The Head Boy's Secretary

Alice will stick up for herself, just give her a chance. I am surprised somebody said she doesn’t stand up for herself. It took a lot of guts for Alice to disagree with the essay. She has already shown nerve. Furthermore, I am sorry it’s been a while.


Continuation of….


Chapter Six: Detention from the Head Boy


*


It took Alice hours to write the lines as she was told. She was certain she had wrote, “Love has no power” the amount of times instructed.

So she put the quill down, and eased back in the chair. She looked up at Riddle but could see he was busy. Alice knew him well enough by now to know that he would come when he wanted to and at no time otherwise.

She took to staring at a cobweb in a corner of the ceiling. Later she heard him get up and move forward.

Alice looked down at her parchment, which stretched all the way across her desk to the floor. She smoothed her hand confidently over the dried ink. “Mr. Riddle – I was finished a few minutes ago.”

Riddle prodded his wand gently against the parchment. The words glowed transiently. “702” appeared clearly on the top of the parchment in the right margin.

Riddle’s voice was positively kind again. “Good…. I take it you’ve thought about things. We’ve come to an understanding haven’t we Miss Alice?”

“Er-” Alice looked at him and felt a sudden surge of fear seep through her bones. She did not dare disagree, for something was telling her she had better not. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then you’ll prescribe to the principle that love certainly cannot produce magic. Superior beings –meaning exclusively our species - witches and wizards it would be almost blasphemous.”

“W-why?” Alice spluttered.

“It goes against doctrine. All doctrine. And most especially - My doctrine.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“Alice I never would expect it of you. Only that you will uphold my knowledge, my beliefs and obey them. If you simply agree to adhere to this ideology, we shall continue to get along famously!”

“Right…”

“Now. Let us forget this talk of love or anything on the subject at all. Emotions play no part in one’s powers?”

“No!” Alice screamed. “S-sorry. I couldn’t help it. It slipped out.”

But Riddle was infuriated once more. He slapped his hand against the parchment. “Do not trifle with me girl! I thought I had this sorted.”

Alice shook in her seat. She suddenly realized she was frightened of the Head Boy. There was an air about him she couldn’t explain, and it was downright scary.

She couldn’t see the expression on his face he’d turned away from her. She wondered what he looked like now. “Keep writing,” he ordered tersely, his teeth bared.

Alice bent her head low over the parchment and went back to the line-writing punishment. She heard Riddle go back to his desk.

Riddle could not occupy himself with his many studies. Neither could he do his private experiments, or his N.E.W.T. work, nor ponder plans for the Dark Order. Nothing could keep his mind off of Ms. Whitman’s brazen defiance.

It angered him like almost nothing had. He froze, unable to pore over his work, consumed in a mixture of his vile emotions.

His dark eyes clouded with a far-away look. It was the one he wore whenever in his fantasies about hurting people. But this one was different….

He could see a version of Alice’s mother and father in his mind’s eye.

“We love you so much, Alice,” said the father.

The mother turned to a glowing, exuberant Alice. “Alice, you hungry sweetums? How about some more jam!”

“Strawberry jam mummy! That’s my favourite!”

Riddle seethed. If the jar of jam Alice had given him was still here, and he hadn’t used it all up, he would have thrown it the floor right now. Nothing would have made him happier than to smash it into tiny pieces.

Riddle’s head snapped up, glaring at Alice, boiling in contained anger. She was still writing, oblivious.

Riddle couldn’t help but see more. Alice’s mother brings a jar of the preserves over and spreads it on a slice of bread. Alice is shining with glee because she knows her parents get her everything she can ever desire. Riddle is thinking that is the only reason a child could ever want their parents is to get them things and they mistake this for love.

“I love you so much mum and dad!”

Alice’s father adds to the conversation, “We love you too, hunny.”

And Riddle thinks how stupid they are as Alice says, “Daddy I love you more!”

Riddle felt he could vomit. The only thing that sustained him was recalling his belief that these emotions were false. Illusions. Love wasn’t real, so he should not let silly Alice get the best of him. But if only he’d known that this was far from the truth of Alice’s home-life. That her father, had abandoned her like Riddle’s had done.

His hands closed in fists, the knuckles white and they cracked. His face was taut and eyes set grim with grit. Her fanciful ideas would have to go.

With enormous control, Riddle restrained himself. Slowly, he reverted back to his usual cool reserve.

Alice meanwhile, was staring at her hands in shock and confusion. Her palms were covered in black splotches. The quill had exploded. To Alice it was seemingly an unexplainable phenomenon. But Riddle knew it must have been his own doing – his strong emotions had done it. It was rare for Riddle to feel anything with intensity, but this time he’d lost control. Yes, emotions like that could have power but Riddle would not let them master him! He was even more incensed discovering his loss of control.

Alice felt stupid sitting there with her uniform dotted with ink at the collar, and her hands covered in it. “Mr. Riddle? I think I’ll just go. My lines?”

“Silence!…Line-writing is not enough. Apparently for you that is!”

Alice frowned, and tried not to glare at the Head Boy. She wasn’t stupid, she knew he was very angry.

She watched him get up to rummage through a cupboard. Alice realized suddenly that if she had tacitly complied with his beliefs before, she would probably be getting dismissed now.

With a slam, a copy of “Rules, Regulations, and Conditions of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry” landed on his desk. He rifled through it. Alice leaned forward in her seat, her expression curious.

“For continued insubordination, the Hogwart’s disciplinary record indicates the use of a more…drastic approach.”

Alice waited with bated breath for his words. He answered seemingly to himself, sounding decisive. “Ah, well…It is severe enough, that I might as well set you an appointment for the dungeons. You, Miss Alice are out of my hands and into the waiting arms of Mr. Apollyon Pringle. He shall give you a whipping with the prefects as witness!”

Dramatically, Riddle pretended to write up a note. He made it seem he was drawing up a slip to send to the Caretaker.

Alice’s gray eyes were deploring and she ranted desperately, “Please, Sir! No! I-I can’t let you that do that to me! You may dole it out yourself! If you must-”

Riddle became quiet. He barely hid a small smile on his lips. This is what he really wanted afterall. To make Alice beg. How he loved begging! It was even better that way. He had never intended to send her to Pringle.

“Just do it now, Mr. Riddle. You are the Head Boy, afterall….”

Riddle rose poker-straight. He turned away from her where she could not see the smug smile.

“Excuse me for a brief moment. Once I return, I will have made my decision.”

Riddle left the study but not without first putting away his copy of the punishment book. Alice sat on the top of her desk; her two Mary Jane clad feet dangling above the floor. She hugged herself, noticing the minor draft. She felt like a child waiting to be punished, knowing that punishment had escalated to something worse than time-out or in her case, lines.

Alice was the first to react at the return of his presence, for it was the thing he held that frightened her. Pure fear tingled in her skin at the sight of a thin, long wooden strip. No it was a thin, springy Willow cane. And his handsome face was set like stone. He looked stern and irascible.

Alice did not doubt for a second that what he was doing was right. She knew it was permissible even encouraged under certain circumstances that a Head Boy or even a mere Prefect could use appropriate corporal punishment.

“Remove your robes. And step forward. Before me directly.”

Ridde kept his face stern. With clumsy hands Alice removed her robes to reveal a long-sleeve blue linen shirt, showing no cleavage. Her legs were wrapped with a gray pleated skirt and thick, woolen knee-high socks. His eyes never left her body. Alice could feel them following her, and it was unnerving. His face remained smoothly impassive.

She stood before him, and tilted up her face to meet the eyes she’d felt on her. With a soft swish of his robes he moved forward and Alice realized how very tall he was.

He gestured at her and spoke quietly, “Turn around. Place your body across my table. Do it at once.”

Alice was sickened by it. It was worse how quietly he ordered her, worse than if he had yelled. But she did not doubt he was still livid with her.

She equivocated, buying for time. “Mr. Riddle – this is too much! I don’t want that thing to h-hurt me!”

“If you have any doubts you may still back out. Mr. Pringle will instead thrash you to a pulp, whilst you hang from chains! Do you REALLY wish that upon yourself?”

At once Alice cried out a whimper, conveying all the objections and protestations she could muster at the moment.

Riddle’s voice was chilling and hard. “No? Then get in the position I told of you a moment ago. I shall not repeat this request again.”

He shifted his weight and waited. Hiccuping back a sob, Alice felt herself comply. She was soon bent across his desk. Her hands had a death-grip on the edge.

Riddle was looking very pleased at the sight of her finally evincing obedience. But he wanted to be sure of it. “A little dose of pain is quite a practical measure, especially under the circumstances. Don’t you think so?”

Alice defiantly refused to answer. She felt very sick inside.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer….Well?”

“No! I d-disagree, Sir.”

“Then clearly I need to teach you. From me you shall learn the full extent of respect. It is clear to me now. Yes. You do deserve this!"

Alice bit her lip, biting back another sob. How had this happened? Just last week everything had been wonderful. She had been on excellent terms with the Head Boy positively enjoying his company. They had even shared jokes together. He seemed to have enjoyed the gratuity. He had loved the strawberry jam. She felt shame to be put in this ignominious position where she’d be caned like some recalcitrant, naughty girl. She no longer felt pride and beyond her years at being his “Secretary.” She was really just a schoolgirl. She had been silly to think more of herself, here in the Restricted Section.

She heard him take a step back. Riddle did not start at once and Alice prayed silently that he was going to change his mind.

If only she’d known there was fat chance for that. Riddle was standing there marveling at the sight. It was all very erotic suddenly to him. Riddle’s face convulsed slightly, he began to perspire under his heavy clothing.

He imagined what her two globes might look like fully exposed. And then he wondered what colour her pubic hair would be, assuming she had any on that untouched sex. He felt his needs rise from their quiescent, carefully hidden veneer of control. His elongated penis filled with his blood, until it thickened and lengthened. He’d had an erection. He wanted a piece of that little ass-hole. He licked his lips delectably.

He reached out a hand to touch what he thought should become rightfully his. But he stopped himself. Now was not the time to go tearing through her knickers. These desires would have to be postponed for another evening. He didn’t want innocent Alice suspecting the erotic undertone to her punishment. It would be his secret for now.

Alice was still hoping he wouldn’t. But then there was a sound as the cane ricocheted through the air. The pain stung her so badly, and it surprised her so that her small hands went for her bottom. She jumped.

Cold, white hands instantly held her arms back in a half nelson. Riddle’s cold breath breathed down her neck. Alice thought it was anger but it was also arousal. He was enjoying her pained reaction, yet he did not show it. “Stay down…Or else I shall dole out more than I intend for you!”

Alice whimpered and squirmed, as Riddle’s hands tightened over her shoulder blades. He released her. “Unless you wish me to prolong this? I can go indefinitely if need be.”

“No! Mr. Riddle – please don’t!”

He chuckled cruelly under his breath, so that Alice could not discern whether it was laughter or a sneer.

Whack! Another cut of the cane impacted her flesh. But at least she had her skirt and white cotton panties for protection. Her hands gripped the desk and she soundlessly cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He struck her again and again and again. The end of the cane swished and ravaged her buttocks. But luckily it was a smaller cane, and she was clothed so that the many, many strokes did not do serious harm.

Her tears soon dried. She became acutely aware of her surroundings. Yet Alice felt herself to be outside them, like an onlooker to this abuse. She could smell the books – the wood of the desk and the ink still splattered on her. She breathed it in with a strong sensuality, as if it would calm her nerves.

His voice came back with mocking cruelty, that shook Alice out of it, and back inside herself again. “Does it hurt Miss Alice?”

“Yes, Sir,” she imbibed tremulously. Inwardly she felt a surge of hatred for the Head Boy. She hated how cruel he was being.

“Do you wish for me to continue?”

“Please stop. Please….stop.”

Even Riddle was surprised with himself as he complied with her. He laid the cane down on his desk next to Alice. He looked her over, drinking in the sight.

His hands shook with excitement and desire. Dead silence.

His palm was raised high to smote her skirt-clad behind. It wasn’t without rhyme or reason. The beating had a purpose and he struck with force.

Alice’s pelvic muscles clenched inside her body. They contracted over and over. She found something unknown in her being stirred up.

Riddle looked on growing more satisfied with each blow. This was what he wanted. He could see Alice was turned on the by this light dose of pain. Her breath was panting, and he could smell her budding arousal.

Savoring the moment, his nostrils breathed in the smell of her cunt. It was funny to him how she didn’t even know she lusted for him, yet he knew she did. He would use this fact for his benefit.

Alice meanwhile was confused why the spanking hurt, and yet felt so very good. Smack! Smack! Smack! At each one, Alice swayed in time to it. Her pelvis was grinding against the edge of the desk.

She couldn’t see it, but Riddle’s mouth was contorted into a grin. His upper lip curled maliciously. The dark eyes alight from sadistic thrill. Although he thought this a cheap thrill for Lord Voldemort. There was so much more he could do!

The truth was that he was simply thrilled she was enjoying the sensual pleasure of it all. He found it hilarious that Alice wasn’t conscious of her obvious desire for him. Her body could not lie, though she may try to!

He rested a hand calmly on her backside. Alice felt the hands on her and shivered. But she couldn’t find the strength to say no. It was like her mouth went numb. She was being possessed. She had never felt like she was an object somebody could own. But she suddenly realized that in a way she – at least her body was his.

Alice finally became cognizant of her arousal. Something gooey was sticking to her inner thighs. She supposed it was masturbation.

Riddle could feel his own arousal aching between his legs, like a monster itching to get out. For his own sake he had to stop this. But certainly, they would have to do this again sometime.

A firm hand sneaked its way into her's, and she was raised up. She felt remarkably stable despite all she had endured with him.

She found herself turning around yet could not bare to look at him. She looked through her downcast lashes and saw he was wordlessly holding out her robes. Alice took them and wrapped them around her shoulders. She felt a warmth return to her, one the drafty room could not penetrate.

Riddle was somewhat content with her not looking at him. He was still feeling the erection. Even though it was completely concealed by his robes he’d rather have a private look at the chastised girl before him, without them seeing eye to eye.

She shook when he spoke again, her legs wobbling. He spoke to her as she stared at the floor. It was still the old authority. “Detention is over Ms. Whitman. You may go. See to it that you are present this Monday at four. I do not take kindly to tardiness…” Alice sensed his demeanor switch to amusement. “Unless you want me to punish you?”

She stuttered, evidently appalled. “N-no, sir,” and whimpered, “I won’t be.”

When Alice had gone and Riddle was alone in his study, he cast several spells, locking the door with powerful enchantments. He returned to his work. A loud groan escaped the cruel mouth. He wanted her. And yet for the rest of the day it was like nothing had happened.

Later that night he briefly pondered something. Would she say something? He’d never taken such a risk before. And yet this time he knew her word meant nothing. Nobody would believe her. He was certainly permitted to put her in detention and even to cane her. What had he to fear from Alice Whitman? He rather liked the suspense.