A Brave New World

this is an evil bunny that bit the other day and wouldn\'t let go until i put it in print. either on paper or on the puter. so here it is. this definitely qualifies as an alternate universe fic. the dark lord has won the war and he and his death eaters control the magical realm. anyone who opposes the dark lord is subject to anything that strikes the dark side\'s fancy. this story is told from lucius\' point of view and involves a certain bushy haired gryffindor.

this was going to be a one shot. simply lucius and hermione. but the evil bunny came back, so there will be additional chapters. but each one will deal with a new set of characters. read further at the bottom for more information. also, i own nothing here but the plot, such as it is. everything else belongs to j.k. rowling. i make no money from this. its merely a way to purge the demons that hound me.

this fic will contain rape and sodomy, as well as some bondage and mild torture. if you do not like these topics, then please do not read any further. each chapter will vary, so please be sure to read all warnings at the beginning of each one.

please, if you like it, let me know. be kind, though. suggestions and helpful criticism is the way to go. thank you for taking the time to read it. i hope you enjoy.

A Brave New World
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucius

It is a new world, a changed world. A darker world filled with foul deeds and black magic. An exciting world that thrills me like nothing else. Not that the Muggles know about it. They are now, as ever, oblivious to the world of Wizards, Witches, Sorcery and Magic. They know nothing of sorrow and triumph. Of life and death. They know nothing of the rise of Voldemort. The return of the Dark Lord. The destruction of Light. They know nothing of me and my kind.

I am a saint among those who know me. A god among men. I have the power of life and death in my hands. I lead the elite guard. I am the Dark Lord\'s second in command. I sit at the very pinnacle of power and prestige. As head of the Death Eaters, I am the person who polices both those of the Light and Dark. I am a monster and those who know me cower before my wrath.

Harry Potter is dead. Yes, the Boy Who Lived is nothing more than dust. The brat that was Salvation of the Light is now nothing more than a shattered hope. A broken memory hidden in the deepest corner of the subconscious. Dumbledore\'s Champion fell before the first true battle of the Second War. I know. I was there. I saw him crumple to the ground like a rag doll. As if he had been a marionette with his strings cut.

I saw the look on Potter\'s face. The surprise. The pain. The total disbelief. I saw the Killing Curse fired at him. Watched the blast of putrid green light shoot toward him and strike him dead. He fell, his glasses flying off his face to land only a few feet from Dumbledore. I saw the look of utter shock on the old man\'s face as he was forced to watch his hopes wither away under a vengeful curse.

I enjoyed the look of sadness that crossed the old fool\'s face as he watched his beloved spy murder every last one of his hopes and dreams, placed lovingly on the shoulders of a stupid boy who let his guard down. I laughed when Severus took Potter\'s life and Dumbeldore\'s hopes with one single word.

Oh, yes. My dear Severus. The spy. The traitor. The man who understood better than anyone what it meant to chose sides. His spying had been an act, naturally. A ruse thought up by Lord Voldemort to keep the Order of Pheonix off-balance. Severus had been too perfect in his role, had so easily convinced Dumbledore of his remorse. Of his regretful choice.

Snape is as much a trusted advisor to the Dark Lord as I am. For his years of loyal service, he was given his choice of spoils. He took, much to my surprise, control of Hogwarts. And a few select Witches to fuck and use as he would. He has gone through those Witches already. Apparently, he is terribly hard on his property. The last I heard, Ginny Weasley was still confined to St. Mungo\'s. The Medi-Witch in charge of her care does not think the girl will ever fully regain her mind.

Though much has changed, much has stayed the same. Diagon Alley is still bustling with activity. Madam Malkin\'s shop does quite a bit of business. Fortescue\'s is still in the alley, as well as Flourish and Blott\'s and many of the other businesses that have made their home here for ages. The daily life here continues as if nothing has changed. As if the side of Dark did not prevail.

Knockturn Alley is still the place where the Dark Witches and Wizards engage in their questionable practices. The only difference now is that those things are no longer done in secret. The dim, cobblestone alley is also home to the more unsavory individuals that foul up society\'s pretty rose-colored world. Cutthroats, pick-pockets and con-men own the darkened nooks and crannies.

And then there are the more sought after, though just as unsavory, inhabitants of the alley. The prostitutes.

Knockturn Alley is ripe with whores. Women who have little respect for themselves and would gladly sell themselves to the highest bidder. Women who can find no other place in the world where they are accepted or belong. Women who have been knocked down so low by society that they have no self worth. For women like these, prostitution is a last resort. It is merely one step above death.

I frequent these women, using them as I see fit. Narcissa knows, of course. She doesn\'t like my penchant for spilling pure Malfoy seed within such an unclean vessel, but she says nothing. She simply holds no understanding of that which happens. Of that which turns me on. She cannot see how complete control of these women makes my cock so hard, it aches. She is ignorant of how their humiliation at my hands has me in a frenzy to engage in mindless sex.

Not that Narcissa doen\'t have an appreciation for inflicting pain upon a person\'s body. On the contrary, my wife is as cruel as I am. But in a far different manner. Her tactics are more subtle. More refined. Delicate. Narcissa enjoys the fine, antique straight razor I gifted her with. It is one of her favorite forms of torture. I believe her first toy, a gift from Lord Voldemort, lasted seven full days before she sought another. Not even Draco has been as hard on his personal toys as my wife is. I still fail to comprehend why he chose Ronald Weasley as one of them.

I have no personal toys. I prefer the protitutes. Put simply, they are gone the next morning and I do not ever have to deal with them again. Unless I chose to. So I take my pick of the whores, use the woman for the night, then never see her again. Always fresh meat. Always a new toy to play with. It is my most fervent desire to break these women. Many of them are victims of the war. Witches on the side of Light who actually fought Voldemort find no solace or salvation. They are hunted down and caught. Given two options. They can choose death or prostitution. The smart ones choose death.

It is always the women who think they are above pain and sorrow that choose to sell themselves. Too many of them swear they will not be affected by the misery they are subjected to. By the horrors they are forced to witness and engage in. But they always fall into madness. It is too much for their brain to comprehend and so they lose what little mind they happen to have. I like to think that I help these poor souls find a way to end their trials and tribulations.

I go to the alley at least once a week and seek out a prostitute. Someone to take to one of the flea-bitten dives that exist within the confines of Knockturn Alley and release pent up frustrations upon. Don\'t get me wrong. I use these women for sexual release. But that isn\'t all. I use them for so much more. Pleasure and Pain walk hand in hand in my world, and I use them to my every advantage. I have never yet taken one of these women home. Narcissa may be aware of what I do when away from the manor, but that doesn\'t mean that I must flaunt my deviant behavior before her. I am far too thoughtful a husband to do that to my beautiful and beloved wife.

Many of the women I find do not return to the alley\'s dark corners. I must admit that my sexual appetites are such that they find no need to return to that life. Perhaps it has to do with the amount of their blood that paints the floor and my cock. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that they do not wish to encounter me again. Whatever the reason, I almost always find pleasure with a new face. Many of them, I do not know. Nor do I remember them when the time comes to feed my voracious needs again. No matter. It is not within my nature to wish to sully myself with the same tart twice. Not with the calibre of women that haunt the dank and diseased length of Knockturn Alley.

Then again, there is always a first time for everything.

My days at the Ministry, as Minister of Magic, are endless and tedious. Since much by way of information is controlled directly from my office, there is no need to police the writings of The Daily Prophet. And, as Wizards generally do not watch something so low and droll as television, there is no need to worry about bad publicity. As head of the division that oversees what the papers write, Draco is more than able to keep anything inflammatory or damaging out of them. So much of my day is spent doing nothing.

That isn\'t to say that I don\'t have the opportunity to make and example of some upstart who prattles on about Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and the Order of Pheonix. Those occasions are simply rare ones. When I am handed one, though, the day is considerably more interesting. It never ceases to amaze me how much pain and torture a person can take before they scream like a small child and beg for their mother. Those are the days when I am apt to go straight home to the manor and take my wife to our chambers. She appreciates a good long shag as much as I do.

On this day, however, things are not going as smoothly as they should. There is word of an upstart rebellion somewhere to the north. It would figure that anyone wishing to challenge the Dark Lord\'s ultimate rule would do so from the one area of the world that still holds the power of the Light. Scotland has forever been a haven for the rebellious few who like to oppose Lord Voldemort. It is rumored that this rebellion is headed up by none other than Neville Longbottom. When I was first given this information, I laughed until I thought my sides would spilt. Everyone who knew Longbottom when he was a child knew he was nothing more than an idiot.

But he was one of the few members of Dumbledore\'s Army that was never captured. Many thought he\'d gone as insane as his parents and simply vanished. But there were too many reports of his leading this small band of rebels to believe that he\'d simply fallen into madness. The more these little upstarts revolted, the more it seemed likely that he was at the head of it. And the times when he acted up were the times when my days at the Ministry were pure hell. As I said, today has been one of those days.

Now, I am so incensed over the happenings of the day that I have even lowered myself to hitting my son. Draco\'s eyes, so much like my own, promised a painful retribution almost as soon as my hand had left his pale cheek. The mark is still a vivid red against the near white of his skin. I will not apologize to the boy, even though I feel remorse for such an action. I am, after all, a Malfoy and Malfoys do not apologize. Not even to their families.

As my day ends, I roughly jerk my gloves onto my hands. My cloak is swirled angrily about my shoulders and I snatch up my cane roughly. I am leaving the office, my intent being to head straight for the promised release awaiting me in Knockturn Alley. I know that there are new faces down there. I heard the head of the agency responsible for finding the traitors and putting them to work speaking about the new bunch. He laughed as he told how there were three or four women working under the illusion that life as a whore would be easy for them. Those women have yet to meet me and learn that I am their superior. Their Master. But they are soon to find out.

I leave my office, stalking up the halls toward the lift that will take me up to the Atrium where all of the floo stations are. It is my intent to floo from the Ministry to the Leaky Cauldron, then enter Diagon Alley from there. The Atrium is nearly devoid of people and I make my way to the outgoing floos, negligently tossing a handful of powder over myself as I step onto the grate and call out my destination.

The pub is bustling with activity, Tom behind the bar serving drinks to his patrons. No one takes note of me as I walk through the main room, out the back door and to the brick wall. With the end of my cane, I tap the appropriate bricks. It takes them a few moments to move and pile back on themselves, reforming into a spacious opening that leads directly into Diagon Alley. I step through the portal and make my way with purposeful strides to the entrance that leads to Knockturn Alley.

The light here is dimmer and I stop a moment to allow my eyes time to adjust. It smells fetid down here. My nose wrinkles in disgust, but I soon find my feet moving me forward in anticipation. The very idea that I am here to find fresh meat has me hard and willing already. I am always thankful to the generous cut of my trousers. Otherwise, I could find myself in pain on occasions such as this. The cane taps the ground with each step, a pattern set by my shoes and the metal tip on the wooden shaft. I pass the businesses with ease, deciding that I will go and find my victim for the night directly.

There is a sound like scuffling from up ahead, feet scraping over the wet and mouldering cobblestones as two bodies fight. Grunts and groans mingle with the other noises, their pitch telling me that two women are likely having a physical disagreement. This is where I will find my fresh meat. It is always the same when new whores are set loose in the alley. They find themsleves squabbling with the established tarts for places. The older women get the best spots on the narrow alley. As I round the corner, the sight that greets me makes my cock even harder.

The younger and obviously newer of the two women is held in by the more experienced whore. She has her arm locked tight about the throat of the newcomer. The young one is clawing at her arm, obviously struggling for air. The older woman is one I recognize and know well. She\'s been on the streets for a very long time and she knows well enough how to defend her territory from foolish invaders. There is a small ring of other women circling the two combatants, cheering their favorite on. Silence crashes down upon them when they spy me and the circle breaks apart.

The new girl stumbles from the hold of the older prostitute. \"That `ad best teach ya to stay out o\' moi spot!\" Abigail, the older woman, snarls. The younger clears the mess of shaggy hair from her face, a retort on her lips for her attacker. She sees me and brown eyes flash wide in a pale face covered with dirt as well as fresh scratches and blood. I am certain there is a bruise or two there somewhere. My eyes widen as I stare and I feel my erection actually throb sharply within the confines of my trousers.

\"Miss Granger,\" I purr at her. Her chocolate brown eyes are wide with fear and disbelief. I know at this moment that she is the fresh meat I will have this night. I can recall many a conversation with Severus that involved her in some manner. Despite her being a filthy mudblood, I find myself enrapt with the stupid chit. Our first meeting still sets my blood to boiling with a lust so strong it is almost too much for even a hedonist such as myself. I have watched this woman grow up, watched her move from an awkward girl into a young lady. A rather attractive young lady, too. And obviously one of the women caught and branded as supporters of the Light. And now, she is mine.

The situation is simply too delicious to be believed. Here in my hands is one of the three banes of my son\'s existence. And a girl who has captivated me since I\'d first laid eyes on her. And she is to be all mine. I give them all a good look over, as if I am considering anyone other than the little mudblood. My eyes go over her last, taking time to rake her lean figure. She is filthy, her clothing little more than rags hanging from her shoulders. Her hair is snarled and ratted about her head. There is dirt and blood marking the paleness of her face. She is a perfect picture of temptation and I know that I cannot let her from my grasp without first showing her that I am so much better than she is.

\"Come with me,\" I order. The other women are now looking at her with a sorrowful gaze. They know well what happens to the girls I pick to fuck. They are simply never quite the same. I have even heard that one girl took her own life rather than face more nights like the one I gifted her with. Miss Granger stares at me as if she has never seen me before. Her eyes are wide and bright, a faint glimmer of hope burning in them. She thinks I will offer her salvation. Little does she know that I am doing nothing of the kind. I am her damnation and she will fall headlong into hell, screaming and bleeding with my name on her lips.

She follows me wordlessly. I have my back turned to her so she cannot see the evil smirk that spreads my lips. I have Hermione Granger, the annoying little mudblood, in my grasp and I can do with her whatever I wish. This is indeed a special occasion and I decide that taking her any where other than my dungeon playroom at Malfoy Manor will be a waste of the opportunity. So I lead her silently up the crowded alley, toward the opening into Diagon Alley.

She is stared at as she trails after me, but she doesn\'t see the looks of pity that follow her. She only knows the false hope that burns in her heart. She truly thinks that I will set her free of this degrading and horrible way of life. Little does she know that I am the reason she is nothing more than a whore now. It is my legislation that has given the Ministry the right to make traitors nothing more than a sex toy for sale.

Into the Leaky Cauldron we go and all eyes turn toward us. There is whispering as we pass, but I pay them no mind. I care nothing for what they say about myself or the girl behind me. My only thoughts are now given to what I plan on doing with her when I get her back to Malfoy Manor. She follows me to the fireplace. I motion her in wordlessly, then step in beside her, a handful of floo powder in my clenched fist. I toss it over our heads and call out my destination. \"Malfoy Manor!\"

We are gone in a conflagration of green flames.

~*~*~*~*~

The dungeon playroom is furnished with all sorts of items, though most are hidden behind the numerous tapestries that hang over the dull gray stones. There are alcoves all over the room, little spaces set back into the wall to allow for the storage of any number of things. I ignore her, moving to one of the alcoves to fetch out a few items I will need. She is standing in the center of the room, staring about her as if she can\'t believe that she is in such a place. I watch her a moment after turning, then march forward with a small box in one hand, two pieces of leather in the other.

The silly girl stares at me in confusion. I smile at her, then motion to the floor. \"On your knees, Miss Granger,\" I instruct.

\"But...\" she begins. I silence her with the back of my hand to her cheek. Her hand lifts to the stinging flesh, her eyes now wide and just beginning to show the first hint of fear. Once more, I indicate the floor.

\"On your knees, Miss Granger,\" I command softly. She stares at me in dumbstruck horror. It is just starting to dawn on her what is going to happen. I offer her a smile that is very nasty. I watch as she swallows hard, then sinks slowly to her knees. My hand reaches out and lifts her chin, staring at her for a few moments. Then I slip one of the pieces of leather about her throat and lock it in place there. The posture collar forces her head up and back ever so slightly. \"Oh yes. Very nice,\" I comment.

My gaze wanders over the kneeling figure before me, taking note of the dirty and torn garments. I frown and clap my hands. One of the ghastly Elves that serve my family pops in and looks up at me expectantly. I gesture to the urchin that is my new plaything. The Elf\'s ears bob as the bald head nods. Already, the creature knows what it is I require. It pops out for only the briefest of moments, then returns with another pop. This time, it brings a shallow pan of water. There is also a bar of soap and a wash rag. \"Do be sure you get every inch of her scrubbed clean.\"

I step back to watch as the Elf goes to work on her. Her robes are pulled from her body and immediately disappear before they can hit the floor. Then the Elf is all hands, the rag in one and the soap in the other. He scrubs and scrubs at the naked body. It takes some time, attesting to the amount of accumulated filth that covers her. When the little being steps away from her, Hermione\'s skin glows pink with health and the scrubbing. I see her naked for the very first time. It is quite the sight.

My heart pounds in my chest while my erection presses tight within the confines of my trousers. She is all pale, milky skin with blushing pink nipples and dark curls. Her hands lift in an attempt to cover her nakedness, but my scowl sees her lowering them. She stares at me, her hair wet and dripping on the floor. I want to take her now. I want to ruin her and use her. I want to do so many things to her. But I refrain. I want to build up to the ultimate experience. I want to hold back until it feels as though I will die if I do not take her, then bury myself inside of her and pound into her until my back snaps and the head of my cock shoves out through her mouth.

Oh, so very nice. I do want to have a piece of that. But, there are a few things that must be taken care of first. I move to the far wall, to one of the tapestry covered alcoves. I pull the fine piece of woven wall hanging aside. I glance over the shelves and decide in a pair of leather cuffs that I have had specially made. These cuffs are longer than usual. The parts that go around the wrists are typical. They lock into place as any pair of cuffs do. But they do not stop at the wrist. No, these cuffs lace all the way up to the elbows, binding the arms together but leaving the hands loose to grasp or scratch. The utter blackness of the leather will look simply spectacular against the whiteness of her skin.

I make my way back over to where she kneels, stopping behind her. I do not bother to issue a command. I simply grab one arm, then the other, and force them into the cuffs. I lock them on her, then lace the sleeves up so that her arms are pulled together behind her back. When I\'m finished, I walk back around to look at her from the front.

I stare down at her, my cock twitching in anticipation. Hermione sits on her knees with her arms pulled tightly behind her back and bound together. This thrusts her pert breasts out toward me. My hands itch to grasp her niipples, my fingers aching to pluck and pull at them. I resist the temptation to give in. I will have my opportunity to play with her. But there are things that must be done before I can indulge. The thought of things to come brings a frightening smile to my face.

My pet does not see the smile. Her eyes are downcast, almost completely closed. I\'m sure she would hang her head and hide behind her drying hair if it were possible. The thick leather of her collar does not allow for such luxuries. Her cheeks are stained red, the blush heightening the freshly scrubbed pink of her cheeks. A spot of dirt remains and brings a scowl to my face. \"Accio wand!\" I hold a hand out and blindly catch my walking stick when it floats into my opened extremity.

I draw the wand, waving it over her head. A cleansing spell removes the spot on her cheek. I slip my wand back into its holder inside the hollowed out cane, a glint lighting my eyes as a thought occurs to me. I have a use for my cane later. First, I must start my new pet\'s initiation into the world of Lucius Malfoy.

Lifting the small box in one hand, I open the lid with the other. From inside, I withdraw a set of clamps. Each one has a weight in the shape of a snake dangling from it. Holding the silver jewelry in one hand, I reach out to palm one of her breasts. The globe is not overly large, but there is a good weight to it as it rests in my hand. I squeeze it gently, the tips of my fingers needing at the soft tissue. I feel her nipple pebble up against my palm.

I shift my fingers down to pluck and manipulate the hardened tip of her breast. The action brings her nipple to a tight point and draws a sigh from between her slightly parted lips. I bring the other hand over, the fingers securing the clamp to her nipple nimbly. Her moan turns to a soft scream and she lifts tear-filled eyes to my face. Offering her a smile, I show her the partner to the clamp presently ardorning her delicious looking breast. The teeth are sharp and jagged, uncovered. When the teeth grip the flesh, they cut into it.

\"Please don\'t,\" she sobs when my free hand reaches for the unadorned breast. I scowl at her, my fingers giving a vicious tug to the already attacthed clamp. She cries out, her teeth sinking into her lip. At the same moment that a singular drop of blood wells up against her pearly white teeth, another swells up from her torn nipple, painting her flesh crimson.

\"You will not speak until I give you permission to do so,\" I tell her sternly. Then my fingers pluck at the bare nipple, pulling and twisting it hard to bring it to a tight peak. When it stands up, I slip the other clamp into place. When I step back to survey my work, I see that her breasts are swelling and turning red, one of them painted with a trickle of blood where the spilled drop has slid over and caressed her flesh. It is a heady sight and my erection stiffens even further in response, if such a thing is possible.

I step back another pace, my gaze riveted to her chest. I watch her breasts rise and fall in her agitation, with fear and pain. The sight is so intoxicating that I almost lose control of myself. I pick up my cane again and move close to her. Her eyes are now wide as they stare up at me. I smirk at her, then lower the head of my cane to touch it to one of her tortured breasts. The mouth of the snake hangs open and one of the fangs pulls on the weight hanging there.

Her cry is long and loud, full of pain and fear. It is a symphony to me, music to my ears.
I drag the head of my cane lower, allowing it to catch on the ridge of her belly button. She shudders, a whimper of fear rolling up her throat. I smile, imagining her belly button pierced by a silver piece of metal, then allow the cane to slip lower. When the snake\'s head makes its way between her slightly splayed thighs, she shakes her head and tries to shift her legs together. An intense scowl and my foot between her legs puts an end to that.

\"My, my. What do we have here?\" I ask as I drop the head down, then press inward. Her eyes fly wide and look up at me in shock. I can see her begging me with them not to do this thing. I ignore her look, pressing the cane into her harder. I am not penetrating her with the cane. I will leave that for my cock. For the moment, I am simply going to give her a preview of what is to come.

As I have done this before, I know precisely what I am doing. I know where her clit is located and that is my goal. That small nubbin of flesh will experience the exposed fangs of the snake head. When I am through, the little witch will have a new understanding of the meaning of pain. I know the first time I catch her clit with one of the sharp fang tips. She whimpers, her bottom shifting as she tries to pull away from my cane. I simply press harder, driving the fang into her soft and supple flesh.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks before I let up. She once again has her lower lip between her teeth, more blood welling up where the sharp edges have broken through the thin outer layer of skin. The sight of her blood is an aphrodisiac to me. I will have to have her soon, or I will disgrace myself before her. It would be a shame to be forced to kill her before I fuck her. So I relent and withdraw my cane. The fang is dotted red, the color accentuated by the pure silver of the snake\'s head. I smile at her, lifting the cane so that I can touch a finger to the crimson drop. She watches as I bring my finger to my mouth. I lick the drop from my fingertip with my tongue, watching her the entire time I do so.

Her eyes are so wide now that I fear they will fall from her head if she doesn\'t stop staring as she is. As I have more planned for her, this is unacceptable behavior. I set my cane down on a nearby work table and move to retrieve something needed for the coming events. She cannot help but watch my every move, as if she expects to break free while my back is turned. The notion is childish and too simple for someone of her intelligence to even consider. Never mind the fact that only my magic and that of my House Elves will even work in this room.

I survey the room, giving a critical eye to each and every item in my playroom. I finally decide on the table. It is just that; a table. But it has been given a few adjustments to suit my needs in this place. The first one is that the legs are cut to a specific height so that I will not strain myself in the midst of the act. The second alteration happens to be three sets of leather cuffs. One set is on the far side, meant for my plaything\'s wrists. Another set is on the near side so that I may bind her legs to the table top. The third set is located on the table\'s legs, near the floor to hold the ankles in place, keeping the legs open wide. Any woman that I have strapped to that table has been positioned properly so that my cock is always even with her opening. Either one of them, actually.

\"Up!\" I order sharply. Hermione looks up at me, her eyes telling me that she cannot gain her feet as she is. The sleeved cuffs holding her arms have taken her balance away from her. I heave a sigh, one that sounds as if I am not happy with this turn of events, then move behind her to unlace and unlock the cuffs. When her arms are freed and she has rotated them about so that she once more has motion and feeling in them, I grab one of her wrists and jerk her roughly over to the table. Her head is already shaking in the negative.

\"You will do as I say, or I will not hesitate to kill you here and now,\" I snarl at her. Some small flame of defiance shines in her eyes and I smile. Oh yes, a true Gryffindor to the end. Too bad that makes little difference to me. If she thinks that I will not make good on my threat, the girl is not only sadly mistaken but delusional, as well. With a faint shove, I toss her over the table. She hits the edge with a cry of pain, her torso slamming down against the top. Before she can think about standing I am there, buckling one wrist to the table followed quickly by the other one.

I give brief thought to the fact that the girl has yet to say more than two words. According to Draco, she had a most difficult time keeping her mouth shut while in school. Here, she is blessedly silent. Obedience would be nice, but is not required. But I push the thought aside as I walk slowly around the table to stand behind her. Her arse is upturned now, two globes that are perfectly shaped and begging to be tortured. I turn back to fetch my cane and to retrieve the other item brought from the alcove. I set them both on the table for the moment, giving all of my attention over to staring at her arse.

After several moment\'s silent contemplation, I decide that her bottom is simply too lovely to not exploit to the fullest. So I force her legs up on the flat surface, pulling them out just enough to slip the cuffs about her ankles. This position has her bum thrust upward but her legs are spread slightly so that she is opened up to me, even though she is nowhere near being wet. I move to an alcove and fetch a small jar of lubrication. I should hate for things to be so bad that I do not enjoy the act at all. That simply would not do.

Wordlessly, I unscrew the lid and dip two fingers into the viscous fluid. I set the jar down on the table, then reach once more for my cane. Carefully I smear the lubricant over the tip of my cane then turn to her. She cannot see what I am doing, can only hear the odd noise, so she starts in surprise when I circle the puckered rim of her arsehole with one of the fingers that still has the smallest amount of the gel on it. I feel her tense when the tip touches the ring of muscles. This tells me that she is likely not used to be taken this way. All the more fun for me.

Ruthlessly, I press my finger in. The muscles around me are tight as she tenses further. She tries to push my finger out of her bottom. This makes me force it into her body deeper. She cries out softly. This will be such sweet punishment. I leave my finger buried in her arse for a few moments longer, then withdraw it. I can hear her sigh of relief, so I waste no time. I lift my cane, using both hands. One holds while the other serves as a guide. When my hand touches her bottom once more, she automatically tenses. Then she is sobbing when I press the tip of my cane past the ring of her entrance.

I feed it into her bottom gently, only pushing it in far enough that it will not fall out easily. I can feel her trembling. Whether with fear or excitement, I can\'t be sure. I allow my hand to curl over the curve of one of her butt cheeks, patting the globe almost tenderly. \"Now, my dear. That must remain precisely where it is at. Should you let it fall out, I will be most disappionted in you. Then I shall punish you accordingly. Do you understand me?\" I ask her, my voice a low, sultry whisper to fill the silence of the room. She nods her head mutely in the affirmative.

Gingerly, I pick up the other item brought from the alcove. My hand is curled losely over the shaft of a heavy leather flogger. The tails are made up of thin strips braided together. The head of the handle is home to a snake\'s head that is mate to the one on my cane. A lovely pair of toys. I swing the flogger back and forth a few times, letting my hand once more become accustomed to the weight of the toy. Then I swing it for real, allowing the tails to rain down on her bottom. If one of them jars the cane buried in her bottom, so much the better.

I allow blow after blow to land on her upturned arse. Her cheeks slowly color, starting off at a pale pink and steadily growing to a soft red. If her cries are anything to go by, the cane is shifting deeper into her body. I lose track of how many blows I gift her with. I only know that the sight of her kneeling on my table, her arse turned out to me, is making my cock so tight that I\'m afraid I will explode the moment I slip inside of her. Sadly, I know that I must put the flogger and cane up and give my aching member the reward it so richly deserves.

I remove the cane from her arse and set it down on another table, then set about removing my clothing. Once everything is folded and laid in a neat pile on the table, I turn back to her. My hand unconsciously reaches for my pulsing cock, stroking up and down the length idly as I consider the options spread before me. It doesn\'t take me very long to make my decision. I step up behind her, my hand once more reaching for the jar of lubricant. I spread it on my length slowly, savoring the feel of my hand stroking over my own body. Then I set the jar down and inch closer to her. The whimpers are loud and immediate the moment my cock head touches her slightly stretched rim.

I ignore the way she shakes her head at me, instead holding the base to guide myself into her ass. Getting past the puckered rim proves difficult and I have to force my way into her. She cries out loudly and I know that tears are slipping over her cheeks. Her passage is tight and dry, so I have to work hard at thrusting in and out. Her body trembles beneath mine. I am under no illusions as to the why of it. Her bottom is virginal and I am taking that from her by force. The thought only serves to heighten my desire for her.

I set my pace, pounding into her with enough force to move her across the flat surface. This is one of the reasons she is bound and helpless. I know without having to ask that I am hurting her and I\'m almost positive that I can feel the smallest amount of fluid covering my cock as I work in and out of her. I am tearing the tight channel I am buried in. If not for my restraint, learned at the hand of the Dark Lord, I would spill myself into her ass here and now. But I can hold back for a time longer. I simply wish to enjoy the feel of her body cleaving so tightly to my pistoning length.

She is crying, her entire body now shaking. My hands have long since curled into the flesh stretched over her hips, holding her as I furiously plow into her arse. She is so tight around my length. So hot. So painfully dry, despite the lubrication spread over my cock before shoving into her. I know she must be in agony, yet I do not care. Her pain is my pleasure. And I take copious amounts of pleasure in this act. In defiling her virgin ass. The idea that no man has ever drived his cock into her bottom has me pounding faster. Harder. She is nearly screaming at this.

The sound of her pain is music to my ears. It is all I need to bring my release to the front. I can feel it nearing in how my balls tighten up. In the knot that is forming at the base of my spine. Forming and tightening with each stroke. If I do not wish to disgrace myself and fill her ass, I need to withdraw now. Though the idea to do just that is tempting, I pull free of her arse and postition the head of my cock against the opening to her cunt. She is shaking her head, pleading incoherently for me not to do this. I can hear the pain in her voice as she begs me.

I arch my hips and shove forward.

The scream that bounces off the walls is ear shattering. I moan as I feel her hymen tear away. The sound of her pain and the feel of her virginity dying at my hands combines to send a shaft of pleasure straight to my groin. She is so very tight around me. Who would have thought that Hermione Granger would still be a virgin after all this time? The idea that I am the one who has rid her of her chastity sends a thrill of power coursing through my veins. It heightens my arousal and I can feel myself swelling with in her. I will not last much longer.

I increase my pace, my hips thrashing against hers as I fight to hold on for just a few more moments. It is akin to heaven being buried inside of her body, the feel of her muscles clenched so tightly about my cock as it pistons in and out a wondrous thing. I feel my balls tighten, feel them pull up against my body in preparation. I find myself slamming wildly into her body. All of my poise and carefully groomed manners are gone. I simply want to fuck her senseless. I want to lose myself within her body. I am no longer Lucius Malfoy here. I am a man and her Master. I will possess her and take what I want. And she will give it to me. Because she has no choice.

A loud groan rolls up my throat as I drive into her one last time. I shove my cock deep, buried to the hilt as I lose control and release myself into her. Her sobs fill the silence of the room, her body trembling violently beneath mine. I arch my hips, thrusting a few more times until I am fully spent. Even now, with a good fucking, she is still tight around me. And I know she is afraid of me. With exception of the blood shed while relieving her of her virginity, she is still dry. Finally, after some time spent merely catching my breath while my cock remains buried inside of her to mark my possession of her, I pull back and withdraw.

I stare at her for a moment, watching with mild fascination as pearly pink fluid dribbles from her abused pussy and splatters on the table top. A mix of my seed and her blood. This brings my gaze to my flaccid member. It excites me to see my cock painted with her virgin\'s blood and my own blood once more begins to fill my penis. I smirk at this. It is not a common occurance, but it does happen from time to time. I shall have to find some way to relieve the returned hardness. My appetite is voracious, after all.

I walk slowly around the table, my stiffening cock bouncing slightly with the movement. Her eyes are wide and wet and they latch immediately onto my groin when I move into her line of sight. I cup her cheek with one hand. \"Open your mouth, pet. I need a bath and you shall give me that,\" I instruct politely enough.

She hesitates for a moment or two, then opens her mouth for me. I pat the top of her head like one would a dog, then curl both hands over her head, covering her ears and digging my fingers into hair and scalp. My hips press forward to feed my erection into her mouth. The skin glistens pink with a combination of spent seed and blood. I know without being told that she finds the act disgusting and repulsive. It is this that makes it all the more enjoyable for me.

I feel her gag when I press deep, forcing the head of my cock to the back of her throat and then down it. \"Should you even think that you will be given a reprieve for vomiting, let me warn you now. I will let you choke before I withdraw. It would be best should you learn how to open your throat now and avoid dying in such a humiliating way.\"

I do not know how she manages it, but she does precisely that. She opens her throat to me, allowing more of my length to slip down her throat. I stop only when her nose is pressed to the fine silvery curls that sit at the base of my shaft. Then I slowly withdraw, only to shove back into her with force. Soon, I have a rhythm set and I am actively fucking her mouth while my erection thickens and lengthens further. Soon, she is crying again. Her mouth is tight around my erection and it takes almost no time at all for her to learn the finer points to performing fellatio. With her mouth so hot and wet and tight around me, it takes no time at all for her to bring me to release a second time. She is an amazingly quick study.

When I release, I push myself deep into her mouth. My member pulses a moment, then I\'m shooting thick ropes of my seed down her throat. She swallows it without being told, her throat working to draw more of my orgasm from me. Soon, I am limp and soft and it is only then that I allow myself to fall from between her lips. She closes her eyes, the tears rolling down her cheeks like rivers as she weeps out her pain and humiliation. The sight does not move me. The drop of pearly seed on her lips, slowly working its way down over her chin, is what moves me. I generously release her bonds.

As I stand here, my chest heaving from exhertion and release, I look down upon her. She is curled into a ball on the table top, crying and shaking. The woman has given me something that no one else has ever been able to give. Peace. The decision is made. I will keep her as my own personal toy. I move toward her, negilgently waving a hand to summon a leash to me. She cowers from me as I get closer to her. I reach for her chin, lifting it so that I can look her in the eye. \"Welcome to my home, pet.\"

The leash locks into place, the click loud and final in the silence of the playroom.

fin Lucius
~~~~~~~~

well, here\'s my evil little Lucius bunny. i hope that you enjoyed it. if so, please feel free to let me know. if you have problems with it, allow me to remind you... you were warned, so reading to this point was your choice. do not flame me if you didn\'t care for you. i made clear up there what was happening here. if you must criticise, do it in a constructive manner.

now..... as i stated at the top, this was to be a one-shot. but the bunnies multiplied on me and now this will be multi-chaptered. however, the chapters will each involve a different set of characters. so i need some help. i need pairings for Death Eaters and their... toys. the next chapter will be Ron and Draco, but i will accept suggestions as to what you would like to see happen between the two of them. i plan on doing a chapter with Narcissa. who should she be allowed to torture? there will also be a chapter with Snape. i need suggestions for him, too. you can either leave them in the reviews or email them to me at ladydeathfaerie@yahoo.com

can you think of anyone else to put in here? and who to put them with?