She stared at the lingerie for a long moment.
There was still a lingering feeling of doubt and resistance, but her mind was no longer in control.
Driven by her primal need, she let her desire take control.
As she lifted the lingerie from the bed, the delicate fabric slipped through her fingers like water. The bra was made of fine lace, with thin straps and cups that would barely cover her. The thong was so... revealing.
She gasped. Never in her life had she worn something like this.
Still, her body was already acting on its own.
Slowly, she began to undress. She slipped off her robe, the silk sliding down her shoulders and falling at her feet. Her fingers trembled as she unfastened the buttons of her blouse.
With a final deep breath, Narcissa reached for the lingerie. She slipped the bra over her shoulders. The fabric clung to her curves, the thin straps biting slightly into her flesh as she adjusted the fit. The cups barely covered her breasts, leaving little to the imagination. Next, she slid the thong up her legs, the delicate fabric brushing against her thighs as she pulled them into place.
The lingerie transformed her, stripping away the last remnants of her pride and replacing them with something else. An acceptance of her role, a resignation to her fate. She was his now, in every sense of the word.
As she stood there, pondering, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned slowly, knowing who it was even before she saw him. He didn't speak at first, letting his gaze devour the sight of her in the revealing lingerie, every inch of her exposed flesh.
She felt utterly vulnerable, standing there in front of him, her body barely concealed by the thin lace. But at the same time, she felt a thrill, knowing that she was causing this reaction in the Dark Lord.
Voldemort's lips curled into that familiar, sinister smile as he approached her. He reached out, his hand cold and bony, his fingers tracing the edge of the bra, grazing her shoulder with a touch.
Then Voldemort turned her toward the mirror, forcing her to look at her reflection. "Look at yourself, such a sexy woman."
She obeyed, her eyes locking onto the reflection in the mirror.
What she saw both horrified and excited her. The woman staring back at her was no longer the proud, dignified wife, but a submissive, desperate creature, her body lost in pleasure at the mere touch of the Dark Lord.
She stared at her reflection, her eyes tracing the barely concealed curves of her body. The lingerie clung to her like a second skin, the lace outlining the swell of her breasts, the dark fabric barely enough to hide her nipples. She couldn't tear her gaze away, mesmerized by the sight of herself.
She watched as Voldemort's cold hand slid down her stomach, his fingers pressed against her soft flesh.
"Lucius must have been a lucky fella," Voldemort murmured, "Enjoying this body every day. A beautiful, submissive wife at his reach, ready to satisfy his every need."
Lucius's name triggered a reaction in Narcissa. But it was not one of cheating but purely disappointment.
"Lucius… he's stopped touching me," she admitted, the shame of the confession burning in her chest. "He… he says one son is enough. That there's no need for anything more."
A twisted smile curled on Voldemort's lips as he listened, his hand moving upward to cup her breast. He squeezed, hard enough to make her gasp, her body arching involuntarily into his touch.
"Foolish man," he sneered. "To let such a prize go to waste. But don't worry, Narcissa, now that you're mine, I'll make sure your body is used to its fullest potential."
His grip tightened on her breast, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he groped her roughly. "You are my slut now," Voldemort hissed, "And I'm going to make use of you every single day. I'll pound you until you're out of breath begging me to stop."
Voldemort's hand continued to move, tracing slow, deliberate circles over Narcissa's breast. He pinched her nipple through the lace, twisting it cruelly between his fingers.
Voldemort's other hand joined in, sliding under the lace of the bra to cup her bare breast, his fingers teasing the hardened peak. He massaged her flesh, kneading it roughly, enjoying the way her body squirmed under his touch. Narcissa's reflection in the mirror showed her flushed face, her eyes half-lidded with a mixture of pain and pleasure, her lips parted as she panted for breath.
Her body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with desire, the ache between her legs growing more intense with every passing moment.
As if Voldemort knew exactly what she desired, Voldemort's hand moved lower, trailing down her quivering abdomen until it grazed the waistband of the thong, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.
Voldemort's hand slid between her legs, his fingers pressing against the thin fabric of her panties.
"You're wet for me," Voldemort hissed, his fingers pressing harder against her, finding the dampness that had soaked through the lace. "All this time, you've been fantasizing about this, haven't you? Imagining me claiming you, using you as my slut."
Narcissa moaned, a soft, breathless sound that escaped her lips involuntarily.
Her hips instinctively pressed forward, seeking more of his touch, driven by a desperate need she couldn't control. But it was not enough; Narcissa felt that her orgasm was on the edge, but Voldemort was just teasing her.
"Please…" she pleaded, "Please, my Lord, I… I need you."
Voldemort chuckled darkly, his fingers slipping under the waistband of her panties, brushing against her slick folds. "That's more like it, but you will have to do better than that, Narcissa."
Narcissa's eyes flew open, locking onto her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger, her face flushed with arousal, her body trembling with need. She could see the hunger in her own eyes, the way her lips quivered as she fought to find the words.
"Please, my Lord, I'm yours to use."
Voldemort's fingers curled around her clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles. "Good girl, you belong to me now, Narcissa. Your body, your mind, your soul… they're all mine to do with as I please."
His hand moved lower, slipping a finger inside her, then another, stretching her as he began to thrust them in and out. Narcissa's head fell back, her body arching as she moaned loudly, unable to contain the wave of pleasure that crashed over her.
Narcissa's mind was a blur, lost in a haze of lust and submission. She was his now, completely and utterly his.