The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 3-23-07

I guess pirates are generally popular,if all you reviewers are the norm. Anyone wishing they could see Lucius as a pirate (in a way) can look up 'Peter Pan' the movie or do Google images to see Jason Isaacs as Captain Hook. He's got long, dark hair in that movie with excellent pirate togs that Isaacs had some control over - VERY sumptuous and romantic looking. And the clothes were hot too! (grin)

http://i.imdb.com/Photos/Ss/0316396/5576_D065_00089.JPG

Otherwise here are a few URLs of Fabio for the blond 'pirate' version. (Thanks for the idea, LustBlood ) You can substitute the face.


http://www.i-mockery.com/bad-albums/fabio/fabio-covers.jpg (piraty)
http://jenopolis.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/fabio.jpg (piraty)
http://www.fabioifc.com/2007_STORIES/fabiofantasy.jpg (in a tux)
http://www.ibiblio.org/jewel/RomanceNovel/Images/Fabio.jpg (in nothing much)


Now how did you all guess that this chapter was going to be lemony? (shakes head) You guys are mind-readers, I swear...

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Chapter Eighteen


Hermione Fails and Wins

Lucius returned them to the mouth of the alley, folded Hermione into his arms and apparated them unerringly into his bedroom, instantly letting loose of her to command, “You’ll take off every piece of my clothing for me, and touch nothing except the clothes. Do you understand?”


Hermione was so ready, all she wanted was to open those painted-on pants and suck the life out of him. AFTER rubbing his cock all over her overheated skin. She began to tug off her shoes, which were predictably killing her, but Lucius stalled her.


“I don’t want you to touch your own clothes yet. Keep everything on. I’ll attend to them later. My clothes first. Start with my boots.” Lucius sat down and sprawled in the infamous spanking chair, awaiting Hermione’s service. He could appreciate the signs of her arousal now that had eluded him in the darkened club with its murky atmosphere and cacophony of scents. Her thighs glistened with more than sparkly stockings and he was inordinately pleased at the success of his costume. But he maintained a solemn face as his little servant came forward and knelt down between his legs.


Sweet relief! Even being able to get her weight off those torture stilettos felt better and Hermione looked forward to stripping her husband’s every stitch off his luscious body, uncovering her personal treasure. A slight shiver at the fringes of her thoughts reminded her that she was now in her submissive role and she’d better perform more convincingly this time. She didn’t want to disappoint her husband or test his temper. It was just so hard, keeping her hands to herself when she wanted him so very much.


For her, he fairly dripped pheromones, sapping her willpower but conversely igniting her feminine needs to the point of wanting to grab and lick and suck him into oblivion. But her taking any initiative was against his rules until he could trust her not to take him over and use his carnal proclivities to compel him to her will. She understood all that, but she knew he didn’t need to worry at all. She just wanted him to be happy, like he’d been at the breakfast table, talking about Quidditch. In her private heart, Hermione had admired his looks for years, even though it pained her because he’d been so far out of her reach – dangerous, Death Eater, Muggleborn hater, but worst of all – married.


She was well aware his beautiful shell hid something more arrogant, vicious and conniving; he should have inspired fear and loathing. Why hadn’t he? She didn’t really know. She’d married him because he had been a fantasy of hers for years, and he’d shown a few subtle signs of turning over a new leaf with the sudden decimation of all the Death Eaters. He’d never be a tame, housebroken husband, but who wanted a husband like Arthur Weasley who ruled the magic world only to go home and play doormat to his wife?


No, it was something more that called to her, like the siren’s voice waiting to lure her between clashing rocks. When she’d married him, she’d been convinced that her marriage would be what she chose to make of it, but in those first few months, she’d gotten cold feet, feeling her own weakness around him, like a fluffy bunny rabbit seduced by a snake. His pull was terrifying and literally bewitching to her.


She was certain he was angry with her, maybe even hated her, and she was afraid of his retaliation if she went to his bed. A total coward, that’s what she was. She’d skittered from his sight any time she saw him coming. She hadn’t gone to him for help with the contractors, instead signing papers herself because she wanted as little to do with him as possible. But not for the reasons he’s assumed. It was laughable really. He’d finally practically begged her for what she’d been desperately wanting him to take for months. Whores, indeed! No one touched her husband but her.


The unusual ways he enjoyed her body were a surprise – she hadn’t thought much about anything but straightforward sex. What an education she was getting and not all of it to her taste. But she was learning that there were physical intimacies that she did like exploring with her handsome husband. She would probably learn to like most of it after the shock wore off. Hermione grinned. She’d already shocked him with the on-switch of her purple Muggle sex toy.


Lucius waited patiently for Hermione to come off whatever mental cloud she was floating on while he inhaled her aromatic scent; it was like a fingerprint absolutely exclusive to her. And unbearably arousing to him. He wondered why that was. He’d enjoyed many women and many scents, but hers coiled around him, imprisoning him in a unique, seductive, feminine trap. It was one reason he was so leery of her power over him. He wasn’t going to tell her about it anytime soon, preferring the nights when she hid her feminine musk in some perfume. Then he could breathe a little more deeply without succumbing to her compelling aura. Lucius saw her grin and then look up at him expectantly. He merely pointed at a boot and waited.


Hermione inspected the boot and found the way it unlatched. It had a magic seam in the back, easily spelled open. She opened his boots and gently removed them, putting them off to the side. “Socks, too?” When Lucius nodded, she pulled them off. “Shall I choose what to remove next, or is that your choice?” Hermione sat gingerly on her heels trying not to puncture herself with her stilettos.


“My choice. Always, my choice. The waistcoat next.” Lucius sat up a little so she could remove it.


Hermione slid the buttons through their holes and loosened the black brocade around his waist. She brazenly ran her hands all along his waist around to the back of him, running her hands slowly, caressingly up his back, flexing her fingers in the muscles there, until she reached his shoulders. She grabbed the waistcoat at the top near his neck and pulled the garment inch by agonizing inch down his back, over each arm and finally off his hands. She had buried her face in his chest the entire time while working on the waistcoat.


Lucius could feel her sneaking little licks of his exposed chest where his shirt lay open and realized no matter what he assigned her to do, she’d find a way to make it hers. Had he really hoped she would honor his request? Her tiny licks felt very tantalizing to him; he could just let her entertain him, make him wild and ignore her lapse, then he could give it back to her in spades later. In the meantime she could make him purr, reveling in her touch and her steamy bouquet. He could…No. Lucius tightened his fists with resentment at his lost evening of sex. He just couldn’t bring himself to ignore her misbehavior. Once again she was flouting his right to be master in his own bedroom. Her promise of submissiveness was just so much smoke blown in his face. It made him feel like her chattel.


Hermione came to the end of the waistcoat and sat back again. She proudly observed the wet spot on his chest while she waited for his next instruction. Gods, he tasted good. He’d taste even better if she could get those knit pants off him. Hermione tried desperately not to look at his crotch and give away what she wanted off him next.


“Hermione, please recite for me the rule I set up for disrobing me.” Lucius’ voice was suspiciously bland and whimsical.


Hermione replayed in her head his commands when they arrived in the bedroom and looked up at him in confusion. Then her face blanched. Oh no, he’d said not to touch him at all and she’d been licking his chest just now. She’d forgotten in her mindless attraction. Her hands clapped to her mouth in dismay. She shakily clasped them together in her lap and begged, “I’m so sorry, Lucius. I forgot. I get near you and my mind goes to mush. It’s no excuse but I’m so sorry.” How could she have forgotten such a simple command? Her mind really did go to mush, but Lucius was unlikely to believe her. Anyway, it wasn’t any excuse. Oh, Gods, what now?


“I believe that was a new record of insubordination, even for you. What has it been? Five minutes? Six?” Lucius rose from the chair and stood over his wife with his clenched fists on his hips, cocking his head, his pale blond hair swinging to the side as he contemplated what to do with her. He smiled, but his eyes were glaciers and Hermione shivered in her stilettos.


His hard-on was so close to her face she could feel the heat of it, but she wasn’t thinking about that now. Not now with her heart in her throat.


“Did you do it on purpose?” Lucius needed to know.


Hermione struggled to her feet and clasped her hands behind her, entreating him with her sad, brown eyes. “On purpose? Did I lick you on purpose? I suppose I did, it wasn’t an accident if that’s what you mean.” Hermione tried to work out his angry question. Suddenly she gasped, “Oh! Oh, no! No, Lucius! I didn’t do it to defy your rule. Not on purpose that way. I’m stupid, yes, but not defiant. Please believe me.” She went to place her hand on his arm, but stopped before she touched him and made it worse.


Lucius had been simultaneously aroused and saddened by Hermione’s little tongue on his chest. He had been looking forward to a night filled with hot sex, and was almost happy enough to give in to her preference for the missionary position.


Now that was all ruined. “I believe you but it doesn’t make much difference, does it? You didn’t take my wishes to heart. It took you no time at all to forget what I asked of you. We’ve spent the evening in a Muggle club at your request. I tried my best to accommodate your wishes, even donning this outré costume to please you. I thought I made my simple rule easy for you. But you seem to concentrate on your own desires before mine.” Lucius felt himself withdrawing from his wife, protecting his feelings, and that made him even sadder. “You heard me but you didn’t really listen, Hermione. Severus said you were an outstanding student. You must have listened to your professors. So I have to assume it is only your husband whom you find not worth listening to.”


Hermione didn’t know how to retrieve her stupid error. How could she explain to her husband that he made her absolutely deranged with desire when she got near him? “No, it’s your smell.”


Lucius thought he hadn’t heard her correctly, “Pardon me?”


“It’s your smell. Your body scent. I can’t explain it any better than to say that I smell you and my mind shuts down. I only feel. I guess it sounds stupid. If I want to think clearly, I have to stay a few feet away.”


Lucius hid a smile. He knew exactly what she was talking about. So it ran both ways. She had just given him back an advantage. He couldn’t announce that he too succumbed to her scent, so he had to continue on with her chastisement. But he was willing to give her a graceful out for the evening. “As you assure me that it was not a deliberate act of control on your part, I will offer a proposal to you. You can either take your punishment and then sleep in my bed with me tonight, or you can avoid the punishment and sleep in your own bed all night. Tomorrow we can forget your error and start again.”


Hermione looked up at her somber-faced husband and wanted more than anything to stay with him, smooth things over, give him back his power, but tonight she hadn’t made such a good job of it. She passionately wanted a husband with the same amount of license and authority as she had, not a hamstrung has-been, desperate to protect the turf of one small bedroom.


She wanted, no needed, her husband to be free to bring as much strength of will to their marriage as she did. She deserved Lucius in all his imperial arrogance to balance her own forceful tendencies. In their current situation it was like making Lucius play Quidditch blindfolded while she flew circles around him taunting him for his lack of sight.


The imbalance that Arthur had designed into their relationship had done its job and Lucius was making money for the Ministry. That was enough. In less than a year’s time Lucius would be free to tumble any Purebloods he wanted, and unless the Ministry gelded him, there would be little they could do to stop him. Hermione needed to have won him as a true mate with more than the threat of an empty pocketbook and house arrest by then or it was all for nothing and her marriage would essentially be over. She would never stand for him visiting other women’s beds.


Her decision was an easy one. With a little contrite catch in her voice she whispered, “I’ll take the punishment. I don’t want you to send me away.”


Lucius was completely taken aback. He’d been sure she would opt for her own bed. It was only one night, after all. But the band squeezing his heart eased some with her choice. He contemplated her woebegone little face silently for a few seconds before saying, “So be it. You understand you’re going across my lap again? With no liniment until tomorrow?”


“Yes,” she nodded. “Can we get it over with?” One lone tear tracked down her cheek as she gazed up at her disappointed husband.


“Hermione, will you never let me control anything?” Lucius shook his head in disgust, his hair dancing around his shoulders. But he reached out one finger and gently dashed her tear away.


That just made her cry harder. “I’m scared, Lucius. I don’t like the pain, but I want to please you. I guess I’m just not a very good submissive. Even though I try. You have more experience with these games. Will I ever learn? Or will I always fail?” Hermione dashed more tears away. “If I can’t succeed at being what you want in the bedroom, will you go back to the whores at the end of the year? Or go bedhopping again? Is there any way I can keep you satisfied or is that a lost cause?” Hermione was remembering that the beautiful Narcissa couldn’t keep him, so how was she ever going to do it?


Lucius pulled Hermione against his chest and held her, rocking her slowly in his arms while she sobbed out her misery. “I don’t need to go elsewhere for sex, even if you can’t be a true submissive. I knew from the start you didn’t have it in you. I wasn’t trying to set you up to fail – well, only a little – as entertainment and payback.


Hermine reared back from her husband’s wet chest, nailing him with a nasty glare rather ruined by her hiccups.


Lucius pulled her against him again, smiling contentedly as he noticed she was no longer crying and neither was she trying to get out of his arms, “I just wanted a little control somewhere in my life.” He attempted to explain his internal mind-set to both of them, “I need some bit of power or I can’t endure all the rest. Maybe it’s my Slytherin genes, but weakness is anathema to me. I thought I’d enjoy your attempts to be submissive, while knowing all along you couldn’t do it. I guess I didn’t take my own nature into account. Because I was caged with so little power of my own, seeing any defiance from you in my miniscule bedroom kingdom makes me see red.” He chuckled briefly, “Or maybe just pink now, since you’ve returned my money. Thank you for that.”


Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around the waist she loved, daring what she hoped was a safe question, “What do you want to do now, Lucius?”


He gave her a quizzical you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look, and pressed his erection into her stomach.


“I mean, what do you want me to do now? I’m afraid to make any moves at all. And I still want to please you.”


Lucius thought of his black Muggle sex toy, but decided against it for this evening. He just wanted to be inside Hermione’s tight little channel. Did he still need to punish her?


While he was running ideas through his head, Hermione asked, “Does spanking me turn you on?”


Lucius just looked down at her cryptically, not answering the question, but for now he was relieved that submissive Hermione was nowhere in sight - again.


“I asked because the last time you spanked me there was an extremely hard cock poking me in the stomach. I think I wound up with bruises both front and back,” Hermione stroked his waist, sliding her hands around to the front and inching her fingers up his washboard abs to his chest, “but to be honest, I was feeling a little excited too, all mixed in with the pain. The shock of the whole experience made it unpleasant, but if it happens to me again, I just wonder if the excitement will overwhelm the pain.” Hermione ran her hands around his ribcage and massaged his solid back muscles never losing eye contact.


“Are you asking me to help you find out?” Lucius was intrigued by his wife’s confession. He would very much like to spank her again. She was spot on that he got off on spanking that cute little bottom. If she was asking for it, he could easily oblige her, but he needed to know for certain.


“Don’t I still merit the spanking for breaking your rule? With no liniment until tomorrow?” Hermione twinkled up at her husband through her wet eyelashes and, holding his icy eyes, slowly leaned forward and licked his chest again. “There. That time was definitely defiance. Now what are you going to do to me?”


Lucius released her and sat down in the easy chair once again. “First, pull what little there is of that tarty skirt up to your waist.” He relaxed back, watching her obey his command. “By the way, if we ever go dancing again, I’ll have to approve your outfit before we leave. I’m thinking long-sleeved, ankle-length, high-necked thick gray wool, but you can choose your own jewelry if you like.”


Hermione wasn’t sure he was kidding, but she retaliated, “You think I'm the one who needs to be monitored before we go dancing? Lucius, those women knew to a millimeter just how thick and long your ding-dong was, not to mention the size of the Bobbsey twins underneath.”


“My ding-dong? Oh, I like that one. Is that a Muggle term?” Lucius couldn’t keep the amused smile off his face.


Hermione turned three shades of red, but remained mute, standing there with her skirt scrunched up in her hands at her waist.


“Hermione,” Lucius’ whimsical smile disappeared and he warned in a low, dire tone. “I asked you a question.”


Hermione pouted, embarrassed, “No, I always called it that until I met you. Okay?”


The smile reappeared and Lucius snickered in spite of himself, “And the Bobbsey twins?”


“I made that up, just now. The Bobbsey twins were characters in a series of Muggle books for children a long time ago. It just seemed descriptive of the movement of your…uhm…and it popped into my head.” Hermione wanted to sarcastically ask if he was going to make fun of every colorful Muggle phrase she used, but she was learning that a smart mouth in his bedroom got her grief.


Lucius nodded. Now he could see that Hermione only had on the sheer, sparkly pantyhose and a pair of minute white lace knickers. He waved at her midriff, “Continue - just pull your pantyhose and knickers down to your knees. Leave them there and come here.”


Hermione huffed silently to herself because she didn’t want another display of Lucius’ anger, and wiggled the tight pantyhose and little lace thong down to her knees as he’d told her. She then shuffled over to her husband in her stilettos, standing before him.


Lucius gazed at his wife’s little curly muff and the remnants of the slick juices she’d been creating that adorned it. “Lie on my lap face down. I think you know the drill by now.” He was getting painfully thick and hard just from seeing her privates and the erotic scent she always emitted when she was aroused. “No, go to the other side. I like to use my right hand for spanking.”


Hermione hobbled around to his other side, still holding onto her skirt and hesitantly draped herself over his knees. His erection was protruding so much it was a little uncomfortable lying with her stomach on the ridge pointing up across his thigh under the knit slacks. He’d been naked last time and the firm flesh had been free to poke her if she moved, but hadn’t been a static bump. His scent had its usual effect and Hermione inhaled deeply, getting just a mite tipsy with lust. She was going to discover if spanking held any allure for her, and she was determined to do it with a full tank of Eau de Lucius in her lungs.


Lucius had Hermione’s little pink ass nestled on his lap and he took his time sliding her skirt more firmly up her torso. Her knees were locked together by her thong and pantyhose so he played a bit with her bum, pressing a finger into her cleft and retrieving some of her body’s honey to slather around her folds.


“Lucius, I thought you were going to spank me,” Hermione tried to wiggle her butt around but got it immediately clamped into place by two strong hands on her back and thigh. She resisted or a second or two, then relaxed on his lap, only to feel a stinging slap on her butt cheeks. “Ouch,” she cried, “that hurt! Can’t you spank me a little more gently?” Hermione tried to look around at her husband, but got jostled back into place by Lucius’ knees.


“I only spank true submissives gently. They don’t try to direct the force of the spanks. And we’ve already established that you aren’t one.” WHAP! Lucius struck again, then made each slap of his hand sting more than the last until Hermione was subjected to the best that Lucius could offer. “Does it turn you on, precious? I see your honey pot is overflowing so it can’t be all bad. When I’m through spanking you, I’m going to fuck that little honey pot so hard, you’ll wish I’d continued spanking you.” He admired the blush red of her backside as it slowly turned more fiery in color. Having her bounce on his immobilized erection was a magnificent side benefit as he plied his hand on her cherry butt cheeks, putting his entire arm muscle behind each stroke. “And do you think you’ll actually listen to me next time I give a command in my bedroom?”


By now Hermione was wishing she hadn’t chosen to stay and she tried desperately not to cry, but it hurt. Then, in the space between one heartbeat and the next, her body seemed to transmute above the pain to an increasing pleasure, making her drip more juice down her legs. She felt that she’d gone into another dimension of carnal delight, rising above the simple pain into a pain-pleasure that went on and on as the spanking drew her into a marvelous high and she convulsed suddenly with an overwhelming orgasm that took her – and Lucius – completely by surprise.


Lucius flipped her over and, supporting her shoulders with his arm, he crammed his fingers into her slit, rubbing her from her clit on down until he could slide his fingers all the way into her sheath, then back up to her clit again - hard pressure that made her buck uncontrollably in his lap as she screamed his name, “Luuuuuciussss. Gods, fuck me.” She pushed his fingers harder into her pussy as she went off into a second climax even more violent than the first.


Lucius lifted her bodily up from his lap and carried her to the bed. He efficiently stripped off her pantyhose and thong, slung her legs open, and stopped only long enough to yank his pants to his calves, then he sent his cock into that warm, wet cavern with one tremendous thrust, feeling the echoes of her climax surround and squeeze his tool. At once he established a punishing rhythm, forcing his length all the way to the back of her channel, never taking himself out more than halfway before driving into her again. He had to hold her shoulders so she didn’t slide up and hit her head on the headboard, but the intensity didn’t slow until Hermione flew over the edge a third time, and this time Lucius was with her, crowding his male sword inside so far he could feel himself tipping under and behind her womb. He let out a male roar of completion that melded with her lighter cries of fulfillment. At the end, she had a red bum again, but Lucius now had a few more fingernail marks to add to the collection on his bum too. He didn’t care at all and neither did she.

Lucius kicked off his trousers, tucked Hermione into his side, pulling the covers over both of them, and then he whispered in her tiny, shell-like ear, “Maybe babies tonight.” He kissed her ear and dropped off to sleep with her fingers softly winnowing through his hair.


Hermione gently removed his shirt, but he never stirred. She carefully tucked the black silk under her head and inhaled deeply, snuggling under her toasty warm husband. Her last satisfied thought was that she’d earned this place in his bed and she was keeping it, before slipping into the waiting arms of Morpheus too.


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So this time it was actually all consensual and Hermione voluntarily added a kink to her sexual repertoire. Lucius was very 'hands-on', of course, but it was she who instigated what she got. They are each certainly learning from the other.

So, it's your turn - did this couple move forward - or not? It looks like Hermione has a plan for her feral Death Eater. Will she succeed? Can it work? Review this twisty chapter and let me know your thoughts. I do hope you enjoyed it. 8-)

P.S. Did the blond pirate pics help with the mind pics?
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