A/N: This is written as a birthday fic for xThe Painted Lady, I used the prompts 'cold hands' 'silk' and 'silence speaks a thousand words'. Happy belated birthday!

It is also written for the Ultimate Death Eater Contest, round two.

"You have forsaken me." The words rippled Bellatrix' already troubled mood like a stone thrown into water.

"Never, my Lord. I could never forsake you."

"You claim that every single time, yet I see no proof of it."

"M-my Lord, I…"

"Silence! I'm rather… disappointed at you."

Bellatrix shivered. She knew that this cold, clinical conversation held far more danger than an outburst could have hold. Any moment, the Dark Lord could torture her and she would not see it coming. Yet, the idea that he held so much power over her also made her stomach jolt.

The silk of his robes rustled as he circled her and she felt cold hands on her arm. She shivered again, this time not in fear but in desire.

"Master, if I could do anything to prove that I have not forsaken you…"

The grip on her arm became tighter and she just held in a squeak of pain.

"Did I not tell you," he hissed, "that silence speaks a thousands words? In this case, you'd better be silent Bellatrix…"

She bowed her head, obediently.

"Show me your mark." He took her left arm and studied the mark he had made a couple of years ago. "I think that you need some… remembrance of your place."

"My Lord?" she asked, puzzled.

The Dark Lord had taken out his wand and was tracing her mark with it. She felt a searing hot pain shot through her and she gasped for breath. Every single line of the mark was branded into her skin even deeper than it had been and the pain made her nauseous. However, she remained standing and fought the nausea, because any sign of weakness would not be tolerated. She bit her lip until she drew blood, yet she did not flinch.

At last he had finished and took a step back. It was only now that Bellatrix dared look at her arm. It was red and burnt.

"It really is a pity that it has to come to this, but you leave me no other choice. You need to remember you're mine, every piece of you belongs to me and I will not tolerate another failure. Do you understand that?"

"Yes Master, I am yours and I will never serve another."

"Good." He traced her lips and then licked her blood of his fingers. "You may leave now."

She bowed, trembling, and disappeared as swiftly as she could.

When she was back in her quarters, she took another look at her arm. The mark already didn't seem so red anymore but she could still feel the burning pain. She traced the mark with her nails. She was his, and his alone and she would have let him brand every single inch of her skin if that was what it took to convince him of her devotion. She, Bellatrix Lestrange, belonged to the Dark Lord and she longed for the day that he would make her his in other ways. The thought of those cold fingers on other places of her body made her shiver in anticipation and desire. She touched her mark with pride, because it was her Master who had inflicted it upon her. Her Master, who possessed her wholly, heart and soul and body.