This is written for Challenge at His Most Faithful Forum and the OTP Boot Camp Challenge with prompt one 'acrid'. Slightly apprehensive about how the ending turned out but I hope you enjoy.

The Dark Lord made Bella the woman she was today. At only the tender age of nineteen, she allowed his mark to be burned onto her flesh, she learned every curse he cared to teach her and she gave herself to him in every way that she could.

He built her up so she could stand tall with a smirk upon her features and declare herself the Dark Lord's most faithful and favourite servant. She could announce her superiority and know it was the truth.

However, he could tear her down just as easily.

He could remove a few select bricks that formed the foundations of her strength and watch it tumble down.

Bellatrix could not see anything. The only thing in front of her was darkness that was unyielding and undaunted by any light.

She had to rely on her other senses.

Her ears were pricked up waiting for the sounds around her, but they were minimal; only rustles, scrapes and shrill cries of rats but every one attracted her attention and had her on edge.

Her nose was filled with the acrid and pungent odour of death and blood. It reminded her of what could be her fate.

Her skin was stiff and sore. She was pulled tight and taunt. Her arms were held high above her head in coarse ropes that chaffed her smooth skin and left the tips of her toes barely scrapping against the cold damp floor. She could have swung but she had abandoned that idea.

In the dark she preferred to sit still and wait. She was petrified she would move against the unpleasant sensation of the sticky substances on the stone walls.

Closing her eyes, she tried to keep her breathing level and forget about her vulnerabilities. However, it was a fact that was impossible to ignore. Normally fear was such a peculiar concept to Bella because she honestly did not believe that she could be harmed, but now rendered blind by darkness, her hands bound and not even wearing a shred of clothing she knew just how weak she was.

She battled on for what felt like hours. Maybe no one who could hear her, but she feared the person who had put her in this situation could detect her moment of weakness.

The Dark Lord.

She could not allow him to see her as weak.

All attempts broke away when she felt something brush against her. It was just a flutter of light cotton against her ankles, but her body tensed away as she let out a small gasp. The contact was minor in itself, but it terrified her and reminded her of her own vulnerability. Anything could be out there. Anyone.

"Hello?" she asked as she struggled to sound confident and not reveal the fear that coursed through her veins. "Is anyone there?"

Her voice echoed around the small stone cell, but there was no reply other than the sweep of cloth against the floor.

Goose pimpled littered her flesh as she strained back on her bonds. She even swung back against the slimy wall that she had avoided touching as more of the robe brushed against her. The mystery individual was pressed against her lower body.

Despite whimpering again and revealing her weakness, she did want it to be the Dark Lord. Naked, bound and helpless in a cell where no one could hear her, she knew there was a large majority of the male members of the fold who she did not want near her now. When she had a wand in her hand, she could fight away even any motivation of rape, but now...

Staring straight ahead into the darkness under some desperate plea that she could see, something else joined the sensations on her flesh.

Cold metal.

She whimpered softly as the flat side of a knife was placed over her stomach. It did not hurt, but as it was slowly alternated so that the sharp edge lightly scraped her flesh, it may as well have. The tension and fear was worse than any pain.

"Ma- master?" she pleaded softly in the darkness. "Please, Master. Is that you?"

There was no answer, but the metal was removed from her flesh. Inside she celebrated the absence of the sensation, but her moment of relief disappeared as the knife was back. In a quick slice it cut under her breast like her skin was cheese. The pain shot through her as she screamed while blood trailed down her body.

"My Lord!" she hollered again hoping it was her Lord. He may not respond to mercy but she would feel better knowing he was before her so that she was only suffering pain for his benefit and he would stop before he went too far. "Please tell me! Is that you?"

The knife struck again, this time above her shoulder. Again she cried out, though she abandoned begging for an identity.

One was obviously not coming.

Something else brushed against her skin. It was almost as cold, but it was human flesh. She tensed against the hand that slowly slid to securely hold her waist against the robed body. She flailed once, but, as the hold became more secure, she could identify the long thin fingers around her.

The Dark Lord.

"Master," she said softly to the darkness relief clear in her tone as she stopped fighting and remained slack in his grip. "My Master."

Cold laughter hit her ears rife with mirth and amusement as she felt his icy breath against her cheek. "I find it amusing," the blessed voice of her Lord said softly without a trace of emotion, "that you rejoice in my presence to such an extent."

"Of course, my Lord." She even smiled in the darkness as she stared ahead to where his face should be. "How could I not rejoice in your presence?"

"Even in such a situation?"

Her Lord phrased his statement like a question, but to her the answer seemed obvious.

"Of course, my Lord," she repeated. "Why would I not feel relieved that the only person I'm alone in the darkness with is you?"

"Even when you are so vulnerable?"

"Yes..."

She moaned softly at the sudden sensation of a hand between her legs. Skilled fingers slowly circled her clit and sent pleasure through her body. Leaning against him, she mentally urged him on as her juice seeped out onto his fingers.

"I know why," her Lord said as if he was doing nothing more than reading a newspaper. "You have developed the belief that these hands can bring you nothing but pleasure. You know what I am capable of and you know I have hurt you in the past, but you believe I would never do you any real or substantial harm."

As one of his fingers slipped inside her she had trouble ever believing he could hurt her as the volume of her moans increased. His finger curled up inside of her stroking the perfect place. She cried against him as she drew closer to her peak. She hoped he did not expect her to answer. She was sure she could not say anything coherent.

"My Bella," The sibilant quality of his voice by her ear made her body tense wonderfully around his hand as her body opened to him completely, "I know how you feel, but you are wrong."

The grip on her waist disappeared, but she hardly noticed anything with his continued ministrations. She hardly took notice of a hand around her neck.

Until it tightened.

She drew in a breath, but was unable to release it as his hand constricted around her throat. He pushed back into her windpipe as his fingers still continued to hit the perfect spot inside of her.

"I can hurt you and I will. You need to be taught a lesson that you are not invincible nor are you so superior that I need you. You are disposable."

In response to his words his grip tightened and he added another finger inside her.

She could not breathe.

She was half gasping and half moaning. She simultaneously fought and pleaded with the feeling to end and continue. She was not sure whether she was in pleasure or pain. The only thing she could think about was him and his hands.

Stars erupted in front of her eyes and she had no idea what produced it. Still her body tightened as she quivered around his hand.

She was not sure if it was pleasing or not. Her eyes were wide and she shed tears as she silently panicked by the lack of air in her lungs.

It was only as she fell over the edge that all the hands lifted from her. Suddenly the bounds from her arms disappeared and she rocketed to the ground and hit the hard stone. Panting in pleasure and pain, she looked up where her Lord must have been.

"Remember Bella," he stated his voice stinging as she tried to pull herself together on the stone floor, "it is only my will that will cause you to feel pain or pleasure. Do not make the mistake of every assuming I cannot or will not hurt you."

The hard leather sole of his boot slammed into the side of her rib flicking her over onto her back and causing fresh pain to erupt in her veins. She half expected another blow, but, as her eyes opened, there was blessed light around her and her Lord was gone. The only thing left was the acrid smell and the echo of his acrid tone in her mind.