A New Order of Wizards - COMPLETE

The characters belong to J.K.Rowling. I am only borrowing them for a while. No copyright transgressions are intended and no profit is made.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Updated 11-8-06

Anyone who doesn't like Fem/Dom or 'flavored sex' should skip this chapter. The rest of you, please put on your fire-resistant reading glasses. Things are going to get a bit hot. 8-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Chapter Twenty-Three – The Siren Has Spoken


Lucius and Hermione had resumed their vanilla sex while discussing a possible evening of bondage. They decided together on Lucius again being the ‘slave’ and Hermione tying him to the bedposts. Hermione’s own thought was that she’d already been ‘slave’ when Lucius had spanked her in the garden, so it was his turn again. She did decide that the next time Lucius asked her if she would be willing to be spanked, she could say ‘yes’. She trusted him totally with her body now, and understood that for them both, the infliction and acceptance of the physical pain connected them emotionally not only in a superficial, erotic way, but also in a more deep-seated, primitive way that somehow ritualistically consummated their total relationship as the more traditional sex couldn’t. It was something she felt viscerally as almost a pagan instinct that she felt compelled to share with her magnetic mate. It did bother her to wonder just how many other ‘pagans’ Lucius had met before her, though.


Tonight, she decided to have him standing at the end of the bed rather than lying on it. Spread-eagled between the posts upright. Hermione had done her homework and had a few surprises for Lucius. He’d given her the books so presumably he knew all the possibilities she was selecting from.


She was high on anticipation, knowing she was as well prepared as she could be and even though this was a new experience for her, she had already spanked him so she was more confident in her budding skills as a siren. She was wearing a dash of new perfume guaranteed to excite the most jaded tastes, and Lucius certainly qualified there. She wasn’t wearing much more than that due to her new outfit of crossed black leather straps parting her breasts and hooked to a tiny black leather thong with fishnet thigh-high stockings ending in black stiletto heels. She hoped Lucius wouldn’t miss two of his black belts. All in all rather a stereotype, she thought, but the outfit was all over the books Lucius had given her. She could take a hint.


Over the months she had slowly succumbed to his physical appearance just like all the other silly schoolgirls at Hogwarts. It was probably all those evenings of having sex, but not really sex, with him where she wound up frustrated, which had made him look more alluring to her, but it was definitely more than that now. How otherwise could she find him irresistible when he had done so many evil things? The Ministry in their wisdom had decided not to prosecute him or the other Death Eaters, choosing instead to strangle their tenets by means of the anklets and the edict. Did the Ministry understand that the powerful dark wizards were powerful for a very good reason? If she fell victim to a Death Eater’s allure, she who had championed the Light ferociously with everything in her, how could others not be swayed? Or had she just been given the one wizard with the power to turn her upside down? She didn’t know. But she was resolute in turning this one upside down with her. The siren had spoken.


Hermione had officially kissed her prim attitudes goodbye that morning, acknowledging that she was embracing Lucius’ form of sexuality voluntarily. She could see that her desires were more closely aligned with his than she would ever have discovered on her own. Witness that spanking she’d given him, and the one he’d given her – it still made her wet thinking about them. But his needs would have been important to her even if she had been less enthralled with his practices. She had also embraced that concept knowing she was moving irredeemably in the direction of caring for him. Philosophically she accepted that it was propinquity and probably unavoidable. After all, she had a lifetime of Lucius to live through. She may as well enjoy it. She smiled, wondering if Snape and his wife had succumbed to the power of propinquity. Ah, well, that wasn’t her problem, thank the Goddess.


Hermione entered Lucius’ bedroom wearing her pink silk robe and carrying a small bag. The bag she put down on the side bureau, then she went straight over to Lucius who was on the bed in his robe reading his papers as usual. He looked very relaxed for a man who was going to be strung up.


Lucius smiled at his wife and put down the papers. Hermione’s perfume flavored the air and Lucius inhaled with pleasure, “A new scent, Hermione? Very enticing. Where did you apply it exactly? Ah, no, don’t tell me. I want to find out for myself. Later. Are you ready?”


Hermione asked, “Lucius, do you have a riding crop? I couldn’t find where to buy one and I think tonight deserves a special celebration.”


Lucius was totally surprised. Had he died and gone to heaven? His little Hermione was getting into her new experiences with abandon, it seemed. Apparently his unscheduled spanking spree hadn’t turned her off his form of recreation. He couldn’t really be sorry he’d done it because the punishment had oddly jelled something intangible but important between them. He wasn’t ready to examine it, but it was there, fluttering around the fringes of his mind.


His little Hermione…well, he’d told her at the dance he owned her, hadn’t he? But tonight it looked like she was going to turn the tables. She’d said she owned him too. Did she mean it? What exactly had that meant? Lucius got down from the bed and went to the back of his closet, returning with a mid-size riding crop with a leather handle, which he handed to her. The crop part was slightly broader to lessen the possibility of drawing blood. He had other crops but actually didn’t often use them. Tonight he wanted her to enjoy striking him, not be appalled at any harsh marks or bleeding. His skin was light-toned and marks showed up easily.


“I’ve never seen one before, except in your books. Is there any special way to use it?” Hermione was testing it, slicing the air in sweeps. She was already getting a bit moist, unconsciously enhancing the scent of the perfume. Privately she wondered what else Lucius had in that closet.


Lucius inhaled the lovely combination of Hermione and perfume. He took the riding crop from her and showed her a few flicks explaining the differences in pain level. Then he pointed up to the tops of his poster bed where she could see loops for his hands. She looked down and saw more loops near the floor for his cute bony feet.


Her mouth went dry from sudden stagefright. She wanted to do it, but was a bit intimidated by the whole setup. Lucius saw her change of mood and stepped in, pulling her to him. He slowly bent and started gently nuzzling her face with his lips, licking her lower lip for admittance to her mouth. She submitted to his caresses and sank against him as he invaded her mouth with his wicked tongue. Hermione held his hands so they couldn’t go around her and feel her new outfit, but she reveled in his very talented wet kissing. She reluctantly stopped and stepped back gathering her courage in both hands, “I want you out of your robe. Tie each of your own feet to the bedposts, facing the bed.”


Lucius started to demur, but realized he had no say if the game was to continue. He had wanted to face her. He obediently removed his robe, revealing his beautifully toned body, and set to work tying each of his feet firmly to the posts. He was spread-eagled, but not painfully. “I need to remind you that with me in this position you will have to be careful with my equipment. One false strike and I may not recover. It’s that important, Hermione.”


“Call me Mistress,” Hermione reminded. “Yes, I understand. Now reach up and put your hands through the loops.”


Lucius put his hands through the hanging loops and Hermione tightened them to his wrists. He was now facing the bed and couldn’t see her too well. His hair was hanging in the way, blocking his view. He had a sudden qualm about her expertise and shivered. But he was hard as a rock. His erection was poking the end of the mattress.


Hermione took off her robe and stood a little to the side, legs spread and hands on her hips so Lucius could see her costume.


Lucius looked over at his wife and nearly had a heart attack. She was a GODDESS with her unruly tresses flying around her head and that outfit! Just like in his books! He loved those books, but he’d never had any female wear the actual outfit from it. That was the finest gift anyone had ever given him. She had catered totally to his fantasy. Merlin’s balls, but he wanted out of the restraints so he could touch her, touch that leather thong. He yanked, but the loops held fast. Lucius started panting in his arousal. He rammed his erection against the bed trying to get some relief, while still trying to see her.


Hermione moved and came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Stop that or this game is over.”


Lucius stilled immediately. He was in agony. He was in paradise. His dreams had come to life in his little Mudblood wife. Lucius was nearly ready to come and she hadn’t hit him once.


Hermione cocked her head, studying him in his complete stillness. He was panting hard, but he had obeyed her. His cock was bypassing his navel, he was so engorged. He was craning his head trying to see her, so she said, “Eyes front. Don’t take your eyes off your headboard.” My sweet Goddess, but she’d been right. This was certainly his Achilles’ heel. Her dark wizard was putty in the hands of a siren. She grinned, knowing he couldn’t see her. Then she sighed. Too bad it was also now her Achilles’ heel, giving him what he craved. If he found out she’d give him most anything he needed from her, she may as well write her epitaph tonight. He would truly own her, body and even soul. Lucius was an attractive mate, but he wasn’t anyone’s idea of a pussycat. More like a vicious panther. He needed to understand that their respective lives together had to mesh, not smother or possess or control. It was up to her to make certain he learned that lesson. She didn’t want to make him less than he was, but he had to acknowledge her autonomy as well – when she chose to exert it. At other times he could own her all he liked. She’d purr louder than Crookshanks.


“Mistress?” Lucius was getting cold hanging there nude. He wanted some whipping to warm him up if nothing else. But he didn’t move, obeying her command.


Hermione went back to the bureau and retrieved the small bag. She pulled a metallic circle out of the bag and went up behind Lucius. Quickly she snapped the circle around his neck, fastening it in the back. She stepped back to look at her handiwork.


“What did you put on me, Hermione? Is this part of the game?”


“It’s a platinum torque for you to wear as my slave. I had the Slytherin escutcheon engraved on it in the front. You can see it in the mirror later. And you will call me Mistress or you will be sorry.”


The siren pulled the smooth riding crop through her fingers, then bunched her arm muscles and let fly right across the middle of his buttocks. She was rewarded with a loud hiss as Lucius felt the sting of the crop digging into his skin. More discrete strikes descended, each timed to allow the pain of the previous lash to reach its peak before the next hit. Her slave looked magnificent in his torque as he bowed out away from the blows, flexing his finely hewn biceps.


Lucius recognized that she had been studying again and was gratified at her thorough preparation and timing. What a jewel he had in his little Mudblood. And she’d given him a gift – two gifts!


The lashing continued until Hermione’s arm got tired. At the beginning, Lucius had jerked with every strike. He had moaned and hissed, never saying stop. But he wasn’t reacting any more and she knew it was because her strength had given out. She needed to build up her arm muscles if they were going to play this game much. She was the one who had to call a halt. She sidled up to Lucius who was breathing in deep pants but was otherwise happy as a goblin counting gold if his serene expression was anything to go by.


“Arm tired, my dear? You have done amazingly well. I would even venture to admit you have a true talent for the riding crop. If you’re finished, perhaps you can loosen my hand loops. I’m ready for the next course.” He smiled down at her with disturbing intent.


He meant to intimidate, but Hermione was Mistress tonight, he was not Master. She loosened his hand loops and said, “Loosen your own foot loops, slave, then lie on the bed face up with your arms spread out to the sides.


Lucius was startled at her continued commands. He wanted to fuck her so badly he could swear his cock was big as a beater’s bat. Taking a deep breath, he climbed up on the bed and did as he was told. He lay down gently, absorbing the pain in his butt as it slid against the coverlet. She hadn’t broken the skin, but it was tender. He got an inkling of what she was going to do the minute she climbed onto the bed. His backside wasn’t through hurting yet.


Hermione snapped open the crotch of her thong, slipped off her heels, and lifted one leg over Lucius’ waist, settling down almost on him, but not quite. She reached for his swollen staff and took it slowly into herself, torturing them both. She stayed up on her knees, leaving three inches of him outside her body. “If you want to take me, you do the work. Lift yourself up into me. Make me come, slave. Make me come first.” She put her hands on his shoulders and clenched her inner muscles, making him gasp as he looked up at her nasty smile.


Lucius ruefully understood that he had to push up to get any relief for his cock and it was his choice to hurt his own rear to have her. Where had she gotten these wicked ideas from, anyway? He tentatively started thrusting and moaned at the scraping of the coverlet on his tender welts. But he knew he wouldn’t stop, and she knew it too, damn her. He settled his hands on her thighs, feeling the fishnet, then pumped up into her, slamming his cock up as far as he could get, but never trying to pull her down onto him. The pain combined with the ecstasy of filling up her slick channel had him skirting erotic insanity, and he barely held on to his release before forcing Hermione to come first as she had demanded. He used a thumb to stroke her clit in time to his thrusts, shooting her wailing over the edge. Then he fell off the cliff himself, emptying his tight, swollen balls into her clenching core; he abruptly passed out.


Hermione slumped down on her unconscious husband and fell asleep on him much like the first night they’d made love instead of a deposit.


The next morning they agreed together to return to vanilla sex and its variations for the next month or so. They didn’t want to take away the pleasure with too much of a good thing. Their bondage evening had been enough to last for a while for both of them. Besides, Lucius’ bum needed a bit of off-the-mattress time.


Lucius decided not to remove the torque. He was extremely pleased with his new gift and started wearing it every day hidden under his shirt collars.


Three weeks later their cozy détente came to a sudden, painful halt.
__________________________________________________________________


Was it hot enough for the intrepid among you? As usual, your reviews are breathlessly awaited. Moxie, I hope this met your expectations. LB