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Plenitude	By : HeavyMist Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 60689 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in Harry Potter belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I make no profit or money from this submission. I only own the plot.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Disclaimer : The characters and canon situations in Harry Potter belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I make no profit or money from this submission.

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What can I say dear hubby? Thank you for proofreading, beta’ing, and bearing with my whining self! : D

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

‘Flashback’

Chapter 21: Me, Myself, and I.

“You are welcome pet, …Good girl” he answered an insatiable smile on his face, in his eyes, a ravenous hunger. Extending his hand to help her stand up, she was reluctant to move, not wanting him to see her soaked up legs.

‘Oh Merlin! His carpet! It must be saturated, and he’s going to know!’

Tomato-head alert!! She felt blood rushing up, from her chest to her neck, to pool in her cheeks, ears, forehead, defeating not only gravity, but defying all physical laws, and giving Newton another chance to add to “the Principia”!

His knowing smirk rubbed her the wrong way, but she was adamant not to lose control, knowing he was riling her, sighing she looked up from between her lashes and asked timidly, almost whispering ”Could you please scourgify me sir?”

Without a word, he flicked his wand and scourgified her face, a mischievous smile dancing in his eyes. She frowned when she felt nothing on her legs and in between. His hand still extended, she wobbled on her knees, cursing her body, she cleared her throat and whispered, ”Um…this area too… sir, please?”

Making a circular gesture around her lower half, legs and carpet included, her face reaching an all high, and never seen burgundy, her eyes were starting to dampen, she wanted to weep, so distressing was her mortification.

She lowered her head down; her eyelids drooped, until she felt his fingers under her chin, and heard his gentle “look at me little one” feeling his lips touching her left ear.

Slowly and shyly she lifted both head and eyes to meet his, not two inches away from hers, his face was tender, smiling seductively at her, he caressed her cheek, the pads of his fingers brushing her soft flushed and heated skin, like butterfly wings, his nose less slits fluttered and opened, he inhaled deeply, bending closer to her, he murmured, in the same ear, nibbling now and then on her lobe and the soft skin of her neck “ I can scent your arousal bouquet little one, and I remember you taste as good as you smell …I cannot wait to indulge…again...”

‘Oh Astarte’s flat tits!’ her frenzied mind, or lack thereof, wouldn’t function, let alone focus. Her body was shivering with every word warmly breathed in her auditory canal, his teeth biting sensually on her outer ear, earlobe and sensitive skin beneath, inflicted a cutaneous-quake, forcing the tiny hairs to propagate, in rippling goose-bumps to the whole of her epidermis.

The meaning of his phrases, finally registering, created new torrents of vaginal downpour; reminiscent of monsoon floods; she was “land sliding” into stimuli overload, her body collapsing into feverish need.

“I prefer your gorgeous tits …pet… They are the right size to fill my hands…” She was so dazed; she did not even realize she had blurted out her last curse.

“Don’t be shy or ashamed of your responsiveness, sweet pet, you are delectable… stunning…delicious…gorgeous…” with every adjective uttered, he was bringing her closer to him, while still nibbling on her neck, until she was again imprisoned between his thighs, his tongue licked soothingly the fading teeth marks, before the entranced witch was lifted and made to sit in his lap, straddling him, her back to his chest, with a leg on each side of his thighs, vaginal downpour, monsoon floods, torrential juices and all, inundating yet again his pants.

She was beyond the point of concern anymore. Propriety became obsolete. His words hypnotizing her brain into sending jolts of exhilarating sensations, at light speed, which just about fried her nervous system like electric wires hit by lightening.

Relentless, his deep and dark baritone, added to the proficiency of what his sensuous verbal onslaught was promising her, he continued between nibbles, caresses, licks, touches, “ You are so wet for me pet. You ‘re fucking dripping wet. …Fucking your throat made you horny for your Master, slave… you are dribbling. …Fuck! …You smell so good…you like sucking my cock, don’t you little one?…hmm?”

Merlin hairy balls!! Lord Voldemort was talking-dirty to her!! The only answer she was able to issue was a deep low moan. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on her breathing, the throbbing in her clitoris going crescendo with each dirty word spilled from his sinful wicked lips, she was a puddle of goo, oozing on his lap.

Yes, he was right, every single thing he said was true, he should keep holding her to him, or she would simply blob down onto his carpet, splattering there in spots, blots and stains, because there were no bones left in her body anymore!

His incessant dirty talking and verbal mind fucking persisted, adding both of his hands to the mix, while encircling her waist, he slid them under her dress, fingers gliding on her wet inner-thighs, slithering up torturously slow, until he reached her soaked vulva, his left index and thumb opened her labia majora to his penetrating, probing and invading right fingers.

“I will taste you again my sweet slave, you are my ambrosia, your sweeet honey gushing only for me…do you know what I am going to do slave? I am going …to finger-fuck your tight wet cunt, and when you cum for me …I am going to guzzle down your juices, tongue-fuck every last drop and lick you dry …”

Hermione was loosing all sense of reasoning by the second; his lewd descriptions were tearing her between heaving breathless moans, and screaming at him to start touching her already! At the same time, what was left of her tattered modesty and shredded decency, amounting, at best, to negligible scraps, in fact, were still hanging by a thread, but not for long, seeing as he was now stroking her vagina entrance wetting his middle and index finger, he lifted them to her lips, telling her “Taste yourself pet…taste how sweet you are”.

She opened her lips automatically while her nose registered the tangy aroma, her tongue tasted her own flavor, it reminded her of tangerines with a touch of sweetness. Licking and sucking his fingers, like she did his phallus, until he replaced his fingers with his mouth, after lifting her head to him, he penetrated her oral cavity with gluttonous appetite, sucking her tongue into his mouth, then shoving his into hers, and seeking its last hidden corner, conquering it, and her.

She felt her head swimming, dizzy from her lack of air, caused by his invasion, her body aflame, shivers rippling through her, when his fingers, back to their probing her vulva, he brought her to the brink by a barrage of verbal pornographic imagery, delivered one salvo after another, he was battering her brain and body defenses, into submission, ”Pet… I can feel your quivers; your body wants its Master, I can feel your pussy contracting, and your clit …here… feel this throbbing precious pearl? …my pet wants to cum?…Hmm?”

He stroked slowly and barely putting any pressure around her clitoris, making Hermione squirm, in need for more. A ghost like brushes designed to drive her mad with desire.

Whilst still speaking softly in her ear, his left hand middle finger started an encircling motion on her vagina entrance, circumvoluting his way to the center, her liquefied desire facilitating his actions, lubricating his way in, a warm soggy welcome.

He pushed his first phalange, in her tight and soaked sheath, then continued his circular and stretching motion inside cautiously pushing in until he was 2^nd knuckle deep, her automatic contractions on his finger made his penis stiffness nearly excruciating, he carefully felt her hymen, and withdrew.

Hermione was oblivious by now to everything but his voice and fingers, her whimpers, moans, groans and sighs spewing out almost of their own accord…she tried to tell him to continue, to not stop, to deliver her from this aching burn in her core.

At the time he entered her with his finger, she was ready to climax, all she wanted just a couple of strokes more…she whined in complaint, wriggling, protesting unintelligibly, and reflexively her hand went to his to keep it where it was.

He chuckled darkly, his tongue invaded her ear, wriggling about, breathing warm air inside, fanning her fires, he flicked the tip around it, whispering, “beg your master to make you cum”.

She writhed in his lap not wanting to beg; yet her whole being was reduced to a tiny point, between her thighs, one tiny raw protuberance, all her focus was on this ‘throbbing pearl’ that which he knew how to entice, bring alive, and appease.

“Don’t be shy pet…you want to cum? You need to beg your Master, ….say it out loud…”

Hearing this, the aroused witch was shaking her head on his shoulder; her hips were reflexively hopping air, and pushing into his hands, her hums getting louder.

“Slave… modesty and sex do not fit. There is no place for decency in sex. Sex is a selfish act, you give …so that you take pet.”

He was purring silkily his words in her ear, while still keeping her on edge, not allowing her to plummet into release, her orgasm a finger flick away from her hard and spasming clitoris.

He continued his mental erosion of her inhibitions; her introverted and unvoiced demands were not his idea of a woman’s blossoming sexuality. He wanted to hear her use common words, to shed her pedantic and polite veneer, and let her passionate nature emerge to the forefront.

He needs her exigent lust to erupt, be a catalyst to his demanding desires. Only then would she understand there’s nothing to be bashful or shameful about, especially her body and carnal needs. Sex is a crude act in and of itself, in its inherent nature, a couple having sex don’t look refined, like they write in romance and show in muggle movies, it is bullocks! There’s sweat, saliva, sperm, juices, a foray’s residuals of one body banging another, all for 10-20 seconds of ecstatic bliss.

Whether the couple Love one another or having a one-night stand, it is the same fucking act from penetration to culmination! Who thinks of romance while fucking?

Who is the hypocrite to deny that while climaxing the majority of people scream ‘fuck… I am cumming’ or a partner’s name – and nine times out of ten, they get it wrong!- Who screams ‘I love you’ when going over the edge? Nobody. Love and cuddles come after sex. Foreplay leads to it. In the middle there’s a mêlée where flesh slaps flesh, with all the echoing sounds of pounding, sucking, slurping, banging... moaning, screaming and grunting, what’s civil, modest and refined about that?

“You need to ask for it, like a baby asks for milk, or you will always be hungry. There’s no polite way to have sex slave, forget the novels, ‘making love’ is having sex pet, which is fucking, and the harder the better. It is dirty, and naughty .The dirtier and naughtier kind is the best. Now do you want to cum slave?”

“yes…p..lea…se…” Hermione was ready to self-combust by now; his next sentence drove her to the brink of insanity “Beg your Master to make you cum slave”, eyes closed body totally abandoned in his lap, legs spread over his, hands squeezing his wrists, breathless and disheveled Hermione was prepared to say anything, well, almost anything to reach that orgasmic big bang, and finally let the tightened coil inside her snap, and release her from the exquisite torture his fingers were inflicting on her.

“pl…ease…sir…I ..need…to …cum…ple..ase…”

With a rotating movement around her clitoris the Dark Lord decided his little witch deserves a reward, he pushed his middle finger in her again slowly and with care not to break her hymen, flicking her clitoris which was rigidly erect and out of its hood, with his other hand’s index, from side to side, changing to up and down then in circles.

A high pitched cry exploded from between her swollen lips, followed by moans a second later, her vaginal walls, contracted and fluttered and constricted around his finger, while his throbbing aching member wanted to join the erotic extravaganza.

He wanted to thrust his painful dick, balls deep into her tight pussy, and feel her walls contractions milking him for all his worth. He craved to unload his cum inside her gushing cunt, and see their combined juices oozing from her opening and dribble down to her ass crack. Not seeing the erotic sight he wished to gawk at, but feeling the gush of her juices seeping out on his fingers, In no time, he was crossing from his desk to the nearest couch, where he sat the still post-coital dizzy witch, kneeling between her thighs, placing both on each of his shoulders, he buried his face in her core, and plunged his tongue into her dripping center, to drink his fill of her.

The sounds of slurping, and sucking, the feel of his tongue probing into the most intimate part of her, that no other man have seen or touched, let alone tongued, brought Hermione gradually to her senses, after-shocks and remnant jolts of her orgasm still sporadic throughout her body.

The still dazed witch opened her eyes to a bald head pushed between her wide spread thighs, hanging from the knees on either his shoulders, she realized that Lord Voldemort was “eating” her! She yelped and tried to move them away, but both his hands wrapped around them, restricting her movement.

Their eyes met, when the Dark licking-his-lips Lord lifted his head up finally, gave her a feral smile, eyes bright red, his nose less flat patch of skin and cheeks smeared with her juices. Gently he moved her legs down, and said” Delicious pet…. Scourgify” a flick of his hands followed and his face was cleaned, then impishly smiling at her, he rested his right palm on her pussy and reiterated his ‘scourgify’, she felt the cleaning swipes all around the area, but relentless he passed both hands on her inner thighs and legs, in soft caresses, repeating the spell, and Hermione was once again squeaky-clean.

He stood up scourgified his spotted pants and smiled tenderly at her very flushed face. She was feeling torn apart between thanking him for the most magnificent climax she had ever had in her twenty years among the living, and screaming at him for proving she was flesh and blood, that she needs, and lusts, he made her discern, and recognize her own body, her famished womanhood, for an emotional contact albeit through carnal means!

The shell she built around herself, to protect her, was asphyxiating her with denials and inhibitions, not only in the sexual sense, but also her spontaneity was dying, her sense of humor, an introvert by nature, her extroversion leftovers, or what she directed of her interest outwards, especially towards social contacts, were almost wiped away during her stay at the order, until Draco and Blaize came. She was becoming a constipated personality!

She was being considered, all of this time, the “brightest witch of her age”, hence she tried to live up to it, as if she was only her brain, her mind, with no other purpose but to be knowledgeable, intelligent, always there to help.

Sometimes she used to feel nearly disembodied, cold, disconnected, and Ron accused her of being frigid. No she was not, she was trapped into a pattern where she only was recognized by her mental aptitudes, the people around her, whether at school or at the Order did not care for her as an individual or a woman, she was a solutions’ guidebook, a standing by answer to problem, a way out of trouble, a homework parchment! She was losing what made her human in everyone’s eyes.

Regardless of the daily verbal-abuse, the systematic undermining of her self-esteem, the rejection of her own person, to be replaced by a distorted self-image, which have done lots of damage, no refuting that, but she was already losing herself when she restrained her world into one aspect of her being, her brain, intelligence, and what others required of her. She was turning into a flat, one-dimensional character, with no facets whatsoever to distinguish her from her beloved books.

Thus she was forced to see herself as they saw her, a walking brain, with the sole duty to be there when needed! The circumstances surrounding her life, and her compassionate and responsible nature helped others destroy what little was left of what made Hermione, a woman first, a human, living, breathing being. They almost turned her into a robot. Only driven by duty, and what was asked of her. Almost! She existed; she was not living up to her full potential, the quality of her life was at best mediocre, if not inferior!

Not once she thought of putting herself first, what she desires, or needs, even her dreams were postponed, projects, studies delayed, in order to fulfill ‘her duties’ Like Dumbledore used to tell her. Her body was an ambulant vessel to hold her brain, just a simple biological entity, with no requirements of its own, or separate from the others’ demands, and their expectations. She was afraid if she failed them, she might disintegrate into nothingness!

Denied blossoming, this brain container was starving for a touch, a look, even a pat on the shoulder, for recognition, acknowledging she was a Human Being and a Woman.

She was a woman and no one saw her as such, not even Ron! Now she realizes he never loved her as Hermione, he wanted to satisfy his own needs and ego of bedding the bookish know-it-all.

Until He happened to her, Lord Voldemort came, tearing down layers of duty, shelves of books she hid behind, knowledge strapped around her like a shield, and a sedated libido because like “Sleeping Beauty” she was not aware she needed other than food, water, oxygen and books.

She needed her Hermione back, her skin and bones to blossom into her real self, a woman, intelligent yes, but she is a woman first and foremost, and as such, she held a power far greater than any book could give, she held life, dreams, and potential.

He recognized her worth, her potential, he acknowledged the woman, and gave her what she now needed most, not what she thought she needed. Now she understands that he needed to force her hand, and her eyes to look at her inner mirror and know and admit, Hermione Granger is not above other mortals, she is not an invincible Amazon, or almighty creature, or super-woman. She is human, has needs and she craves human touch, simple psychology really. But since he is Lord Voldemort, he devised his own plan, forcing her to crack her own shell. It was high time the chrysalis got out of the cocoon, it was time the butterfly spread her colorful wings.

Her Eureka moment was thoroughly observed and considered by the Supreme Leader, and he was satisfied that his witch is starting to realize how much damage her supposed “friends and allies” had brought in her life, influencing her mind and emotions, distorting her self-image, and shaking her psychological stability.

Now she is absorbing what had happened, and what they did, which will ease the guilt of being with him, of being his, and maybe soon hopefully, of accepting the fact that she might be his submissive, his slave but she is his Lady. He smiled at her, and her eyes met his with recognition and thanks, she did not have to say it out loud.

LV++HG++LV++HG++LV++HG++LV++HG++LV++HG++LV++HG++LV++HG++
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Plenitude