Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

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Updated 11-7-07

I appreciate your lovely reviews. Thank you.


Damiana You asked where Lucius’ stress goes? The Pureblood business colleagues who try to cheat him could tell you, if you can find them. Hold onto your popcorn for a chapter or two more, okay?


We're lightening up a bit for this next chapter, so for those looking for some more smut, you insatiable creatures - ahem! (clears throat) TA-DA!!


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Chapter Thirty-Five

The Art Lesson

Hermione’s healer had cleared her for marital relations finally and she was thrilled that she could get back to some down and dirty sex. The mutual hand jobs and oral and anal outings just weren’t the same and both she and Lucius were getting antsy and short-tempered with wanting each other more fully.

Ginny flooed Hermione one afternoon just before Hermione gave Lucius the marital sex go-ahead, to invite her to her house. She had something she wanted to show Hermione while Harry was gone.

“What is so secretive, Ginny? It isn’t something you’ll get into trouble over or drag me into, is it?” Hermione didn’t want any unnecessary disruption between their families. The atmosphere between Harry and Lucius was dicey enough as it was.

Ginny laughed, “There won’t be any trouble over this! Wait till you see what I bought.” She pulled Hermione into the bathroom and opened a cabinet, yanking out a pile of towels to reach behind them. She proudly pulled out two jars, one filled with red liquid and one filled with a golden brown.

Hermione looked at the two jars. Then she looked at Ginny. “So?”

Ginny opened up one jar and the scent of cherries filled the air. She smiled at Hermione and said, “Taste!”

Hermione stuck a finger in the red liquid and sucked her finger. “Yes? It’s cherry flavor. So?”

Ginny reached back into the cupboard and pulled out four paintbrushes, holding them up triumphantly.

Hermione ostentatiously covered a yawn, “So?”

Ginny was undeterred, “This is body paint. I found it at a Muggle store. You paint it on your body and then lick it off. I’ve purchased Gryffindor colors. The golden color is caramel. I’m going to paint a certain husband and then enjoy dessert.” Ginny didn’t tell Hermione what type of Muggle store – she’d never hear the end of her little side trip into the Sex Toy Emporium. So many marvelous things they had. She was going back there next month for that interesting swing they had in the display case.

Now Hermione was intrigued. “Does it come in Slytherin colors?” She could already see possibilities in her mind’s eye.

Ginny reached back in the cabinet and pulled out two more jars, one black and one green. “Licorice and mint.” She handed two of the paintbrushes to Hermione.

A big grin split Hermione’s face as she tucked the paintbrushes into her belt.

“One more thing,” Ginny said. The salesgirl at the place where I bought them had a suggestion for first-time use. She said not to tell the human canvas that the paint is edible, only that it is scented. That way, it’s a bit more of a surprise when you start licking it off them. I’m going to paint Harry’s -”

Hermione winced and covered her ears with her hands, humming loudly for a few seconds to block out Ginny’s too-explicit information, “I get the idea. I do NOT want the vision of your artistic aspirations playing in my head, thank you very much.” Hermione shuddered. Thinking of Harry as a sexual being was off-putting. She now had some idea of how much Harry didn’t like thinking of her with Lucius and she could relate. Ginny hadn’t been so forthcoming with her intimate marital details when Hermione had been single, but it was different now that Hermione was married, too.

Harry was pretty much a brother to Hermione and although she loved both Harry and Ginny, their intimate activities were still better left veiled as far as she was concerned. She was now a mother and had an extraordinarily inventive lover at home, but Hermione had a lingering bloom of innocence that hadn’t abated and maybe never would.

Hermione stayed for tea, then apparated home in a remote part of the mansion so she could stealthily conceal her two paint jars without Lucius seeing them. She didn’t want the elves to innocuously report her jars to him either. She would bring them up to their bathroom later.

That night Hermione gave Lucius the good news that her body was now available again, but held him off from immediately sliding her dress to her ankles, saying she wanted to celebrate in a special way.

“Tidbit, can’t we at least have a quickie first?” Lucius was rarin’ to go; his male staff had inflated to maximum capacity the moment Hermione had announced her readiness. He turned Hermione around, nullifying her attempts to keep him from her clothing and began unzipping her dress, shoving it off her shoulders and making her step out of it.

“Lucius, I’ve given you a beautiful son. The least you can do is humor me for our return to full sex.” Hermione played the gratitude card shamelessly and saw Lucius’ eyes narrow in wry acknowledgement of her unfair ploy. He sat her on the bed and removed her shoes and stockings, rubbing her legs from thigh to toes in fervid anticipation.

“And precisely what form is this ‘humoring’ going to take?” Lucius was no one’s fool, but he accepted that tonight he was going to be her acolyte and truly didn’t much care as long as he finally got inside her feminine tunnel again. Hermione was now left in her knickers, which Lucius promptly disposed of.

Ten minutes later Lucius was firmly bound hand and foot, not quite knowing how he’d managed to go from naked wife to naked wizard. He thought it might have been that shattering excursion her tongue had embarked on, first whorling in his ear and then finding every square millimeter of skin in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure, being a little lightheaded from the snogging. He loved snogging.

His hands were cuffed in leather restraints that dangled from the ceiling. His feet were spread just over a foot apart and likewise cuffed and attached to the floor with two shiny new metal rings through the ivory carpet. He stood nude, shackled and gently stretched from ceiling to floor, but he was oddly unconcerned at his immobility – he was much more worried that he wasn’t going to get his full dose of sex any time soon.

“Tidbit, I don’t mind a bit of adventurous bedroom sport, but I would rather it had been you in the cuffs. What exactly are we doing? You weren’t very specific.” Lucius looked down at his nude wife who had placed one of the gray velvet ottomans from the sitting room in front of him and was now perched on it opening up a small jar of viscous green liquid she’d retrieved from the bathroom along with a thin artist’s paintbrush. “Hermione?”

Hermione lifted the long-handled paintbrush and dipped it into the green liquid, attempting to wipe the excess on the mouth of the jar, but she was ogling her husband so avidly, his masculinity on display so temptingly with his arm muscles flexed upward and his broad chest tapering to his narrow waist and hips, that she missed the jar and accidentally painted her fingers holding the container.

Lucius basked in his wife feasting on his body with her eyes and his assets rose accordingly. He could detect the aroma of mint as he watched in fascination while Hermione lifted the paintbrush toward his privates. Alarm set in. “What is that, tidbit? Are you going to put that stuff on me? I don’t want anything harmful near my personal paraphernalia, if you please. Especially if I don’t know what it is. HERMIONE!”

“It won’t hurt you, Lucius. I would never do anything to hurt you. It’s just Muggle body paint.” She grinned up at her shackled spouse, her eyes trained on her husband’s fast-wilting response to the dangerous proximity of the paintbrush. The first glop of green slid onto his scrotum.

“Sssss, that stuff is cold,” Lucius hissed, not exactly unhappy at the sensation on his testicles as Hermione began painting a circle around the base of his balls, then going back to the jar for more. “This green goo isn’t permanent, I hope. I am not at all interested in wearing green balls for the rest of my life. The occasional case of ‘blue balls’ is more than enough to suffer through.” The wilting had stopped and quickly reversed at the second brush stroke. Lucius frowned at his wife who continued to slooooowly apply new brushstrokes on Lucius’ large male sac. “Answer me, Hermione. I’m not going to be the butt of ‘green’ jokes, am I?”

“No, Lucius, it’s not permanent at all. It will all be gone before you go to bed tonight.” She snickered evilly, “Anyway, I’m not painting your butt. Unless you would like me to?” The soft bristles daringly found their way into the split between his butt cheeks briefly before resuming their trip around and around his heavy sac, getting closer to coloring the entire smooth surface of his scrotum. A scrotum, Hermione noted with satisfaction, that was beginning to tighten with reaction. She drew out each stroke, taking her time filling in the sections she was painting, humming tunelessly in time to the sweeps of the brush.

Lucius wasn’t too interested in talking any more, well, not about ball color anyway. He was concentrating on the delicious sensations traveling around the perimeter of his balls with each swipe of that intriguing paintbrush. He started making encouraging noises, but they were more guttural grunts of approval than anything recognizable as words. His eyes never left the hypnotic motion of the paintbrush’s journey over and under his retracting balls. The grunts became words as Lucius’ predilection for talking during sex took over, “Mmmm, good,…that’s good…more, yesss…press behind them, tidbit, yes, yes… with the handle…shite, that’s good!” Lucius was becoming drugged by the unusual, erotic sensation both viscerally and visually. He voluntarily widened his stance as much as he could, given the restraints, so she could reach under his appendages more easily.

Hermione gave the bottom of his balls one last dollop and they were finished – a beautiful, bright green solid set of testes quivering with their own sensuous pleasure under his upraised, thick erection. She put the lid on the jar and took it into their bathroom, reemerging a moment later with a similar jar, but with black liquid instead of green. “I had to wash the paint off the other brush first and put it back. I have a new brush with firmer bristles now. Are you ready for my next art project? I think I’ll call it the licorice stick.” She sniggered naughtily. Her husband was never opposed to enjoying any new sexual adventure, but she didn’t think he’d ever been an art project before.

Lucius had closed his icy eyes and was quietly panting in reaction to his green body paint. It had a bit of a tingle to it that kept him buzzed and moved him ever closer to a carnal cliff while filling the air with the fresh smell of mint. He opened his eyes again at her voice as she came closer to him. But…but now she had a black jar…for? Gods, yes, he wanted his ‘licorice stick’ painted. Sweet Guinevere, those Muggles were incredibly inventive about the important things in life.

His butt muscles took up a mindless cadence at the first brushstroke, squeezing and releasing in an age-old rhythm, pushing his groin forward toward the waiting brush. He couldn’t restrain his rocking motion, didn’t even try. He was mesmerized by the salacious scratching of the firm bristles of this harder brush as Hermione again began her brushstrokes at the base of his staff, sliding around the circumference and taking Lucius’ sanity with it.

He eyed her artistic talent for a moment, then said, “Paint your nipples for me, tidbit. Then you can get back to torturing me. Do it - please?”

Hermione threw him a mock frown, “Lucius, I’m the one in charge here, and I’m painting you. When I’m finished maybe you can paint something too, but for now, just hang there and enjoy and that’s an order!” The paintbrush continued its serpentine path slowly circling the impressive circumference of Lucius’ prized possession around and around, wending its way at a snail’s pace up the length of his sensitized skin.

Lucius’ voice fell to a low, rasping growl, “Let me tell you what I’m… going…uh…going…sssss…to do to you, little tormentor. Gods, that mint stuff tingles, did you know that? I think...think my balls have taken on a separate life on another plane of existence. Shite! Faster, you little monster! I’m going to spread those pet…pet…petals and slather that mint stuff on your… Gods! … CLIT!! Ouch, those bristles are really painful just there. I love that. Ooooh, yeah, do it again.” His low, crooning commands sent shivers to Hermione’s sex center and her paintbrush swept along her husband’s shaft to inspired flights of creativity.

Lucius started bucking and swaying in his restraints, his body moving without his control, attempting to impale his tender tumescence on the firm bristles of that wicked paintbrush, waves of pleasure-pain sweeping the entire length of his now wildly engorged cock and spiking down his shaking legs. Added together with the intense tingles in his sac, Lucius was now nearly unhinged with his arousal.

Hermione finally reached the end of her art project, adding a gentle dot on the tip as she calmly listened to her husband’s lungs working like a bellows and his torso shivering in reaction. She stood up and left Lucius hanging in his loops, returning to the bathroom. Before Lucius could decide if he was going to be abandoned or not, Hermione came back and resumed her seat in front of her husband, enigmatically staring at her accomplishments but saying nothing and making no move to free him.

“Hermione?” Lucius croaked. His crotch was overloaded with sensation and was causing him a little unusual incoherence. A few drops of sweat dripped down his face, the result of his fierce physical reaction.

“Just another few seconds, Lucius,” she replied serenely.

“Gods, what are you waiting for? Release me. The paint is starting to flake and itch. And my balls feel like they’ve been dunked in one of Snape’s passion potions. Hermione?”

“I guess it’s dry now,” Hermione said and leaned forward taking a ball into her mouth and licking it and sucking it thoroughly before doing the same to the other ball. She scratched her fingernails down the fronts of Lucius’ quivering, muscled thighs as she supped on his balls.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Don’t eat the paint! My Gods, Hermione! It doesn’t feel that bad. Go get some water.” Lucius wanted to yank his body away from his wife’s delectable tongue, but one of his balls had totally disappeared into his wife’s mouth.

“Mmmm, tasty. I do like mint.” Hermione looked up at her spouse with a green circle all around her mouth, transferred from his sac onto her skin. “Luckily I like licorice too and I’ve got a tremendous sweet tooth today for a licorice stick.” She gave a long swipe of her tongue the entire length of her mate’s twitching cock.”

Lucius started to laugh, even though he was now throbbing so fiercely he felt like his cock was ready for lift-off, “You wicked little vixen. It’s edible paint as well as scented? You look funny with a green mustache and goatee.” The strung up wizard then demanded, “Now suck the black off! It really itches, tidbit.”

Hermione bent to her task, slurping up the licorice paint, rewetting the drying paint as she enjoyed her dessert. The moisture lessened the itching for Lucius and he relaxed in his restraints watching the little feminine tongue circle his licorice stick, slowly returning it to its normal, aroused, reddish purple color. The flesh was still distended and throbbing, exciting its owner to a fever pitch. His impending climax unfurled with a painful, glorious joy, bringing him to the peak of his passionate turmoil. With a loud wail of completion, Lucius hung helpless as his licorice stick spewed its contents down his wife’s waiting throat and he was finally tossed into a deep euphoria as he first went rigid then sagged in his wrist loops, breathing heavily.”

“Passion potion?” Hermione asked. “Snape made a passion potion?”

“Uh, wha…?” Lucius wasn’t concentrating too well.

“Severus made a passion potion?” Hermione asked again.

“Uh, um, yes,” the tired wizard replied, trying to regain the use of his legs so his wife could release him from his cuffs without him falling to the rug. “He made it for the Slytherins when we were at Hogwarts. It was especially successful on the uptight Ravenclaws, but you didn’t hear it from me.” His restraints were removed and Lucius stretched, then ran his fingers through his blond mane and shook it out before wrapping his hand around his wife’s upper arm and leading her to the shower.

tbc...

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Next chapter gets some issues resolved between our two, with a few blips along the way.


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