The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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8-20-09 Th


Thank you all so much for taking the time to review!


If Hermione is daydreaming about whapping Lucius on the arse, she might have a bit of potential for adventurous sex in her own nature.


Some answers to comments -

pittwitch – Lucius spends little time with Hermione except at dinner so their chances to really talk are minimal. It would take a therapist to get those two to open up and then a referee for the mayhem.

Snapes_Goddess – People make fun of or scorn any spectacularly handsome person having any problems. They don’t want to hear it when they feel the handsome one has so much already. Your J understands what many women have been angry about through the ages – surface looks are everything to a lot of men, too. As for magic, I find I have to be on guard that a magical character could possibly do something using a wand rather than some longer Muggle method. When I can go either way, I don’t always choose to lean on magic. So far both the main characters are wearing shades of gray. No one is lily white or deepest black. And Lucius is definitely not going to wear bright yellow – sooo not his color. I’m glad you’re doing the cataloging, not I. I’d be reading the comics – then be reassigned to petrified scat so I wouldn’t be sidetracked. Yum, Lucius as Thor…

jw – Lucius getting spanked (or caned, paddled, etc.) is very popular in stories about him. I don’t think it’s because he has evil overtones, either. Is it because the character unabashedly likes it? Are there many stories with Snape getting spanked? I don’t read many of those, but it feels like he wouldn’t come in for much of that treatment. Being tortured maybe, for some other purpose than sex. Dunno. A lifetime with Hermione will teach Lucius a whole world of Muggle things, I’m sure.

Voracious Reader - LOL, yes, I can see Hermione taking careful notes as Lucius tells her how to spank him, then applying his instructions with perfect technique. I do think the little witch would enjoy being the one in command of the paddle. It’s exactly what Lucius wants to use as a bridge between them – kinky sex.

blue artemis – I mentioned above that Lucius has other concerns taking up his time; they don’t spend much time together for heart-to-hearts. Lucius thinks money is an important part of a relationship – it’s a truism in his lofty circle. He’s wrong in Hermione’s case. He agrees with you that if both partners “get into it”, sex is much better.

alecto – Aw, alecto, I’m sorry the sex got delayed. When it arrives, I hope the wait will have been worth it for you. And thank you for the compliment on the character development! I appreciate it!

HarryGinny4eva – Yes, I agree – it’s difficult to envision Lucius telling Hermione out loud most of what he is thinking right now. And the same goes for her. Neither of them is a coward exactly – Hermione probably wouldn’t want to expose her vulnerable side to a man who has picked up her life and rearranged it for his own purposes. Lucius isn’t the type to bare his throat to an opponent in any scenario. I am very happy you like the story. That means a lot.

katiekrm – The last chapter did have some downer parts to it. But what about the beginning where Lucius helped Hermione with the numbing cream and held her after she woke him up with her wand on his bottom? That part had some affection. I guess it was swamped by later events. Lucius thinks his wealth and estate should compensate for his usurping her independence. He’s wrong, but it’s what he has weighed as an important plus for Hermione. It would be a major consideration for any Pureblood female and those are the ones Lucius is familiar with. He sees his corrections as teaching Hermione about the high level of wizarding society she’ll be traversing with him, although he hasn’t the temperament to be a patient teacher. And yes, his critiques (as he sees them) have worn on her. Hermione will just have to ‘critique’ his failures in giving her any equality in the marriage. They both have a long way to go.

Jacqui – I suspect that’s exactly what Hermione has been telling Lucius for the last two weeks – that he’s a jackass, in colorful, creative terms. Hermione may find it expedient to use Lucius for sex, though. Why not get what’s on offer if one must be stuck with the attractive blond wizard?

Yule – I don’t mind if you want to skip the actions that make you unhappy and wait for the story to move past the initial period of adjustment. Not every element of a story appeals to everyone. Some of my readers routinely skip even the happy consensual, kinky sex because it’s not their cup of tea. The plot widens and has other things going on later besides Lucius trying to make Hermione respect him using physical chastisement. It’s not really working for him, anyway, but I understand if the idea itself is upsetting for you. I hope you find a good place to re-enter and enjoy the story. I do think you’ll be happier with it later. Thank you for representing your feelings as individual to you and not a blanket castigation of the characters’ actions. There’s a difference and I honor that.

Sirsevchick – I like your phrase ‘cute in their confusion’. That speaks to me. They’re rather like two squabbling tots, trying to have their own way and keep their toys for themselves. Yup, this fic would be over in two chapters if they suddenly found common ground and became best buddies. For now how about just having them be f**k buddies LOL.

BeaBibliophile – I wouldn’t say only a ‘smidgen’, but Snape and Narcissa are not the central characters. I do admit that Snape got away from me a bit and has more ‘air’ time than I expected. Lucius’ motivation to marry will show up in a few chapters. Lucius cares, but he never loses sight of his current objective – sex - and so far his caring has that ulterior motive mixed in. Hermione will have her work cut out for her if she ever cares enough about him to want to be a true couple. Right now that’s moot. She does have a glimmer that sex, besides being attractive on its own merits, will give her a way to wrest more equality from the rocky relationship. I do appreciate your vote of confidence – and the soothing.

Liagiba84 – The pendulum swings back and forth between this couple; first one has the upper hand, then the other, but neither of them really wants the struggle for power to be so unkind. Hermione has a way to go before learning to live with a man who has the same strength of will she has. That has been a shock to her.

Shiv – No, I don’t think the stupefy equals rape. In the end, Lucius merely says if she walks away she’ll still have it to do sometime. “Can we not move forward together now?” So I disagree wholeheartedly with you there. And I’m not presenting BDSM in its formal alternative lifestyle here at all. Lucius likes a few toys and dress up; that in no way equates with an entire specific way of life. I’m sure BDSM adherents don’t embrace every person who gets enjoyment from a collar, some spanking and a few sex toys as automatically belonging to their subculture and practicing their art. Enjoying books doesn’t make you a librarian. So I disagree with you there, too. Sorry - zero for two.

Linstock lonstock@ipstarmail.com.au – I would love to meet Lucius in a Muggle nightclub. I think he’d be a sexy dancer. Oh, I’m happy you see that Lucius does have a caring side. I think you’ve described some of what I have designed for Hermione to learn about her husband. What I did was something of an amalgam of your ideas. Good work! Maybe you should put some of your ideas to work as an author in a Lumione or other fanfiction. It’s too late for a star chart in my fic, but it would make a really cute story. Go for it!

Scary Bear Hair – Yes, so irritating that I missed that and saw Muggleborn for Mudblood. Lucius is trying to find his balance with a new wife who is wildly different from his whole society. They are coming from such different backgrounds, it’s disorienting to both. We see a bit of him floundering in the Muggle world and Hermione probably makes him feel as out of control and confused as he makes her feel. They both are strong-willed. It will be a learning experience for both. Everyone remembers the spanking, but not his several occasions of soothing Hermione (and yes, some of those occasions he caused the upset, but still...) Anyway, I’m happy you like the parallels to the Shakespeare story. It will, of course, veer off later into wizarding issues.

Little Tiny Bee – If you’ve read other stories of mine you know Hermione is never a powerless victim. She’s not a powerless victim here either, but she isn’t taking stock of all her options yet, being a novice at man-woman relations. Right now she’s mostly reacting with the strength she knows – words. Lucius is an enigma to her. He’s a puzzle, which she hasn’t learned to solve yet. Give her time.

Rini – Ah, so sad that young, randy Lucius got more than he bargained for from a fun, Knockturn Alley adventure – and he paid good Knuts for it, too! I hope you are feeling better, Rini.

Amsev – It is uncomfortable for Hermione – she’s been caught in a web not of her making and she can blame both Lucius and Severus for that. But Lucius, not Severus, is the one who has to live with a wife he hadn’t planned for. He is resigned to it, but he’s struggling, too. His answer is to curb Hermione the way he was always curbed in his family. He is slooooowly figuring out that it won’t work. In the meantime Hermione is discovering a few things about her sexual nature, too. This battle will take time to work itself out, but you know from my other stories that it will.

VoraciousReader zeets20@hotmail.com - I’m happy you like this story so far. It has generated quite a few ruffled feathers. Re your story, it is interesting how many ways an idea for a story can come to us as authors. I guess the only necessity is a wild imagination. My son has one, too, but my husband just blinks at us, wondering at the way our minds work, full of stories and scenarios. He likes airplanes and Japanese swords. Totally different mindset.

SkibbleZing – I never thought about one of Dr. Seuss’s characters getting spanked by association. Snicker. I’m very glad you’re enjoying the Shakespeare parallel. The story will become more entrenched in the wizarding world later.

Sorry, no lemons this chapter. Got to have a little plot here and there or it gets boring... hunh? No? There is a tad of titillation... or disgust, I suppose. Life as a Death Eater was not always good for them.

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Chapter Twelve


Reminiscences and Expectations


A few minutes later Hermione looked back over her shoulder at the wizard who was judiciously applying numbing ointment to her bum with a cloth. Seeing him bending over toward her rear with his white blond hair hanging down in front of his shoulders and framing that view of his beautiful chest made her bite her lip with a new worry. She did not want to start dripping down her thighs when he was right there with his face nearly in her crotch to see what he was doing to her. The throb of her bum was a silent, but helpful partner in slowing the liquid display; so far it was the only good result of her spanking.

She decided not to comment on his outrageous answer to her question on spanking him. What was there to say? Ask him when she could get started? Hermione wasn’t that brave. She scrambled for a change of subject in embarrassment, “Not that I care personally, but I don’t want you bringing any diseases back to me when I have no choice but to accept your…well, I don’t like the idea of you dipping your wick into who knows what and then stuffing it into me.”

Lucius sighed. So she wasn’t going to jump at the bait of spanking him. Pity. However, the little witch’s pinched lips and flared nostrils registered such a look of snobbery that Lucius had to laugh – it was an expression he’d seen time without number in his Pureblood circle. His face probably looked just like that when he was confronted with something he disliked. He had to admit it wasn’t a very attractive look, especially on Hermione. Did he really want to remake her into one of his snobby circle? Maybe he needed to think some more about what he wanted in his new wife instead of blindly following Pureblood traditions passed down for generations. In any case, he was long cured of dipping his unadorned ‘wick’ into diseased holes.

“So,” he asked, “in other words, I’m not allowed to sneak out and fuck any diseased whores. However, if I know a woman isn’t disease-ridden that would be acceptable, yes?” Lucius waited for the explosion, and was disappointed when all he got was, “Do as you like.” Shite! How did she manage to make him feel worthless when she was all but naked, waving a battered rear in his face for him to fix?

“You must have entertained yourself this way before, Lucius,” jealousy was a tiny worm burrowing into Hermione’s gut, “many times. I imagine with Narcissa or maybe others. I don’t think these Halloween costumes are new with me. Is all the green leather reserved for Muggleborn witches or are you an egalitarian lothario? You mentioned in your note that I would be treated like any other chance-met woman for sex. Perhaps you prefer a new female every time.”

Hermione sighed theatrically, but her green-eyed monster matched her thong. She hated feeling even the faintest vestige of possessiveness for the snooty wizard, but it ate at her just the same. Diseased whores, indeed! In retaliation she indulged in unwise revenge, bringing out the word that she knew affected him, “You do have a wide streak of monster in you, don’t you?”

Lucius paused in his careful swipes on Hermione’s reddened glutes, “I’m constantly surprised at your foolhardiness, calling me a monster while I’m repairing the touch of my hand on your backside. Perhaps I should have made the base count forty instead of twenty. And no ointment.” He dragged one manicured fingernail across a section of scarlet skin that hadn’t received any numbing ointment yet, scoring the tender flesh.

Hermione sucked in a tortured breath at the sharp pain reanimating her punishment and she snapped to attention, turning to face the wizard looming over her; she was quivering with shocked rage…and a surprising hurt inside. His frigid stance just dared her to voice her anger and with difficulty she tamped down her burst of emotion. One spanking for the evening was quite enough, but she fumed at his painful warning.

Seconds ticked by as they faced off, like two dogs circling each other for weakness, until Hermione silently backed down, saying instead, “I’m merely trying to understand you,” she gestured propitiously, gritting her teeth. Lucius’ painful, physical reminder of who was in charge had started her sensitized skin throbbing again - the warning stung and the dregs of the spanking bloomed anew. “To me the spanking was monstrous. You didn’t enjoy it sexually – I can see that - but I know you got something visceral out of it.”

Hermione inhaled, “You have a different scent about you. Eau de testosterone, I believe. I have to conclude you get off on the punishment in some way, rather like the way Snape got off on making little girls cry in Potions class. Therefore… monstrous.” Hermione recklessly twisted Lucius’ temper again with the name she knew he disliked. She didn’t even know why she did it, but it flew out of her mouth followed by intense satisfaction.

“Will you stop using that term!” he grated, not prepared to let Hermione know just yet that the term was now something of an endearment to him. He didn’t want her switching to a name he wouldn’t accept so well. “There’s nothing monstrous in a husband spanking his wife, or vice versa, although I am talking about pleasure, not reprimand. Have you never done anything more daring than play with yourself under the covers?”

Lucius pushed her back around and made her bend down again so he could finish spreading the ointment on the pretty butt cheeks that were currently making him slightly lightheaded with lust. He was making sure to keep the numbing cream away from her all-important places, soft twins of which were peeking out from between her thighs like a pair of tiny, pink pillows.

“I daresay all those stupid little girls who cried in Potions deserved what they got, just like you deserved every swat you got, plus more,” he asserted. “I went easy on you and I see my leniency has had no effect.” Lucius applied the ointment to the last of the rosy skin. “I used a glamour on my groin to appear uninterested. You’re still rather… inexperienced and I didn’t want you to be presented with a full-blown male erection the moment you walked in the door. But it’s there and I’ve been smashed up by this leather for the past hour.”

Lucius put the tube down on the counter and stepped back enough to allow Hermione to stand. “I’m finished with the ointment,” he patted her numbed butt seeing the pain was gone, “and I’ve removed my glamour now – I don’t care if you run screaming from the room in maidenly fear -” The little witch straightened up so quickly he almost stumbled. He stepped back further in awkward haste as she bent forward to examine his crotch.

“All this time!” she ranted, moving up nearly onto Lucius’ toes and cutting up at the dark wizard in fury. “All this time I thought I was as attractive to you as…as…Snape!”

Hermione tossed off Snape’s name never knowing she’d hit a nerve. Lucius raised both eyebrows in surprise and a faint flush decorated his ivory cheeks. He wasn’t going to dwell on the brief, involuntary youthful experience he’d had with Snape. That had been many years ago in the first flush of being Death Eaters and was entirely the fault of the very effective orgy potion Voldemort had laced into the firewhiskey at an early meeting. Snape had never given him a definitive answer on where the orgy potion had come from, but by the time that evening of drugged excess had drawn to a close, Lucius had found nearly every warm, wet hole in every Death Eater there. Including Severus. Definitely including Severus. And vice versa. Everyone had been coerced by the powerful potion; none of it was consensual in the strict sense of the term, but Lucius thought a few of that group hadn’t minded so much as he had.

Narcissa had already been pregnant and had been excused from that evening’s festivities. Lucius couldn’t have been so sanguine as Rodolfus about Narcissa being screwed by all the Death Eaters in all her orifices. Rodolphus seemed to actually enjoy watching his wife, Bellatrix, being taken every which way. Lucius’ tolerance, on the other hand, would have been stretched to the breaking point. He had always thought it was possible the Dark Lord had known that and not pushed the blond wizard into that difficult decision.

Voldemort’s plan had been to make all of his followers complicit with each other. The orgy had certainly done that. Lucius’ butt had been sore for weeks afterward and some of the spunk had tasted horrible. A few of the Death Eaters had thought themselves above regular cleansing spells. Those were ruthlessly dealt with quickly and painfully. Unrestrained sex with multiple partners was jarring enough without poor hygiene being added to the equation.

Even worse, he had hated his sister-in-law Bellatrix with a passion, but her animalistic enthusiasm for sex still stood out in his mind from that one night. Never until now had he been with someone so fiery. It gave him the shivers thinking about the possibilities with this little witch. Snape had used Bella that night too, and he’d pointed out the possibilities of Hermione to the lonely blond, using Lucius’ ancient, avid remembrance of his wild sister-in-law, knowing the haughty blond wizard had been enthralled by Bella’s sexual frenzy if repelled by the witch herself.

Hermione, oblivious to Lucius’ fast, uncomfortable trip down memory lane, pointed at his obvious tumescence, jerking him out of his tiny flashback. “You’re hard!”

He looked down at himself and shrugged, “Obviously.” His green leather bowed out from the front of his body in a long, high arc.

“Well it wasn’t obvious to me, you pillock.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, obscuring Lucius’ pleasant view of a delightful twinset, “If you're going to bed me, I’d at least like to know I did more this last week than generate a bad case of apathy. You never came near me except for dinners.”

“That was courtesy, not apathy, you little shrew, and I have compelling financial problems right now, which I can’t put off to be with you. You never gave me any indication you wanted my company. Did you want me to slaver over your décolletage and leer at your hips as you snootily walked away from me every day? Ah. Well,” he owned judiciously, “actually, I did at first, but my interest faded when it became apparent I was only adding fuel to your fiery diatribes over a monster enjoying your body. You must suffer from short-term memory loss if you don’t remember that glorious massage you gave me. Who was the monster then? Your nasty tongue lashings all week would douse the desire in an incubus.”

“You were enjoying my body?” Hermione looked at Lucius suspiciously, ignoring the massage comment. “I never saw you look at me with anything other than a weary disdain.”

“Well, you can be quite tiresome, but this proves I’m looking at you with some other emotion right now,” he gestured sardonically at his hard evidence. “Shall we adjourn to the bedroom? I’d like to use this sometime before the next Coming.” He smiled briefly, “A small joke.”

Hermione’s mouth twitched at the double entendre, “I suspect you won’t have any trouble coming, but that’s a reference to Muggle religion.”

Lucius sobered a bit, “I heard enough in my Death Eater days from Muggle victims.”

Hermione sucked in a harsh breath, her heart thumping at the stark reminder that this man had been a formidable, ruthless enemy. She shook her head, sorrow dulling her eyes, “How can I ever see you as more than the monster you dislike being called so much?”

“I haven’t any idea,” Lucius’ shoulders straightened with exasperated resentment at yet another application of that caustic term. Even overuse of an endearment could begin to irritate. “If I can never be more than some evil gargoyle to you, then our marriage is going to be bleak indeed.” He regrouped and tried for a softer, more reasonable tactic; she might choose Azkaban for real if he couldn’t convince her to share his bed. If he could only lure her between the sheets a few times he could make it well worth her while to stay, but he was unwilling to do it at the price of his self-esteem.

Lucius leaned back against the bathroom counter stiff-armed, curling his fingers around the edges of the black marble top and crossing his ankles, “Rather than giving up before we’ve even started, perhaps we should attempt to at least find some joy in each other in the bedroom instead of flinging ourselves headlong into an embattled relationship fraught with misery. Can you forget our mutual past for tonight and see what new memories we can create?”

Hermione drew her thin robe tighter around her, amusing Lucius in spite of the gravity of their current face-off. He was careful not to change his somber mien, but he was champing at the bit to get the little female Gryffindor tucked under him in bed. With echoes of his long ago taste of Bellatrix reverberating in his groin, he wanted to see if this time he’d got it right and Hermione could banish the unwelcome erotic ghosts of the other woman. He didn’t want them in his memory; they tainted his soul and yet the purely animal coupling had haunted him for all these years. He wanted that again and this witch had all the fire necessary to burn him. He had some fading teeth marks from the week before to prove it.

Hermione was no Pureblood sycophant – she barely tolerated him and yet she drew him by that very indifference, laced with her articulate venom. He wanted to conquer her and own her, dominate her until she understood they were well-matched in bed. He knew each lesson of his mastery would fade with the handprints on her bum and he would be called upon to conquer her again – and again and again. Each conquest would be fleeting – it was what would make life with her exhilarating. And someday – in the future – she might even want to conquer him!

She was tiny but her spirit was unquenchable. This woman could be everything to him, the mongoose to his Slytherin snake, if they could get past her ingrained antipathy for his past deeds. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He could only go forward. Lucius waited quietly to see if she would accept him in bed.

Hermione hunched her shoulders as a delicate shiver dusted over her skin. It was cool in the bathroom and her small size never held heat for long. “I’m tired of worrying about having sex with you again. Can we just get it over with?”

Lucius came up from his leaning position and bowed formally, “With such a gracious invitation how can I refuse?”

Hermione hurried into Lucius’ bedroom and stood hesitantly in the middle of his carpet where she had stalled once before. She fingered the collar under her chin and began to worry about the odd contraption. He was wearing a collar too, but what were they for?

Lucius followed his wife out of the bathroom and saw her pause, fingering her collar. Now that she had decided to ‘get it over with’ she was wondering what her collar was for – excellent. He moved up behind the scantily clad vixen and lightly touched the collar under her earlobe.

“I know you haven’t any experience with sex play other than what we’ve done. The collar is a multipurpose toy for me – and perhaps in time, for us - but it is only a toy as part of intimate playing together. As you’ve seen, I wear one too. There will be times when only one of us wears a collar, and times when neither of us does. I generally use it more as a mild restraint of sorts rather than as a way to attach a leash if that’s what worries you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm and she stepped back a pace. “I don’t want to play any game using a leash,” she started, but a vision of leading Lucius by a leash on his collar caused a shameful gush from her nether region. What was wrong with her? Was merely being around this degenerate Slytherin enough to melt all her standards and scruples into the puddle forming between her folds?

Lucius eyed her enquiringly and she felt he almost knew what had crossed her mind. She hurried into speech, “Are you going to use either collar tonight or can we take them off now?”

“Tonight, I think they should stay on. At the end of the evening you may have a kinder attitude toward them.” He glided up to her again and sent one finger on an erotic expedition from her neck, down over the cap of one shoulder, slowly, softly touching her skin all the way to her wrist where he enfolded her hand in his own. He could feel each of the tense shivers she couldn’t keep to herself as the pad of his finger learned her wary suspicion of him and his desire for her.

His palm was warm against hers as he led her gently over to his bed. Lucius leaned down and began an exploration of her collarbone with his tongue, tasting her nervousness, inhaling her sweet scent and noting the increasing muskiness, which signaled that she wasn’t entirely averse to his advances.

He still held her hand in his while letting his free hand trail its way around her waist until it inched down over her derriere. At the same moment that he used his teeth to tug on the ring of her collar, he slipped his fingers between her thighs from the rear causing Hermione to react to the unexpected incursion. She jumped and propelled herself forward into his arms, only seeing her danger as Lucius dropped her hand and pulled her up against him.

“Hermione,” he crooned, a velvet whisper in her ear. “I need you to take off my green leather leggings. Feel for the buttons down the sides and open them.” He ostentatiously accio’d a thin, shiny chain from the bureau at the side of the room and used it to connect her collar to one of the wristbands he wore.

Hermione reared back, yanking the chain taut, “Did you have to do that? Why do you feel you need to chain me up? To establish your ascendancy over me? I don’t like being made into a mindless pet.”

“Hermione,” Lucius smiled, gently pulling her closer to him again by winding the thin chain around his wrist, shortening the length between them, “the day you become my mindless pet will be the day someone has Imperiused you and that would be useless and quite boring to me. Just enjoy our connection. If it makes you feel better, think of it as me being chained to you rather than the other way round.”

“Yes, but I still don’t like -” Hermione stuttered to a halt as Lucius let his fingers drift down to hover between her rear cheeks, menacing her with what would happen if she didn’t comply with his leggings request. Lucius wasn’t aiming at her woman’s place.

Hermione eyed the chain binding her to her husband’s wristguard with some misgiving, but decided to see where the situation led instead of complaining any more for the moment. She sniffed her displeasure, but put her hands at Lucius’ sides, feeling for the buttons on his leggings. She was distressed at where his hovering fingers were threatening to invade and tried hard not to shy away.

Hesitantly, her brown eyes tracking the cascade of his platinum hair as it swung softly over her brow from his greater height, she lowered her concentration to focus fiercely on the warm ivory skin of his pecs, looking no higher than his chin all the time she felt around for the buttons at his sides.

Lucius felt small fingers trembling as they fumbled with the lines of buttons, slowly mastering each one and allowing a cooling sensation of air to reach his pelvis. “Ummm,” he encouraged, “thank you. That feels good.”

Hermione nodded shyly, stopping when she unlatched the last button.

“Now pull them down and off me, wife,” he directed, a smooth, silky note entering his voice.

Hermione looked down at the green leather, the front now gaping away from his body enough for a shadowy nest of pale curls to appear well below his exposed navel. His swollen organ was partly visible lying sideways at his hip, a dark red against the dark green. The leggings had always ridden low, hugging his hips rather than his waist. Now they were nearly down to his crotch. She gave a halfhearted yank on one side of the pants and stopped again.

“Hermione,” Lucius growled, but he allowed the chain to loosen.

Hermione thought over her dilemma. If she lowered those leggings, he might forgo where his fingers were aimed, opting instead to use his obviously aroused, masculine appendage. She’d already done that with him and the idea didn’t disgust her like those fingers threatening her rear entrance, now lightly massaging her butt cleft with mute intimidation. The pants it was, then.

Hermione grabbed both sides of his leggings and began the slow job of pulling the tight material down his corded thighs. It was like peeling a giant, green-skinned banana, the way the leather clung to his body. She breathed a sigh of relief when Lucius’ fingers came away from her butt and he stood perfectly still for her.

Almost immediately she was face to face with his stiff organ as she hunched down to shimmy the leather further down his thighs. She was so close she could have counted the veins pulsing in it and a wild urge to stick the tip of her tongue out to taste it assailed her.

Hermione inhaled the purely masculine, pine-soap-and-Lucius smell of him and then peeped up at her husband from under her lashes. Seeing his eyes were closed and he wasn’t watching, she paused longer to examine the fascinating, normally culturally taboo male penis. Why did this amazing piece of erotic engineering always get covered up with a fig leaf? Ron’s would be lost behind a fig leaf; Lucius’ would need the tree.



Hermione snapped out of her trance over his tool and continued with her task, removing the clingy leather from her spouse’s extremities. His thighs were muscled and toned; she knew that from the massage, but now she wondered how they could be so firm if he sat at a desk all day. She got to his ankles and saw tiny charms keeping the bottom edges of his pants closed. When she ran her fingers down the weak charms, the legging bottoms opened up, allowing her to help Lucius to step out of his leather pants. The chain at her collar tightened as Lucius crossed his arms; she was nearly at the end of the chain’s length as she knelt at his feet.

Hermione stood up again and asked, “Why don’t you just have a charm to open the top of your pants like at the bottoms?” She pointed at his ankles, “It would have been much simpler.”

Pale eyes opened from his profound enjoyment of each tiny tug on his trousers, each gust of air from his wife’s breath on his hidden skin, each little feminine grunt as she worked his leather off him. His smile was quizzical. “Now why would I want to do that?” Half to himself, he murmured, “So naïve.”

Hermione colored up, belatedly understanding what Lucius meant and why his eyes had been closed instead of following her trip down his legs.

“The leather is charmed somehow? Is that it? Why do you get charmed leather and I get a stupid thong?”

“Would you like leather leggings with a sensitizing charm? It magnifies each delicate touch or breath against it, sending it directly to… well, in your case, to your clit, I suppose.” He chuckled, “Having you sit on my lap was divine, but when you stopped just now and breathed on my groin I thought I was done for. Luckily you moved on before I lost my control. No charmed leather can equal a woman’s breath on bare skin.”

One side of his mouth rose in sly question as his eyes narrowed, taunting her, “Did you like what you saw? You were there long enough to have counted every pore. I can make a life-sized replica for you to keep on your desk as a paperweight if you like. Just for display purposes, though, not for internal use.” Lucius laughed at the little witch’s blushing cheeks and pinched lips.

“You know, Lucius, that’s a very unbecoming expression you’re wearing right now,” Hermione sniped. “That sleazy, sly cast to your features makes you look like a cheap caricature of a melodrama villain. All you need is a mustache to twirl.” Hermione wrapped her see-through robe around her, lifting her chin against the heckling of her husband.

Lucius was a little confounded by the reference to someone’s cheap mustache, but remained unfazed as he smiled more normally, “It was just a joke, Hermione. You needn’t answer the question, though. I can see the answer glistening on your thong. You definitely liked what you saw.” He reached for her hand again and pulled her forward for a brief kiss by winding the chain around his palm, startling her and making her confused.

He was such an arse, she fumed, but seeing him wearing nothing but a thin silver chain linking them, the collar, and wristguards was making her thong saturated. Such an arsehole, but so edible. If she couldn’t like him, she certainly was learning to appreciate his body.


tbc...


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I know - another cliffie. Odd because I don't try to do them on purpose. They just have worked out that way in this story. And Hermione has moved on from thinking about spanking Lucius to leading him around by a leash. Are those dreams of vengeance or an unrecognized streak of licentiousness in her?

Oh, and lemons next chapter.

Don't forget this chapter's picture at:

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/48625.html


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