Submit to Me

I awaken in a darkened room. My bones ache and my head throbs, and I am painfully aware of a dull throbbing between my legs. My memory is a haze of blurred images; I can remember music, laughter and then nothing more. Just the cold dark depth of my blackened memories.

I try to move, but I cant, my hands and feet lay motionless on a bed of black silk, the cool smooth fabric rubs sensuously across my bare body and I shudder with wanton thoughts, why am I thinking like this? I don’t know where on god earth I am is and all I can do is think about how these sheets feel against me? Think, Hermione, think!

Who was at that party last night? Harry…Ron…Fred and George…Zabini…Malfoy! It has to be him, only he could to have the nerve to try this! I call out, I scream and shout, yet the little ferret does not show his pale pointy face. Anger pools in a pit in my stomach, that arrogant, smarmy, devious little shit, who, is not gorgeous at all.

Wait! Was that a laugh? Oh, god I heard it again!

A cold cruel laugh rings out like a alarm in the dead of night, and I freeze instantly, I’ve heard that laugh once before…my skin breaks out in to goose pimples and my breath comes in pants. Oh god! It cannot be, can it?

Suddenly the room comes to life and the light blinds my eyes, I squint stupidly trying to regain my focus as I see a black mass coming toward me, I try to move but I cant, the only thing I can do is sit, watch and wait…

“That’s a good girl.” says the voice, and I suddenly realise, this is not whom I thought it was, my eyes focus on this strangers face and my jaw drops.

He looks at me with a smile plastered on his handsome features, his bright green eyes dance with merriment, becoming wider as his smile lengthens, his features are strong, all most aristocratic, his mouth is full and his bottom lip and tad bigger than his top, his noise small and angular, but suited to his face. His hair shines in the light of the room, shiny black, and cut and smoothed back off his forehead.

For some reason, I no longer feel afraid, he reminds me of Harry. His smile reassures me and I think he knows. He reaches out to touch my face and I shiver under his touch.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Do you not recognise me, Hermione?” he asked and I shake my head in confusion.

“Must I do this for every silly little Gryffindor?” he asks, exasperated.

With a flick of his wand, a mirage of burning letters form in front of me, so close I can actually feel the heat.

The letters arrange themselves to form ‘TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE’ and I feel the cold harsh feeling of fear trickle down my spine, I do not need him to tell me who he really is for I already know, I will always know who this man is.

“I know who you are.” I said quietly.

He snickers and sits back down.

“Of course you do, but the real question you should be asking, my sweet little Mudblood, is why you are here.”

I say nothing, and he looks at me, the smile still firmly etched on his handsome face.

“I remember you, from the ministry in Harry’s fifth year, all cut and bruised, cursed by one of my own, it was then my hunger grew for you. Potter’s little Mudblood, you will be the sweetest prize of this war,” he said as his eyes flashed dangerously in my direction.

“So it was then I decided I wanted you, to take you and make you submit to me, make you my little muddy Queen, some one to be feared as much as I, along side me, ruling the word in darkness, the mother to my children.” he purred as he moved closer, kneeling on all fours and crawling toward me.

The look on his face sends wave after wave of delicious shivers through my body, and I gasp sharply, what is he doing to me? He crawls up my body, removing the cover that is protecting my naked body, lies on top of me, his tongue darts out, and licks the shell of my ear.

“Submit to me, Hermione, be mine.” he says, and I feel my muscles in my legs spring to life and wrap around him, his is manipulating my body for his own means, does it make me a terrible person that I desire him so? His hands run over the hollow of my throat and he tastes me for the first time.

His lips seek entry to mine and I cannot deny him, there is something in me that is pushing out the outrage that fills my mind, I want him to touch me, to drive himself within me, make me his.

I allow him to kiss me and I open my mouth and he seeks out my tongue and kisses me languidly, his hand runs down to cup my breast and he gives a slight squeeze and my mind commands a traitorous moan to escape my mouth, why does everything he does feel so good?

He pulls away and looks into my eyes, brown against green, good against evil. I can feel his heart racing against my own, and for a second I get a secret glance at the real Tom Riddle, I can see what he wants in his eyes. He wants someone who will be his alone, someone who will; I dare say the word is love him.

He places his hand at my core and presses and finger into my wetness, it is then the moan is real, my logic is telling me to fight it, but my body is craving more. I want him, and I need him.

In a flick of his wand, his clothes are gone. I can feel his arousal pressed against me, his burning length hot on my skin. I squirm needing friction, needing him.

He withdraws his fingers and licks my essence away, and I bite my lip as I watch, he smirks at my reaction and I blush, he crawls over me and makes love to my mouth, rubbing his cock against me, mimicking every moment till I am panting underneath him.

“Please…” I beg.

“Will you be mine?” he asks, as a bead of sweat drips on to my chest from his forehead.

A strangled sob escapes my throat and my eyes burn with tears and his hand closes around my throat.

“Will. You. Be. Mine?” he asks once more.

“Yes!” I scream, and he impales me on his cock, tearing through the layer of my virginity and claiming me as his queen.

He captures my lips possessively as he fucks me, his cock pistons in and out of my sodden channel, making me cry out in pleasure, muffled only by his lips. He bites down on my nipple and I scream once more as his cock hits that sweet spot inside me and for a moment I see stars before my eyes, before he brings me back to earth, his finger rubbing greedily at my clit, causing me to clamp down on his length, milking him for all he is worth.

He cries out hoarsely and empties himself inside me, collapsing on top of me like a dead weight. My legs unravel from him and I tremor with aftershocks as he lies down next to me.

He places his hands on my face and kisses me tenderly, something that I would never have expected from him.

“You are mine.” he says.

Moreover, I am.