What Lucius Wants

A/N: this is dedicated to my lovely reviewers who almost unanimously beg… er... requested another chapter. I hope this lives up to your expectations. Enjoy.

~o0o~

Oh Gods… My new life… was amazing.

I think I’ve had more cocks in me in the last month, than I’ve had in my four years of whoring myself. My new master likes my ass to be filled at all times. He likes to stop me in mid walk or crawl and shove something in my ass (I’ve had to create an often used spell that makes me stretched and lubed at a moments notice – damn I’m good). And not always his cock or cane. I’ve had more broomsticks, candlesticks, wands, hands, potion vials and other long and not-so-slender objects shoved in my hole. If I sit, it’s on something that has a long thick handle sticking straight up, and the handle could be made of anything: wood, metal, marble.

I wear stilettos all the time now. All the time. In bed, out of bed, in the shower. Yep. My heels are magically protected and stuck to my soles via a light but perpetual sticking charm (my own invention). And wearing the heels in the shower, almost always gets me fucked up the ass before the shower is done. My master loves filling me from one end while having something or someone fill my other while he fucks me. In the shower I’m often deep-throating a life-like dildo replica of his own cock while he pounds into me.

He loves shocking people by having me walk into meetings naked (except for my heels, manacles, piercings, leash and collar, and the Malfoy Diamond)(which I’ll explain in a second) and either stand there and do nothing except throw the people he’s meeting with off their stride by distracting them with my petite effeminate naked beauty, or have me suck him off while they watch, thereby implying that whatever the meeting is about isn’t worth his time. I guess I should be humiliated by his blatantly domineering use of my body, but I’m always as turned on by the degradingly slutty behaviour as my master is. Hence the need for the diamond.

Oh fuck. The Malfoy Diamond. My master is Lucius Malfoy, and man is he loaded. His house is the most ridiculously freaking huge mansion I’ve ever seen. He has more rooms than any one person could know what to do with. Including a wonderfully opulent bedroom, and the darker, kinkier room beside it filled with his toys and slutty fixtures. And in this house, anything can be used to bend me over, lay me out on, or push me up against. For instance… the kitchen has an icebox, with cool metal sides, beading with condensation that feels… Gods…

Mmm… where was I? Oh yea… the diamond. It’s a solitaire, slightly larger than a muggle golf ball, and it’s exquisitely cut. And hanging from my prick, its pointed end buried in my cock slit. Oh man. The diamond is I don’t know how many carats (I have no clue about stuff like that), but it’s a gorgeous sparkling white, it weighs a ton (ok, maybe only a pound or two, but when it’s a pound or two pulling on your cock, you notice believe me) and it’s there to both denote ownership, and to keep my often excited cock in its place. It’s attached via a spell, and I have a further spell on it that keeps my cock from getting infected (hey I might be a sex slave, but I’m not a dumb sex slave). And the feeling of my cum, sliding past it is a delicious torture that I feel not often enough. Magical cock rings? Are a bitch.

I also have pierced nipples that have gleaming platinum hoops glinting on my chest, three piercings on my prick – fuck – I passed out from the pain while those were added (the small hoops are also platinum, of course), and a pierced tongue to provide extra sensations as I suck my master off.

I do wear clothes sometimes. Like the skirt I first wore for my master. All my clothes are extremely short, diaphanous dresses or very mini skirts. If I wear a top at all it is always see-through. My master’s current favourite is a sheer light blue dress that allows the tip of my cock and the Malfoy Diamond to show in the front and just reaches my ass cheeks in the back. It’s cut low in the front to show my fake cleavage – I have a whole wardrobe filled with nothing but lacey frilly bras and lingerie. I have one pair of pants that my master allows me to wear, and they are sinfully tight, and never seem to stay on very long. I have more make-up than I previously had access to, but really my master likes a hint of eyeliner and shadow and a deep pink gloss to my lips, and lets my admittedly delicate features speak for themselves.

As I’m guessing you’ve figured from the above, I mostly go out dressed like a girl: a really frilly girl in hardly any clothes. Cross-dressing is really something that I’ve only done for my master, but I must say I’m really starting to like the lingerie and heels. The corsets… I could live without.

Anyway, when I walk into a room, following my master on my leash, wearing nothing but my wrist and ankle manacles (a permanent part of my wardrobe, done in platinum naturally – with a handy spell keeping them from chafing or rubbing my skin raw – my own spell again), my heels, piercings, collar and that precious stone on my equally precious cock, most people are seriously turned on, and their thoughts reveal that the things they want to do to me are usually not very imaginative, but are universally very raw and primitive. Depending on my master’s mood we either tease them by showing them graphically and explicitly what they’ll never have (me bent over a table letting them fuck me for instance) or if my master is feeling generous they might be invited to partake in a moment that they’d only ever contemplated in their raunchiest, sexiest, wettest wet dream.

Now at this point you might be thinking that my master is uncommonly generous with my ass. And I supposed he is, but it’s not generosity or a willingness to make people’s slutty fantasies come true. He does it to fuck with their heads while they’re fucking with my body. He does it ruthlessly, he’s driven by the constant need to demonstrate his power over others, his ability to bend people to his will by using their weak points against them. It’s a huge turn on, to control and manipulate others at their most basic subconscious levels.

A case in point would be when my master and I went to visit the imbecilic Minister of Magic, Cornelius “I Can Be Bought” Fudge. Man, that fucker is an idiot.

I gotta say, though, that the look on his face when my master and I pushed our way past his hapless underling and entered his office with me trailing demurely on my leash (walking, not crawling) wearing a green sheer dress that came down to my balls, leaving the bottom third of my cock and the Malfoy Diamond on display, while the top was cut low exposing my utterly male nipples, each adorned with a diamond solitaire the size of a ball bearing in place of my usual hoops. The dress was slit up the back for ease of access, and the whole thing flapped and swayed often, leaving nothing to the imagination. I was wearing four-inch heels which are a pain in the arches but so worth if as it allowed me to look down on Fudge, although didn’t make much of an impact on the 6’1” red-headed older gentleman Fudge was berating as we walked in. The shoes had large green emeralds across the toes and along with all my other jewels and the diamonds and emeralds on the handle of my leash, I was wearing more money than either man would see in their lifetimes.

To say that Fudge was stunned when we entered is an understatement so vast that it’s hard to comprehend. His jaw was somewhere on the floor, his eyes were huge and bug-eyed, and his cock was straining in his robes. He had been standing, but when his reaction to my appearance became obvious to all he very rudely sat. Fudge’s thoughts when I made contact were scattered but simple, mostly running along two lines: “Fuck that’s hot!” And “how do I get me one of those?” His hapless red-haired minion was utterly pale, and very flustered. I scanned the red-head and he was appalled at my master’s wantonness, angered on my behalf, somewhat aroused by my nakedness, with that arousal centered on my pale firm ass, and overwhelmingly ashamed of the arousal. .

I didn’t laugh or openly sneer as image is everything to my master, but on the inside I was positively gleeful. Glancing up at my master I read his intentions to embarrass the red-head whom he sincerely loathed and to make Fudge extremely sexually frustrated and permanently envious. Fudge stammered and stuttered as he tried to make his two-overworked brain cells rub together to produce a coherent thought.

I knew instinctively how my master would want to play this to wreak the most havoc. And while a small (very small) part of me felt sorry for the red-head, he had displeased my master he was fair game. And before you ask, yes, I know my master is not a nice person, but I also know where my bread is definitely buttered. And toasted. And devoured.

Umm… where was I? Oh right… My master raised an elegant eyebrow and nodded briefly towards the red-head as he snapped his fingers. I made eye contact with my tall soon-to-be-victim and put the simple thought that “you want this” in his brain. It was placed gently enough that it wouldn’t override everything else, but firmly enough that it would make my next step easier. I took a step towards the somewhat petrified man, who just watch me in stunned disbelief as I bent flat at the waist and put my head almost up against his stomach as I worked on parting his robe and opening the ties of his trousers. His frozen amazement lasted long enough form me to part his robes (with a brilliant spell undoing all his buttons at once)(wandless, wordless magic is insidious and addictive as hell) but when I reached for his belt, he unfroze and balked, and tried to step away. But he was backed up against the wall of Fudge’s office and had nowhere to go. I met his uncomfortable eyes and said softly: “You know you want this. Let me.” There was only the barest hint of compulsion behind it, nowhere near the Imperius curse, just enough of a push towards something he subconsciously wanted but that in normal circumstances he would never ever act on.

His hands, which had been trying to push me away, fell to his sides and he was rebelling enough to be shaking his head and whispering a faint “no, stop,” rather often. Any remorse I might have felt was lost in the flood of excited heat that filled me at the thought of controlling, manipulating and ultimately humiliating this man, I continued, unimpeded, in unfastening his belt and trouser stays, and slowly reached into his trousers and withdrew his rather ordinary cock. It might have been six inches, which is alright I suppose, but I’m used to more. Much more. He was crying openly as I stroked him, his cock hardening against his will. All the while Fudge was watching agog, still seated at his desk, his hands flat on the surface (temporarily stuck there by a similar sticking charm like the one that keeps my stilettos on). He hadn’t yet realized his hands were stuck as he hadn’t yet tried to reach for his own cock, but any moment now…

“Hey! Un-stick my hands immedi…” Instead of un-sticking his hands my master cast a silencing spell. So poor frustrated Fudge had to watch the rest of the performance with no relief in sight, as he couldn’t utter a word to cancel the spell, and he couldn’t stroke himself as he watched.

I had been stroking the weeping red-head’s weeping cock, when my master snapped his fingers again and I immediately sucked that cock all the way down my throat. As I was used to a much bigger intrusion, I easily managed to swallow the sobbing man’s cock to the root. His cries of “no” were now intermingled with small shamed cries of pleasure that were being wrought by my skillful, pierced tongue on his hot hard throbbing prick.

My master, of course, was busy at my ass. He’s usually too fastidious to use his hand, but I think the crudity of the act in front of the ashamed and crying man, and the demonstration of absolute power over another human being in front of the frustrated Fudge spurred him on. Unfortunately he did this silently, as my master’s sex-laden voice should be the eighth wonder of the world. As I felt his first two digits penetrate my tight hole, I wordlessly set my stretching and lubing spell (which I call my Wet-n-Ready spell) and knowing that he would build up to it, I slowed down somewhat on the quivering cock in my mouth, trying to draw it out a bit.

The debauched red-head was sobbing silently as I continued my assault on his now fully hard prick. As I licked, sucked and cajoled an orgasm from him, something in him broke and he gave in to the intolerable shameful act he was being forced into and he started thrusting into my mouth. Without being aware of it at first, he started to find a rhythm and fisted my hair and slowly but steadily increased his pace until he was fucking my face.

My master was aware, though, of the moment our victim broke. He roughly added two more fingers and started to match the faster rhythm that Fudge’s unfortunate lackey was setting. My master tucked his thumb inside his fingers and I felt an insistent pushing that got more insistent, put more pressure, thrust a little deeper with each thrust of Fudge’s underling’s cock.

Aaaahhhh! I almost screamed around my victim’s cock, I certainly inadvertently took him deeper as I instinctively opened my mouth to scream. My master’s not particularly small hand was fully encased in my ass. And he was still matching the speed and intensity of the red-head so although he could not slide in and out easily, he opened and closed his fist inside of my ass, while moving his wrist fractionally forward and back. The sensation inside my hole was sheer sexual torture; the painful burn at the rim of my hole was ordinary old-fashioned torture.

But what turned the pain into pleasure for me, was the same thing that got my master hot and horny every time: controlling, and in this case forcing, the actions and reactions of others. Sex with my master is always a weapon.

The silently sobbing man in my mouth finally came with a cry of passion and self-loathing. My master opened his fist one last time in my ass, and then waited to withdraw his hand at the same time the broken man, who’s shoulders were shuddering with shame and remorse, withdrew.

But we weren’t done and I knew it. I made eye contact with the man who had just fucked my mouth and his tearful blue eyes begged me for forgiveness. But forgiveness was not forthcoming. I instead looked hurt, and humiliated, tears in my own eyes, ashamed at being used. And before I looked away I read a strong thought of ashamed arousal of: “Merlin, help me, but I want to be buried in his hot young ass!” I sent no compulsion this time, didn’t add any input to his shamefully lusty thoughts, I just hung my head and waited for my master’s next order.

My master snapped his fingers one more time and I gracefully turned, while leaving my back still horizontal to the floor (quite the trick in four-inch heels) and started to perform the exact same act on my master while innocently (not) presenting my ass, with my hole already gaping, waiting to be filled, to the severely conflicted and highly turned on man now behind me.

And this was the true artistry of my master, this was the true thrill of utter power: because with no mental prompting from me, with no thoughts left in his head that weren’t his own, I felt my hips grabbed as the man behind me gave in to wanton and overwhelming temptation and slammed into my ass. My master is not a man given to displaying anything other than cold disdain, but I knew that if I had looked up I would see the faintest trace of a smirk on the corner of my master’s thin cruel lips.

My master and our victim-turned-accomplice worked in sweaty sexual tandem for certainly the only time in their lives as they fucked me simultaneously. The red-head was groaning his pleasure and my master was utterly silent as he brutally used my mouth and throat.

All this time, Fudge had been reduced to trying to rub his throbbing prick against the underside of his desk as he could not use his hands to get any relief from the utterly slutty sight before him.

The groaning thrusting man at my ass, the man now willingly using my hole for his own perverse gratification, the man who had been unwillingly dragged down to his most base desires, was close to completion, I could tell. I clenched my ass muscles around his pulsing prick and felt him cum explosively, in my ass. My master, incredibly turned on his enemy’s forced capitulation, came shortly thereafter, and as is his wont, pulled out and came on my face.

The minister’s desk moved violently forward as Fudge humped it in a desperate effort to seek release. It moved forward again as Fudge obviously, though thankfully still silently (there are some things I don’t need to hear), came in his pants, hands still frustratingly stuck.

I stilled as the man behind me seemed to retreat from his lust-filled haze, and slowly realized that he had just brutally used another person for his own guilty pleasure, that he was no better than my master, and that he had just had raunchy, raw sex in front of his boss, and that he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror without flinching again. He still had his cock in my ass, and he withdrew quickly, a cry of alarm breaking free, and he sunk down the wall behind him, finally sobbing in shame, self-loathing and humiliation.

I sunk to my knees beside my master and waited eagerly (on the inside, on the outside I was perfecting my own mask of impassivity) to see what my master would do next.

My master said icily: “Fudge, I trust you’ll remember the correct position on the Magical Creatures Bill of Rights, and that sometimes to effect the greatest good you have to thrust the point home,” (there was no tone of innuendo, my master would never be that overt, but he always chooses his words very carefully).

“Arthur, give my regards to Molly.”

And with that we left the office, me crawling behind him, my ass still leaking another man’s spunk, and my face covered in my master’s cum.

Point rather thoroughly made.