Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE

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Updated 8-22-08


So who is ready for some lemonade? Wait! Wait! No shoving, now. There's room for everyone at the lemonade bar. Okay, then. That's better. I need to tell you that this one is a little bit kinky. You've been warned.


Now! To answer your comments:


blue artemis – As for opposition to the Links plan, any family who has a Squib or married one somewhere along the line should be interested in it. Squibs weren’t looked down upon until Lucius’ uncle took a hand. Their reproductive ability for normal children was fine. Remember Voldemort was the product of a Squib and a Muggle (the Gaunts were such a ‘charming’ family). With the Minister of Magic on board the plan should work, as Lucius knew. His credo: “Always go for the top or most influential to get something done.”


sisterae – Yes, I think the families of the Squibs (and the Malfoys) would have something to say to any detractors. What is it costing them for Lucius to create the school?


FlowersBecomeScreens – As Scary pointed out in a recent review, Hermione just sneaks in at times and takes control in my stories. I don’t know why, except I like making Lucius react to her assertive behavior. “Missing links”, “weakest links”, those occurred to me, but they are Muggle terms and perhaps not in use in wizarding society. In any case, they wouldn’t be weak or evolutionarily backward if Lucius’ plan takes effect (I hope).


CoCo.M – Eventually the mysteries will be solved. We have several chapters to go. I’m nothing if not long-winded. Smut, you say? We got a large dose of plot. I think everyone is ready for more smut. It’s so hard to keep those two apart anyway, I’ve given up.


dolphindreamer – An interesting technical point that the brooms, being magical should support Squibs for Quidditch. It may be something an enterprising witch or wizard could adjust for Squibs/Links once that group was incorporated into the mainstream.


Muffy – I’m very happy you like the Links idea. And, of course, Lucius thanks you, too.


Ravenna – Poor Lucius, having to thank house elves. Some parts of him will never change. I think he was born with snobby genes. His new leaf program will never eradicate them entirely.


meankitty69 – Ah yes, Michael Caffee played by Jason Isaacs, doing doggy style, naked, even if it goes by rather quickly. Jason has an excellent backside. Just as good as I can ever describe in any of my tales. (Or should I say tails…) It’s enough to want to buy the second season of Brotherhood just for that. Slo-mo is a great invention LOL.


Angel_mary – I hope their plan will improve the magic world, allowing a disenfranchised group to be acknowledged. There will definitely be more plot. Stay tuned and thank you for the review!


Rini – Ah, Rini, the mystery lover. That makes six, I think. A definite crowd, now. I think your next painting re-enactment will show up in this chapter, if I’m not mistaken. And another vote for Hermione as the dominant one. I think we’re split about evenly. Hmmm, maybe Lucius will get a plaque at the school. He’s hardnosed enough to want something for his money.


Utopia – Your poem was very well received as you can see from the reviews, and yes, I have a new Delightful Delurker who may become one of you Ravishing Reviewers [doing happy dance]. I guess Lucius’ epithelial layer held strong since he’s still healthy LOL. Now I think you’re reading over my shoulder. Soon there will be no suspense at all. The snake cane? In my view, it is only ornamental with no ability to bite anyone. I think you are stuck with ‘Lynx’ but I’ll take you up on the purple color. It’s now in the story. And I’ll try to read those stories you suggested. I’m struggling with my manuscript for the next LM/HG story right now.


sheherazade – I’m glad you like the retrenching of the Squib educational system (of which there appears to be none). ‘Squib’ didn’t equate with unintelligent, so I decided to fix it LOL. Yes, Lucius and Hermione have a bit of a ‘sell’ to do to put over the idea of merging the Squibs and giving them a special place in their society.


Heidi191976 – Cross your fingers that their plan for the Squibs works and they’re successful. Ah, you want them to return to their own time? It does mean we’d lose Lucius in those tight pantaloons. It’s a somber idea to think about [grin]. I always appreciate your extra thoughts.


Scary Bear Hair – Yes, I believe ‘Lucius’ is a synonym for stamina. It is in my dictionary anyway [snerk]. I suppose years of boardroom presentations gave Lucius the ability to show the Minister his plan in a convincing way. And I’ve given countless presentations over the years to college students. Perhaps that helped me craft Lucius’ plan.// That Veil is no dope. A lemon is on the horizon.


tambrathegreat – Next ‘painting’ coming up and Lucius’ uncle will be explored more, in time. It was time for the Squibs to have something more than the lowest jobs. So I sent Lucius and Hermione to fix it LOL. And Hermione’s brains are actually a major turn-on for Lucius.


Sailor Sol – Hey, Sailor Sol, good to hear from you. Gulp! You got your husband interested in this story? Lovely! I’ve actually been to a few Star Trek conventions. They were fun, but I didn’t do any costumes. I wasn’t that intense about it. You’re very lucky that your husband will share your fanfic interests. My hubby sticks with shoot ‘em ups and serial killer novels. Not my cup of tea. Perhaps it’s better he doesn’t know what is in my stories anyway LOL


pittwitch – I agree about Azkaban being an untapped source of material. I had a lot of fun with it as the initial backdrop for “Prisoners of Love” and to a lesser degree in, “Lucius and the Waif” because there his ‘cell’ was a luxury apartment, but it isn’t the most romantic venue. Hmmm, I guess I’ve used that place a few times. I hadn’t thought of that until you mentioned it. It is part of Lucius Malfoy’s canon so it sneaks into my stuff. Lucius is trying to change the course of wizarding history any way he can so his family isn’t hurt (he doesn’t know what happened to them). I’ll have to theorize on the origin of Squibs in some other story. They’re a fact of life in 1817.


nitesfool – I can understand your concern for the altering of the future, but I don’t worry about the rippling effect of the future too much. What can be worse than nearly the entire wizarding world being crushed and murdered? Any altered future should be better than that.


Clare1984 – If I could draw, I’d have a great time clothing Lucius (and um, unclothing him). I’m limited to words, though. Lucius is becoming a better man, but he’ll always have his flaws. It’s part of what I like about him. It’s not only the Purebloods who are starting to look down on the Squibs. All of wizarding society is being infected. The Purebloods just have more clout – and money. What color hazmat suit did you get? I envision a fluorescent pink.


lurky loo – Wow, so many accolades! I’m so pleased that you like the story. If you’re trolling for mysteries on my web page, my “Prisoners of Love” is a mystery also. You’ve graduated from Lovely Lurker to Delightful Delurker. I’m happy to hear from you, Mia.

Lucius lemonade ahead.


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Chapter Thirty-Six


Riding


The next day Lucius put twenty million Galleons into a special Gringotts account to be drawn on immediately for the design and building of the new academy. Then he hired a hand-selected (and very expensive) group of transfiguration specialist wizards and witches and put the planning and construction into their hands, giving over to them the plans he and Hermione had drawn to work from.

Three weeks later, the ground was broken for the building of the new academy, an idea hailed with relief and interest by most of the community, while viewed with suspicion by those few to whom the new Links were still second-rate citizens. Luckily, the majority of families had a Link or two in the family tree and were very happy to have their relatives vindicated and accepted in such a positive way.

Only one disturbing event happened to mar the hopeful ceremony at the site of the new academy. Hermione was singled out for a delivery by an owl and when she opened the Howler missive, it was filled with vituperation against her, Lucius and the entire project. The ugly, anonymous letter included unspecified threats aimed at her and Lucius, but mostly her.

A few legal problems also plagued the start of the construction, but the Ministry attorneys soon strong-armed any resistance into compliance and the project proceeded smoothly thereafter. Lucius worried about the threats against his wife and alerted the Aurors to be alert to her protection; he warned Hermione not to go anywhere off the estate unless she went with him. She grumbled but saw the sense in not trusting anyone else.

With Hermione’s promise Lucius relaxed and began to enjoy his latest deal. The financial predator in him smiled to think the whole academy project would only cost twenty million. In his own time period the figure for building such an academy would have cost two hundred million. With inflation over the two-hundred-year difference, he knew the figures were actually about the same. Still, twenty million sounded better than two hundred million and he enjoyed the illusion of getting a great deal for his money.

The twenty million didn’t even make a dent in his nineteenth century resources, so he was content that the academy project could be done in service to the Veil without beggaring his wealth and power base. He cynically wondered if he had been chosen for the assignment by the wily sentient arch based on his wealth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Very early on the morning after the ground-breaking ceremony, which had later included a private romantic evening celebration for two with some fine champagne, Lucius left Hermione to sleep off her evening’s entertainment, coming back into their bedroom as she was just emerging from the arms of Morpheus. He went to her side of the bed and leaned down to romantically kiss her awake and got a querulous comment for his pains.

“Eewww, what is that smell?”

“Horse,” Lucius said, standing back a bit and unconsciously flaunting his outfit of a flowing, open necked white shirt with belled sleeves, a wide black belt surrounding his narrow waist and the regulation cream-colored jodhpurs snug at his arse while hugging his long legs. His black riding boots were covered by black, tight-fitting half-chaps to his knees.

Hermione struggled up from sleep, “You look good enough to eat, but you smell like something gone bad.” He did look dashing to her, but only as long as he stood downwind. She deeply regretted that there was no appreciable wind in the bedroom.

“It’s a glorious morning, kitten. I’ve been out riding. Since you couldn’t identify the smell, I assume you don’t ride. I’d be pleased to teach you. Riding is much the easiest way to get around in this time period after broomsticks.” Lucius pulled out his wand and ran a quick cleaning charm over himself to please his wife.

“Where did you get a horse?”

“Our stables. We own several horses. And thestrals and a couple of Abraxans.”

“We have stables?”

“No, I lied,” Lucius said, miffed, “I sprayed myself with horse scent and wore these clothes to make myself interesting. Of course we have stables. We had them in my day, too.” The annoyed wizard fumed that maybe he had eliminated the horse odor a little too precipitously.

“Touchy, Lucius. I think you need breakfast. You’re very grouchy of a sudden.” Hermione slipped out from under the covers, nude and unconcerned. After these few weeks of marriage to Lucius, she didn’t have a shy bone left in her body and she was no longer worried about her scar.

She walked insouciantly past Lucius and, “OUCH! What did you do that for?” She whipped back around and looked at his hand to see the riding crop he’d been holding negligently at his side, swinging back and down again. The stripe was beginning to make itself felt, a single red line across the middle of her bare bum.

“Just being grouchy,” he replied, a satisfied grin now decorating the face that had been glaring a moment before.

“Give me the riding crop,” Hermione said imperiously, standing in the buff as though she were wearing ermine and a crown.

Lucius raised his toy menacingly. “Why?” he asked, swishing it about, “Don’t tell me you actually have designs on my rear?” He sighed internally, positive that would be too much to ask of his timid little kitten and especially in ‘broad daylight’. He added a theatrical sneer, hoping against hope she would be goaded into a bit of fun bum smacking.

It was quickly apparent Lucius’ hopes had been granted and his heart soared as Hermione demanded, “Give me the riding crop. Now!” One tiny foot stomped in anger as a naked Hermione set her breasts jiggling with the move. She held out her hand, “Hand it over. Take off your boots and your stupid-looking pants. I’m tired of you smacking me with hurtful objects. We’ll see how you like it - again. For a Death Eater you don’t seem to learn very fast.”

Lucius barely held back a snort of laughter and gave her what he hoped was a suitable look of alarm, widening his icy eyes at his petite spouse, “You wouldn’t!” Sweet Guinevere, but he hoped she would.

“Oh, would I not?” Hermione saw his shocked face and stepped forward to yank the implement out of Lucius’ hand, aiming it at the bed. “Spread ‘em!”

“Very well,” Lucius said, majestically, “If we can get past my slight, playful tap on your backside by you walloping mine, so be it. But as before, I cannot spread my legs. I do not want any accidents on the way to my totally unmerited chastisement.”

“Merit doesn’t seem to have any meaning when you’re smacking my derriere. Don’t expect it to weigh with me.” Hermione stood, arms crossed and holding the leather-handled crop while Lucius obediently kicked off his boots and loosened the falls on his jodhpurs, peeling them down and off, along with his belt and half-chaps. Now standing only in his shirttails, he turned toward his petite, naked tormentor and asked, “Is this to be some sort of lesson with additional strikes beyond the one I gave you? And these ‘stupid-looking pants’ are called jodhpurs.”

Give me your leather hair tie,” Hermione ignored his question and reached forward to accept the tieback that he stripped out of his locks and handed her. She transfigured it, making it much longer and thicker. “Tie the end around your neck,” she commanded, handing it back to him.

“What? Hermione, where are we going with this?” Lucius stared at his wife in confusion and a little dawning alarm.

“When you’ve done that, give me the lead.” Hermione smacked the crop into her palm impatiently.

Lucius raised his eyebrows but did as she asked and handed her the lead he had knotted around his neck. Hermione freed up a few strands of pale hair that Lucius had accidentally caught between the leather strap and his neck. She didn’t want his hair to be pulled and hurt him. Then she laughed at herself. She was about to smack her husband’s butt with a riding crop. What were a few strands of hair? But it was beautiful hair and she didn’t want it messed up. She firmly wrapped the lead around his wrists and tied them together so the lead ran from his neck to his wrists with enough looseness for him to put his hands down as far as his waist if he wished.

“Come over here,” Hermione had the end of the lead in her hands and she led the blond wizard to the end of the bed where she looped the end over the top of one of the tall bed posts above his head and pulled the leather tight. Lucius’ arms were automatically raised, his wrists now above his head, so he stood tied to the post and facing it. The neck loop effectively kept him from moving his head too far, but he could turn his face from side to side.

“Hermione, do you have any idea what you are doing?” Lucius was getting excited and the billowy white shirt wasn’t hiding his arousal, but he was a little leery of being at the mercy of an amateur, even one he trusted completely.

Hermione was gazing at that perfect male bum, half exposed under the edge of his shirt, the thrill of punishing him beginning to course through her veins as it had before; the dark, tense expectancy alarming her with how erotic the whole scenario was to her. Was she really going to strike this man who normally towered intimidatingly over her much smaller stature? Would he retaliate if he didn’t like how hard she hit him?

“How many strokes do you think you deserve for hurting me?” she asked, shifting the number to him to determine.

“Ten is a nice round number,” her wizard replied promptly. “Just please don’t break the skin. I have several meetings scheduled for today and I don’t want my skin to weep through my pantaloons. And Hermione?”

“Yes? What is it? Hurry up – you’re just prolonging the suspense.” Hermione glowered at the man strung up on her bedpost.

Anticipation, not suspense, Lucius crowed to himself, “May I ask one favor? If you could be so generous, please put on that black lace corset I bought you that you won’t wear.” Lucius gave her his most polished, cow-eyed begging look. “Just the corset.” He dropped his voice to its most seductive, “Please.”

Hermione looked flustered for a moment. Was she supposed to wear something titillating to do this? It felt a bit like her lusty husband was controlling the situation from his position hanging on the bedpost. But upon brief reflection she smiled, her face flushing with her own arousal. She would like to wear it for her own pleasure, not his.

A quick ‘accio’ brought the constricting garment into her hands and she used her wand to bind it around her torso as she couldn’t reach the strings in the back herself. She certainly wasn’t allowing her victim loose to help her. The only things it hid were her ribs, waist, and the top of her hips. Her breasts were thrust out over the black top and her hair-shielded privates were on full view as was her firm, little derriere.

Hermione twirled so Lucius could see her new outfit and she ran the crop over her nipples eliciting a deep groan from an enraptured husband. His cock was throbbing so badly he thought he might burst a blood vessel in the poor, swollen organ. How had her slim legs grown so long? He wanted them wrapped around his waist, crushing him as he plunged into that enticing brown muff. The one red welt on her butt made him sweat with his unappeased appetite.

The demure witch was getting drunk on her own power, her daring outfit adding to the lust rioting in her veins. She reached out and fondled Lucius’ smooth, ivory backside, rubbing the skin of his buttocks as if to measure how hard a strike needed to be the break his skin. She added a small sticking charm, which raised Lucius’ shirt so it stayed at his waist, exposing him from the waist down. “Are you ready?”

Lucius nodded and clenched his hands into fists, facing away from her. Hermione thought he was apprehensive, but he just wanted to make sure she couldn’t see his pleasure in the pain she was going to inflict.

WHAP! The first welt turned pink then red on Lucius’ left buttock and Hermione saw she hadn’t got the best angle for spreading the mark across both globes.

“One,” said Lucius, silently inhaling on the blooming pain and feeling the old rush of bawdy stimulation he had been denied for too many years. St. Arthur’s arse, that felt good.

“Oh, I forgot. Am I supposed to count these, too? Or is it different for a crop?” asked Hermione, moving a bit more beside her husband to get a better aim.

“No, I am supposed to count, as the recipient,” replied Lucius, swinging his head to face her briefly before resuming his stance. Gawds, he loved that useless piece of black lace frippery. She looked good enough to eat in it and Lucius definitely had plans for that later.

His pale, shiny hair dragging on his shoulders as he turned his head made Hermione shiver with her own rush of desire. She came back to herself with a happy sigh and asked, “Are there other rules for this? What should I do, then?”

“Let each stroke settle before adding the next one. It makes for the maximum sensation, uh, I mean pain.” He added, “If you want to, you may add other requirements. Making me count for you is your choice, of course.”

“Then I would like you to count,” she decided.

WHAP! The second strike fell equally across both ivory butt cheeks and Hermione decided this new angle was better. She was wriggling, trying to control her visceral reaction to the chastisement, catching back her own moan as a lone drip meandered down the inside of her thigh signaling her arousal to anyone with eyes.

She figured she was demented and perverted for liking this, but those marks on that finely sculpted male butt worked on her psychologically as well as physically, making her feel strong and sovereign over this commanding man with his body partially covered only in a white, loose shirt. It was heady stuff, feeling for the first time so wickedly in control. Yes, she liked this quite a lot.

“Two,” said Lucius.

“What other requirements can I do?” asked the newly perverted, newly potent Hermione.

WHAP! Another stroke joined the red ranks of its fellows.

“Three. Sssss. You can, uh…shite, you’re not breaking the skin, are you? I feel like I’m on fire. I don’t hit my horses a quarter that hard.” Lucius sucked in a moan as he dropped his face into his raised arms. “You can make me thank you for the hits or call you Master when I count. Or make up whatever excites you,” his voice was muffled by his shoulders.

WHAP! “Am I hitting you too hard? I want to do this correctly. It’s supposed to be fun for you, isn’t it? I’m certainly having a good time. You were right, Lucius, this is really sexy stuff,” Hermione was crowing with her delight, wanting to throw her mate onto his back and impale herself on that hard, crimson cock of his, her core throbbing with longing for her sexy husband.

“Four,” moaned Lucius, but he didn’t flinch from the gentle glide of the quirt over his marks as Hermione petted the reddened welts on his skin.

“For now just thank me when I’ve delivered all ten strokes. And keep counting, I like that.”

WHAP! “Five.” WHAP! “Six.” WHAP! “Sev..seven.” Now Lucius was breathing in shorter pants and tightening his bum unconsciously against the sizzling strokes.

WHAP! “Ow! Shite, that hurt!” Lucius drew in a tortured breath, “Try to keep it on my bum, will you?”

“Does that hurt worse, just under your bum? Is that outside the rules?” Hermione bit her lip. She discovered she didn’t like hurting her lover in a way he didn’t enjoy. How strange. “You didn’t count, Lucius, but I’m sorry I missed the target. I’ll be more careful. But, um, if you severely displease me sometime and get whipped again, would under your bum be a suitable place to add a few strokes to your punishment?”

“Eight,” growled her sore spouse, his hidden face reflecting his utter astonishment at his petite wife’s mind-blowing question. He silently wondered if he had unknowingly let loose a tiny dominatrix in their bedroom. He could tell her the tender area under his bum was out of bounds, but did he want to do that? Finally he said, “That area does meander farther from sexual desire to pure pain for me, but the one wielding the crop decides what lesson is being taught.”

Hermione wondered if she should be a little gentler with her last two smacks. Nah, he was enjoying it as much as she was. Hermione wound up and delivered the last two wallops.

WHAP! “Nine.” Lucius knew he’d be standing for the rest of the day.

WHAP! “Ten.” Lucius took a moment to feel the burn and recover his ability to think past the pain. “Thank you,” he said politely, “especially for being more careful today.” He sucked in a breath at the throbbing surface his backside was morphing into, wave on wave of sharp pulses reminding him that his wife was no one’s doormat – and he positively reveled in it.

“I apologize for whipping your derriere.” Lucius said, waiting patiently for his wife to release him from his leather collar and wrist ties, which she did immediately. He smiled to himself - if she ever got more experienced at this, he’d be standing longer in his fetters. Heaven help him if she discovered chains and noticed the worn hooks in the ceiling.

As the ties fell away he turned toward his wife losing her the view of his latticed bum. He shook out his wrists and arms while watching her face bloom with an array of emotions: amazement, curiosity, confusion, then finally a smug, satisfied grin as she looked down and saw that her husband was enormously turned on by being smacked.

“I’ll claim this adventure as my next choice of a painting. I didn’t think I would ever choose that one where the man had the woman’s wrists bound, switching her, but it was great fun to do it to you. Would you like me to rub some numbing ointment into your welts, Lucius?” she asked solicitously, walking around him to his backside to see his criss-crossed bum again, exulting in the evidences of her maiden success as an amateur dominatrix.

“Not just yet, I think,” he smiled craftily. “I don’t think I want you with that numbing ointment anywhere near my privates, if you don’t mind. Now, dearling, I want you on the bed, your legs spread wide apart and your hands behind your head.” Lucius arrogantly put his hands on his hips and waited for his wife to move onto their bed. “Hermione? Did you hear me?” He half turned to stare her down, using the full effect of his height and the icy, ghost gray of his eyes.

His domination was back in force and Hermione briefly basked in her fleeting success at whipping, then refocused on the part of Lucius that was still boldly poking out from under the front of his white riding shirt. The little witch stood at the side of the bed wondering how her power surge had suddenly translated into submission to a wizard with a red-tracked butt.

She bit her lip in indecision. He was taking control again. Did she want to allow the reins of their relationship to transfer back into his hands? Did she want that tool buried in her up to her eyebrows? Hermione sighed. That mesmerizing, rigid pole won, defeating her brief sovereignty with consummate ease.

The former little crop queen climbed up onto the bed, twitching her derriere a bit as she languidly assumed the position Lucius had described, sliding over the sheets wantonly. She added an artistic moan as she settled her hands behind her head, arching just a little to prominently display her naked breasts, in case he had missed them before. As she saw her husband quickly strip out of his shirt she was inspired to think maybe she didn’t need a whip in her hand to feel equal if the flush spreading over Lucius’ chest and that delicious hard-on were any clue.

Lucius went to the bottom of the bed and stood there admiring the glorious view of his wife. His wife. After so many miserable years, his existence was worth living again. He was gazing on his delectable present and he hoped his contented future. He’d been delightfully, if a bit amateurishly whipped and his bottom, his cock and his heart were swollen with joy and desire. He smiled down the length of his small bride, catching her quiescent expression as she waited patiently for his male authority. “Bend your knees and splay them to the sides, kitten. You look beautiful.”

Now it was Hermione who flushed, with her slight embarrassment and her unruly coveting of that distended, dark red, masculine appendage peeking over the edge of the mattress. Hurry, I’m so hungry, hungry, hungry! she chanted silently, ravenous for that large staff to be put to the use the Gods intended. She could feel the slide of her own cream coating her channel and dripping down between her butt cheeks. It was obvious that Lucius was enjoying the same show, but visually instead of tactilely.

The vision of his submissive mate lying open to him on the bed, dressed in that black bit of lace naughtiness, was a powerful aphrodisiac added to his burning stripes and Lucius desperately needed to be buried in that weeping channel beckoning to him. He climbed up from the foot of the bed right over his witch, twitched his tool into place at his wife’s core and made her gasp as he lunged forward into her hot, silken heat, burying himself completely. His pussy snack would have to wait for another time. He needed to be lost in this woman who had gifted him with his submission to the whip.

“Luuucius,” Hermione moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and arrowing her fingers into his pale mane. Her restless hands finger-combed his soft tresses as he concentrated on bringing up a strong pistoning pace, flexing his sore butt and luxuriating in the pain radiating from his backside while pressing his staff into her swollen, wet, tight channel, over and over. Both lovers were lost to the intensity of their erotic experience, Hermione gloating on her success in whipping her masterful lover and Lucius wallowing in the sensation of his front and back both receiving deep, dark pleasure from the woman he cherished above all others.

Hermione’s hands roamed across Lucius’ shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch and pull as he held himself over her, delivering his body into hers. The little witch gasped in deferential squeaks and mewls as her husband’s hard, powerful strokes conquered the last vestiges of her will to dominate him in any way. Mindlessly, she slid her fingers down past his arching waist and dug her nails into the sore railroad tracks of his rear.

“Shite! Sweet hell, Hermione, do you want me to come now or do you want more of me? Keep grabbing my arse and I’m going to boil over from the doubled sensations of your tight pussy and my stripes.” Lucius was holding on by a thread, trying to please his little witch while luxuriating in his stinging butt. He was panting with his arousal, his breathing heavy and unusually erratic. It had been so many years since he had enjoyed the crop or even being spanked with sex to follow that he was perilously close to the fraying edge of his climax; his control was nearly shot.

Hermione barely heard Lucius through the haze of her own lusty climb, but she drew her hands back to his waist and held on as she was taken even more fiercely. Her breathy moans escalated to a pleading litany of ‘Lucius, Lucius, Lucius’, which finally dissolved into an unintelligible succession of sucked in screams. As she hit her peak she gave one high wail and convulsed around her mate as he worked her roughly.

His deep thrusts carried her onward into a near coma as he finally let go and was dragged down into his own vortex of rapture. Lucius went rigid and plumbed her depths, spewing himself, holding his staff deep within until his own paroxysms lessened, quieted, then faded away. Long minutes passed while two sets of breathing were brought under control again and muscles slowly relaxed from their rigor.

Both sated for the moment, Hermione languidly dared to claim, “Lucius, I don’t know if I want to receive that horse whip on my bum. I rather like wielding it, but getting it applied to me…”

“Then I shan’t ask it of you,” was his instant reply. “Remember I said I liked it either way, giving or getting. I wasn’t lying, kitten. I enjoy both, but truth to tell, I actually like getting it a little better. I was caned as a child and I guess the sensation sank into my brain and was recorded somehow as pleasure.” He slid off his wife and settled her next to him, his arm around her petite frame so her head rested on his shoulders.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but before she could congratulate herself on having avoided that scenario, Lucius continued.

“I will, however, reserve to myself the right to spank you with my hand or a hairbrush if I am excessively displeased with you or if you ask it of me.” He held up his hand when he saw her about to remonstrate, “I don’t want a repeat of me flexing my wand on your derriere if I am enraged with you, and because we are both strong, self-willed people, I will certainly find myself at daggers drawn with you on occasion. You know I’d rather not hurt you like that again and getting the flat of my hand on your backside will hurt much less, but you’ve married a very traditional, dominating male. This is my warning that I rule the roost, not you.”

“And just how do you define ‘ruling the roost’, Mr. Malfoy? Hermione was too relaxed to take much exception to her husband’s chest-beating.

“Final decisions are mine if we disagree. Certain responsibilities and duties will be yours to carry out as my wife. I believe you have already had a taste of that with the other wives. I will be the final arbiter in the rearing of our children, if we are so blessed. I am -”

“Now that I will not accept.” Lucius had finally hit a sore spot with Hermione. “I saw what you did with Draco, and your idea of parenting is at once both too lenient and too strict. You showered him with material goods he didn’t need and definitely didn’t deserve and you withheld praise unless he rose to your impossible standards. No. I will not accept you as the final arbiter in our children’s lives. I…I…hang on a minute! Why are we discussing children? We haven’t even decided if we are going to have any.”

Hermione got the mulish look that signaled to Lucius he had gone his length with her. He couldn’t exist under the cat’s paw, but he realized his new wife had no intention of letting him have everything his own way either. He lay there cogitating on that bump in the road of their new marriage. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t precisely defined their roles as husband and wife.

“Hermione, as far as I can determine, I am, for all intents and purposes, the real Malfoy heir. That means I am also the one who has to provide the next heir. Assuming we are here for the rest of our lives, I’ll allow you to do the math.” Lucius settled his petite spouse more firmly against his side with one hand sifting through her unruly curls. I think we’ll make splendid parents. We’ll discuss the parenting issues you’ve rather unkindly brought up another time. For now I’m exhausted. Do you want me to loosen that corset for you?”

“Mmm, yes please,” and the corset was removed and thrown on the floor.

Lucius pulled his wife back into his arms, closed his eyes and three minutes later was calmly breathing with that slight snore that told Hermione he was fast asleep. She guessed that riding… horses must be a very strenuous pastime. Smiling, she followed him into sleep. It was only mid-morning.


tbc...


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Has Lucius unleashed a latent dominatrix? If so, will that suit him? Hermione certainly seems to have discovered a talent for giving Lucius what he likes.

Hope you don't mind all the lemons. I'm making up for twenty three chapters of thirst.

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