Refuge Has Its Price

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A/N: WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT. Consider yourself warned. **snickers**



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CHAPTER 12: LUNA\'S WEDDING NIGHT; Part Two













Voldemort\'s crimson gaze shifted around his bedchamber with curious interest. Many things were now different, here and there.







Obviously, his new bride had wasted no time in putting her own \'little touches\' on his private chambers, claiming them as her abode as well. Ah well, at least his young witch had excellent taste.







Earlier, Voldemort had noticed several new articles in the sitting area outside as well, but had made no comment about it as the changes had been so minor.







A few books, her crystal ball, and the odd picture or two.







In here, however, real changes had been made. Primarily the improvements were to his fully canopied four-poster bed. He couldn\'t help it. The Dark Lord\'s mouth curved up in a wide, pleased, smile.







It was time to show his appreciation.









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(Earlier that night)









Luna stepped from her bath, leaving all of her little girl\'s tears and idle, frightened, thoughts to drain away with the used water. She toweled off, brushed her long pale-blonde hair out to shiny perfection, and applied the tiniest dab of her mother\'s violet-scented perfume behind her ears and on her wrists.







She slipped the white, gossamer, chemise over her pale head, and smoothed it down in place over her petite, girlish, frame, then added the matching silk-and-lace confection of a negligee over it. Luna somberly stared into the large bathroom mirror at someone she didn\'t even recognize.







She grimaced and poked out her tongue at her reflection, and softly sighed, as she dispassionately looked herself over.







Luna knew that she wasn\'t beautiful. She had never aroused any male interest, except for their mockery and cruel jeers. No boy had ever asked her to \'walk out\' with him, not even on a single daytrip into Hogsmeade.







Now Luna felt like an ignorant child playing \'dress-up\' in her Mum\'s things.







It would have to do. She was now a grown-up, by law, as a married woman. She only hoped that she didn\'t look as young and helpless as she felt.







Luna was resigned to her fate. She\'d always known that her destiny lay with the Dark Lord, even though she had tried desperately to fight against it.







She wistfully sighed again.







Her mother had been a young Slytherin, and her father was an almost ancient Ravenclaw. Despite theirs having been an arranged marriage, her parents eventually managed to have an emotionally satisfying life together, prior to her Mum\'s unfortunate demise in that potion\'s accident when Luna was nine years-old.







Perhaps, someday in the distant future, she too would know, if not ever love, then at least a comfortable companionship with her own Slytherin husband.







Even if he was Lord Voldemort.







Luna still allowed herself to hope. How odd!









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Luna made only one request of Bellatrix Lestrange, in answer to that witch\'s question as to what she wanted; to be granted access to her personal house elf, Scratch, and thereby access to her Dower Chest.







After much conversation and pleading, Bellatrix Lestrange finally consented to allow Luna to summon her personal house elf, Scratch, even if meant Bella might have to endure the Cruciatus should her doing so provoke the Master\'s anger. However, Bella wasn\'t so foolish that she forgot to have the young witch make a wizard\'s oath; swearing that she wouldn\'t use her elf to attempt escape, or have it cause any harm to the Master . . . or to Luna herself.







Bellatrix had her own cause to commiserate with the new bride, if only on this one point, witch-to-witch, and had truly felt justified in allowing her new Dark Lady access to her Dower Chest.







Bella knew how extremely important her own chest was to her. Every witch had a Dower Chest; they were considered indispensable for all witches, in general.







Luna\'s mother had started her Dower Chest when she\'d been born. It was another Witch\'s Tradition.







The Wizarding World followed a strictly patriarchal bent. Witches were legally considered chattel; merely a wizard\'s property, only a notch or two above slaves and house elves in their worth, other than as breeding machines.







Seen as such, all witches were kept under their father or guardian\'s strict control from their birth until they\'d turned fifty, when they could officially retire into their family home as "old maids". Of course, they could also be given into their husband\'s control, upon an arranged marriage, until death claimed one or the other spouse.







Widowhood was the only legal way for a witch to truly gain her freedom. The threat of being publicly flayed alive, however, ensured that only a few witches per century ever took it upon themselves to hasten their husband\'s departure from the mortal coil, no matter how badly the marriage went.







Although, within the last hundred years or so, the lay-rules for what was now socially acceptable, and considered to be proper etiquette, had changed somewhat.







The lay-rules had relaxed enough so that women could now live on their own without stigma, have their own careers (with their male guardian\'s approval, of course), hold title and deed to property in their own name, and handle their own money. However, the old harsh laws governing witches lurked ever close by; still active, still on the books, and, occasionally, still acted upon.







Their patriarchal guardian could quite legally confiscate a witch\'s wand, banish, marry them off, or disinherit them, and all simply on his whim.







Witches still did not have the right to vote for anything, much less the repeal of outmoded laws. The female members of the Wizengamot were merely there for \'appearance sake\'. They could truly give no opinion of their own, merely serving as the mouthpiece for their retired fathers; wizards who had never managed to sire a son to inherit his position on the honored judgment board.







Witches fought back the only way that they could, through the Dower Chest that every female child received at her birth into the Wizarding World.







They were used to hold inherited maternal family china, valuable silver and crystal, linens, amulets, girlhood gifts of jewelry, and the money-gifts that no man could ever take away; many galleons, magically endowered within each chest during its\' creation.







Dower Chests were individually goblin-made of impenetrable ironwood. They were as strong and long lasting as Gringott’s vaults, a kind of portable, magical, safety deposit box.







Ordinary wizarding magic couldn\'t open or destroy them. Each Dower Chest was almost sentient, due to being created on a different plane of magic . . . goblin magic . . . and, as such, only obeyed its\' witch\'s touch.







The Dower Chest meant financial independence, of a sort, for those unlucky witches whose husbands refused to provide for them or any daughters they might bear.





It was also common practice to provide well for the sons of their marriage, the eldest usually being the heir but, other than basic board and keep, give nothing except an education to their daughters . . . and that only because it was a Ministry requirement for all magical children.







Under Bellatrix\' watchful eyes, Luna had her house elf, Scratch, retrieve her Dower Chest from her girlhood home in the Dark Tower. She then set him about the business of completely redecorating the bedchamber from its contents.







It had been comparatively easy for Scratch to accomplish, by using the exquisite velvets, brocades, laces, and silks that her mother, then later her father, had tucked away for Luna. The beautiful fabrics had been purchased, just for a purpose like this, during her parents\' frequent trips to Egypt, Italy, Morocco, Kyrgyzstan, India, and other beautiful far-away lands, while researching stories for the Quibbler.







They were luxuriously soft, luscious to the hand, some sheer to the eye, and tastefully (if rather exotically) coloured. Many of those fabrics were now lavishly dispersed evenly throughout the room, some as curtains here, some as pillows there, with several thick antique oriental carpets carelessly, and warmly, scattered across the cold, grey, flagstone floors.







The most impressive change had been to the massive, four-poster, ebony bed that dominated the entire bedchamber.







Luna had rebelled at having to lose her virginity on the very same sheets where Voldemort had last bedded Bellatrix Lestrange.







Now, spider-web delicate, silver, silk bed curtains shielded, but revealed, the rich willow-green velvet coverlet spread across the massive bed. It was covered with intricately embroidered and bejeweled silver serpents, twining and twisting in the eternal prone-figure-eight symbol, representing infinity.







It had belonged to her Mum.







Luna thought that she could still feel the protective nearness of her mother\'s spirit, while using her old things.







She pulled her mother\'s strength into herself, just like a child wanting her Mummy\'s comforting arms around her in the middle of a nightmare, as she tried to center and calm herself.







Luna stiffened her spine ramrod straight, resolutely walked out into the Dark Lord\'s sitting room, and carefully posed herself on her little rosewood chair. She mustn\'t be afraid.







She could feel him approaching, sense him climbing the broken spiral staircase, damn her Eildarvitch blood!







He must nearly be at the outer door by now . . . yes . . . there\'s the sudden release of his complex wards, like the atmospheric pressure-drop in the air falling around you the higher you flew, lowering all around the Dark Lord\'s chamber.







Her husband\'s chamber. Lord Voldemort, her husband.







Her . . . husband!







Oh dear gods! Mustn\'t be afraid!







Must not be afraid.







\'Mummy save me!\'











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(Now in the Present: just inside Voldemort\'s bedchamber)











"Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?" Luna shyly whispered up at the horror who was now her husband. He\'d stopped in his tracks, as he slowly took in his redecorated bedchamber, still clasping her small hand.







Voldemort\'s gratified gaze left the refurbished decor, and focused more intently on his bride. As he stared at her, Luna shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot, averting her gaze from him in her nervousness.







The action was merely one of embarrassed self-doubt, but it instantly aroused the deadly suspicion of her husband, as he incorrectly assumed it to be an act of guilt and deception.







He carefully replied, in a falsely pleasant tone, "Lovely, my dear. But . . . might I ask how you\'ve accomplished so very much, so very quickly . . . and all without . . . a wand?" Only those glittering, fury-filled, ruby eyes, burning within his cold, bland, expression, conveyed the extent of Voldemort\'s suspicion and accusation. How dare Bella give the chit access to a wand!







Luna was completely bewildered by this surprising turn of events, when things had seemed to be going so well between them only moments before.







She stared with total confusion into Voldemort\'s furiously simmering red eyes, and then gently replied in simple honesty, "You ordered Bellatrix to see to anything I wanted, sir. I only wanted my personal house elf, and my Dower Chest that contained my own things. I issued the orders of what to use, and where it should be placed. Scratch obeyed. The rest is as you see it."







Luna ingenuously smiled back up at him, anxiously hoping that her husband approved of her changes to his private chambers, but suddenly positive that she\'d somehow insulted him. All of her feminine instincts screamed out, sensing imminent danger to herself, at the surge of anger radiating from her husband.







She\'d ordered Scratch not to come to her summons again, until the Dark Lord was well asleep, no matter how badly she pled for him to come to her aid. Luna was totally helpless to change things back just now, even had she wanted to do so . . . which she didn\'t. She liked her things, and fully intended to keep them.







Disbelief, or something worse, dripped from each sibilant word that next came from her husband\'s mouth, "Ssstrange, that given the chanssse, you did not choose to essscape?" Voldemort dubiously asked, as he idly wondered whether using the Cruciatus Curse on his new bride could possibly be considered as foreplay.







Luna\'s right eyebrow arched quizzically, as she timidly replied, "But why should I want to escape, sir? Where would I go? I am where I belong . . . beside you."







Voldemort crimson eyes widened in complete disbelief. The chit had the sheer audacity to lie to his face! She couldn\'t possibly be here of her own free will . . . could she? Well, then! Let\'s just see about that, my pet . . .







His hands slowly rose to unlock the silver serpent clasp that held his robes fastened at mid-chest. They slithered down his body, becoming a puddle of rich black velvet around his ankles. He stepped out of them, and closer to the beautiful girl before him.







"Do you still feel that you belong beside me?" Voldemort harshly asked her, a furious sneer cruelly arcing over his face, a sweeping fluid gesture of his hand indicating his nude, hairless, body.







It was the very first time that Luna had ever seen an adult naked man.







She\'d quite accidentally stumbled across Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley skinny-dipping in the Black Lake, one hot spring afternoon, when she\'d been playing with the new baby unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.







That brief preview of what male frontal nudity was, from Luna\'s curiously peeping through thick, brushy, undergrowth at a couple of Third Year boys, certainly hadn\'t prepared her for this reality!







Now Luna understood exactly why the Professor had been so worried about the pain, and internal injuries, that he\'d told her to expect to have tomorrow. This was the reason why his bridal gift to her had consisted of many pain potions, repairing salves, and healing unguents. They were all currently secreted away, in the bathroom, secured within her shrunken Dower Chest.







A naked Lord Voldemort was most impressive indeed! It was a shame that the Dark Lord had to cover his body in robes while in public. Nude, he\'d have been far more intimidating!







There wasn\'t a spare gram of fat anywhere on Lord Voldemort\'s physique. Instead, he was leanly covered in pure sinewy muscles, a marathon runner\'s body. Except for his manhood. There was nothing lean or spare about \'it\' at all!







When Luna glanced at it, she\'d been terrified out of her wits. Dear gods! Her husband was hung like a hippogriff!







She\'d slammed her eyelids shut, swallowed hard, and timidly re-opened them, only to stare at his member in morbid fascination. Flaccid, it hung well-past the top of his thigh. If it only doubled in size, when erect, it would hang half way to the Dark Lord\'s knee!







Out of her peripheral vision, Luna watched two pale, long-fingered, hands reaching towards her like a Nosferatu.







Luna\'s shocked grey eyes jerked up to lock onto Voldemort\'s smoldering eyes; a paralyzed hare caught by a deadly serpent\'s mesmerizing red stare.







"It\'ll never fit," she faintly whispered, virginal panic dripping from every syllable, as her heart convulsively pounded its\' terror inside her ribcage.







The corners of Voldemort\'s thin-lipped mouth curved lecherously up, as he silently observed where the chit\'s horrified gaze had been fixated.







Without warning, Voldemort scooped Luna up \'bridal-style\', and strode over to his bed. A wandless flick of one finger, and the intricate coverlet flew off his bed, as the Dark Lord laid Luna down. His bare body sensuously followed his new wife down, on the smooth white sheet, and covered her petite frame with all of his lean, hard, weight.







"It\'ll fit. I\'ll make it," Voldemort assured Luna with a truthful growl, just before his lips crashed down, capturing her innocent mouth and plundering it with his tongue.







The Dark Lord determinedly began to lay siege to his bride.











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Harry left the peacefully sleeping, scabby, little scrap of naked humanity lying there, in his usual corner, wrapped in Harry\'s own jumper.







He went to look out through Voldemort\'s red eyes at what was now happening.







Tommy had been right; things moved differently, and most confusingly, in here. He couldn\'t have taken more than several minutes, half-hour at the absolute most, comforting and coaxing the child into drinking the potion.







It seemed that hours must have passed for Voldemort out there. There appeared to be some kind of judgment now going on for people that Harry knew to be Muggleborn.







A Fifth Year Gryffindor boy named Terry Gilliam was given to Rodolphus Lestrange, with no heed being paid at all to the boy\'s terrified screams when Lestrange pulled him close and kissed him most pervertedly. The assembled Death Eaters had only laughed uproariously at the boy\'s panic.







Justin Finch-Fletchley was given to Rodolphus\' gloating, insane wife, Bellatrix.







Harry shuddered, remembering exactly what Hermione\'s treatment had been under that mad witch\'s hands. Others came and went, and were parceled out, according to Voldemort\'s whim.







Harry\'s heart dropped to his feet when he saw Rabastan Lestrange shove Hermione Granger down onto her knees before the Dark Lord. He\'d begun to wonder if she was still even alive, because he hadn\'t seen her yet. Harry Potter now feared that he might have a \'front row seat\' in actually witnessing her death.







His fear was unrelieved when, instead of killing her, Voldemort gave her to Severus Snape to do with as he wished. Hermione Granger was to be the dark Potions Master\'s personal slave.







Harry hadn\'t been able to observe Snape long enough to figure out if he could be trusted to protect Hermione. Harry would simply have to continue to believe that the Potions Master was still loyal to the Light, and was only pretending to serve Voldemort.







What else could he do, given his current position?







That was the grand finale of Voldemort\'s awarding ceremony; the dispensation of the final member of Dumbledore\'s so-called \'Golden Trio\' to his currently most trusted advisor.







The Dark Lord abruptly dismissed his Inner Circle; he was ready to claim his husbandly rights of his new bride. The elite Death Eaters, after congratulating their Master on his marriage once more, all dispersed to go enjoy their ill-gotten human toys.







Harry watched every action from his vantage point. He tried to remain calm, forcing himself to slowly breathe in and out, preparing himself with measured, centering, breaths.







He was doing all right, maintaining his self-control quite well, Harry thought to himself. Rather, he was doing quite well, until Voldemort dropped his robes and carried Luna to his bed, kissing her deeply.







She\'d been truly as light as a feather, her tiny bones feeling extremely fragile under his large hands, her mouth faintly tasting of some kind of honey-sweet wine.







Harry hadn\'t anticipated actually experiencing all of the physical sensations that Voldemort was feeling himself. He\'d only been gearing up for having to mentally deal with the knowledge of the act.







Now Harry\'s hands tingled, as imaginary flesh-warmed silk slid across his palms and fingers, the give of soft feminine curves warmly molding tightly against him, as Voldemort\'s hard-muscled body rested on top of her.







Harry\'s lips had swollen, and now burned, with the sweet-tasting, passionate, kisses that Voldemort ravaged from Luna. The faint scent of apple wood smoke, myrrh, and violets suddenly filled Harry\'s sense of smell.







\'And . . . oh no, dear gods, oh please . . . NO!\' Harry\'s cock throbbed painfully in time with Voldemort\'s own twitching arousal. Obviously, he was to experience this whole travesty \'first-hand\'.







Harry groaned and dropped to his knees. They\'d given out on him, in his instant arousal, as sensory overload flooded over him, like a tidal wave of raging hormones, and rampaged through every nerve ending that he possessed!







He painfully crawled to the opposite corner from little Tommy, and curled himself into his very own fetal ball of degradation.







Harry\'s mind and heart were torn. It all felt so very good to him, physically, that he almost longed for what was to come . . . this unexpected opportunity to actually experience sex.







But, to have it happen with Luna Lovegood, the most innocent girl that Harry had ever known! This couldn\'t be right! It definitely wasn\'t proper. He hadn\'t \'signed on\' for this . . . had he?







Well, he had volunteered to take Tommy\'s place. What else should he have expected, to be innocently playing crosses and naughts all night with his friend, Luna?







Not bloody well likely, not with Lord Voldemort in the mix!







Burning with sudden shame at his uncontrollable physical reaction to the phantom female flesh so wondrously pressed against his own naked skin, there beneath his clothing, and totally helpless to prevent it, he finally surrendered to the humiliating inevitable.







Harry slowly stretched himself out to lie on his back in his corner, and closed his emerald eyes, now brimming with hot, penitent, tears. He painfully moaned, as all of these brand new, gloriously erotic, deliciously wanton sensations washed over his virgin body, while Lord Voldemort unknowingly carried Harry Potter along for the ride of his life.









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Voldemort\'s long fingers eased open the ties of Luna\'s sheer negligee slipping it, along with the thin straps holding up her chemise, down over her slender alabaster shoulders. He deepened their kiss, pillaging her mouth\'s innocent sweetness, as he pulled her tighter against his bare chest, his hands softly roaming, silkily caressing Luna\'s slim, lithe, curves.







He\'d done it so gently, with such experienced finesse, that Luna hadn\'t even realized that her breasts were now exposed to him. She\'d only noticed that fact when she felt the cool night air waft across her nipples, as he\'d paused their kissing to allow them both to regain their respective breath.







"Raise up, wife," silkily crooned Voldemort, as he tugged her white silk gown down to her waist. Her hips unconsciously, but obediently, immediately rose on his command to allow him to slip her nightwear completely off.







Luna instantly covered her small breasts with her slender hands, and tightly clamped her thighs shut, in a shamed attempt to cover her sudden nudity. Her too-white cheeks blazed with shy embarrassment, and, for the very life of her, couldn\'t meet her new husband\'s eye.







"I\'m afraid," Luna softly whimpered.







"I know," Voldemort gently responded, just before he wedged his left knee against her own, and forced her clamped knees apart. He carefully settled himself between her lily-white thighs, in preparation of the act to follow. His own large hand covered, then replaced her hand over her breast with a firm push, then delicately massaged it, as his mouth once more assaulted her own.







Voldemort had to keep reminding himself to go slowly, that taking patience and care with the girl, now, would ensure him years of conjugal bliss to come. It would be a shame simply to rut the girl, leaving him with a traumatized, frigid, wife who would eventually bore him to death.







Rather, bore him to her own death; but why quibble the issue just now, when so much enjoyable virgin pussy would soon be breeched?







His new bride seemed to enjoy the feel of his tongue inside her mouth. Kissing her insensate appeared to be the way to go in loosening this little witch up.







Perhaps . . . she might be ready for the plying of his tongue . . . elsewhere?







Voldemort ever so slowly nibbled down her throat in a hot, passionate, trail to her shoulder, paying extra attention to the little cleft just there, near the clavicle, that caused his bride that instant \'goose flesh\' and gasp of arousal.







Down, slowly down, his torrid mouth trailed to her breasts, appreciatively suckling first one pale-pink nipple, then the other of never-tried breast, before allowing his hot tongue to leisurely trace a path back up to recapture Luna\'s kiss-swollen lips.







All the while, his large hands slid up and stroked down her back, up her arms, and finally ended entwined in her long, violet-scented, pale hair. Voldemort unconsciously moaned, "Beautiful, so beautiful!" into Luna\'s mouth, with another molten kiss, as he fruitlessly ground his throbbing cock against the white sheet between her thighs.







Sudden knowledge of real female power; this purely feminine ability to so sexually excite this dark and powerful wizard, only heightened Luna\'s own arousal. Her slender hands began to do their fair share of tentative roaming, returning his caresses two-fold, over the strong, sinewy, nakedness of this man who would be her first, and only, lover.







When Luna moaned her newly discovered wantonness into his mouth, Voldemort felt an unexpected dark thrill shoot all the way down his spine, and jolt straight into his swollen cock.







Knowledge of his virgin\'s carnal awakening caused his cock to painfully harden even more erect, if such a thing was possible! It pulsed and twitched, like a second living entity, weeping its\' eager anticipation of participation against the pristine sheet beneath it.







\'Sweet Circe!\' Voldemort was amazed by all of the new sensations he was currently experiencing with this fey little witch.







It was as if her first time was also his first time! Rather, his first time as it should have been, not the violent reality that it had actually been. He\'d been under the influence of a slipped-in-his-Butterbeer lust potion, with that twisted bitch of a witch, Hepzibah Forsyte, when he\'d been a handsome schoolboy of only sixteen, and her best DADA student.







Now, Luna\'s purity and selflessness purged an ache from Voldemort, without even his cognizance of its existence, or his ever sensing a cure had been effected. Their slowly combining magic merely simmered on between them, drawing them ever closer together, like metal seeking its lodestone.







Voldemort reluctantly released the girl\'s lips, intending on lowering himself for a true taste of his bride. Astoundingly, before he could even pull away from her, Luna\'s slender arms swiftly encircled his neck, her tiny hands tenderly gliding over his smooth face and head, as her nuzzling mouth eagerly re-sought his own.







It was Voldemort\'s turn to again groan into his little witch\'s mouth, as he plunged his tongue once more into the heat of it; his tongue fervently dueling against her own in thrilled surprise.







Severus had been absolutely right about this! There was power in being his witch\'s first lover.







His right hand drifted over her young curves, sliding its\' way slowly down to barely brush the pale fur of her womanhood for the first time.







Luna suddenly jerked her lips away from their kiss, with a shocked gasp, at the intimate feel of a man\'s touch where none but her own hand had ever been before.







"Ssshh. It\'s all right, pet. Sssshh," Voldemort murmured against her ear, as his mouth nuzzled her neck and shoulder again, then sucked down hard on her throat, marking her as his own.







Luna groaned, and involuntarily wriggled her pelvis against his hand. She was unwittingly seeking some kind of comfort, that she sensed could only come from Him, for this hungry ache slowly growing inside of her . . . down . . . there. Aaahhh, yessss. There!







His long fingers eased her nether-lips apart, and Voldemort felt the beginnings of moisture leaching its way up to her tender little nub onto his long fingers, the dewy awakening of lust\'s first fire deep within her femininity, there, against his gently plumbing digits.







Voldemort began whispering endearments and sweet nothings against Luna\'s alabaster skin, unwittingly slipping into Parseltongue, as he slowly licked and suckled his way down her nubile body.







The words magically scripted out, laving a glowing golden trail of bliss etched across the smooth, bare, skin beneath his tongue\'s path. Luna was now a writhing mass of burgeoning arousal, her own Eildarvitch darkness beginning to awaken within her, as she willingly responded to these delicious, dark, new sensations of abandon.







Luna bloomed under Voldemort\'s sweetly murmured magical words, and fiery touch, like a desert flower would after a sudden rain. With fingers and lips cajoling and priming her, he teased his bride\'s infant arousal into full-blown desire.







Voldemort had always made it a point not to provide oral sex to any of his many lovers, female or male. He\'d always been above demeaning himself to perform the loathsome act. He\'d never minded receiving the service himself, mind you, but had always balked on every possible level at the thought of reciprocation.







Now, more than anything, Voldemort wanted to feel and taste this witch on his tongue, strange, that! As if he might never have this opportunity again! The Dark Lord only paused long enough to barely register that single, changed, intimate detail of his sexual preferences, before he swiftly slithered down his virgin bride\'s svelte body, and applied direct action to his inexplicable desire.







Luna gasped, and vainly thrashed her arms against the pillows beneath her head, as she struggled and attempted to slide away from Voldemort, "Stop! No . . . oh no! What are you doing?!? NO, What . . . what in the world? STOP THAT! Oh. OH! Ohhh . . . ooohh! Oh, oh no . . . NO don\'t stop . . . aaahh! Oh! OH YES! Ohhhyyyessss! Oh . . . that feeeeels ssso . . . sssooo gooood! Don\'t . . . don\'t stop, oh my Lord, DON\'T STOP!" Luna ended her very first sexual verbalization in a soft, panting, moan of desire and need.







Need for just what, Luna couldn\'t imagine, but sensed that HE held the key to whatever \'it\' was.







Her previously chaste pussy responded admirably to the refined caressing of Voldemort\'s innately skilled tongue by suddenly releasing its\' very first gush of an orgasm.







Luna trembled all over, and mewled her pleasure out-loud to her husband\'s gratified ear. Voldemort raised himself up on his elbows, wiping her juices from his cheeks and chin with one hand, and then rose half-up onto his knees, to watch his little virgin cum for the very first time.







Her reaction was a wonder to behold; laying spread eagle and stretched wide open before him, innocently wanton and writhing, her long white-blonde hair wildly tossing from side-to-side! His bride was completely inexperienced and untutored, except by his own hands and mouth.







Merlin\'s Balls! His cock actually ached now, heavy with need, for somewhere hot and wet to sink into. Preferably into the molten hot, honey-sweet, pussy that now dripped with this little witch\'s very first orgasm.







The orgasm that HE had given her!







Voldemort firmly wrapped his hand around his swollen, aching, cock, and commiseratively stroked it a few times, in a vain attempt to relieve the pain of it just a bit, until she was ready for the final step.







When Luna\'s soft slender hand first tentatively reached out, touched, and then joined his hand where it was curled around his throbbing cock, stroking, Voldemort\'s carefully maintained control was broken.







Voldemort smirked down at his panting, glowing, witch. To his astonishment, Luna smirked right back up at him, and impudently continued stroking his cock. He groaned with pleasure at the sight of her small hand\'s action, as his cock released a gush of pre-cum. Voldemort smeared the pearly liquid over the head and shaft of his throbbing cock with his broad calloused palm; the perfect lubricator.







Luna seemed very interested in his \'anatomy\' now, staring in wide-eyed fascination at his huge cock\'s engorged blood vessels. She delicately traced the thick purpling veins of Voldemort\'s cock with her right index finger, and was captivated by the silky softness of the supple skin covering his rock-hard shaft, and the velvety smoothness of its\' thick head.







It was as if Luna was trying to memorize each small detail of his manhood; as if his cock was a strange magical creature that she\'d never before encountered. She even dared raise a hesitant fingertip up to her lips, for a taste of his pearly fluid, then shuddered and moaned in pleased surprise at finding the flavour of it a bit salty, but not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all!







Voldemort groaned and shut his crimson eyes, barring her innocently erotic gesture from them. Truly, there could be no witch as naturally and effortlessly wanton as his own! Swooping down, his tongue dove into her mouth, their different flavours combining on their joined tongues creating the raw salty-sweet taste of ecstasy.







Voldemort returned his hand to her still twitching pussy, gently fondled her swollen, throbbing, little nub, and began tenderly to thrust into her wet pussy with an easy rhythm of a single long finger, as Luna gasped again in pure, wriggling, delight. Soft little squishy noises, combined with little contractions still tremoring within her pussy, accompanied his gesture. Luna mewled out, of her own accord, "So goood, that feels sssoooo gooood, my Lord. Aahhhhhh!"







Bloody hell! This was pointless torture for him, having to take his time! Besides, like ripping away a plaster, this would be best done quickly, and damn the pain.







She was his wife. Fuck it! He was taking her, and he was taking her now.







Voldemort withdrew his hand, taking her pleasure away with it, as he gripped Luna tightly by her shoulders, and ordered with a deep growl, "Look at me, witch!" Her smoky eyes instantly fastened onto his smoldering garnet eyes, lusty desire brightly glowing within both pairs.







Shockingly, Lord Voldemort, ruler of All and merciful to Few, shut astonishingly regret-filled garnet eyes, and somberly whispered, "I\'m sssoo, so very sssssorry, my pet!"







Swiftly assuming a coital posture, he positioned his huge member at the diminutive entrance point at the juncture of Luna\'s milky thighs. With one fierce, hard, push, Voldemort buried his aching cock to the hilt inside of his virgin bride, her hymen agonizingly shredded in that instant, within her jaggedly torn, now bleeding, too-tight sheath.







Luna screamed loudly, struggling against the searing agony of his rending asunder her virginity. Whatever Voldemort was now stabbing her pussy with, she couldn\'t imagine. It felt like a huge white-hot metal rod was being shoved into her most private place, and Luna wildly thought that it must be ripping her in half. This could not possibly be the same supple, velvety, flesh that she\'d just been caressing!







The sheer raw power of her cry vibrated and shook the very stones of Hogwarts, itself, just before Voldemort\'s firm lips crashed down once more, and smothered her agonized scream into silence.







Precipitously released primeval and wild magic flashed like bright blue lightning arcs, and flowed like a thick silver mist, all around them both. Luna completely embraced the Darkness of her Eildarvitch power, and simultaneously surrendered to her husband\'s huge battering ram of a cock inside her tortured, ripped, quim.







It was just as well that Voldemort was so occupied with the all-encompassing sensations from ramming himself into his new wife\'s tight wet pussy that he didn\'t notice the reactive magic around them. Luna desperately wanted to continue to hide her Eildarvitch power from him as long as she could, and knew that her eyes would surely give her away, until she could regain control over it.







With each long, renting withdrawal, and the slashing agony of his turgid, thick, cock\'s length slamming deeply back into her mutilated pussy, again and again, Luna drank in more pain. That would be how she would survive, by completely embracing her Darkness.







Whereas Voldemort\'s Darkness had been born from his hatred and anger, Luna\'s Darkness was born from pain, her deeply lonely, anguished, childhood pain; her Eildarvitch Darkness thriving on that very pain, almost like a Dementor would.







The physical agony she was experiencing only fueled the Dark Magic within both wizard and witch, both the giver and receiver of this horrific pain, and fed the incredible Power now growing between them with every thrust and retraction of his enormous thrumming cock.







This had somehow become something more than mere coitus! Neither Luna, nor Voldemort himself, could now distinguish where the male stopped or the female began, as they writhed together, mating. For both of them, it seemed that at one moment they were within their own skin, experiencing their own agony or pleasure, then the next second they were suddenly within the skin of the other, feeling their partner\'s pleasure and pain.







"SSSsssssooo ggoooood," Voldemort moaned, as he pushed himself up on his palms, sweat beginning to glisten on his face and chest. "You feel sssooo very good on my cock, pet! Aaaahhhhh, oh yesssss! Your sweet little pusssssy isss sssooo tight, ssssoooo goood."







He never broke rhythm, his body on \'autopilot\', steadily fucking, pounding into her, as he watched his hard, thick, length sliding in and out of Luna\'s extraordinarily tight little pussy. His throbbing cock was stained bright red with virgin\'s blood and the very sight of it acted as an aphrodisiac on the Dark Lord.







Voldemort grasped Luna under her knees, lifted her legs so that her ankles rested on his wide shoulders, then drilled his thick pulsating cock into her even harder than before, huskily murmuring, "So beautiful! Dear godsss, YES! You\'re sssoo very beautiful, sssooo wonderfully tight, my pet!"







Luna\'s rent blood seeped down her arse, smearing over his bollocks, painting his upper thighs bright red with every fierce thrust. The copious blood flowed freely with each pull backwards of Voldemort\'s cock. It spattered down his thighs on each drive back inside, casting red raindrops of her sacrifice over the snowy silk sheets that she\'d only so recently adorned their wedding bed with.







Huge hot tears now rolled down her cheeks, sliding into her white-blonde hair and slowly trickling into her ears, as Luna thrashed beneath him, struggling to pull away from her tormentor, and moaned, "It hhuuuurrrrrttssss! Oh dear godssss, it huuurrtsss!"







Huge blue bruises were rapidly forming on her inner thighs and pubis mound, from Voldemort\'s fierce, exacerbating, thrusts inside of her bruised, torn, sheath. Everywhere on her tender young body, where his wide hands and long fingers had unwittingly gripped too tightly, huge burgundy marks were rapidly becoming visible.







Words were now beyond Luna. Merciful gods, please! The pain was unbearable! Where was the pleasure he\'d promised her? He had to have lied about this giving pleasure. This cannot possibly give any woman pleasure! Of course he lied! He\'s bloody fucking Voldemort, a twisted, lying bastard!







Unexpectedly, Luna\'s Eildarvitch power suddenly peaked and overwhelmed the young witch with its\' Dark surge. She could no longer control or contain it. Her Eildarvitch gift of empathic telepathy rebounded upon both witch and wizard, like a snapped elastic band, and abruptly turned the sexual table on the Dark Lord!







Voldemort suddenly gasped, shuddered, and painfully groaned. \'So this is HER pain; THIS is what she feels! Dear gods . . . what a strong little witch, to withstand this . . . aaaaahhh!\' He continued blindly thrusting as he broke out in an oily pain-sweat, his cock now experiencing the same deliciously painful lacerating that his witch\'s pussy had been feeling.







For the first time ever, Voldemort accepted sexual punishment of his own . . . of a sorts. He\'d regretted the pain he knew his bride would experience, and had attempted to \'go easy\' on the girl. It\'d been the girl\'s own fault that he\'d gotten so carried away, with that brazen touching of his cock!







But this . . . this empathic connection! He\'d known his magic was great, now as the Most Powerful Wizard Alive, but hadn\'t thought to be able to actually share this experience. Voldemort dismissed this as a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence; the little witch was bleeding, it was virgin\'s blood . . . a literal blood sacrifice. He gratefully accepted the pain it brought, for he could just sense the Power that came with the Pain.







\'Ahhhhhh! Sweet Merlin! So this is the pleasure! This is what He feels! This IS good! So, ssssoooo goood . . . ahhhh yes. So Very Good!\' Luna thought in absolute amazement, as gloriously voluptuous sensations of ecstasy instantly \'Vanished\' her pain away.







For the first time, since he\'d ripped away her virginity, Luna began to hesitantly attempt to meet Voldemort\'s fierce thrusts with her own grinding pelvic arches; her battered, bruised, and torn cervix now experiencing the same gratification that his enormous cock had been feeling all along. Now she was the invader, now she was piercing him! And it felt simply WONDERFUL!







His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as his own pain (or was it ecstasy?) glistened on his perspiring, reptilian face, as the Dark Lord responded to his little witch\'s actions. The sweat began to slowly drip from his body and splash down onto her bare, jiggling, breasts like salty raindrops.







Voldemort, Supreme Lord of All, had utterly surrendered to the ages-old, sweating, rhythm of stroking to fulfillment inside his child-bride . . . who now was a virgin no more.







The ex-virgin was now enthusiastically riding the Dark Lord, for all she was worth, to her very own most satisfying orgasmic conclusion.











END CHAPTER 12









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A/A/N: If you\'ve enjoyed this lemon, then my thanks go out to my \'technical advisors\'.



If you haven\'t enjoyed it . . . then complain to them, please. They must have done something seriously wrong. **snickers**