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Not Your Average Poker Night

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Not Your Average Poker Night

Draco eyed the room one more time, making sure everything was set up right. The weekly boy’s night wasn’t anything to make a big deal of, but this week it was special. Instead of their normal poker table, he had a stage set up at the end of the room. The thick burgundy curtain shifted as he fingered the golden tassels at the end. His friends were going to be in for a big surprise tonight. But his wife had been begging for this, and who was Draco to deny her?

He heard the whooshing sound that accompanied someone entering by Floo. He turned away from the stage, smirk firmly planted on his face at the thought of what was to come, and headed to the hallway to meet his friends.

At the door to his ‘man cave’ stood three of his Slytherin friends: Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, and Marcus Flint. Draco checked his Rolex - a gift from his wife - and noticed that there was still five minutes for the rest of his guests to arrive.

“Why a change of scenery?” Blaise asked while leading the group in. He walked towards the row of chairs and sunk into the middle seat.

“Should we be expecting a show?” Theo questioned, seating himself to Blaise’s right.

Flint quirked his eyebrow at their host and sat at the end of the row, on the far left, leaving several empty places between him and Blaise.

“Of sorts,” Draco hinted.

Before he could be questioned further three more of his poker buddies entered the room.

Adrian Pucey and Zacharias Smith looked around the different room but kept their faces expressionless. They each filled out the empty seats between Flint and Blaise but said nothing. Anthony Goldstein followed behind them with a puzzled look on his face. Draco smirked, the Ravenclaw didn’t know how to hide his thoughts - an excellent tell when they played poker. He pointed Goldstein to one of the chairs to Zabini’s left.

The group of men chatted amongst themselves while Draco paced near the entryway. He knew he had agreed to the following festivities, but it was going to take quite a bit out of him. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself that this was all for his wife. For Salazar’s sake, it was her idea.

Draco glanced at his watch once more, getting inpatient. He and his wife had spoken heavily about what was going to happen later that evening and his cock was already at half-mast in anticipation. He was about to just say ‘fuck it,’ and start the festivities when the last two people stepped inside to join them.

“‘Bout time. Where’s the crisps?” Gregory Goyle shrugged taking one of the empty seats to the right of Theo.

Graham Montague - someone they invited to round off the poker game - was last to step inside and although a Slytherin, couldn’t keep the glee of his face. “Malfoy, you’re wife...”

“I know, Montague. Please have a seat.” Draco was quick to interrupt, gesturing to the final empty chair. He didn’t want the rest of the group to have a heads up until the exact moment.

Draco took another deep breath and reminded himself that everything that was about to happen was planned and consensual. His wife wanted to take their games outside the bedroom a bit and had admitted to having a bit of an exhibitionist inside her. He ran his hand through his hair and steeled his shoulders. He had been fantasizing about this night for as long as it had been planned - since the last poker game, last week.

He stepped on the small stage, mindful not to disturb the curtain behind him. “Gentlemen, as you can see, we will not be playing poker this evening.” Draco drawled, eyeing all of his guests. “Instead, I’m going to have you lot help me fulfill a request of my wife’s...”

“Na’ man, if I wanted to do woman’s work, I’d be at home helping Pansy with the brat.” Blaise shouted.

“Yeah, why not just cancel the game?” Nott asked.

“Instead of letting us come here and get our hopes up for whatever our imaginations thought was behind that curtain,” Goldstein mumbled, but Draco heard him loud and clear.

Draco smirked the infamous Malfoy smirk and it immediately shut up his audience. Everyone knew that seeing that smirk was never a good sign. “Gentlemen, trust me, you will definitely be happy to oblige my wife.” I know, I will. His smirk turned feral. “There is just a few precautions that need to be addressed beforehand.”

“Then can we have some crisps?” Greg asked, to the amusement to those sitting near him.

Draco chuckled. “That can be arranged.” He waved his hand and a long parchment appeared before everyone. “This is a basic contract that stipulates your silence in return of your enjoyment for the festivities planned ahead.”

“Did your wife write that, or have anything to do with its creation?” Smith sneered.

Draco sent a piercing glare in Smith’s direction. Why he let Goldstein convince them to let Smith join in their weekly poker game, he’d never know, but the man was terrible at cards - almost as bad as Greg - and the only other person - Warrington, the arse - they could bring into the game was still too bigoted for Draco to let him step into his home. “Of course she did. If you’re afraid of what will happen should you blab... Well, I think that you, Smith, are well aware of my wife’s aversion for snitches.”

Smith pulled at his collar and wiped his brow. Goldstein pulled at his collar.

“What do you mean?” Pucey responded.

Draco shook his head. Of course his fellow Slytherins wouldn’t be aware of how cunning his wife truly was - especially during their Hogwarts years. “Let’s just say that should you try, it will be very unpleasant, and everyone will know about it.”

“Then why sign? We don’t even know if the reward justifies the risk.” Blaise, ever the sound businessman, queried.

Draco sighed. He had told his wife this would be brought up. She had said not to worry about it but he didn’t understand how she could be so nonchalant about a major flaw in their planning. He knew that he couldn’t really tell them the reward until after they signed the bloody thing, but how could he actually convince them.

“Does it have to do with what I saw her in earlier?” Montague asked, pulling Draco from his thoughts.

That sneaky witch, Draco mused. Leave it to her to ensure one of the men got a sneak peak. He nodded at Montague in response.

“I’m in then,” he responded quickly, standing up in front of the group. He held his hand out towards Draco waiting for a quill as to sign the contract.

Draco mentally sighed in relief. He could see the rest of the group intrigued by Montague’s quick acquiesce to the situation. He Summoned a quill and handed it to the man.

He was quickly followed by Pucey, Flint, and Theo. Greg wasn’t far behind. When he stood in front of Draco he mumbled about crisps and Draco gave his old friend a small smile.

Smith proceeded next and muttered to Goldstein - who signed after - that ‘this better be worth it.’

Oh, it’s worth it. Draco knew that all of the men in this room would be quite happy with their decision. He knew that each had a small crush on his wife. He saw the distracted looks they gave her when she would stop by in the middle of their games - something that the pair had planned to give him an advantage.

Blaise was last in line and gave Draco a penetrating stare. “Will Pansy be upset about this?” he whispered.

Draco knew that his best friend’s wife would be upset over the evening’s plan, but for not being invited. He mentally shrugged; it wasn’t his fault she wasn’t born with a dick. “Probably, but because she’s missing out.” He responded with an even tone.

Blaise’s eyes grew and he signed his name with a flourish. Draco knew that the little hint had convinced Blaise that from this point forward, everything was well worth it.

“Wonderful.” Draco snapped his fingers and the contract popped out of the room and into a locked drawer inside his wife’s study. “Now, Greg, you said you wanted some crisps, yes?” He looked to his friend, eyebrow arched.

Greg’s stomach responded with a quiet growl, making his cheeks turn red.

“Perfect,” Draco pulled a bell from his pocket and shook it side to side. “Now, please ask for any refreshment now, as you will not be able to leave your seats shortly.”

His wife stepped in at that exact moment and his cock hardened further. Draco was very well aware of the tent in his trousers, but he also knew that the other nine men in the room were in a similar predicament.

Hermione Malfoy walked into the room with a tray of crisps. Draco didn’t know where to look. The mini-dress that made up her maid uniform pushed her handful sized tits up and together, jiggling as she headed towards Greg. The skirt - more petticoat then actual skirt - barely covered her arse, and the swoosh it made drew the eye to her creamy thighs.

She handed the tray to Greg and turned around to face Draco. She bowed her head. The gasps from behind her reminded Draco that he ordered her to wear no knickers and how her skirt would lift should she bend in the slightest. “Sir, may I get you anything?” she asked reverently, keeping her eyes to the ground.

“No, pet,” he patted her cheek. He saw her shudder at the action. This was what she wanted. She had asked to be publicly humiliated and who better to do it in front of, if not his friends. It took her awhile to convince him - Why can’t we just go to a Muggle mall or something? he had asked - but she held her ground. His wife was a wildcat and he could never deny her, especially when her argument was ’I want them to be jealous of what you have. To see how much I love you that I would subject myself so.’ He was a Malfoy, so of course those words would appeal to him. She had followed that with ‘Plus, you have to admit it’s kind of hot,’ and Draco couldn’t agree more. “Gentlemen, could she get you anything? A drink perhaps?” he drawled, then snickered when he saw a few of the men shifting in their seats. “Some tissue?”

“Some Firewhiskey,” Pucey asked, his eyes never leaving the apex of Hermione’s thighs.

Draco smirked. You can look, but never touch. “You heard the man. Get some for each of them.” He ran his fingers through Hermione’s hair before she spun around and rushed to the liquor cabinet in the corner. He watched the sway of her hips until she began to pour two fingers into a tumbler for each of their guests. “When I open this curtain, consider the festivities officially started. You may not join in, you may not say anything directly to her. You are here to watch, and only watch.” Draco commanded.

Hermione returned to them and handed every man a drink, taking her time making sure to rub some bare skin on each of them. Draco took the three steps atop the platform and pulled open the thick curtain. He tied them open with the tassels to allow optimum view of the stage. and smirked at the gasp coming from the audience.

In the middle of the platform, and the only thing on it besides Draco, was an old fashioned stockade. It was made of an old deprecated wood and had three holes inside it. “Pet, come.” Draco snapped and pointed to the floor.

Hermione ran up the steps, giving everything the view of her hairless slit and bum. She dropped to her knees and kowtowed to her husband, placing her forehead on the ground that he had pointed to.

“Remove your clothes,” he clearly stated. His friends were sitting at their edge of their seats, riveted. They only think they know what’s coming. He mentally laughed as he watched Hermione struggle out of her too-tight dress. He ordered her to stand when she was completely naked. “Show them what a slut you are,” he spun a finger in a circle and Hermione followed the motion, slowing giving the men a three-sixty view of her naked form.

“Face me,” she turned to look at his feet, “bend over, grasp your ankles. Hold.” Draco ordered and she followed suit. He trailed a hand down her spine to her arse, giving it a light tap, before running his fingers across her extremely wet slit. “Such a whore, turned on by being put on display.” He stuck two fingers inside her, making her moan, and then swung his stretched arm to display the sheen on his fingers.

He stood up and walked behind the stockade, lifting the top and holding it in place. “Get into position,” Draco commanded, eyes gleaming. They played quite a bit in the bedroom but they’ve never used such a device and to be able to see the face of each of his friends as he slowly tormented his wife... He was very happy to have let her talk him into this.

Hermione took the two steps so that she was in position. She bent forward and gingerly placed her wrists and neck into the openings provided. “Step into the restraints, pet.” Draco tapped her thigh, nodding at the spreader bar connected to the base of the stockade. He shut the mechanism locking her in place, restraining her neck, wrists, and ankles. She was hunched over on display for everyone.

Exactly as she had wanted.

“Now, whore, can you tell them why you are here?”

“Because I let Master’s possession be seen by them.” Hermione whispered.

Draco smacked the right cheek of her arse. “I don’t think they heard you, slut.”

Draco watched as his wife took a deep breath and accepted the reality of her fantasy. “I let them see Master’s cunt,” she stated proudly.

He smacked her left cheek to give it a matching handprint. “Oh? And I suppose you did that on purpose?” He rubbed the red marks left, admiring what he had done already.

She nodded. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back causing her to groan in pain. “Is that all?” He used his other hand to twist her taut nipples.

“No, Master,” she tried to shake her head but his firm grip prevented her from moving. Draco could see the tears building in her eyes, but his proud Gryffindor held them at bay. “Because I am a Mudblood and this is what I deserve,” she cooly spoke.

Draco heard the gasp from the group in front of them and glanced at their puzzled looks. The ‘Mudblood’ word only ever came up in play, and she was always the first one to say it. Hermione liked to remind the walls of Malfoy Manor that the new Lady Malfoy was very much a Muggle-born. Draco would only ever admit it directly after sex, but he loved how she liked to rile up his ancestors.

“That’s right, and what are Mudbloods good for?” he quietly asked. He didn’t need to raise his voice, but he didn’t want to whisper, the whole point was to humiliate her in front of his friends. She said it would turn her on, and he could see her arousal running down her thighs.

“For their master’s pleasure,” she responded, keeping her eyes down. Draco wondered if she would have prefered to not be able to see her audience. He mentally shrugged, he figured this fit more into her fantasy than any other way.


He smacked her bottom and chided her with his tongue.

“For their master’s pleasure, sir,” she quickly replied before he could spank her once more.

“Good girl,” he softly said. He rubbed the vibrant red marks, avoiding the area he knew Hermione wanted his fingers to graze over.

Hermione squirmed in place. Draco knew that the restraints kept her from moving around too much, but she could still shake her bottom in attempt of some pleasure.

“Such a wanton slut,” he spoke loud enough that his friends could hear the emphasis on the humiliation. He lightly traced her slit with his pinky, making Hermione hiss. The simple sound made his cock ache, but he wanted to milk this play for as long as he could hold out. This was normal play for the couple - waiting for her to beg - and they could tease each other for hours, but - luckily - being on display was tearing down Hermione’s defenses. The subtle shake of her legs was a clear indicator that she was ready for more.

He’d wait for her to ask, though. He continued to play with her nether lips, letting his fingers barely touch her at random, while watching his friends shuffle in their seats. Greg was seated at the edge of his seat, rummaging through the bowl of chips, eyes wide as saucers. Goldstein and Pucey were rubbing themselves over their pants. Smith had a look of pure joy, seeing Hermione ready to beg.

And beg she did.

“Please, sir,” she gasped.

Draco could see her eyes jumping from the floor to the faces of their guests. Her shoulders were shaking, a few tears spilling over down her cheeks. He clicked his tongue but decided to give in.

Using two fingers, he circled around her clit. With his other hand he began to caress her breasts, haphazardly stroking her nipples.

“Does the Mudblood whore want more?” he asked, stepping behind her. He let the rough fabric of his trousers rub against her posterior. Draco mentally laughed at how quickly they were drenched with her wetness.

“Please, sir,” she nearly shouted, knees shaking.

“I don’t know,” he trailed off, putting more pressure on her clit while bringing his other hand down to her cunt. He pressed one finger into her slowly, enjoying the sound of her sigh. He watched her eyes close and immediately took his hands off her.

“Sir!” she screamed, openly crying.

He hunched himself over her, purposely rubbing against her, teasing her. He pulled her head back by the hair once more and licked the trail of tears from the side of her face. “A good Mudblood would keep her eyes open.” He fisted her hair tightly, making her look directly into the eyes of each of their guests, and mock whispered “And watch her betters enjoy her.”

He quickly let go and returned his hands to where they were before. He watched Hermione keep her neck stiff and looked at the wall behind the audience. Close enough.

He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He placed the head of his dick on her clit, rubbed it up her slit, trailing it back to the bundle of nerves and putting pressure on it. He mentally took deep breaths to keep himself under control, but the sigh of happiness coming from his wife almost did him in.

Draco continued to play with his wife in such a fashion, every so often pushing into her an inch or two, and pulling himself out to persist in teasing her. He sustained this pattern for a whole five minutes before she started to finally whimper.

He smirked. It was only a matter of time before she really started to beg.

“Master, please, please,” she muttered. “Just stick it in a little more, sir.” Draco watched as her eyes remained opened but glazed over. She was at the point where she only knew and cared for one thing.

“And why should I do that?” He trailed a hand down her spine, enjoying the shudder of her body.

“Master needs to pleasure himself too!” She shouted.

“I find my pleasure in teasing you,” he chuckled.

“Please, sir!” She cried.

“Such a slut,” he chided, “begging like this. Why should my pure-blood cock sully itself in your Mudblood pussy?”

Hermione’s whole body was shaking. He knew she wasn’t going to be able to take much more of the teasing, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. He could tell that his poker buddies were happy to have stayed. Smith - the pillock - had actually pulled out his cock and was masturbating at the scene.

“M-Mudblood cunts should only b-be used to please p-pure-blood cock, sir!” she stuttered.

“True, but why should I let your Mudblood cunt please me?” he countered, playing with her nipples now while still teasing her pussy.

“B-because... b-because...” she panted. Draco was enjoying watching the jiggle of her chest, a sight he knew his friends were also appreciating. “Sir! Please!” Hermione finally managed to shout.

“You beg so prettily, my Mudblood whore,” he gushed. “You don’t deserve it, but I am a merciful master,” he said through clenched teeth as he slowly - finally - penetrated her. “But if you orgasm before I give you permission...”

“Sir, please!?” she pleaded, her head shaking, pussy throbbing. Draco knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out long, but he felt a little more begging was in order.

“Don’t you dare!” he seethed, pulling himself out completely, letting the head of his cock rest at her entrance.

“Please sir!” she sobbed. Draco could see her knees buckling, she was close, and he couldn’t deny her for much longer.

“Try screaming and begging for it! Beg like the Mudblood whore you are!” he barked, wrapping his fingers into her hips, waiting for it.

“Sir! Please, have mercy on this Mudblood slut!” Hermione wailed. “I can’t help my filthy pussy! It needs a pure-blood cock! Let me cum! Please let me cum!”

“Go ahead,” he said through his teeth, giving her the permission he knew she needed.

He tightened his grip and impaled her on his cock. He thrust into her over and over while she continued to cry out “Thank you Master!”

He continued to defile her, in and out, in and out, finally seeking his own pleasure. Her orgasm finished but rolled into another one as he kept up his frantic pace.

“My Mudblood cunt needs your Pureblood sperm to cleanse it! Sir, please!” His sperm gushed into her at her words. She had never said such things before and it was exactly what he needed.

A thunderous clap drew them both out of nirvana. Draco looked up to see his poker buddies applauding their display. He flicked his wrist, causing the curtains to close. He put his member back into his trousers, cast a Cleaning Charm on both he and his wife and stepped outside the curtain to address the crowd.

“Thank you for attending. I believe I do not need to remind you of your agreement.” Draco stated as he let himself slip from his quivering wife. The pair listened as the crowd left the room and once he caught his breath, he peeked out the curtain to find his ‘man cave’ empty.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, giving him a reverent look.

He walked up to her and unlatched her from her restraints. She could barely stand so he held her close, soothing her with his gentle caress. “I can’t believe we just did that,” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe we have to go over to Blaise’s for dinner tomorrow!” she giggled.

He pulled her in close, kissing her forehead, and laughing with her. He knew that tomorrow would be awkward, but mostly for his best mate - Blaise would have to stare at both Hermione and him, all the while keeping his mouth shut from his wife.

He howled at the thought.