The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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3-19-10 F

For those who hope so, yes, Step Two will be divulged in this chapter. Thank you for the thoughtful reviews. They are so very much appreciated. Hugs to you all. You make my efforts worthwhile.


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Chapter Forty-One

Lucius’ Sex Life Then and Now



“What were you thinking of at the end of the meeting? You weren’t listening and you had a sappy expression on your face,” Hermione taunted.

“My face has never harbored a sappy expression in its entire life. However, you’re correct that I wasn’t attending to the end of the meeting. I’d heard it before.”

“So?” Hermione persisted, worried that Lucius was thinking about Narcissa, who had looked her usual beautiful self in the meeting. “What had you so…dreamy, then?”

“I was remembering our first time. You were very responsive for nearly a virgin,” Lucius mused fondly as they walked back to their apartment.

Hermione reared back and looked her mate in the eye, both relieved and affronted, “You were reliving our first sexual encounter? It wasn’t something I’d ever want to relive. All I remember is pain.”

“If I may be so crass, that’s a load of Hippogriff road apples,” her unimpressed husband snorted inelegantly. “You took to sex like a vampire takes to blood.”

“Hush! Not so loud,” Hermione looked around, but the corridor was empty but for them. Her skin turned rosy and she sought to defend herself by returning fire, “How do you know about responsive virgins? Death Eater revels?”

Lucius rolled his eyes, “My Gods, what didn’t we get up to as nasty, vicious old Death Eaters? It was really just one long shagfest, you know, from dusk to dawn every night. We had to fit in our subversive duties around all the sex.”

He sighed, wondering if the truth was going to be any better than the lurid imaginings her fertile brain was no doubt conjuring, but he answered her question, “I learned about virgins from some overeager groupies who wanted a big, bad former Death Eater to pop their cherries. I will admit to boredom and intoxication for why I even let it go that far.”

“And you took them?” Hermione’s tone rose an octave in accusation and Lucius became irritated at her superior, censorious air.

“Every last one,” he openly gloated, goading her for her attitude. “I was single by then and they were very willing to lose their hymens. Was I supposed to protect them? They were all adults. My Gods, Hermione, you ask a lot.” He sneered down at the little self-appointed arbiter of his scruples, “It so happens I left my halo home that day and they caught me unawares.”

“That day? One day? You mean it was an actual whole group together? More than one at once?” Hermione squeaked.

“Did I fail to mention they were groupies? Yes, there was a whole group, all intent on seducing me because of my perceived reputation for sexual antics, thanks to that harpy, Skeeter, and her Daily Prophet articles. They surrounded me and Disapparated me from the nightclub. To be honest, I wasn’t trying very hard to escape once I understood what they wanted, although their neophyte techniques were not unlike the older girl students who’ve been accosting me in the halls here. Very bold, if entirely untutored.”

Hermione didn’t say anything, but she knew it wasn’t only Lucius’ reputation in the Daily Prophet that had those little groupie opportunists targeting the blond wizard. His looks alone would have attracted the bold creatures. However, Hermione also wondered if the young women’s behavior was driven partly by the unknown problem besetting their world. Her husband seemed to recall the event fondly, so she elected not to point out the possibility that his personal attractions might not have been the sole reason for the mini-orgy he’d been the center of, if the young women had been infected. He was Pureblood; maybe they were acting out their aggressions in a carnal way.

Lucius stared at his wife, exasperated with her silence which he felt was condemning, “To be clear, it wasn’t all at once. They drew straws. I only have one dick, you know.” Lucius decided not to mention that he also had two hands and a mouth; if his wife’s imagination didn’t supply those details, why should he? “They had planned it among themselves ahead of time according to parts of the conversation I heard. I think it was something like a mob mentality, except they were all egging each other on to fuck me. After the war, things were aimless and uncivilized for quite a while and morality became rather fluid. Everyone was happy to be alive and not in danger and many young people went pretty wild.”

Hermione nodded mutely, irritated in turn, realizing the miasma probably had not been the fomenting cause because of how long ago it had been. It truly had just been her husband’s attractive physical appearance, which had tumbled him into that vulgar opportunity. She hoped he hadn’t enjoyed it too much because there was no chance in Tartarus he would get to do it again while they were married.

Remembering that time after the war, Hermione hadn’t been caught up in the general, happy pandemonium, being so very tired of the entire horror that was Voldemort, but she knew what Lucius was saying was true of many of her contemporaries. It was unlikely she would ever learn who the uninhibited young witches were, but if she ever found out, there would be a few very sorry, very bald young women in the wizarding community.

When no comment was forthcoming from his little interlocutor, he added, “They grabbed me at a nightclub in Knockturn Alley; its sensual atmosphere and the firewhiskey had both already done a job on me and I was spectacularly horny.”

Hermione’s mind ticked over and a sudden shaft of clarity into her husband’s emotions softened her attitude – Narcissa had already divorced him – had Snape and Narcissa become a couple by then? Lucius would have been alone. “And lonely?” Hermione asked, sympathetically, trying harder to understand the man’s bizarre behavior.

A very loud moment of silence descended on the couple, both frozen in place in the hallway as the question reverberated between them. Then Lucius sighed again and nodded, “Yes, and lonely.” He was rather bewildered to find his admission hadn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, admitting to a frailty no Malfoy should acknowledge.

Then he filled his lapse with a typical Slytherin misdirection as they moved on toward their apartment. “Would your sainted Weasley have passed up a chance at several young females stripping and dancing naked in front of him? I rather doubt it. Although he probably wouldn’t have got more than his trousers off before they changed their collective mind. Your Ron must not be too well endowed to have left you basically unbreached. So, is there anything else you need to know?” A touch of sarcasm colored Lucius’ question.

Hermione ignored the remark about Ron. She was more worried about another issue. “You were careful about contraception and Muggle diseases, I hope. These days the more liberal attitude at the Ministry and among the populace is allowing some of the less desirable diseases into the wizarding world. There’s syphilis, the clap -”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Lucius interrupted his wife’s pending lecture on sex education and his chin went up, “I don’t need the lesson in health and hygiene. I’m very careful. They were all virgins, Hermione. No disease.”

“How could you know that for sure?” she asked, her reasonable question further provoking her husband.

“They told me.” He held up his hand at Hermione’s imminent rejoinder, knowing what she was going to say. “I know they could have lied, but it was obvious none of them had any real experience. Just boundless enthusiasm and a very flattering desire. It was a seductive offer at a time I -” He didn’t finish the sentence. It was too much like he was admitting to a weakness again and he had already acknowledged his feelings of loneliness. That was enough. He wasn’t going to add his loss of confidence in his attractions. Those young witches had breathed new life into his sexual assurance at a low point for him.

Lucius concluded instead, “Anyway, they were all telling the truth. And frankly, it wasn’t all that exciting.” Lucius ruthlessly tamped down the small reminiscent grin that threatened to break free. “For the most part their membranes were so thin, it wasn’t much different than any other willing female.” His pale gray eyes narrowed at Hermione’s disgusted look. “Well, it’s not as though I spent my time slumming through every low bar in town like another wizard I could name, before he married my ex.”

Lucius threw out the distracting tidbit to lead Hermione away from her lecture on venereal disease and his unusual descent into debauchery, but he shivered internally at his remembrance of the horrid Muggle disease he had suffered from the whore in his youth. That wasn’t a tidbit he would ever tell this new wife. He’d never told Narcissa, either. His father had hushed up the entire incident, worried that Lucius would be labeled as unclean by the other Purebloods.

Snape’s social life held no interest for the inquisitive little witch and she rounded right back to Lucius’ pornographic encounter. “How many virgins were there, precisely?” Hermione asked, a tinge of jealous green driving her at the idea of her husband lining up scores of nubile young tarts and giving each of them what he’d been giving her.

“Precisely?” Lucius stared at his wife, both eyebrows climbing his forehead in surprise, a burst of amusement replacing his maudlin reminiscences. “Precisely, hmm? You know, I don’t think I’m going to tell you. For one thing it’s not your business, but mostly if I don’t give you a number, your fertile imagination will probably grow it to mythic proportions and I’ll have an amazing, studly reputation.”

“Bah!” Hermione sniffed. “More like an amusing, stodgy reputation. It was probably only one geriatric, desperate witch who couldn’t see past the wart on her nose and who merely thought her dream of finally getting laid was coming true. She likely got a somewhat bumpy broomstick ride from you being drunk.”



“You’ve ridden that broomstick often enough and I haven’t heard any complaints from you. Not with all the mewling and moaning assaulting my ears.” Lucius’ lips quirked up with amused irony.

“Didn’t it hurt them the first time, like it did me? You aren’t exactly a beginner’s size.”

“Like I said, they egged each other on and they’d been drinking too, plus none of them were as tight as…” Lucius huffed, “Why am I giving you these details? He stopped the little witch in the middle of the hallway, “Just to be clear, this story is not for publication.”

“You mean Narcissa doesn’t know?” Hermione’s mood lightened as she found an area of her husband’s life that hadn’t already been shared with the beautiful older witch.

“No, she doesn’t. I don’t know why I even told you. No one else knows except those witches, so I hope this doesn’t get broadcast, not like my choosing your lingerie did.” Lucius started walking again, reaching their doorway several steps ahead of his wife.

“Oh, unfair,” Hermione complained, “that wasn’t all my fault.” She scurried to catch up with her annoying spouse, “Hold up, Studly, you’re walking too fast.” She grinned behind his back, even more happy that she was privy to information that Snape didn’t have. It made her feel…special.

Lucius paused and turned to give his wife a dirty look, then opened the door to their apartment and allowed Hermione to precede him, “I’m going to have a shower and get ready for Step Two in my Slytherin Satisfaction. It won’t take me long so you’d better be ready.” He hung up his robe and disappeared into their bedroom.

“When was I supposed to get ready?” Hermione muttered to the empty living room, hanging up her robe as well.

“I heard that,” Lucius poked his head out of the bedroom doorway. “Except for sending word to the house elves that we won’t attend dinner in the Great Hall tonight, what do you have to do? I have more to get prepared than you.” Then he grinned, “It should be quite amusing.”

“For you, maybe,” she grumbled, but Lucius had withdrawn into the bedroom again. Hermione sighed and got her few items together for the evening. When she heard the shower turn off in the bathroom, she used the hall door to the bathroom and took a quick shower herself, returning to the living room to check her preparations. She needn’t have hurried; Lucius never broke any records dressing.

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“Oh, my stars,” Hermione breathed half an hour later, unabashedly gawking from her place beside the small dining table where she had decided to wait for her husband.

“Lovely,” Lucius exclaimed in a low, enthralled voice as he emerged from their bedroom, his icy eyes twin lasers as they roamed over his tiny wife.

The couple stood still, each mesmerized by the sight of the other.

Hermione’s heart sped up as she tried to take in all of her tall husband in one sweep of her eyes. The blond wizard was dressed to the hilt in a black tuxedo that gave off a rich, dull sheen as it contoured his broad shoulders. The lapels were edged with a narrow, black satin trim that matched the stripe down the outside seams of his trousers. He had eschewed a waistcoat in favor of a cummerbund in darkest green silk, echoing the strip of handkerchief in his tux pocket. Tiny, black onyx studs marched down the brilliant white of his shirt, while the close cut of his jacket set off his slim waist and narrow hips. A traditional, black bow tie drew attention to his handsome face and to his shiny, platinum hair lying loose on his shoulders. He had done just as Step Two described and he looked magnificent.

Hermione shifted, feeling a small drip slide down one thigh, which she hoped her husband wouldn’t see. It really wasn’t fair that he should affect her sexually the way he did - especially not tonight with her major disadvantage. She made a mental note to stop her subscription to Witch Weekly; it had already landed her in trouble in her fourth year over the scurrilous article by Rita Skeeter intimating she was in a love triangle with Viktor Krum and Harry Potter. Why didn’t she learn?

Lucius strolled farther into the room, lit by romantic candles hanging in the air all around the edges of the living space. A miniature floral centerpiece with a lone candle graced the small dining table, which was laid for two with sparkling china, silver, and glassware. The room was cozy warm and Lucius began to feel the heat in his dressy apparel, but he knew it had to be that way for Hermione. As Hermione wiggled a little at his approach, he muttered a cooling spell under his breath, hoping it would be enough to allay his warmth. He didn’t want to miss a minute of this dinner.

“You look good enough to eat, love,” he said, nodding in good humor at his grumpy wife. The cooling spell nearly failed as he took in his wife’s outfit up close. She had on a wicked pair of black, slingback stilettos that increased her height almost to his chin, displaying her slim ankles and gorgeous legs. He admired the sexy black ribbon rosette set to one side just under her chin on a matching ribbon that encircled her throat, giving her a sophisticated, French air. As a cute touch she had a white linen tea towel draped over one forearm like a waiter in a high-class restaurant, but it was the rest of her costume that entranced her husband.

She had faithfully followed the instructions of Step Two to Sexually Satisfy a Slytherin and Lucius was definitely satisfied. Between the stilettos and the rosette, Hermione didn’t have on a single stitch.

Nervous at being so minutely examined by those seductive, wintry eyes of his, Hermione pulled out one of the dining chairs, indicating he should be seated. As he complied, she shook out his napkin and placed it carefully on his lap, avoiding any hint of awareness that his trouser front had filled out. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him, after all. Unfortunately, the view worked its intoxicating magic, making her flush with arousal, which in her current dishabille couldn’t be hidden. Her cheeks bloomed and the pink traveled down her chest to her breasts where twin, hard points formed at their crests.

Lucius flashed a wicked smile, quite pleased with his little witch’s response. It made the playing field equal, as he couldn’t hide his own reaction, either. “What are you serving for dinner?” he asked, suggestively eyeing the join of her thighs. She had trimmed her muff to within an inch of its fluffy, little life, leaving an open space below where he could see her cleft easily. It looked a bit damp. His smile widened.

“That’s not on the menu, Lucius,” she said tartly, seeing where his eyes had gone. Oh, he did smell delicious. Pure, aroused male à la Lucius. She knew her nipples were puckering, but had no way to stop the sexual signal.

Lucius’ smile grew distinctly calculating as his eyes never left his moist, fuzz-topped quarry. When he had her squirming, his eyes rose to hers, “Then what are you serving instead? I find myself ravenous.” He stopped to stare briefly at her tightly furled nipples and his jaw clenched in sudden frustration. He wanted to test one of the tight buds with his tongue, but part of the rule of Satisfaction Number Two was he wasn’t allowed to initiate physical contact. She could, but he couldn’t.

The Witch Weekly’s first two steps to a Slytherin’s sexual satisfaction was all about a couple getting to know each other romantically and breaking down the female’s barriers without the male letting sex getting in the way. In Step One the female got to touch all over the male. Lucius grinned. That had gone extremely well many times already, starting with that first massage. In Step Two her body was supposed to tease, but not fulfill. Lucius grimaced when he realized the male was to be fully dressed for a reason. Sweet hell, he wanted to touch. Taste. Feel. Who wrote that tripe, anyway? Obviously someone who knew the bawdy Slytherins. He was going to burn that damned magazine.

Hermione reached over to the kitchen counter just behind her and drew her wand, lightly touching his plate. Instantly a tantalizing meal of Beef Wellington with mushrooms and new potatoes appeared, which reminded Lucius he hadn’t had much lunch.

His interest was diverted for the moment as he focused on his food. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and filled the glasses with water and wine. She added the condiments and sat down at her place, famished. Shaking out her napkin, she glanced at her husband for a moment, waiting. At his nod, she addressed her meal and silence descended on the warm apartment.

Finally, her hunger appeased, Hermione offered shyly, “You look very dashing in your tux, Lucius.” The sheen of his pale, platinum locks lying on the rich, black material on his shoulders was a frame for the wizard’s fine-featured face and his mesmerizing, ghost eyes and Hermione felt another gush adding to the pool of liquid lust under her bum. She tried not to grimace; she was sitting in a veritable swamp.

“Thank you, but don’t get used to it. I only wore this because of the requirement for Number Two. I am not a fan of tuxedoes.” He groused, “I had to wear one more times than I could count to balls, operas, ballets, and other charity events, and they do have their obvious uses for formal functions. Tonight I only did this for you here. Once.” He relaxed then, “I like your costume as well.” He’d been sneaking glances at her breasts above the barrier of the tabletop as he ate and his trousers were straining at the front.

Hermione grinned, “And I’m only wearing my outfit this once, too. For you.”

“Hardly, my dear,” Lucius rejoined. “Perhaps once a night, but I don’t even like that limit. There is always afternoon delight and an early morning romp, so I’ll be seeing quite a lot of your sweet little costume. Have you finished? I’d like to move on to dessert.”

“Now, Lucius,” Hermione admonished, trying to keep a straight face, “we’re only supposed to look, not touch. Please keep that in mind.”

“That rule ends the moment we enter our bedroom. I’ve enjoyed the view,” Lucius let his gaze roam over her pert, rosy breasts, “but the steps were designed to lead a couple into intimacy by stages and we’ve already skipped ahead to the advanced steps in two places as well as step one. I don’t mind exploring the other three steps we haven’t played at yet, but for me it is playing. After dessert, your delightful view is going to be transferred to our bed and I’m going to sop up some of that feminine liquor you’ve been squirming on with my tongue.”



How…? Hermione blushed with embarrassment. How did he know she’d been sitting in a puddle of her own desire the entire meal? She had carefully tried not to squirm for that very reason. “I wasn’t squirming -” she began and then bit her lip.

“Your delicious feminine scent is distinctive. I notice you don’t deny the juices. How you ever defeated the Death Eaters I’ll never understand. Subterfuge isn’t your strong point.” He saw her brows snap together and placated, “In any case, I’m now rather painfully aroused. I think I’ll just have you for dessert instead.”

Lucius rose from his chair and Hermione winced at the rigid tent in his tux. If he’d been sitting with that all during dinner she couldn’t complain about a bit of wet derriere. Apparently there had been no surcease from his initial reaction to her when she’d dropped the napkin over his distended lap. At that point it was kind of an igloo shape. Now it looked like he was hiding the Eiffel Tower in his trousers.

Hermione silently capitulated. He was right. The ‘no touching’ rule had to end before someone got hurt and if he was made to wait any longer she was a little afraid it was going to be her. Hermione giggled suddenly, thinking she was so lubed up, his Eiffel Tower was going to be drowned in her Bastille. “Vive la France,” Hermione laughed, jumped up from her chair and ran for the bedroom, leaving Lucius standing with a massive erection and a perplexed expression.

tbc...


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Don’t forget this chapter’s pics and responses -

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/64838.html


What would you do with the four handcuffs in Step Six? And who would wear them?

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