Disclaimer: Alas, despite our long absence from this fic, we've not miraculously gained ownership of the Potterverse and the tons and tons of money connected to that verse. So, yes, it's still all Rowling's and we get zero, zip, squat from writing this. *runs off to cry in a dark corner*
A/N: we want to thank everyone for reading, alerting, faving, and most of all, reviewing: Bellas Decathexis, Ilaaris, two times crazy Serpie trying to think we'll be fooled by anonymous replies that are clearly hers (insert arrogant huff and ;p), LillyAnne, nyxera, Beautiful-Liar13, Vinwin, sesshomari, patie, Ceralyn, the-quiet-girl, RiverRamsden, EasilyAmusedReader, MissImpossible, StarlitBaby, IceAgeSurvivor123, Alrauna, sweet-tang-honney, TheBluePaintedWeirdo, Merih.
LillyAnne: Take your well-earned cookie. You were the only one who got that quote right. And I completely agree with you: One of the best indeed. LOL.
Warnings: Again, this fic contains explicit Adult material of the BDSM kind. If you're not allowed to read such contents in your place of residence or are offended by it, then please, press the back button. Thank you.
Now for the codes in this chapter: Spank, BP, Toys, Humil, D/s, Bond, Oral, HJ, HET, violence, language, and there is use of a Lust Potion in play.
The Gold Puppet
"Perhaps ..." he tilted his head and glanced sideways at her face calculatingly, "I should show you how it is to be done?"
His quiet voice nearly made her come undone. The potion's effects were definitely worsening with every passing second as she tried desperately to recall its progress and how to best counter it. There had to be some way out of this sticky situation she'd got herself caught in. She had to stop this transportation from continuing. The only way that could be done was to make sure there was no more direct skin-on-skin contact. She had to push him off of her. However, the moment she tensed her muscles to try it, she was too late. A sudden, overwhelming desire rushed from his body to hers: The signal that every last bit of the potion was now inside her body. She tossed her head back with a groan filled in frustration and need.
Abruptly, he swirled away from her.
With a surprised yelp, she collapsed to the floor on her hands and knees. Their sudden disconnection made her mind scream out in agony. Even the ache from her fall could not stop the despair she felt when his touch left her body. But she bit her lip, hard, in an attempt to keep herself under control. As blood dripped over her chin and neck, the pain somewhat cleared her fogged, lust-filled mind and she raised her head to glare at him furiously.
"Son of a bitch," she hissed, wanting to rip him apart and jump him at the same time.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Granger," he said condescendingly, "such crude language. It's Master Son-of-a-bitch to you."
Hearing her own words reiterated back at her made her narrow her eyes. However, she could also feel the lust she had for him returning at a rapid rate. It was evident by how the core of her sex started to throb uncontrollably and how her nipples started to stiffen simply by staring at his painfully gorgeous face. The way his hair fell on his forehead, taunting her to brush them back and caress his face at the same time ... the way his lips were slightly curved upwards, almost like they were inviting her to nibble and devour them ...
The contrasting feelings made her inhale deeply to suppress the whimper that nearly escaped her throat.
I am so going to kill him ... AFTER I've shagged him.
With a cold, superior expression, he strolled towards her and crouched right in front of her face like a predator waiting to strike. The beauty of his nude body struck her like a lightning bolt and she couldn't do anything but stare at him. Slowly, and almost tauntingly, he extended his hand and curled his fingers around her chin to raise her head back to his face. Their renewed contact finally elicited a moan from her lips and he smirked viciously, morphing his features into something dangerous and lethal. Yet, she didn't care. She wanted him. Her hand reached out to touch him when his voice whirled around her.
Trembling, she was conflicted on what to do. Her hand was nearly there and her entire body screamed for him. She had to touch him. But the look in his eyes, the iciness of his gaze, his entire commanding presence froze her up. Her mind was still clear enough to realise that continuing wouldn't give her what she needed.
Silently, his other hand closed around her extended arm and brought it back to its previous position. The warmth of his hand made her eyes flutter shut and she only reopened them again when he chuckled softly. A combination of viciousness and amusement was written all over his features, letting her know exactly how much he was enjoying their situation.
"Rule number one: You will not move, unless I give you permission, Hermione." His eyes flickered over her current position on all fours in wicked amusement. "This is quite ... fitting with your inherent basic animal nature."
Her eyes flashed at his demeaning comment. Anger rushed through her and mildly hindered her desires. Yet, his thumb then rubbed sensually over her still bleeding lip as he whispered the words, sensitising them further while smearing her blood over her mouth and replacing the anger with something else entirely. Sense and logic were thrown into the far corners of her mind. Reflexively, she took his thumb in her mouth and sucked on it. His other hand flashed to her hair and yanked her head back roughly, causing her to yelp.
"I said, no moving, dearest, or are you deaf as well as ignorant?" he sneered, his breath brushing her neck. "One more infraction and you will find yourself uncomfortably restrained."
His sneering words no longer angered her; she was more focused on their current closeness. She could feel the heat of his naked body radiating against her and she could smell that delicious scent that belonged solely to him. So close ... yet just out of reach. Her body thrummed in wantonness. It ached to be touched, to be held, to be taken by him. Now.
Hermione launched herself forward, not caring about the hand in her hair or his previous words. Riddle tumbled backwards, landing on his bum with a little, bushy-haired, sex-craved monster on top of him. Her lips caught the curve of his shoulder and she began planting kisses all over his skin, sucking and nibbling. Her nails raked over the length of his body, and he let out a content sigh, enhancing her actions, making her rub her body against his. This was enthralling ... this was heaven.
However, she needed something more. Simply touching him was not enough to satisfy her craving for him. And that craving was driving her mental. She needed him right now.
Her fingers curled around his member when his wand flashed behind her back. A leather collar closed around her neck, but she was too busy to take notice. Why was his cock still so bloody flaccid? She needed him inside of her.
So she continued touching and kissing him, trying to get him hard, and she got even more frustrated when he just wouldn't cooperate with her. Therefore, she did not pay attention of what he was doing. His wand flashed again, and an invisible leash yanked her off of him brutally, forcing her to her feet. Standing on tiptoes, her hands flew to her throat, trying to get her fingers behind the collar to rip it off. The discomfort she felt was not all that important to her at the moment; her primary concern was to reach him again.
Suddenly, the tension of the leash on her neck disappeared. A second jinx struck her in the stomach, and she doubled over, wrapping her arms around her belly as she crashed to the ground with a painful cry. Riddle was beside her, waving his hand through the air. His fingers closed into a fist and he moved his hand upward harshly, effectively yanking her up and forcing her back to her hands and knees as before.
"Now what did I tell you, my dear?" he said in an almost satisfied tone of voice, as if he'd been expecting this turn of events.
She couldn't reply until the pain in her stomach evaporated and was being replaced by the more maddening ache in the core of her sex. A groan left her lips when she noticed her desire was slowly rising again.
A pleased glint passed through his eyes, too quickly for her to notice it, and his expression was again one of cold impassiveness.
"Answer me, Hermione."
"Not to move," she replied breathlessly, wishing he would just touch her instead of standing there like a moronic statue. She could barely withstand the urge to rub against his legs like a cat. However, she'd a hunch he'd kick her if she did.
"And what did you do, you stupid, worthless slut?" he spat.
Recalling how she'd jumped him, her cheeks burned in embarrassment. Merlin, she should never have used this potion. What had she been thinking? This was dreadful. How on earth had he managed to stay so composed for the amount of time she'd left him alone? It had only been minutes since it entered her body fully and already she couldn't think straight, couldn't see straight beyond her wants and needs and the object of her desire: him.
Nevertheless, she knew that if she did not do things his way, he was not going to grant her a release and her suffering would only elongate.
"I am sorry," she whispered, keeping her head low, so her expressions could not be clearly seen by him.
"You're sorry ..." he paused expectantly.
"I'm sorry, Master," she repeated through gritted teeth, her face now completely red.
"I see. So, you're sorry," he replied incredulously, circling her body in slow, carefully controlled steps. "For what exactly?" he added in a sickeningly sweet tone.
For not fucking your brains out, you imbecilic sadist. What the hell do you think?
"For moving," she answered instead, making a face behind her curtain of hair. "Master," she added quickly and somewhat mockingly.
He snorted disparagingly. "I wonder what it is that makes me not believe you, my sweet Head Girl," he mocked, cocking his head. "Perhaps it's your blatant disrespectful tone of voice? Or your complete disinterest in pleasing your superiors as you focus on nothing else but yourself and your pleasure? Or perhaps it's because you're such a bad, bad little liar?" he hissed.
His voice wrapped around her body seductively, eliciting a shudder from her, and now, instead of irritation, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter with each and every demeaning word he threw at her. She could not summon enough energy to speak, nor did she trust herself to open her mouth. The last functioning bits of her mind realized that she might very well start moaning—or even worse, start begging for him to take her in any way he wanted instead. So, she kept her mouth shut and nibbled on the insides of her cheeks.
"Naughty tramps need to be disciplined and punished for their disobedience and lies, wouldn't you agree?" he continued matter-of-factly. He paused and eyed her critically, as if he was looking at an unsatisfactory piece of art. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. And didn't I warn you that I would restrain you if you moved? So ..."
He waved his wand above her head. Shackles clasped over her ankles, pulling them so tightly to the floor of the carriage that it placed a huge strain on her muscles. A second wave turned the floor underneath her into some sticky substance, gluing her hands stuck.
"There," he patted her on the head demeaningly. "Now you won't be tempted to be ... foolish as I try to read."
Her mouth dropped open, and for a moment, she thought she'd heard wrong. Did he just say he was going to read?
With another whip of his wand, he was properly dressed again and had a massive volume in his hand. Lazily, he sat down and opened it at page one as if she wasn't even there.
He had to be kidding. She was nearly overwhelmed by her desires here and he was in the mood to read?
Hermione cursed loudly.
"Rule number two: no talking. Your incessant chattering is incredibly boring."
"My incessant chattering, mine?" she snapped; her jaw fell open at his nerve to call her a chatterbox while he had the tendency to go on, and on, and on about the silliest of details.
"I'd think twice about disturbing me, pet. You won't like what I'll do next and you really do need this time to cool off." He snickered viciously as he dove behind the book with his face.
She wished he'd bash his head against that stupid book. Cool off? He told her to cool off? When he knew that it was impossible what with that insane potion was doing to her? Fury flooded her system and his warnings promptly disintegrated into nothingness in her brain.
"You, you, you!" she began, stopping when his head lifted expectantly above his book.
"Yes?" he asked teasingly, pointing his wand at her and shredding the rest of the clothes on her body to pieces.
Well, that's not really bothering me. Maybe I should ... disturb him for real.
"Ungrateful, absolute moron, stupid, insignificant—"
And then, there was a gagball in her mouth, causing nothing but soft grunts to leave her body and drool ... lots and lots of disgusting drool that ran down her neck over her body, joining the blood that already had dried up there. She tried shaking her head to dislodge the thing and tried spitting it out, but it was bound around her head tightly. Several more colourful words to describe him flew through her mind as she began to struggle to free herself from her captivity to the floor in vain. She only exerted herself dreadfully. Her legs were now hurting and her nostrils flared in an attempt to take in the extra oxygen needed. This was not helping at all. If anything, she had just used up the energy she could have used to slightly push back the effects of the potion. Not that that would have helped a lot, but at least it was something.
She lowered her head between her hands in defeat and grunted in frustration. However, it made her drool leak over her face and she quickly rose back up, not wanting it to drip into her eyes.
Her mind reeled over her options: none.
She couldn't even call out to him anymore. And he enjoyed ignoring her, she could tell by the way he exaggeratedly flipped another page of his book. Her blood pounded vehemently in her nether regions, making her squirm uncomfortably with her hips. Godric, she needed some friction there, desperately. Someone just fuck her. Anyone.
He'd turned another page.
Flip, flip, flip ...
He kept on ignoring her. It was infuriating. She swivelled her head sideways and glared at the object of her frustration.
"Eyes forward, minx," he hissed immediately.
Finally, she had his attention. Success made her heart leap in joy and in turn caused her arousal to heighten another notch. So, she didn't obey his order but kept staring at him, daring him to act.
She didn't have to wait long. He lowered his book with a sigh and calmly placed a page marker between the pages before placing it beside him on the carriage's couch. Then, he met her eyes quietly, his face a blank mask.
Her mind was screaming at him to just fuck her, to bloody well satisfy this maddening craving she was subjected to. She was ready to do anything for it. Anything.
When he rose fluently from the couch, her breaths stopped. Her pupils dilated and she froze in anticipation as he glided towards her. Mesmerised by his presence, she eyed him. Never before had she realised how powerful he truly was. His surplus magic flowed around her skin, touching her as if she was tickled by a thousand fingers. It made her squirm in dissatisfaction. Would he take her now and end her suffering?
His long, pale fingers stroked through her hair, eliciting a grunt from her mouth. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the blissful feelings she got from his caresses. Yes, he was touching her. Triumph. Victory.
But then, she noticed the vicious smirk that crept on his face. Oh no.
"I said, eyes forward, hussy," he hissed, and he roughly turned her head by her hair. "Now since you're obviously too feeble to understand complex orders, I will try to make it as simple as possible for your insignificant, single-functioning braincell by showing you what is expected of you."
He kicked into her armpits, bending her arms at the same time as he pushed her head down. With a flick of his wrists, her elbows also glued to the floor. Then, he grabbed her hips and lifted them up as far as he could.
"You will maintain this position," he said, pulling her head back, and by doing so, bending her spine in a painful arch, "for as long as I deem necessary."
His nails ran over her back, leaving red scratches behind in its wake, while she let out another grunt of pained pleasure through the gagball.
"Any kind of movement will force me to start your countdown anew."
He stroked gently over her raised bottom before slapping it harshly. A shock ran visibly through her, and he clicked with his tongue in disappointment.
"Such little self-control," he whispered sibilantly and smacked her behind again, causing her body to shake. "Such a disobedient, silly girl."
Every single one of his blows vibrated through her and made her lose her grip in one form or another. Every time that he had something demeaning to say about her lacking abilities to listen and stay immobile made her feel a sense of weakness and embarrassment. Tears streamed down her face from a combination of pain and helplessness.
She tried to the best of her abilities to somehow keep herself in that impossible, aching stance. Still, she moved and he would notice, even if it was just a hair that twitched. Soon, her bottom was blazing red and only then did he stop. She felt utterly humiliated when he fingered her dripping fanny and she couldn't help it but respond to his caress with that potion blazing through her blood.
"So wet you still are, so eager for my cock that you'd take this beating and enjoy it," he hissed, rotating his finger around her walls before withdrawing it and holding it in front of her face. "Clean me up, whore."
She grunted in the gagball, rolling her eyes. Is he stupid or what?
"Oh yesssss, I forgot about your insolent tongue," he said in a tone of voice that clearly told her he hadn't forgotten at all.
With a little hand gesture, the ball vanquished into thin air and her ragged gasps filled the carriage, followed by her audibly swallowing her excess saliva. Still shaking, she took his finger in her mouth fully and sucked her juices away. A smirk appeared on his face as he slowly withdrew it from her mouth. His wet finger traced the side of her face gently until his hand grabbed her jaw firmly and his lips caught hers. A content moan formed in her throat as their tongues battled for dominance. She could've continued this kissing forever. Yet, he held her head tightly in place as he moved on and began sucking and nibbling on her lips, removing the bloodstains. His thumb drew over her moist lips and she caught it in desire, mirroring her wants and needs for him with her mouth's actions on his thumb.
"That mouth of yours was made to suck me, wasn't it?" he commented quietly.
She couldn't speak with his thumb in her mouth, so she nodded, keeping her lust-filled eyes on him. Immediately, his hand impacted hard on her bottom again and her face contorted in pain, just swallowing the scream that formed in her throat.
"Silly, silly witch," he said evenly, rising out of his crouched position and unzipping his trousers. "My orders were so simple, so basic. Yet, you continue to move. Since you clearly are unable NOT to move ..." he trailed off, smirking wickedly.
He lowered his trousers and stepped out of them, pushing them to the side with his feet. To her annoyance, she saw that his cock was very much erect now as he sat down on the floor in front of her. Spreading his long legs on either side of her body, he slid down on his elbows and watched her expectantly.
"Make yourself useful, witch."
He didn't have to say twice. Eagerly, Hermione sucked his dick, knowing that the moment his semen was inside of her, the potion would cease to work and her symptoms would be gone, or at least, lessen to the degree she'd have control over. Alas, she forgot that he had said knowledge, too. The second he felt it coming, he withdrew from her mouth abruptly and sprayed it on the floor in front of her with immense satisfaction.
Desperately, she howled and was quieted immediately by a new gagball.
He patted her on the head as he rose to his feet and cleansed and clothed himself with a flick of his wrist.
"Well done, pet," he said, sounding awfully pleased. "Now show me you can obey my commands and perhaps I shall grant you a release, too."
He strolled away and sat down, grabbing his book and opening at the place he'd left it.
Flip, flip, flip ...
Hermione felt utterly ridiculous with her bum in the air and her head and back arched to the extreme. Yet, her yearning was so great, so all-consuming and overwhelming that she did what she could. However, she was no athlete by any standards. All her muscles ached and protested to such degree that she couldn't hold it up anymore. Her body was already trembling from the strain, right before she slumped into each other in defeat.
"Back in position, wench," Riddle barked coldly from behind his book.
Biting back tears, she clenched her eyes together and somehow managed to push herself up. After hearing several more pages flip, he suddenly planted the book on the seat next to his and rose. Hermione didn't move her head to check where he was heading; she kept looking straight ahead. His footsteps halted behind her and her heart picked up an even faster pace.
However, she didn't dare get her hopes up anymore. She needed him so badly that she figured she would die of a heart attack if he wouldn't grant her a climax soon. Her entire body was flushed and perspiring, driven by an all-consuming longing that she couldn't relieve herself.
Suddenly, the shackles around her ankles sprung loose. She could finally move her legs again. But not knowing what was expected of her, she kept her previous position, worried he'd restrain her again if she took any initiative.
"Finally, you understand how to be submissive," he hissed, pleased. "On your feet. Legs spread."
His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her bottom higher up in the air. Her face contorted briefly in pain from the sudden, new position she was basically thrown in, but knowing that he was finally going to fill her aching emptiness soon made up for that. He kicked her legs apart and moved between them rapidly, rubbing his eager cock against the inside of her thigh. The sensation pushed away any thoughts of discomfort or pain, and a sound that was a mixture of a moan and a groan rushed past the gagball. With another flick of his wrist, the gagball disappeared, and then, he entered her slowly, far too slowly for her liking. She wanted the friction. She needed the friction. Hadn't she been submissive enough? Why the hell wasn't he giving her what she wanted?
She had the urge to buck herself against him, but she knew that he would immediately withdraw from her if she were to move without his command.
"Do you understand now, Granger, who's the one in control?" he asked, still not increasing his speed.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, her face scrunched up as if she were in pain. Beads of sweat ran down her face and neck, mixing with the drool and blood on her.
"Will you attempt to defy me again, my little slut?"
"No, Master." Not before the stupid potion runs its course. After that ... we'll see.
"Good," he chuckled softly before his voice took on a dark tone, "because what just happened is just a small indication of what I can and will do to you if you're naughty again. Do we understand one another, witch?"
"Yes, Master." Just fuck me already and stop the pointless chatting! What's with you and your non-stop talking?
"Excellent," he hissed.
The syllables of the word wrapped around her body, pushing her wantonness to new heights, and she nearly shouted in glee when he started thrusting furiously inside her, almost as if he were trying to rip her apart. What should have been painful drew long, lustful moans from her, and she was so, so close to her climax.
Suddenly, he released her from the spell, allowing her arms to move. The position she was in and the ache that had developed in her limbs caused her to crash down to the floor on her face. She was definitely going to get bruises later on, but she just did not care right now as long as he continued to give her that delicious, hard pounding.
"You are mine, Hermione," he said quietly, panting as he penetrated deeply into her.
"Y-yes, Master," she replied, slightly in a daze from the wonderful sensations that were surging through her body.
"Yessss!" she shrieked as he pushed both of them over the edge.
The moment he came inside her, she could feel the effects of the potion break. They slumped down on the floor with him on top of her, both of their desires thoroughly sated. He rolled over to the side and pulled her closer to him. Lazily, he traced lines up and down her body, causing a ticklish feeling to develop in the wake of his fingers. Taking in the mess they had caused in the carriage, she laughed softly before she turned around and looked at him. He gave her a faint smile before lowering his eyes, allowing it to devour her naked body before his arms wrapped around her protectively and his lips met hers.
A contented smile appeared on her face, and snuggling closer to him, she knew that she was going to miss him awfully while she was at Hogwarts.
Thoughtfully, Lord Voldemort looked around the crowded chamber. His glamoured snakelike face with its distinct red, slit-for-pupils eyes penetrated each and every one of them, causing those his attention fell on to drop to their knees and grovel. He'd seen no need to share his new looks with all his followers. Those privileged to that knowledge were carefully chosen by him, and their numbers weren't high, since his most trusted and useful servants had died in the final battle, leaving him with this riffraff—morons who'd escaped the attention of the Ministry by either being above approach or just too feeble to be considered as a Death Eater. Their low ranking in his organisation had been their salvation from prosecution. But he'd shape them into useful weapons, as he'd done before with the others. It was just a matter of careful conditioning, manipulation, and training.
"Friends," he said quietly, a sickeningly sweet smile drawn on his lips as he strolled amongst them. "Welcome. It's been too long since we last met."
Time for the games to begin.
A couple of hours and many training duels later, the riffraff exited the chamber, tired and perspiring heavily, while chatting amongst each other in excitement and fulfillment. Satisfied, Lord Voldemort watched them go. He'd seen several promising candidates in line to replace their fallen comrades.
With Hermione away at Hogwarts, he'd have the freedom to move and re-establish his forces for the next year without much interference from her. By the time she'd gain her N.E.W.T.s, he'd be well underway to regain his rightful position as leader of the Wizarding World. And this time around, he planned to use everyone at his disposal, even those Death Eaters he had told to stay low in the Muggle world.
No more mistakes, no more mercy.
He'd take over the world as a whole at once. Starting just in Britain had been a mistake of gigantic proportions. It gave his opponents places to flee to. Fortunately, it had also kept his foreign supporters out of prison since they'd not compromised themselves as being on his side yet. That would all change next year.
A vicious expression crawled over his snakelike features, his red eyes sparkling maliciously.
He'd a whole year to secretly whack all those who'd opposed him. It had to be done carefully though. He couldn't risk attracting attention to the oddity of all his former enemies dropping dead one by one. But he'd make damn sure that when Lord Voldemort rose to power again, they wouldn't be around to stop him anymore. Their fates were sealed the moment they decided to raise wands against him or used a despicable sword of a silly Founder to kill his pet.
Yessss, he'd already contacted his American followers to assist him with the Longbottoms' demise. They'd set up a fake clinic, mirroring Healer Lewis's, and would arrive tomorrow to take the patients and their dear family members with them. Once they were indoors of that facility, he'd make sure they'd never walk out alive after he'd shown that obnoxious, insipid snake-killer the true meaning of pain.
Speaking of obnoxious individuals, he still had a redhead to take "care" of. And he knew just what to do with her.
"Arcadicus Rencher," he called out to one of the men hanging around in the back of the chamber, recalling what he'd made that man do in his created, false memory for Potty with sadistic pleasure. "A word."