~ T.W: This chapter contains content that might be upsetting. Reader discretion is advised. Mentions of psychological manipulation, sexual assault and torture are included so please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable.~

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"Do you like to be held in chains, Bella?"

His silken yet deadly voice made her hair stand up on one end, each cell of her body fired up in a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"If it pleases you, my Lord, then so be it," she replied, her shrill voice lowered to a light quiver.

Her wrists were bound together tightly with the metal chains suspended from the ceiling and her bare feet hardly touched the ground. She was strung up in the cold prison cells down in the same dungeons where Regulus and Esmeralda had been kept.

"You have failed what I expected from you," he resumed in that lethal tone, "as a loyal servant, you're supposed to know your place and your duty. You are supposed to follow orders. Yet you disobeyed me. And you know very well that I punish those who are disobedient."

She knew what would happen next and braced herself as a Cruciatus curse struck her, each fiber of being setting alight with excruciating pain. Her body shook violently under the curse and at first she tried to hold in her screams but couldn't any longer as the curse intensified.

A shrill scream of pain ripped apart from her but the dungeons were enchanted to not let any sound out. No one except lord Voldemort could hear her screams at the moment.

By the time he withdrew the curse, she was panting for breath, her body feeling as if a thousand knives had brutally cut her up. Tears welled up in her eyes but she held them at bay, knowing full well that if Lord Voldemort was punishing her, it was because she had been the one on fault.

She deserved that punishment and she would have to bear it.

The Cruciatus was just the beginning.

"Eleanor is mine," he hissed, the chains tightening on Bellatrix's wrists so much so that red marks were beginning to show on her pale skin, "only I am allowed to hurt her. Only I am allowed to see to it whether she should be chained or not."

"I beg mercy, my Lord," her voice trembled and was no more than a rasp, realizing that his mood was worse than she had expected and that could end up in even terrible punishment for her. Even if she was a sadist and a masochist, the pain he could wreck on her in his anger would be unbearable. "I only chained her up so that she wouldn't escape. She was trying to poison my Cissy's ears, begging her to help her escape."

"She can not escape whether she's chained up or not," he stated, confident in his words, "and Narcissa knows very well what would befall her if she dares to help Eleanor. Your sister is a smart woman, Bella, she will not put her own life at risk. You acted out of your own accord. You disappointed me."

"I am sorry, my Lord, please forgive me."

His finger fitted under her chin as he tilted her head up, making her look at him. Those serpentine red eyes were glistening in amusement as if the entire ordeal was giving him some sick sort of pleasure.

She had a pretty face, he thought, with her large ink black eyes, cupid bow lips and her sharp tongue. She was indeed very striking.

He remembered the first time he had seen Bellatrix Black and taken a twisted fantasy to her because she somehow reminded him of Eleanor.

Fiery, independent, cruel with her words and dangerously beautiful.

But in spite of all, she could not compete with Eleanor Troy. There could not be another like her.

And though for years, Voldemort had satisfied his sick desires through Bellatrix, exploiting her and corrupting her in the process, still she wasn't Eleanor.

Eleanor Troy, the woman he couldn't stop desiring even after so many years. Bellatrix could never be her.

"Do you feel jealous of her, my dear?" He asked, his wand tracing the outline of her lips then trailing down to her neck, leaving a white line upon her skin as he dipped deeper where the neckline of her dress started.

"No, my Lord. Never."

He could see through those words just like he could see through the black fabric that he was slowly ripping open from the front.

"How could you feel jealous of a prisoner? You are my knight, my most trusted soldier, why would you feel jealous of a woman I have kept enslaved?" His wand had kept ripping through her dress, reaching right where the bodice ended and the skirt began.

"I promise it won't happen again," she pleaded but her voice was unsteady and her body was tensing up, "please forgive me."

His wand didn't stop, slicing open her dress as if it was a flimsy casing, pale skin exposed to his gaze and his touch unobstructed.

"My dear Bella... How foolish you have been," he tutted in amusement, watching her get both scared and excited at the same time. "It's almost as if you wanted me to punish you."

"Punish me if you decide it is what I deserve," she replied, "but pray do not hold me in contemp. I'll swear upon my life never to disappoint you again, Master."

"Very well then," the tip of the wand rested right above her heart.

A shiver raked through her as his other hand glided over her skin, from her neck to the ribs and her stomach then locking on to her thigh tightly.

"Are you ready to be subjected to your punishment?" He asked, his hand sliding up in between and making her shiver again, limbs tensing as he tore at her frail resistance.

Despite her fear, she would never refuse his advances. It was not the first time for him to exploit her as such.

And it would definitely not be the last.

"Yes, my Lord. Do as you see fit."

"Contracto," he whispered and a jerk shook her as if all the organs inside her body had contracted painfully.

Blood pounded in her ears and her vision went blurred. She could taste copper in her mouth and blood trickled down shortly after.

It was even more excruciating than the Cruciatus curse and she could neither scream nor move.

The torture curse only tricked the mind into thinking that the body was being torn from the inside out. The pain caused as a result was just an illusion. But the curse the Dark Lord had used just then was actually tearing her apart from the inside. And that pain was every bit as real as the fact that she was a Death Eater. It was no illusion.

Blood collected in her mouth again but before she could spit it out, those venomous lips locked upon hers, sucking out the red liquid.

He retrieved the curse and the contraction released, only for more blood to trickle down her mouth, nose and ears.

Yet it no longer hurt as he had mumbled a spell to seal the internal injuries. His lips trailed over the lines of red escaping her mouth and she moaned against him, unable to resist any longer.

They were no different from a sick and twisted pair of psychopaths, finding pleasure in the extremes of pain and physical torture.

He could see that the punishment aspect was over and Bellatrix was enjoying the aftermath. So not wanting that warning to loose its essence, he stopped, licking his lips as he let go of her.

"My Lord..."

"Don't disappoint me next time, Bella, or there will be no pleasure and just pain for your punishment," he remarked, flicking his wand that undid the chains.

Without the chains to hold her up, she fell to the ground, her body aching and her limbs no longer able to carry her own weight. The sound of the dungeon door closing could be heard as Voldemort did not even bother to pick her up from the cold ground.

He knew she would get up herself once she overcame the pain and exhaustion. There was no use sending someone to look after her either as that wasn't her first time receiving his punishments.

He knew she was used to it.

Sometimes even when she hadn't done anything against his orders, he would punish her and assault her to satisfy his sick desires.

But now she was not the only woman there who he could damage at his disposal. Eleanor Troy was in his reach too.

And destroying her physically and mentally was what he took most pleasure in. Because unlike Bellatrix, she did not enjoy the pain.

It truly hurt her and he craved the sort of fear he could extract while hurting someone like her to the worst.

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