soul. I begin pounding myself into her with reckless abandon.

I can feel the fine needles of pain as they drive themselves through her body. Nerves and muscles alike are not spared. I can hear the silent pleas in her eyes and my mind reads the screaming agony that has encompassed her brain. She is nothing other than a living mass of despondency that is at my mercy. Of which I have none. Her very core, the part of her that cradles that large and driving part of me, is burning with misery as I lay claim to her. Any who come after will know of my presence in her haven of womanhood, will know that she belongs to me and that they possess her at my generous allowance.

She is crying now, tears squeezing out from between eyes closed tightly. Her lower lip is clamped tightly between her teeth, blood already welling up against the pearly white. The sight of those red droplets are enough to drive me into a frenzy. My hips thrash wildly against hers, my cock sliding deep and hitting the very entrance to her womb. The moisture she managed to gather is starting to disappear and I am left with the feeling of fiery friction as dry skin chafes dry skin. She will be sore, will perhaps bleed from my less than gentle use of her. And I do not care.

Sensations tingle up and down my spine, making me wish to move faster and slower at the same time. It is a glorious feeling being buried inside of the girl and it has been so long since I have indulged in such play that I want it to last for a very long time before I can no longer hold back. I cast another spell, one that will hold my release in check for a long time, then go back to plundering the hot desert of her feminine center. The girl is now whimpering, her fingers curled tightly around the bedding beneath her.

I am in absolute heaven.

My hips continue to churn, my turgid length driving roughly in and out of her body. Tears slide down her cheeks while moans and cries fall from her lips. She is moving past mere pain and moving into something deeper and longer lasting. This is not just a rape of her body, but of her mind and soul. I know every thought she thinks and feel each and every stab of blistering pain that she suffers. These things are an aphrodisiac for me and only serve to drive my passions and lusts higher. My thrusts become more demanding and demeaning. I wish to hear not only her body and mind scream in her searing torment. I wish to hear all that glorious agony spill from her mouth in long, wordless screams of pain and suffering.

The cries shift into short bursts of noise when I increase my pace and my depth.The tight ring of her cervix, the door to her very core, is beginning to weaken with my constant battering of it. Soon, I will push past the guardian and drive myself into the very heart of her body. I will have all of her and I will empty the poisonous strings of my seed into her belly. I care not if she conceives a child from this union. If such an event does occur, it will serve as a reminder to the girl. That I am her Master as much as I am Minerva's. Perhaps I will cast a conception spell on her when I climax. Perhaps it would be wonderful to see her bring forth the fruit of our union.

The idea intrigues me. I am not certain I can sire a child, but there is only one way to find out. I pause in my thrusting long enough to lay a hand on the girl's belly, then make sure to say the spell out loud. My magic is strong and I can feel it take root in her womb, awaiting the seed that will feritlize the girl's egg. I hear the gasp of horror from behind me and know that Minerva is aware of what I have just done. I turn to smile at her over my shoulder, then once more begin thrusting. This time, it is in earnest.

Screams slowly begin to fill the room. Slow, soft ones at first. These are followed by sharp ones of a medium length. The sound entices me and drives my lust, so I thrust harder still. Despite my spell, I can feel my climax drawing near. Its in the tightening of my balls and the way the shaft of my cock thickens further, gains more length. Minerva is sobbing behind me, forced to listen to the cries of pain and desperation of her former student. Forced to live with the knowledge of what I wish to happen in the aftermath. The comingling sounds drive me over the edge and I slam into the girl with every last ounce of strength I possess.

The head of my cock pushes through the barrier of her cervix and into her womb. Angelina wails in absolute pain, the muscle tightening around my length as she tenses. I am held within her and I finally let go of my hold over myself. My balls explode and my seed is sent speeding up the length of my shaft. It pulses out into her womb and I can feel it painting the walls of her womb. I smile, knowing that my wish has come true. In nine month's time, the girl will give birth to my son and heir.

I lean up off of her, my body still merged tightly with hers. I may have climaxed, but I have yet to soften. There is still much fun to be had. There will be no worry as to the child that has just been created. I will see that he is safe with his mother's womb. I lay my hand over her abdomen and leer down at her. "Our son will grow strong and he will be powerful. And he will be born healthy in nine months. You will be able to do nothing short of ending your own life to harm him. And I will not allow such a thing to come to pass. Congratulations, my little concubine. You are now with child."

Her screams of agony echo loudly off the walls as I return to my former task. My hips work furiously while she wails out her sorrow. Minerva's own cries match hers and the sounds are music to my ears. They feed my desires while they break the spirits of the two women with me. The two women who are now suffering great mental anguish. A mental anguish I care nothing about.

I am Tom Marvolo Riddle and I am the Dark Lord. I am ruler of the Wizarding World.

fin Lord Voldemort
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this is hopefully not so hideously spelled that you'll run screaming in sheer terror. i'm my own beta and, while i'm fairly good, the gods still keep telling me i'm only human. ~sighs~ such is life. if you find any mistakes, they are my own and i humbly apologize for them. please don't hurt me.

thank you to those of you who are reading this. i appreciate that. i know this isn't every one's cup of tea, so the idea that some of you are reading and enjoying is great.

finally, one last thank you.

to Angie: thank you so much for the idea. and the review. i'm glad you enjoyed this story. i know its dark and twisted and that turns some people off. lots of folks want happy endings and this certainly doesn't have any. i hope you like this chapter, as well.