The Knotting

Disclaimer: Not mine...boohoo...



This has been a fucking disaster. Nothing short of a fucking disaster. When Father came to me months ago and announced that I was to marry, I felt somewhat relieved of the pressures of being the most sought after wizarding bachelor. I felt that Pansy was a beautiful witch who just happened to meet the requirements of my pure status and would overlook my discretions, as she should. The girl was not as intelligent as I would like; however, she made up for her lack of mental prowls in between my sheets; the chit could make a grown man cry when orgasm was reached.

Just as I was getting used to the idea of sharing my personal space full time with a woman, Father came to me and announced that he had found the perfect bride. She was ‘as witty and cunning as they ever have come’, according to him. If I ever was to shit my pants, this was the time.

I had refused to meet her. What was the point, we were going to have separate lives as soon as the knotting was secure. We had separate parties leading up to the event. Never had I laid eyes on the silly girl until today, as I uncovered her face from behind the long, white veil she proudly wore at our knotting. How awful it was to find that she was, indeed, very beautiful, still, I had not been the one to pick her and therefore, she would not ever be mine. I would marry her, treat her accordingly, and have my lovers. Surely, she knew that this was how it was to be.

The first thing that I noticed was that she had the most beautiful womanly body; of course, it could have been the dress. Yes, I shall continue to believe that the corset that no doubt had been placed around her figure is what made her breast spill over her gown in the most provocative way. The next thing that I was made aware of was her walk; it was more like a glide. It had been done with such eloquence and grace, that I was beginning to believe that she was not walking at all, merely floating to where she was to stand as she gave her body, soul and mind over to me. Damn, as enchanting as this woman was proving to be, still she was not chosen by my hand to wed. I refuse to treat her as a chosen bride.

Father says that all purebloods have brides chosen for them, traditions have not and will not change solely for me and my agenda. That he, himself, had his bride chosen for him. He tells a tale of lusting after a woman named Emilia, making her moan nightly under the stars of the full moon, courting her to functions that only the Pure are welcome at. He told of how he was disappointed when his father had brought Mother home; how he had to ‘train a woman over again’ to do his bidding. This was of little consolation to me. Pansy has been tutored by my hand since Fourth Year. I had broken her body to weld to my guilty pleasures. Now, she will be passed along to a more unsuitable man to enjoy. Father told me to just do with Pansy what he did with this Emilia woman, house her inside the manor and go to her in the evenings.

As I attended the reception of my knotting, I stayed as far from my new bride as possible. We were required to dance a handful of times, required to kiss momentarily during the ceremony; once again as a photographer from the Daily Prophet snapped a picture of the ‘blissful couple’.

Now, here I stand, my bride in front of me, alone in our knotting suite. Her mother and mine have gone to great lengths to make certain that we have a memorable evening; champagne, candelabras strategically placed around the room, the high bed’s width which has been more than doubled, sits in the center of the room, draped with beautiful silk bedding.

She stands in front of me, gazing into my eyes. I know that she is aware of my distaste for this marriage. I think that I hear a sigh escape her lips as she looks towards the goblet with a longing that I know quite well. It is definitely time for a drink. I cross the room and fill two glasses. Magically, I send one to her; loosening my collar that has become far too tight in the last few moments. She captures the goblet and drains it with an ease that I admire. Taking in the contents of my own glass, I place it down upon the table that I retrieved it from and walk towards her.

Standing close to her, I can feel the tension rising in her body. She is nervous; I take a step forward, solely to push her nerves to her limits. Her eyes tilt upwards and look into mine. I notice that they are the most brilliant of blue. The contrast between her eyes and her skin tone, olive, is mesmerizing. She is breathtaking; however, this consummation is forced, not chosen.

I step in once more to close the minimal gap that is between us, so close that I feel her breast rising and falling; I feel the air being pushed out of her lungs onto my neck. I take her goblet and float it over to the table, as I hear the tinkle of the glass replacing itself onto the countertop, I speak to her for the first time in our married life; “We should get the requirements over with quickly.”

I could see her having difficulty breathing. Her eyes seemed to focus on my lips the whole time I was speaking to her and now her tongue wet her lips in the most erotic way. I took her by the shoulders and turned her around so that her back was to me. Slowly, I grasped the hook of her gown and started to pull gently. I placed my lips against the sweet flesh of her neck as I let the gown she wore fall to the floor. As she stepped out of it, I caught a glimpse of her undergarments and sighed. A corset, thigh high stockings that were held up by garters which accentuated the lushness of her round ass, only a thin string between her bum cheeks to mar the perfection.


I turn her to me, taking in the glorious view of her bosoms. Her corset was pulled together tightly; I started to loosen it from behind. As I began to untie the silky strings, my member jumped with the anticipation of being played with. I roll my hips closer to her and let her feel my need growing. As I have untied her bonds, I reach into her hair and begin to pull the pins out letting her thick blonde mane cascade down her shoulders and back. I have never really found blonde’s very attractive. You can tell that my Father chose her. She has long waves in her hair; possibly from being pulled up and twisted for so long. I step back, studying her body. She is flawless. I bring her close and kiss her mouth, slowly swiping my tongue over her lips to gracefully ask for entrance, this will be the only time that I am so polite. She agrees to allow me to explore her mouth. It is hot and wet; my tongue caressing every crevice, swiping over every tooth. My hands have begun to wonder. Untying the corset has made it easy for me to loosen it and bring it over her head, unleashing her breast that I am now, remarkably, aware are exquisite. I kneel down to them and lave my tongue around the dark areola, nipping and biting at her nipple until it is hard and her breast is taut. I then move to the other and do the same. This is where I notice she is not as thin as she appeared. This pleases me. She is not heavy, nor is she skin and bones.

I have removed her corset, however, decide to leave the garter and stockings on her body; now, removing the thin strip of material that covered her mound has awakened my cock so much more than the sight of her womanliness could. The musk that traveled into my nose as her knickers trailed down her legs was intoxicating and I stifled a groan as I inhaled deeply. She was a vision of perfect loveliness. It is a shame that I did not choose this.

Inhaling her scent deeply, I swipe my tongue over the lips of her pussy, she is moist; this pleases me. I run my fingers lightly up her body, starting with her ankles, her sheer covered legs, over towards the moist center that I am about to bury my face in. My hands continue to roam up towards her breast, these gloriously heavy mounds that are patiently waiting for me to explore. I notice that her head in thrown back slightly, she is enjoying my touch.

I latch on hard to her pussy lips; greedily sucking as my hands tug on the dark nubs of her breasts. She congratulates me with a moan, letting me know that all is well. I take long laps across her wet cunt; dipping my tongue into her tight hole, she no longer can remain silent and she wraps her fingers in my long silver hair pulling me closer as she moans in delight.

I can eat a pussy. She is just now learning that lesson.

I pull away from her; she is lonely for my touch, I can tell. She moans in a sorrowful tone as I am rising up to her. She is standing there, in front of me, naked and lovely. I fist her hair back hard and she gasps, then I claim her lips, letting her taste her sweet nectar on mine. She sucks my lips greedily. This pleases me.

I lead her to the bed, helping her up on the tall mattress. She attempts to kick off her heels but I stop her. Softly, I whisper, “They please me”, she seems to understand and slides back over the silky sheets. Laying her head on a pillow, I begin to remove my clothes; first by pulling off my tie, slowly removing my dress shirt. She gasps at the taunt muscles that I honed from years of Quidditch, running her hand over my chest in silent exploration of my upper body, this pleases me. She catches sight of my mark, runs her finger over the Dark Lord’s branding of me, then carefully meats my gaze. I smile, not a genuine one, but the wicked one that I have perfected over the years.

Reaching for my belt, her eyes drop, not as steady as they were moments before, “Are you a virgin,” I asked her. She nods, letting me know to be careful upon entry. Pulling out my belt from its loops I quickly grasp the buttons of my trousers. The knowledge that I will be her first makes my cock twitch with anticipation; I can not wait to enter her. I can not wait to feel the tightness of her body around mine. A question arises in me. My Father, he did not take her? He did not test her wills as he was looking for me a bride? Surely, he tested her in someway. I must remember to ask, later. The slowness of my game is beginning to get to her. She shows her impatience with me as she moves to help push my trousers down over my hips, she stops when she reaches my pants, she can not help but to run her hands over the fine silk that they are made of. Careful to avoid my erection, she glides her fingers down to my leg and catches up with my own hands pulling off the impeding article of clothing. Lastly, I remove my pants. Her eyes widen as she takes in the size of my member. I smile at her, “It will be alright”. Somehow, I am certain that she trusts me. This pleases me.

Sliding up to her mouth once more, I capture her lips in a bruising kiss. I pour all of my emotions into this one, letting her know that I, too, am anxious for our coupling. I open her thighs and position my body between them, running my hands lightly over her body, remembering her responses. She adores for me to stroke her neck, I can imagine that she will be easily trained in the art of sucking me off, no matter. She has her head laid back on her pillow; her eyes are heavy as I stroke her neck with a purposeful hand. I raise my body to meet hers and enter her until the barrier of her womanhood stops me. She has opened her eyes, they are glassy. “Once more”, I tell her and push my way through her wall, her tears are streaming down her face now and I lean down to kiss them away. I stay still until I feel her walls start to accept my presence. Slowly, I start to rock my hips, her whimpers turn to moans soon and I am lost under the pleasure of her skin. I pick up a stocking covered leg and wrap it around my hip, her heel digging into my back. I pick up the other and she knows what to do with it, now, I am encompassed with her body. She is moaning and writing under me, I feel the wetness that she is producing dribbles down my balls and start to tickle its way to my leg. She is mewing, taking it upon herself to assist in her own pleasure by twisting her nipples for me as I watch. Slamming into her over and over again, I feel the starting of my release. Taking my thumb into my mouth to wet it, I place it on her clit and begin to apply pressure to the sensitive ball of nerves. She arches her back and moans loudly, “You like that my little whore, don’t you? “

The talk sent her over the edge, her pussy constricts so tightly I am pulled into my own bliss, spilling forth into her hot channel. Slowing, but not removing my fingers from her clit, I continued to pump forth my semen into her; she is sweating from her experiences with me. I fell over to the side of her, panting. She curls into the crevasse of by body and falls asleep.

I looked at her for quite some time after our fit of lovemaking. There were several things that came to mind: I would never have to bed her again, for I had fulfilled my duty; she was a right good lay; but somehow, what struck me as most odd, was the fact that I had married a woman, mated with her, saw her in orgasmic bliss, but I still did not know her name.




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Angela