"What is the room looking like today?" Master Malfoy stamps in to my little, stone-lined office with clever heels just as he usually does. But...something's different. Perhaps a bit of snark in his tone that I have never heard before? For the life of me, I can't imagine why there's anything to remark about with regard to his galleon count.
"We're over 40 G, sir--" the crack of his snake-cane's head hitting the stone wall of this candle-lit room shatters my resolve like he's harmed me somehow. Although I am still facing the money on the table before me, I can see the jagged lines of his disapproval that's so lovingly burned into my mind's eye. I can't believe I used to turn to greet him. He only ever comes in when he's in a mood...
"Over, dear girl?"
"Imperturbia--" casting the spell behind me on the shut, heavy door, Master Malfoy, takes to 'tch'ing in his subtle, serpentine growl. "Do explain what you mean by over."
"It's...there are 40 galleons that are in this room that are unaccounted for." And there's his strong-jawed face in the crook of my neck again, platinum, luxurious hair tickling at my ear. He really shouldn't do that...and I can't believe this is still a problem for me. After all that he's called me...all that he's taken away from me...
When Lord Voldemort succeeded in his coup d'état, I was still a child. They had no concern for that at the auctions, though. I was separated from my parents when the Malfoys purchased me. So the closest thing I have to a father is Dobby. He's kind enough, but it's hard going ten years with the only positive reinforcement I receive coming from a high-voiced Keebler creature.
I guess that might explain this strange infatuation that I have with the owner of this house.
"Are you certain that they don't have a place...?" His whisper is strangely tender and a little closer to the sensitivity of my earlobe than I remember him ever daring to go before. Taking a slovenly set of fingers to his cane, he pulls out his wand and touches at the paper that I've marked up with today's accounting, mixing the numbers just enough to make sure that the total is reflective of the room's circumstances.
"There. You've balanced. Was that so difficult?" But I know not to speak, especially not with him so close to me. I might make a noise that wouldn't be entirely appropriate.
"Answer me, girl."
"Oh. Uh, no, sir, sorry, sir--ah!" His hand grips into my curled, h/c locks, dragging my head back and exposing my neck.
"What," he spits, "did I say about calling me sir?"
"Ah--I'm sorry. Master." Letting my head go with a springing pop to my spine, Master Lucius pulls my chair to face him, the disapproval that I was so happy to escape shining on me once again. His fiery aquamarine eyes suck me in and pound my heart into my stomach. That acid certainly burns.
"How sorry, exactly?" Leaning in again with powerful rolls of his knuckles around the spindly arm rests, my master touches his nose to mine, humming lightly with amusement before his lips find their place on me, chilling my body in a persuasive sort of way, as if his actions are sufficient and appropriate as a form of punctuation. Better than having him hit me, I guess.
But he doesn't let go in a timely manner. At all, as it were. Slithering knocks at the door of my lips interrupt my uneasiness at this fact and before I know it, Lucius's tongue is sliding over mine with some undertone of success that makes my face pucker. He lets go immediately and pops out an indignant huff.
"You're resisting me, little muggle?" Before I can get a sound out, those wresting fists release the chair and grip around my upper arms, hardened by the menial tasks I'm asked to do for this man's wife, and pull me up to stand up next to him.
"You're a married man, Master--" Those same hands bring me closer to the man attached as I struggle to remain away from him. I can't do this to the mistress, no matter how much I wish our roles were reversed. I am her play thing...and--...and now his too?
"Happily so. But there are times when a man wants more than what he has." Those bright blue orbs dig into me again, their dark rims seemingly expanding as his hands sway down the length of my zippered back. "Right now, I want you. And I don't have you, lovely thing. Not yet. Not like I want."
His lips part and close, rash thoughts easily interrupted by this man's sense of propriety. "And as you have been spayed, you will not bare evidence of this to ruin what your mistress and I share." The most sensual smirk ticks the bare edges of his porcelain face, drowning me in a sea of submission.
If we won't be caught...if I can just have something to compensate for all of this slavery and embarrassment, I would be hard pressed to find a reason to complain. Especially if this becomes regular. I've had affections for him since he bought me; the satisfying way that his lips move when he speaks entreated me to be there for him, secrets he whispered to me beneath a fidelius charm; his sensitivity with regard to his family and friends always elicited jealousy within me. He had me schooled and taken care of, but it was never at his hand.
He is a cruel man, but there is good in him.
Master Lucius traces his elegant fingers along the sturdy nature of my overdress, just barely letting me feel him.
"Little pet...you have always been good to me." Casting his usual spell, Master Lucius puts his cane down atop the stacks of coins, crashing his possession into all of my hard work; a bed on which to place his wand. "Let us make more work for you, hm?" Sweeping his arching arms over the mahogany table, he shoos all of his items along with his money to the ground with a deafening shatter. As I cringe from the sound that would have definitely alerted the entire house had he not procured the room properly, Master Lucius picks me up and places my almost non-wriggly body down and into a better spot for him; right atop the wooden object that he's just cleared.
I'm not sure what comes first in this instance of affection, but he's sure taking his time. And I don't think that I've ever been this nervous; my appendages squeeze each other, unable to find anything else to do to fill this void of noise and action.
His fingers rattle around the edges of his coat as he stares at me, minimum oral movement telling me that he's thinking up a storm, just not letting me in. After another few seconds of my hands fumbling to find the edge of the table to latch on in defense against this massive reeling in my head, my master tosses his coat off and rolls up his classic, white sleeves.
Ready to get dirty with a muggle, Master?
"She has seen me look at you, darling," he begins, placing his open palm against the j/t line of my face and stroking my cheek with his docile thumb, "and we have fought over you." His other hand comes to collect the other side of my head, warming and enticing me to look more deeply into his eyes than I have ever been given permission to. "Over who can use you more. She usually wins." He smiles, carved platitude. "But she is gone for the night to little Bellatrix's home, Draco is asleep, and you and I have business to attend to."
Leaning in again to sweep his lips across mine once more, my master lets go of me and begins to unbutton his shirt a bit, exposing for me the bare template of his chiseled chest and smirking at what must be wonder on my face.
"I forget, sometimes, how sheltered a life we have raised you to live." Looking down at himself for a brief moment, he lifts one of my sweaty palms and places it against his heart, the muscles of his breast tensing with his movements. "This is the heart that you have helped ease." Proceeding to work beneath the burden of my stunned and stagnant hand, he pulls the rest of his shirt off and tosses it to rest on the pile that he has already made for me to clean up later. Pressing himself closer to my confused body, he ushers my hand to roll up his chest and rest against the base of his neck beneath his shining tendrils of hair.
"You have listened to things that I could not even tell my wife. Narcissa was always aware of what I've done...but I could not bear to let her know that such things pained me." His lips meet mine again, this time to the cushion of my understanding and desirous mouth; Master Lucius groans, placing his hands beneath my thighs with a bit of work around my petticoat and separates the legs that have been glued together since he walked in the room. "You are a naughty girl, aren't you...?" But his teasing is half-hearted, nearly taken over by lust and shallow sentiment. "I will have to punish you, soon." Another fluffy peck at my lips and he's pulled the base of my body toward him, hard enough to ruin my silence--
"Ah!" His strong body presses against me in ways that I have never felt before. I am no stranger to masturbation, especially to Master Malfoy, but my fingers are nothing to even just a teasing of his hot self: hard love masked by the cloth of his pants.
"Mmm..." With a kiss at my cheek, my master pulls away enough to start unhooking the closures of my dress beneath my breasts. The starched flaps fall away, giving me room to breathe and relax.
The mistress dresses me in things that are very restricting; although pretty, they are not at all conducive to any physical exercise. Today it was a corseted doll, sky blues and lacy whites that the master seems more than a little pleased about.
"Take this off," he commands, lucid rolls of his wrists ushering me out of the overdress and removing the blue from my outfit. He tosses it to land atop the aforementioned mess and rubs against my body with heavy, heated palms. "Ah, M-master!--" but he ignores my moan like he was more than aware that I would make it and begins to leave wet trails of kisses around my jaw, down what skin of my neck he can reach. With a grunt of frustration, Master Malfoy brings his hand up to the ruffling collar at my neck and begins to undo the buttons and satin bow that are the strange walls around my modesty.
"She dresses you so chastely," his lips melt against my collarbone, easy prey with his fastidious hands, as I call out to unintentionally interrupt him, "I think she's jealous." More praises of his anterior handiwork peal in hushed coos from my throat and soon my blouse is off of me, my bandaged chest finally fully in his view.
He pauses for a moment, listening to the awkward noises of my attempts to close my arms and legs around myself. But he doesn't step back far enough for me to do so.
"And she binds you...?" His look is disturbed and aloof, as if he's imagining the process and how I must have developed without his notice. "Take them off at once and never wear them again."
"But the mistress--"
"I will deal with her appropriately."
"Ah--...yes, Master." My fingers find the edge of the bindings easily, twisting them around myself to reveal the top of my body to the only man who's even had the chance to want it.
"You certainly have grown." Resting his hands against the line of my waist-cinching petticoat, he leans his forehead against mine for a moment and bats his nose against mine. "Let me touch them." Opening my somehow closed eyes, I notice the angelic deviance that stretches across his face.
But...my hands are occupied. How could I resist you...? Instead of taking to asking that question or giving him verbal permission that might come back to haunt me later, I toss my lips up to his, resting them there and beginning a soft whine as his hands creep up the line of my waist.
With deft thumbs and a gentle lick to proclaim his entrance to my mouth, Master Lucius grasps onto my chest, rubbing it in ways that I had always wished he would. With the swift flexion of his right wrist, my master traces along the perimeter of one of my hardened areola, caressing it to heighten its sensitivity. He pinches--"ah!" and slowly drags the gravity-laden breast up toward the high-pitched ceiling. "Ah--" but the sound bleeding from my lips is terse, pained and worried.
"Do you not like this pain?" Twisting the nub that he's imprisoned between his fingertips, he chuckles to the tune of carnivorous elation. I draw a steely breath in and focus on the fact that he's at least still touching me.
"It...um..." Dropping my breast with a bounce, my false lover does the same to the other one with much the same reaction on my part.
"Curious. You've never been averse to pain that I've lent you before. Are you expecting that we're equals in this moment?"
"N-no, Master, but this is...more embarrassing..." At my words, hotter rouge stains my cheeks and eases the chill off of my breasts, enticing in his curious hands the constancy of a genuine rub down. So soothing...
"Oh? It is embarrassing to be with me?" His lips bend around the skin of my exposed neck, the graze of his teeth causing me to bend my chest up against his and throw my other arm around him. The action pulls him down in the slightest with a groan of desperate approval emerging from his departing lips.
"No, Master. When you hurt the things that the mistress hides from you--"
"Ah...am I truly hurting you?"
How do I even answer that question? It hurts, but will he continue even if I say yes? And worse, at that point? If I say no, will he simply try to hurt me in virtue of the fact that I would have been lying with my unhappy noises?
"Y-yes." I finally blurt out, hopeful that he is not in a malicious mood. He has never taken a hand to me, so the trend would indicate that he's probably going to be okay with stopping. Then again, this is the master that we're talking about.
"Curious," is the whole of his response as he slides his cold palms beneath the fabric of my poofy skirt.
"Nn--" For some reason I feel the need to hide my moans, despite how silent things would appear from the outside of this room no matter at what volume I screamed his name. Straightening his spine again, the master unties the front of my skirt, slipping it off to reveal my absence of panties.
"She binds you but does not give you cloth to cover--" But he stops himself, grumbling with anxiety and swiftly touching at me to aggravate the lump in my throat. It bursts, sending an over-reactive mess of praises to come soaring through the heavy atmosphere of the room.
"Good." He sighs, lifting us both further onto the table. "I feared I had ruined the mood." Remembering that his pants are still at issue, my master hurriedly bends the fastenings to his will and slips himself free of all of the rest of his clothing.
And free, he is. It declares itself against the weight of gravity with strength that I never saw in those pictures of sample penises. It...it looks almost painful. Something that big and unrelenting is supposed to go inside of me? I don't stretch that far; I've tried.
"N-no, Master. Thank you for stopping..." He grunts his reaction and slowly fawns his fingers down the length of my cheek again, petting me like the doll that I certainly feel that I've become.
"Open your legs a bit more." His breath is hot and centered about my lips, teasing what little sense I have left out of me. In this state of mind, I comply, lifting what feels like heavy cannons to either side of his naked pelvis. "There we are."
But he doesn't enter me. Not yet. I'm fairly certain that I'm lubricated enough for him...so why is he waiting?
"How much time did the two of you spend on the subject of sex?" He inquires, kissing my lips with a delicate lick for emphasis.
"Um..." My breath huffs out of me, tearing at the seams of my mouth and making me blush all the more, "not terribly much."
"Is that so." His inflection gives away his prior knowledge, damning me to feel like I'm missing something important. "I ought to teach you a bit more, then."
"And you've been so good about calling me by the proper name tonight. Perhaps this treatment is what you needed all along..." My master drowns his words out at the base of my throat, beginning to suckle on it before he realizes that the mistress would surely see that sort of thing.
With the souring of his face, Master Lucius looks off toward the door of the room.
"Perhaps I will have to ask my wife that you dress yourself from now on. I wish to mark you. And I cannot." But that would likely cause a fight, Master...Then she would know. She is a smart woman…
For some reason, the words don’t make it out of my throat and Master Lucius attaches his mouth to mine again in the absence of my protestations. We tousle saliva as I worry for the mistress and this meager affair but he does not stop to soothe me.
“You can still mark me, Master Lucius.” His posture shudders for a moment as I say his name. He must be battling some instinct to slap me for addressing him like this… “The mistress has never checked my chastity. And considering her loyalty and...preferences, I doubt she ever will.”
“Clever girl.” He coos, petting my silken curls once more with a tense and anticipatory hand. “It would be best if you refrained from calling me Lucius outside of our private moments.” Wait…
“You wish for me to call you by your name at all…?” With a chaste kiss and the rough wrinkling of his fingers around my head, he nods and thrusts against my most sensitive nub; crying out in the most confusing and intense pleasure that I’ve ever known, I twist my fists into his long, beautiful hair and kiss at him again.
“I like the sound of it,” he smiles, wicked and serious. Thrusting again to the tune of another wily moan from me, he separates my legs further and begins to ease his movements down toward my entrance. Prickling hairs atop my arms and stomach stand on edge with each of his practiced movements, his hot breath, his beating heart, his twinkling, icy eyes--
“Ah!” His pelvis crashes into mine as he breaks me wide open, the wetness of my blood instantly sticking to the insides of my thighs. “Ahh! M-master! Ah!” My voice is far from sultry and he can’t be bothered to care. With each extra thrust he makes, I drag as much air through my teeth as I can muster over the intense, dull, terrifying pain.
It feels as though I am being ripped in two, slowly and swiftly and without any end in sight. My fingers drag themselves away from my Master’s hair so that I don’t cause him damage but as soon as they hit the hard surface of the table they grip into it, filed and painted fingernails nearly denting the very fabric of the thing.
“Ah, yes…” He moans without me, sticking his still fragile lips to my neck as he continues to rub our bodies together in rolling, aching movements. The pain starts to flush me over, clouding the edges of my vision and tensing a knot in the middle of my stomach. I cannot throw up; not with my master on top of me...and I cannot pass out either. Just...bear this pain, r/n. Bear this pain so Master Lucius can be happy.
Bear this pain so Master Lucius can enjoy you.
With a shaky breath, I blink into the bright darkness that threatens to take me, only to find it fading and my consciousness clearing. The heaviness of his breathing enters my field of hearing once again and I’m drawn to lick at his lips in submissive request.
“Yes, little r/n…” He answers me, pleading with a hand that he’s just freed from the shackles of my hair; he traces it along the length of my body, bending it into my trained curves and holding against my hip as he thrusts harder, escalating my senses to delve into the trenches of agony again. With another scream from my trembling lips, he pulls out of me and scrambles off of the table in search of something on the ground--his wand.
“Episky--” he mutters beneath his breath and points the wand at the bloody mess between my legs, stopping the spell before it can return me to my pre-virgin size. “Stop screaming,” is his order before he’s back on the table and inside of me.
The sting has vanished and I’m led to bring my hands up to trace along the hard muscles of his back, moaning as lightly as I can maintain through his rough use of my body.
“Master Lucius…” I manage to get out in a gentle tone as he begins to tense his body in such a way that the hood of my clitoris catches on his brilliantly platinum pubic hair and drags me along to start clenching around him in a much more meaningful way.
His breath buckles down and more masculine growls begin to eke out of the short spurts of non-tactility that our mouths share. Master Lucius’s voice fills my head so completely that I’ve barely been able to hear the sweet sounds of our sex, my love making. The vibrations stick to me, clouding my head again until his thrusts begin to shorten.
“Master--” But his moans take over anything else that I could have said. His body arches over as he shakes inside of me, releasing what feels like an abundance of thin syrup into me. That must be his seminal fluid...he ejaculated…? My master came for me…
“Ugh,” he whines and pulls himself out of me, the sight less than beautiful with all of the dried blood and cum smearing the perfection of his appendage. “Was your experience painful enough to be your punishment for your earlier transgressions?” He grunts again and stands, not lending me another moment of his comfortable heat.
“And clean this up.” He dips down after briefly gesturing to the mess that he made previously and grabs my bindings, wiping his sweaty body with them in an attempt to de-muggle-ize himself.
“Yes, Master.” He hurries to clothe himself, barely taking the time to look at my battered body before he’s appearing exactly the same as how he walked in. But instead of just leaving, he attends me one appreciative glaze of his eyes, the slyest smirk and a thoughtful blink before he turns and undoes the spells around my room.
“Goodnight.” He relents and passes from my verbal reach before I can respond.
I get the feeling it won’t be long before my Master wishes to make trouble for me again.