Hole

For my most persistent reviewer, dmdarklord. I hope you enjoy it!
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Draco quite enjoyed his father's Piquet Nights. They were a chance for the most prominent men of Wizarding Britain to get drunk together and lose large amounts at cards. An invitation to piquet at Malfoy Manor could not be bought or bargained for, and as such was highly sought after.

Tonight, more than twenty men were gathered at the tables in the Red Drawing Room. Lucius had glamoured the four slaves acting as waiting staff to appear as unnaturally beautiful golden-haired pairs of twins, one pair male and one female. They were dressed for the evening in poison green trimmed with gold, the boys in simple sleeveless tunics and leggings and the girls in corseted dresses from which their bountiful breasts spilled enticingly.

The edge of the room was lined with small tables for serious piquet players while the more sociable men played whist at the larger central tables. A number of low settees in the large bay window would doubtless become more popular as the freely imbibing guests lost their inhibitions as the evening wore on.

Draco started the evening playing piquet with Blaise, a familiar and comfortable opponent. Many an evening had been whiled away at Hogwarts this way. After a few games they were more or less even and Draco excused himself to circulate. His father was seated at a whist table with three members of the Wizengamot, and he was losing. That was unusual. Draco couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose, for some strategic reason unknown to Draco, or if he was simply not doing well this evening. As he watched, Lucius pulled one of the passing slave-girls into his lap, his cards idly dangling from one hand while the other pinched her arse. He was definitely doing it on purpose then; classic distraction technique.

Draco gestured to the nearest boy to refill the glasses that the girl in Lucius' lap hadn't reached, then joined another whist table which needed a fourth.

By midnight, the atmosphere was completely different. Only two of the piquet tables were now occupied, one where two hereditary enemies fought a bitter battle which was going to cost one of them a large number of galleons. Half a dozen respectful watchers were gathered around the pair to see fair play.

On the other side of the room an uproarious group was gathered around two witty older men who were less interested in scoring points in their game than in entertaining the onlookers. The game finally broke up in high good humour, with the two adversaries staggering merrily over to the couches to continue the fun, taking the onlookers with them. Since Lucius was monitoring the grudge match Draco joined the merry crowd.

All of the slaves were looking fairly dishevelled by this point of the evening, having been prodded, pinched and patted at every turn. Regular attendees knew that the slaves would inevitably end up spitted at both ends by the end of the evening, although the more cautious of guests preferred not to hand their host blackmail material. Tonight it was Theo Nott who inserted two meaty hands under the first girl's breasts and hauled them out of her bodice for further attention. It seemed to serve as some sort of signal, and within twenty minutes the more conservative guests had made their farewells while the uninhibitedly licentious and the irredeemably drunk were unbuttoning their breeches. Draco, trained by Lucius to observe such moments for potentially useful information, sat back quietly in the corner.

Draco pinpointed the slave in Theo's lap as Pretty. She kept her back rigidly straight, head thrown slightly back as she raised and lowered herself on his cock. Theo had his face buried in her breasts, nipping and sucking them. Interesting. His wife was rather underendowed in that department.

The other girl Draco guessed to be Swan. She knelt with instinctive grace at the feet of a respected elder of the Wizengamot, leaning close in, her head bobbing and her hand working inside his robes. At her arse, the elder's heir-apparent was thrusting eagerly between milk-white thighs.

Two men - Draco noted their names - had their hands busily working on their pricks, eyes fixed avidly on the fucking couples. Evidently they preferred to watch and wank rather than wait their turn, while as usual Terry Boot had his sketchbook in front of him and was busily doing quick ink sketches of the scene. Draco had never seen Boot so much as touch himself, but he was a regular attendee and frequently presented Lucius and Draco with sketches as mementos of the evenings. Draco watched as his pink tongue crept out to lick his lips, face taut with concentration as he drew.

Half a dozen other men lazed on the couches, chatting and waiting their turns, some with their hands idly running up and down their bared cocks, others stroking more circumspectedly over the tented fabric at their groins. Most of them preferred the girls, although they weren't too fussy when it came to a talented mouth. A few definitely preferred the boys.

Draco turned around to see that behind him MacNair - who would fuck anything with a hole in it - had wasted no time seizing the slave that Draco had identified as Butter, reaming him with characteristic brutality over a whist table. Lucius refused to allow toys at these evenings, considering that they lowered the tone of the evening, but Draco thought that MacNair missed his whips and knives.

On the other side of the table Archie Browne had firmly twined his hand in Butter's angelic curls and was lazily enjoying the boy's pretty red mouth, allowing MacNair's brutal thrusts to do most of the work of moving the boy onto and off his cock.

Finally, Draco's eyes sought out the last male slave. He had known since the beginning of the evening that it was, it must be, Hole. The way the boy walked, the characteristic turn of his head; Draco could not mistake him for anyone else.

In the far corner Lucius was sharing the slave with the winning piquet player from the grudge match. Together they chatted idly, having pulled out the piquet table from the wall in order to arrange the boy over it. Lucius was enjoying the slave's arse, making sure, Draco saw, to crush the boy's genitals against the table with every controlled thrust. His companion was waving his glass of firewhisky around as Hole licked and sucked at a cock that moved erratically in and out of range. As Draco watched, the man spilled a little of his drink then caught himself and moved in a little closer, seeming almost unconscious of the boy striving to pleasure him. His hand moved down to rest on the slave's head, and Draco could see the extra strain on Hole's face as he strove to keep his head up under the pressure, tongue working to circle the pink head of the wandering cock and bring it in closer to capture between his lips.

Lucius leaned over to ask his companion something, emphasising the movement with a vicious jab of his hips, then laughed and pulled out. The two men swapped ends. Now the other man was more interested. He put down his glass and gripped Hole's hips, pistoning in and out in a quickening rhythm. Lucius watched with a smile, then turned his attention to fucking the slave's prettily glamoured mouth. Draco watched, groin aching, until he saw Hole's throat working to swallow. He set his jaw and turned to the other guests. The evening was by no means over.