Pansy didn't know she was practically handed a bomb when gifted with the Gaunt Family Ring after being inducted into the Death Eaters. She only knew the wealth, power, and respect demanded by wearing such a ring. She was beyond proud of herself. As well as pretty arrogant when she saw how jealous Bellatrix was to see the ring go to her of all people.
She was shocked and admittedly scared when the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle seeped out of the ring the moment she was alone in her own chambers. He looked nothing like the Lord Voldemort she knew. But something whispered inside of her, telling her this vision of Riddle was to be revered and obeyed just as much as the Dark Lord.
"I've made the right choice, giving the ring to you," he said in his rich deep voice. A voice that washed over her like a silk cloak and made her shiver.
She didn't make a peep, waiting for him to ask her something.
He never did. He just spoke to her, whispered in her ear. Told her how important she'd be to him and how she would be forbidden from disclosing their times together to anyone. Even his inner circle. That he was his only. That he would use her, and she would be honored.
Then he sunk back into the ring, all his words echoing inside her body until next he appeared.
And when he next came out of the ring, was when he first used her body. When he took her pliant form and virginity in her bed to the blissful ignorance of her parents. He told her this was her station. To be used by him and bear his progeny. To be the mother of the next generation of Death Eaters, and the heir to his throne.
She was flattered and proud and honored and important and lapped it all up. Even when his bedroom visits from the ring started including whips, knives, bounds, and such. If anything, it further excited her.
It excited her to watch him sharpen his intricately engraved knife and check the edge on his finger, sometimes drawing blood. His dark beautiful eyes would watch her watching.
Her heart beat wildly as he strung up her wrists in the air with an incarcerous spell and curled his fist around her neck. Goosebumps erupted on her fair skin as she grinned around his thumb in her mouth.
She was already wet the moment he came out of the ring now. She and her pussy knew what was coming and were ready. She only got wetter and more aroused when he conjured his leather whip and rubbed it against her clit beneath her pristine white panties.
She hung in the air high enough that just her tip toes rested on the floor. The blood was cut off from her hands and the tingles of upcoming numbness were started to set in. Tom Riddle circled her predatorily, spinning his knife in his hand.
"So submissive, a true servant," he murmured, his voice rough and smooth at the same time. He spun his wand and her hair was tied back into a sharp ponytail that left her head buzzing. "My own personal whore. Are you my whore, Parkinson?"
"Yes, my Lord," she whispered back.
She shook when his cold blade slipped into the hem of her panties, slicing the fabric away.
He abruptly canceled the incarcerous spell and she fell to her knees, her arms falling limp at her sides. But she assumed her perfect posture swiftly. His strong and unforgiving arms weaved around her and plucked her from the floor. With his great strength, he tossed her onto the bed, and she immediately spread out on her back.
She remained silent as he took her in. As he watched her tremble in anticipation and played with his knife in between his hands. Any minute that blade would be placed against her skin.
She held in her flinch when he turned the tip of the blade against her petite breasts, dragging it across her chest and down her flat stomach, without breaking the skin. This was what he did. He tested her. Tested what she would allow if she was a true follower and believer in him. To see if she would refuse him. To see if he could inspire fear in her.
The knife dug a little bit more into her hip, drawing a small drip of blood. She didn't flinch or make a sound. He grinned lecherously at her.
He finally spread her legs and brought his cock to her entrance. He sank into her and started fucking her without thought to her pleasure or comfort. And she loved it.
She loved being used by him. To be the only one he treated this way. To be so important and trusted with such an important mission. She could not wait to bear his heir and be the Dark Mistress. To rule by his side when they finally put muggles and mudbloods in their place.
She kept silent even as she wanted to exalt his name and beg for his seed. But he had not told her to speak.
Her nubile body bounced and flailed as he fucked her singlemindedly. His eyes watched the way her body moved as he used it. His knife was still in hand. And every once in a while, he would press the sharpness into her skin and slice just enough to cause some pain and blood. Sh eheld back a hiss at the sensations but took it all in stride.
"Call my name!" he commanded, and she let all her begging commence with his permission.
"Oh Lord Voldemort! Take me! Breed me! Mark me! I'm yours!" she moaned submissively.
Riddle fucked her with muted grunts. Her noises and the sound of his cock invading her pussy were all that filled the room. Until he reached her peak – without her reaching hers of course – and let all his essence shoot into her body. His godly cum went straight for her uterus, seeking to plant within her womb and begin the life of his new heir. Some drops of cum dripped out of her obscenely when he pulled his cock from her body.
"Thank you, My Lord," she whispered as if in prayer as his body dissolved back into the ring. Her body already thrummed at the notion that she would carry the Dark Lords progeny.