The Pureblood Coup

Sheherazade: Thanks for the review. The ravishment is good but not just sex. Some other things will happen.


Lilith: Thanks for your reivew. Down below it's getting pretty nasty.


And right before the story ends, I have planned an interesting little sexual snippet between Bella/Voldemort. Blood_red_eyes should like it cause it is interesting exchange between LV/Bella.


Continuation of….









Chapter Thirteen: Don’t Leave Me Now









Voldemort pried Narcissa off of Lucius, yet for a second it seemed like Narcissa’s fingers were not going to let go. But then she relented.



He sprawled out, sitting up on the bed, and then placed Narcissa across his legs, laying her thin frame prone on top of his legs, her face near his feet.



“Oh, please,” Narcissa moaned. “Let me have dignity!”



“I think not, Narcissa. You see, you are in essence my slave. As is Lucius and all who live at headquarters. Currently you are in my sanctuary to be humiliated. Is this clear?”



“Yes…,” said Narcissa, but she turned around to see what he was doing, as she lay straddled over his legs. As she made eye contact with him, she rolled her eyes.



He corrected her with a quiet, stern edge, “You say, “Yes, ‘Master.’ Or else, we begin with a full preview of your inevitable pain to come…”



Narcissa turned, craning her neck to see him again and said, “Yes, Master." It was said evenly without losing her aristocratic composure.



Narcissa stalled and waited anxiously for Voldemort to start. Finally, he was putting his hands on her silverly blonde hair running down her back. She spoke nervously, “My lord! I mean Master, may we turn off the lights and do this in the dark?”



Before Narcissa had finished speaking, she thought she already knew what the answer would be, and she felt herself sink further into his lap.



“No. No. Absolutely not!…Narcissa I shall tell you only once more: Continue to resist the agreement your husband made for I to take you to bed, and I'll have you confined in the tower with the Veelas. Where you may be a slave for Death Eaters instead, and that would be lasting for weeks on end.”



Narcissa suddenly changed her attitude and said reluctantly, “I shall be perfectly obedient, my Lord, I mean Master. A good submissive, Master.” Yet she did not feel like acting submissive, she was only saying it to please him.



And Voldemort raised his wand, (as he could never discard his best weapon not even for moments) out of the pocket of the velvet nightgown robes. Two statues guarded the bed, a witch and a wizard, each holding racks of candles in their stone hands, giving off an orange glow. Voldemort jabbed his wand at the candles, dimming the lights, but not extinguishing everything into the total darkness Narcissa wished for.



Then Voldemort, pulled his wand back behind him, to where he knew there was a mural. It was a painting of a forrest that made noises as soft background noise. Voldemort placed a silencing charm on it, ending the low twittering of birds and crickets with the running of a creek.



Voldemort returned his full attention on Narcissa’s prone frame before him. He put his hands back on her back, stroking the strands of her hair lazily.



“Narcissa, I am not in the mood to Imperiuse tonight. You abide by my word, and I agree to allow your son to return to Hogwarts,” it was said amelioratingly, as he was trying to relieve Narcissa's qualms.


He continued to stroke, moving gradually down her back. “Afterall, your duty as little lady of the house is to have sex with me when I ask.”



“Yes, Master,” Narcissa muttered, she felt a little more willing to comply with him. “But m-master-,” she was going to ask if he would use Crucio, but had hesitated, not wanting to give him the thought.



“Now I have murdered so many people throughout the years….Thousands and thousands of all kinds of men, women, children, and even those of the inferior species: the muggles. Did you know this Narcissa?”



“No-no Master. But I expected it, as I expect you are going to -“



“No,” he interrupted. “I shall not kill you. That is a promise, I shall make Narcissa. Although I do so enjoy killing,” he said with relish, “but it is quite fatal if I were to kill Lucius’s pretty little witch whore, don’t you think?”



“Whore? I’m his wife!,” screamed Narcissa angrily. And then she sighed and said, “Yes, Master.”



She remained waiting for whatever Voldemort was going to do, shaking. His stroking hands reached down to the small of her back, stroking the tips of her straight hair.



Narcissa drew in a hollow gasp, when she felt his hands on her buttocks. Voldemort began stroking them through the silk-white transparent robe.



“Such soft, such smooth,” he hissed continually. He continued to rub his hands gently on her pert bum, and began massaging it. Voldemort wasn’t interested in Narcissa’s buttocks, however finely curved, rather he was getting a sensational experience from a mere object. He enjoyed in his hands the feel of the silky cloth.



For moments he continued to rub the cloth on her bottom, into his hands intoning repeatedly how soft and smooth it was, sounding like he was talking more to himself. Narcissa laid over him, her ass practically in Voldemort’s face, as it was at the base of his stomach. She lay sprawled on top of his legs, her head at his long and narrow bare feet.



Narcissa couldn’t help but moan a little. She felt guilt at how relaxing it was becoming for her, however involuntary the relaxation reaction was. If Lucius could see this! And yet, laying there, she did get to have a limited view of her unconscious husband. And as the Dark Lord continued playing around with Narcissa, she felt like an animal, some kind of pet of his. In boredom, Narcissa’s ankles shook, and she lifted one leg up a bit.



This tiny movement seemed to take Voldemort out of his trance-like state. He noticed her slipper- clad feet and from it gained a sudden burst of inspiration. He put his hands on her foot and started picking at it. Out of the feather slipper, his nail plucked a long streamer of a white feather.



He put his hands back on her buttocks, clasping his hands firmly on the cheeks. In one swift motion, he pulled on her robe and it ripped down the back in two.



He took the feather again, and started tickling it against Narcissa’s exposed bottom. Suddenly she felt his strong hands on her bottom again, pulling the cheeks apart and then something, she did not even know what it was being inserted into her anus. Voldemort fiddled with the feather for a minute or two, sewing it in under and over the tiny muscles of the anus.



Voldemort spoke teasingly, “Deliciously silly of me….”



Narcissa then felt the sphincter muscles of her anus contract. He was wrenching out the feather embedded in her anus, and in one painful burst of pressure, he wrenched it at once from her bottom. In a second Narcissa was screaming, “MASTER!”
She continued a screaming shrill, it was like getting muggle stitches all pulled out of your skin at once.


And the feather was pulled out her ass-hole, wrenched along with several little pieces of dark pubic hair.



Voldemort mockingly and harshly screeched, “Hrrgh!” And then he added with a terrible aggression, “Wonderful how you scream for me, without even orgasming, Narcissa!” It sounded very much like how Voldemort reacted when he touched Harry Potter’s scar in the graveyard.



“…and look at this gunk I found between your crevices….Don’t you wash yourself?”



And he held the dark pubic hair, with drops of blood out to Narcissa's face, hanging it over the tip of her nose, so that Narcissa almost thought it was a rat's tail, for the hanging hairs did resemble one. He dropped it in front of her face.



“Now…,” Voldemort said gathering himself, and he grabbed Narcissa’s legs, sitting up on his elbows and shoving her even closer to the narrow berth between his legs.



“I’m going to bang your dirty arse until it’s throbbing at full throttle, and while I do so, you are to suck on my feet. I am ordering you suck I - Lord Voldemort's toes, and you will do it.”



And suddenly she felt a horrible whoosh as something huge came inside her already tortured, bleeding buttocks. He shoved inside of her, and Narcissa could feel her pelvis humping against his legs at the same time, bouncing on his legs. And she was suddenly being screamed at, “Suck. Suck my feet for me or I will not allow Draco to return to school!”



And Narcissa seemed to comply at once, the tip of her tongue out, and reluctantly she started licking the Dark Lord’s toes. At least there wasn’t any dirt under them, and neither was there any moisture. She continued to lick and then desperately she sucked and slurped on the toes, as he banged inside of her, holding her at almost the wheel-barrow position.



Finally, he ended it, but before Narcissa could pause to breathe, he had pulled on her hair. “We’re done with that phase. Wasn’t it relaxing? It felt so good, Narcissa…,”. was spoken with indulgent passion.



Narcissa removed her mouth from the big toe she was sucking on, in which she noticed Voldemort had an unusual distance between the big toe and his littler ones. She felt Voldemort’s legs slide off of her, no longer was she laying on top of them. Narcissa sat up, kneeling, her own toes curling behind her, afraid and horrified to face him.



“Turn around…and face me,” said the Dark Lord.



Narcissa did, with her hands still on her knees, and then she raised her head looking up at him to her side. Voldemort was there at the side of the bed, standing over it. Histrionically, he gestured pulling his arms down, and showing off his opened up robes, with an ugly smile plastered on the white snake-like face.



He then held his penis with both hands. “Look…I am giving you a rare glimpse, Narcissa. Big and powerful as it should be, isn’t it?”



Narcissa did not answer but gaped in horrified shock as she looked. His dick was huge. Voldemort’s penis was rapidly filling with blood, becoming erect as he handled it through the exposed folds of the robes. It was very, very long, ten inches, and thick in it’s shape. Voldemort continued to stare down Narcissa, amused as he got some kind of boost in confidence at her witness to his bulging member.



Narcissa noticed he had no pubic hair at all. Not on his pelvis and not his chest either. And then she started looking at him noticing other strange peculiarities to his biology. For one thing, he had no belly-button, for his new body had not come out of a womb.



Voldemort peered down at her with a curious expression and suddenly there was a knowing glint in his red eyes. He had seen her thoughtful observations through Legilimency. “I was the icon of good looks, tall dark and handsome type as they call it. You as the skank you are would have thrown yourself at my feet, if you knew me then….But still, I favour this look much more.”



And at that thought, how he liked his monstrous looks, he had an awful, gloatng smile on his face.



Voldemort stopped holding his penis and he looked at her, smiling strangely in that lipless mouth. He saw she had no pubic hair, in front of her vagina. This is because Narcissa likes to keep it shaved, as it makes her feel younger. She kind of missed her nubile innocence sometimes.



She shivered as she felt the Dark Lord cup a large hand on her shaved-v lips, it felt like a block of ice was on it. He took out his wand then. Narcissa felt her stomach cave in dread as to what he would do with it. As she knelt in front of him, he moved his wand in a flash. The thirteen-and-a-half inch wand, a wood of poisonous sap called yew, was inserted up Narcissa’s vaginal canal, as far it could go, being a few inches.



As he did so, a river of blood came trickling out of her sex.

“Master, I just started my menstruation again. A few hours ago. My stomach has been cramped. Perhaps we can do this another night?,” explained Narcissa.



“Silence! We are not doing this another time. You say that again, and I will punish you horribly: as the alternative in the tower. Is that understood?”



“Yes, Master,” said Narcissa wistfully.



And Voldemort returned his wand to his pocket. He had done an incantation to make her temporarily infertile.





Without warning, he pushed her back down on the bed with deliberate force, his hands pushing down on her shoulder blades, as he climbed on the high bed, looming on top of her, breathing heavily. He sounded like some kind of beast.









Note: This scene is only half-way done. He does much, much more to her, and not only to her and not purely sexual. It's amazing how I always come up with new ideas for how Voldemort would like to do it. I believe his strongest fetishes are mainly: himself and his wand and dick, snakes, fingers, toes, feet, fire. That is why he made her suck his toes. And also I read evil killers like Voldemort feel affinity to object like cloths and get a kick out of rubbing them.