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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
- 38
- 39
A/N : Even if you do not have a Forum account, you can read my reviews’ answers on this link. http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/46726-plenitude/

Thank you hubby for proofreading, and beta’ing , all errors are mine, obviously ;] Thank you Master Rick for your priceless and invaluable information and ideas.

Please Read, Review & Rate? Enjoy :]

Salope (French) = Bitch / Skank

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

‘Flashbacks’

Chapter 39 : The Gryffindor kitten and the cat.

Finally! Finally she was home with her Master. She was tired and her feet were killing her. Standing for hours, while putting on 4 inches stiletto pumps, was not conducive to spinal health. The Sadistic prick! He knew how much she hated high heels. He insisted she put on those silver pair of strappy shoes, saying they reminded him of their wedding night and kinbaku-bi socks he intertwined around her dainty feet.

Yes, well, those aforementioned “socks”, she reminded him, did not have spikes to stand on, Lord foot-fetishist Voldemort. Let alone that that kind of backache was definitely not her definition of exciting!

She felt her spine pierced by a red-hot spear, from neck to tailbone, and the small of her back muscles were screaming at her lazy brain to order her feet already, to lose the damn torturing devices. Loosening the ankle straps then toeing off her pumps, she exhaled a sigh of relief. Wriggling her toes, she reveled at the lush carpet feel massaging her feet.

She heard the shower running and was contemplating joining her Master in there, a smile tugged on her lips.

They were back from Draco’s wedding reception. Draco looked so handsome and cute, in his black dress suit, and his silver gray dress shirt with the green bow tie. His best man Zabini was trying to make him feel relaxed and quit fidgeting, yet at the same time he was maybe rehearsing for his own coming wedding with Luna? However, like all grooms, the Slytherin prince was anxious and jumpy, until his bride reached the altar. Astoria, like all brides looked beautiful. She's a very nice witch, and she loves Draco, immensely, it shows in her eyes.

Hermione was not keen on the witch’s choice of the bridal gown. It was too busy, and elaborate for her taste. One couldn’t look at the corset without being blinded by the sparkling gems and crystals.

Multiple fabrics rendered the dress a showy design, in an intricate and flashy combination, with lots of lace trimming, tulle and rustle underlying the huge skirt. She wondered how Draco did not trip on it.

Merlin! Narcissa invited almost the entire wizarding world to attend! Just thinking about the logistics of such exploit made her head ache! How she pulled it off, she simply wouldn’t bother to fathom. Organizing a reception for more than fifteen hundred guests! Even that posh immense reception hall had to be magically expanded, twice! In order to meet the attendees ever increasing numbers!

And this feat was accomplished while she was organizing and supervising Lord Voldemort’s marriage on the side!!

Thank Merlin her Master backed her up concerning the “small” wedding she insisted upon. Who wants five thousand people at their marriage ceremony?! Thus From thousands to invite, the list shrank to around one thousand people, including Ministers of Magic around the wizarding world, their wives, and only magical Media coverage were allowed.

Both decided to celebrate their nuptials with close friends and family in the huge gardens of the Center. From there, after the wedding, the attendees took special Distributors put at their disposition, to reach the same luxurious Reception Hall that was used later for Draco’s, sans expansion, where all feasted on a luxurious dinner in honor of the newly wed.

Her Mother, Narcissa, Lavender, Luna and all of the girlfriends -members of the ‘Voldie fan-club’- were there, helping and preparing her for this great moment in her life. Her dress was as if made especially for her. Well! She spent a whole week searching for it!

Reminiscing, Hermione went through the events of their sojourn in France. How her Mother and Narcissa dragged her, kicking and screaming sometimes, from one boutique to another, to find the Bridal Gown fit for the Supreme Leader’s bride. And at last, after hours and days of hunting for this rare gem, she found it! The one that fit her like a glove.

Down one of the lateral streets in the ‘Chemin de Traverse’; the French counterpart of Diagon Alley. Her eyes were absorbed by the picturesque and typical French market ambiance and shops’ showcases. Her sight landed on a small boutique, which really didn’t look like much, with its Frou-Frou sign on top of the entrance. A beautiful and simple bride gown was waiting for her in the shop’s window.

She always wanted a simple dress for her wedding, without the entire rustle, tulle, apparels and bulbous skirts and whatnot. And this one fit the bill! And there it was, in its simplicity, and understated beauty.

The mermaid dress was made of ivory silk, under beaded guipure, with sweetheart neckline and sheer tulle and guipure in the back. The embroideries and embellishments were kept to a minimum, giving a sense of lightness and glittery feel, while the minute details emphasized the simple beauty of the whole design. The veil she picked was not long and cumbersome. Reaching the floor but with only a meter or less to trail behind her. It was made of ivory tulle, a delicate scalloped embroidered edge with silver vines, and flowers, adorned with tiny pearls, and beads.

To hold the veil in place, she chose a simple platinum band. Like a tiara, fashioned of diamond incrusted leaves and flowers. The silver strappy shoes fit for a princess, were around 4" heels with 3/4" platform. Lavished with starlight sparkle of diminutive crystals, sprinkled over the two top bands, with swirling fastenings around the ankles. That was the same pair of shoes that her thoughtful husband insisted she wears today!

By all the Gods the wizard was a sucker for high heels! Duh, the testosterone triggers! Like all males, they have one fetish or another. She giggled remembering how, on their wedding night, he ravished her, pummeling her and slamming his thick and hard member inside her, while her legs were lifted on his shoulders, shoes still on.

He then said he wanted to see those sexy shoes while he buried his cock inside her, so he folded her in two, knees touching her shoulders, his hands wrapped around the heels of the shoes, as leverage, turning now and then to kiss and lick her ankles, spewing filthy and dirty words, in the heat of the moment, calling her, with each thrust in and out, ‘his classy whore’, ‘his mudblood fetish model’, ‘his slut-wife’, ‘his fuck-toy queen’, ‘his slave-goddess’ and other imaginative nicknames that made her giggle, then melt, and after her body tremble in ecstasy.

Their wedding, despite the guests list reduction, was still too crowded for her taste, but was also perfect. There was a Magical High Priest who conducted the Wedding Ceremony. The altar was positioned on a platform, with four columns surrounding it, garlanded with spiraling white roses and calla lilies. Sheer white, silver and gold draperies, covered the top, back and lateral sides of the altar, flowing lazily in the breeze.

When she stepped into the garden on the path to the platform, the groom waiting for her looked simply otherworldly. Garbed with his official Supreme Leader cape. He was the epitome of royalty. He was Imperial, Majestic and he was marrying her! His black velvet long cape, of Celtic design, rimmed with silver and green spelled moving snakes, was held open in the front. It accentuated the exquisite fabric of his black tuxedo over the white dress shirt and green bow tie.

She was ensorcelled with his overwhelming presence, and authority, while his handsomeness added to his superiority. All she wanted to do was reach him, and kneel in front of him, her Master and Lord, her love and mate! Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest, she was a breath short at all times. She automatically repeated the marriage vows, answered the question with a dizzy ‘I do’. When the sacred dagger cut her palm to join his cut one, her eyes were hypnotized and set on his, never wandering, oblivious to the hundreds of guests surrounding them.

Then the golden ribbons materialized magically, tied their cut hands together to disappear and be replaced by platinum bands on their ring fingers.The cuts healed leaving behind a barely noticeable silver scar. She did not even hear the High Priest say to the Dark Lord that he may kiss the bride, she was eager to kiss him back though, and at last she was home, in his embrace, basking in his eternal love and Dominance.

She was happy to see the Weasley twins, who certainly couldn’t but amuse themselves, by playing their pranks on the guests. After getting the groom’s permission, not a single individual was safe from their mischief, except the newly wed couple of course. It was a new item they were trying, called the Rainbow-Bang. How it works? Imagine hundreds of rainbows exploding in the reception hall and raining colors all over the guests’ heads. The effect? It was hilarious to see their multi-colored hairs. When she saw Minister Malfoy’s long blond hair change to indigo mixed with yellow orange and pink, and Severus, not so proudly, sports a fuchsia and blue with streaks of gray, and gold she almost pissed herself.

Bill, Percy and Charlie were there as well, along with their significant other. They all apologized for their siblings and parents’ treason; Hermione just asked them to forget about that horrible phase of their lives, it was in the past.

Wriggling her toes, she smiled. He loved this pair of shoes, and many times wanted her to wear them in the playroom. That’s when he usually allowed her to walk, rather than crawl, explaining that her legs looked ‘divine’ and her ass ‘ sublimely fuckable’ in high heels. He made her buy many, in different colors, but this specific pair being of sentimental value, was used the most, for his wickedly perverted pleasure.

That week in France was fantastic with the exception of the French Minister of Magic Mr. Thierry Lapeste’s daughter! Merlin! The bint couldn’t take a hint even if it hit her in the teeth! She was like an octopus! No, make that deca-pus rather, considering she had her ten varnished-red talons, clutching at Lord Voldemort every second of that wretched ‘soirée’.

The gall of the slag! Hermione finally had had enough of her and jinxed her. Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for the French can of glue, her Master gave her back her wand before going to France. It came in handy and at the right time if you ask her. The hilarious part was that the slag’s family name Lapeste translates to the plague, indeed! One should avoid her like the plague, especially a certain Master Voldemort, because Mademoiselle Lapeste was trying to live up to her name, but not on Hermione’s call.

The trollop had the indecency to simply ignore the fact that Lord Voldemort’s betrothed was present, and took every opportunity to cling to him as if she was his fiancée! She kept her ten tentacles on his arm, trying to touch him at any opportunity! The salope even tried to keep her hand tucked at his elbow, while she laughed in her high-pitched nasal noise at anything and everything he said, as if he was a stand up comedian. And since he couldn’t simply rebuff her in front of the whole crowd, manners and etiquette oblige, being the Minister’s daughter, he simply ignored her antics, and acted as if nothing was happening.

He did not count on Hermione reacting or didn’t he? She would have bet her recently returned wand on it, he was simply amusing himself by making his fiancée jealous, riling her, pushing her to commit a mistake so that he would have an alibi to punish her later, his favorite type of foreplay. Well, who’s she kidding? Hers as well.

Be that as it may, she definitely knows that smug smile when she sees it on his face, the mischievous calculating grin every time he looked her way. As if being a fetishist isn’t sufficient, he must go through the list of perversion and be an exhibitionist! Igniting her jealousy and need for her Master while with company!

Many times he made her almost climax magically, like in Hogwarts, during a dinner or other social gathering. On other occasions, he cornered her in a corridor or balcony, at this reception or that party, for a quickie, leaving her breathless, disheveled with her clothes torn, just because some wizard or another was ‘dancing too close’ or ‘he’d better keep his hands to himself or else’, and many other similar comments. These were the best social events she attended, without dying of boredom.

Oftentimes he told her, he wanted to fuck her in front of the whole world, so that they would understand, once and for all, she was his, and ‘only his’, especially those imbecilic wizards who were trying to sniff around ‘his bitch’. She told him she felt the same with witches, and reminded him of that French cow, and he smiled haughtily saying, “I believe it was rather you asking for punishment…not jealousy”! The arrogant husband, Asshole, sexy, hot Master of hers! He was right, she was not jealous per se, she was initiating foreplay, in their twisted, and perverted way.

The Gryffindor witch was standing with Narcissa and her mother, along with other matrons from the French magical rich and famous, and some other VIPs’ wives, blabbering about the usual “Haute Couture names and musts” she needed to shop from, for her trousseau. She was sipping her “champagne” watching the disgusting display of the infuriating French piece of smelly blue cheese!

The bitch in heat, no need to use “like”, tried with all her feminine wiles to seduce a marble cold Dark Lord, and pawing at him like a piece of meat, though Hermione was sure the bitch was aiming for the bone! The Lord I-am-irresistible-hot-sexy Voldemort was more bored than irritated. And what does he do when he’s bored? He plays all-present around him, to his advantage, to amuse himself. He was waiting for Hermione to blow a cauldron and jinx the sticking French gecko! Which she did, gladly!

She was not amused at all. And despite Narcissa’s warnings not to do it, she slipped her wand unnoticed, and sent Mademoiselle Claudine Lapeste, a couple of presents courtesy of the seeing red, and green with jealousy fiancée. A nice stuttering jinx to add to the already manners-impaired fool, followed directly by a Flipendo jinx, which like its name indicates, resulted in knocking back the Lapeste redhead and almost made her kiss the floor with her fat bum, had it not been for her fiancé’s fast reflexes!

Hermione was so irked with the both of them, she was fuming. Lord Voldemort eyes were laughing when he turned her way, with an arced beautifully defined eyebrow, knowing exactly what she did, since he sensed her magic shifting and blazing. She, keeping the pretense, looked at him with big round innocent doe eyes, and sent him a kiss, though she was not sure she pulled it off. He shook his head minutely, his luscious and deliciously sinful lips quivered imperceptibly.

Five minutes later, he excused himself, and his “tired” fiancée, and disapparated them directly to his Dungeon in his French house.

Well, he calls it house; it was more of a palace, on the outskirts of Paris. A smaller replica of “Le château de Versailles”.

He told her that he made sure to install, in each of his “houses” around the world, a ready to use playroom. She didn’t even have time to get over the usual effects of side-apparition. While still a bit woozy, she found herself naked, shackled in a vertical spread-eagled position, with no give.

She looked around the new playroom. It had more the feel of a dungeon, with dark stonewalls, floor and ceiling. His whips, floggers, canes and other toys were on display. He smiled darkly at her, standing in front of her with only his pants left to cover his beautiful body, which was delicately draped by the golden glow of hundreds of candles.

From the wickedly cruel look in his dark red eyes, and the snake-face he transfigured, she knew this was going to be a long night. When he changes his face into Lord Voldemort reptilian features, it means he’s in one of his sadistic peaks. She loved his sadistic peaks because it meant a ‘Bang you till you drop unconscious’ night, and endless orgasms for her. The pain he could dish out when in such cruel mood is inconceivably excruciating, only equaled by the brutally decadent and unholy vicious pleasure that comes with it.

He was holding his riding crop, the small leather flap at its end, caressing and taunting her left nipple, when with a deep dark velvety tone he whispered, ”My pain-slut is jealous…”, huffing she retorted “Not jealous, Master, just teaching the skank a lesson in manners”. Switching to the other nipple, smiling ferociously, he replied,   ”I think my mudblood whore needs a lesson in manners as well…”

Playing the role of the naughty slave came easy to Hermione, especially when he was in such an extremely sadistic, and dark disposition. His feral pitiless smirk was lifting his lips. His ruthless attitude was enhanced by a chilly calmness. It reflected an unrelenting resolve to hear her scream, and see her come undone under his painful ministrations.

The alluring enticement of his tender and sexy drawl is always in total dichotomy with the promise of severe pain reflected in his eyes. His orders enunciated with low, syrupy almost caring tone of voice, contrasting with the wicked acts and torture he inflicts simultaneously.

Such contradictions remind her of how from pain he brings pleasure, and it never fails to trigger her needs and cravings for more from him, for him to give it all to her. To smother her with his cruel attentions, and painful caresses, make her scream his ownership and total dominion over her with one word, Master, while diving into the blissful ecstasy abyss, he created for her because he loves her.

The stinging of her nipple brought her back from her mental adoration of her Lord and Master. And another sting when the leather flap hit stronger her already red and hard nipples.

“Tsk Tsk …my mud-slut jinxing the Minister’s daughter… not once but twice. I had to use the Finite-Incantatem to terminate her jinxes. A very naughty pet she was tonight, don’t you think?”

Hermione’s vagina was already drooling, heavily. Merlin! How does he do it? Breathing slowly, she answers in false meekness “If Master thinks so…”

“Master knows so, little one. A very naughty cock-slave that needs to be punished.”

A vicious sting radiated from her right nipple, when the leather flap of the flogger hit it hard, “Tut tut… No thank you Master for your discipline? My slave is in dire need to taste the cat…you are not allowed to speak slut. Scream as much as you like. If asked, answer always with yes or no. You do not cum without permission cum-whore. Tonight I will introduce my slave to new burning sensations, but first things first.”

The cruel smile on his face got larger when he wrapped her breasts in crisscrossing horizontal figure 8, with tight ropes. The breasts bondage as usual turned her globes bigger than their real size, red and bloated. He then brought three small floggers. With a flick of his wand the floggers left his hand and were suspended in front of her breasts and Venus mound, waiting for his spell to start their smacking.

Slowly he walked around her, while lovingly passing the leather flap, in feathery touches on her already excited flesh. Tapping now and then on her sensitive and swollen breasts. Each tap sent jolts of electricity to her brain and her clitoris, each sensation contradicting the other; her brain screamed pain, yet her clit wanted more of the same.

He kissed her tenderly on the mouth, tongues dancing on silent tunes of carnal needs. His left hand flicked her right teat, and she whimpered in his mouth, then the same treatment was applied to the other nub, she whined higher. The vicious, hard twist that he suddenly inflicted made her gasp; he inserted his tongue deeper in her open mouth.

Another brutal twist to the other neglected tit, she screamed, but her scream was muffled in his mouth. She felt her breasts on fire, with spikes of relentless electrical stings radiating from her nipples, their echoing effect shooting directly to her clitoris. He kept on kissing her softly, licking her lips, his tongue coiling around hers, until she felt the pointy jaws of the nipple clamp dig painfully in her now over-sensitive nubs. Her breathless loud scream was sucked in his conquering mouth. The next scream was expected when he affixed the second serrated nipple clamp.

He stopped kissing her, and squatted in front of her pubic mound. Feeling his middle finger caressing her soaked up folds, she heard him chuckle, ”Ah! My cockslave has a runny pussy…” A dildo with testicles at its end, as huge as his penis was inserted in her opening, he turned it around to coat it with her natural lubricants, swiftly he pulled it out. She shivered wanting him to push it back in, but he moved behind her, and inserted it slowly inside her anus.

When pushed totally in, he repeated the process with her vagina using an exact replica of his erect 9.5 inch phallus as a dildo. “Here …this should do it… you’d better keep it inside your tight, wet, and pretty fuckhole. …”, chuckling sadistically he added, ”Suck on it hard cockslave, or you will lose the privilege of Master fucking your face as a reward, understand mudslut?”.

Merlin! How horny she gets with his name-calling, and sensual humiliation, it is like he’s fucking her brain! He knows how soaked she gets when he does it. He’s doing it on purpose, because the dildo he used has no ridges, its surface is so smooth and sleek one can ice-skate on it! With her juices flowing like a deluge, he was forcing her to clinch and relax her muscles, knowing she will be nearing her need to climax faster.

”Yes Master” she breathes feeling the darn cylinder slipping out already. As if answering her unspoken needs, he moved the dildo in and out a couple of times to spread the lubricants on its now oiled, slick surface. “Good girl…remember …if it stays inside cock-slave, Master will fuck your hungry mouth….if not…” His cold cruel grin promised retribution. The least she expects is orgasm denial, and that after being brought to the closest edge. An experience she definitely does not care to repeat.

Fairly enough, he helped a bit by inserting the butt-plug, the down side is that double-penetration makes her also horny and more wet. He’s the king of the vicious circles! Her wonderful, amazing, sadistic, hot, and sexy Master. With her both anal and vaginal passages filled to the brim, she was stuffed, stretched and needing to climax. He affixed the clitoris clamp, which was by then munching on her hard and stiff nether nub. She reflexively bucked her hips, he chortled and flicked the clamp with his index finger several times, sending spikes of fire to her whole body, making her moan and whimper.

Standing he grinned unkindly and showed her the weights. Three heavy metal balls. Attaching two to her nipple-clamps, then the third pulled her clitoris down adding more electric jolts to her engorged small pleasure organ, which at that instant was throbbing achingly.

He made her kiss the riding crop handle, sauntering, he moved to stand behind her. The first strike of the riding-crop on her bum made the three hovering floggers move with it, by an already cast spell, and hit her intolerably painful breasts, and genitals. SMACK, fire lit everywhere, another STRIKE on the back of her right thigh this time, the breasts’ floggers spread their strands to cover her already red spheres with stripes, tormenting both in equal measures.

Meanwhile her nether lips were kissing, licking and drooling on the third flogger’s tongues of hellish fires. The weights moving and swinging with each strike made the painful tormenting sensations dig deeper into her flesh, and thus her Master pushed her one more step towards the edge. Twenty strikes later, he stopped.

The Bullwhip he used was shorter than customary, but with a nasty flay. The twist of his wrist was accurate, the speed and power behind every lash varied depending on his targeted area. The thrashing completed the shades of red he was trying to paint on her skin. He stopped his flaying, satisfied with his work of art, and her screams. He smirked callously when she wailed after he slapped her hard on her rear.

Her whole body was a bunch of agonizing raw nerves, and if anyone happened to see her at that moment, they might have thought, she’s being tortured to an inch of her life. But the fact remains; her pussy was so slick and wet that the dildo was slipping from her vagina’s muscular grip, and she was trying to keep it inside her, clinching forcefully on it, engendering more arousal. The constant shift of her push upward and pull of gravity downward kept the vicious circle turning, and she was pushed further to her peak.

Her Master moved to a big cabinet, in one corner, and brought back a coil of twine, and a basket filled with wooden cloth-pins. He removed the weights but kept all three clamps. He started by uncoiling the rope; next, leaving a small part of the rope dangling on the outer side of her swollen still tied breasts, with the wooden cloth-pins, he fixed the rope around her right breast in spiraling figure.

Pinching her skin and the rope between the jaws of the pins, at half an inch intervals between them, until it reached her areola. Without cutting the twine, he repeated the same loop around the left one, leaving also a small part unattached before cutting the rest. Her breasts looked like a blossoming flower. Her cries and screams of agony stirring his already half erect penis to a painful state of stiffness.

Kneeling, he started fixing the twine on her lower right inner thigh, again keeping a small part of the rope hanging, starting from atop the knee, up to her pubic mound, then after, completing the circuit, by reaching the opposite left inner thigh, above the knee.

Hermione was wincing and gasping with each pinch inflicted on her flesh by the clothes-pins, until all the parts covered with this weird “pins art” went numb. She was fighting her impending climax, and her struggle to keep the dildo in did not help her case. She was being pushed into a zone where pain and pleasure were undistinguishable. He legs were starting to tremble and sag beneath her.

He stood up; walked behind her, heartlessly chortling, he uttered whispering gleefully in her ear, “time for my Gryffindor …kitten …to meet the cat”.

Not a second later the strands of braided leather thrashed her burning back, buttocks, back of the thighs, the stinging stripes pushing her even more into that twilight zone, where all she felt is pleasure exploding after each deflagration of excruciating pain. She was morphing into one single elongated nerve, which simultaneously, was smoldering painfully to be dowsed next by waves of exquisite delight. She was bumbling, almost incoherently, totally engrossed in her intensely superb sensations, until her pain almost disappeared and only bliss and Nirvana elected her body to reside in, “ Need...Cum …please …Master…don’t…stop…arghh…”

Her Master was aware that she going into her subspace. She was flying or floating, a state well known in the BDSM scene. He kept a careful watch to ensure she isn't in danger. He knows that such an experience, for a new submissive like his precious pet, who is unfamiliar with such mental dissociation and strong physical responses, could be dangerous.

He knows by experience that it is a treacherous state and he must be on alert, but he also wants her to experience the amazing and intense feelings of this subspace. The extreme experiences of both pain and pleasure trigger the sympathetic nervous system, which releases the epinephrine substance, as well as a deposit of endorphins and enkephalins.

These natural chemicals, which are released in the fight or flight response as well, produce the same effect as a morphine-like drug, a sort of trance-like state. The submissive starts to feel an out-of-body state, detached from reality, thus increasing the pain tolerance, as the scene becomes more intense.

Once the high comes down, another part of the nervous system kicks back in, the results vary depending on the depth to which the sub experienced, from exhaustion to a state of deep recession and incoherence.

He stopped flogging her, took out both dildos, and unshackled her. Walking her to the bed in the corner of the dungeon, he laid her down, head hanging from the edge, he gave her a couple of minutes to recuperate, while he again tied her, spread-eagled on the mattress. Next he took off his pants and briefs.

“Are you good pet?” he enquired while moving towards her, “I feel wonderful Master…please don’t stop” she replied coherently, looking at him, watching him with her hanging upside down head. He stepped positioning her head between his legs, “Suck me pet, rim my ass....let me feel your tongue wriggling inside me” She complied eagerly, taking half of his penis easily into her mouth.

She was proud that her continuous practice was bearing fruit finally. Her gag reflex was rarely triggered, mostly when he really wanted to stop her control for a while, and ‘to fuck her throat and feel her gag for his pleasure’. She then licked his scrotum bathing his testicles with her saliva, taking each one in her mouth, to at last reach his puckered rosette, gliding her tongue around, tasting the most intimate of his anatomy, then pushing slowly in. She felt him shudder, she smiled, he groaned and said "Yess pet..fuck my ass..with that mudslut tongue ...". He moved a bit helping her push her tongue deeper, then said "Good girl...now... Suck me slave...let me feel your throat squeezing my cock..." and she set about licking, sucking and swallowing her lolli-cock.

Meanwhile, he took the loose ends of the twine on her breasts, and powerfully pulled both at the same time. By pulling both ends, he also forced all the cloth-pins to detach from her skin, resulting in repetitive and instantaneous pinching sensations, on both of her already hypersensitized globes.

The whimpers that left her mouth, while his cock was still being licked and sucked, and throated made the vibrations hit his shaft and travel deliciously up his spine. He also noticed that making her service him orally she was still on the border of her subspace, not deeply involved neither totally out, which was good, and decided he could continue with what he had in mind.

He chortled cruelly when pulling one side of the hanging rope, on her left thigh, she gasped again, but continued enjoying her favorite ‘cockcicle’ as she nicknamed his dick. Pulling the other end she squeaked again, not letting go of her pacifier, finally he pulled the last part on her pubic mound, which generated a higher squeal from his cock-worshipping pet.

He accio’ed two long glass cylinders, in which paraffin wax candles were burning and melting. There was a good thickness of melted wax to use. “Stop pet” he ordered. Docilely yet grudgingly she obeyed, and moved his hard saliva coated shaft from her mouth. Still feeling the pinches of the cloth-pins especially on her tortured breasts. She was still floating, mentally separated from her environment, yet still processing her experience, sensations and physical responses.

He put one on the floor near his leg, and kept the one in his right hand. He held the container about 2 feet high above his forearm and tipped it, letting the melted wax drop on his skin, to test its temperature and make sure not to burn his slave. Once he deemed the procedure safe, and the heat tolerable, he put it on the floor at a hand’s reach.

He preferred to use paraffin wax, because it melts at a low temperature, and the heat level stays constant. Should the liquefied wax heat up, it melts the solid part beneath, thus keeping its hotness at a invariable degree; it was the safest kind of wax to use on the skin. Other kinds, like colored or perfumed wax takes higher temperatures to melt, consequently the heat of the liquid wax increases as well, which might result in burning the skin.

He checked her breasts to make sure they had turned purple to his satisfaction, which meant he needed to untie them for her safety, but more so for the pleasure he will derive from it, since they will be more painful once loose. Indeed, they were starting to turn a red purplish hue, so he promptly unknotted the breasts bondage, which made her squeal higher, a sign she was still not deeply into her subspace. ”Keep your eyes closed precious, and do not cum without my permission”. “Yes Master” she smiled, waiting expectantly.

Taking the candle container in his right hand, He pulled off her right nipple clamp, not a second later, he tipped the glass container, keeping his hand at around two feet in height, dripping the oily hot liquid on her still painfully throbbing nipple. Her low moan was torn between blissful pleasure and sharp agony. He repeated the process with her left teat, and she whimpered and moaned as if in the throes of ecstasy, and murmured, barely able to speak, “ Please …Master …need … cum…”.

Her Master noticed that she was starting to dive deeper in her subspace and decided to make her climax sooner than later. He kneeled astride her chest, and took off her clitoris clamp and dripped the wax on her painful nub; he addressed her at the same time “Cum for Master, slave”. And Hermione went to meet and visit with all the deities of orgasms ecstasies, climaxes, flying high, her wings made of blissful rapture and delightful exaltation. Her seventh heaven was formed of fluffy clouds nine, and she wanted to stay in her paradise, to never wake or come back down.

The Dark Lord was seeing his pet writhing on the mattress, wriggling in her ties, her moans and whimpers more similar to a wounded animal than an ecstatic state of bliss. He smiled and decided she needed to go down slowly from her high. He started to massage her breasts going down to her waist, and vigorously rubbing her kidneys, hastening the blood filtration and purification from all the natural chemicals that saturated her system.

“You’re good baby, easy pretty pet…Master is here precious, Master’s got you… you’re safe…calm down …breathe witch ” he was whispering in her ear, while he kissed her forehead, and temple now and then. His hands went back up to gently fondle her breasts. Standing up, he untied her, and spooned her to his body. Arms wrapped around her, he was kissing her neck noticing she was drenched with sweat, but her heartbeat and respiration were slowing back down, after the frantic rhythm imposed by her subspace experience and orgasm.

A couple of minutes later Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, her pupils were still a tad dilated. A huge smile formed on her face, “WOWW…. Thank you Master…thank you…I love you”. Hugging her tight to his chest “ I love you too precious one” …chuckling maliciously he murmured in her ear, “You kept the dildo in your sweet pretty pussy until the end, you earned your reward”.

His wickedly debauched grin told her that her mouth and throat will be sore, maybe more than her body tomorrow. He kissed her lips mumbling, ”When I finish your aftercare, …and you…rest for a while…cockcicle wants a deep-throating and fucking galore…” Giggling, the still post-coital hazed pet asked, “When didn’t it?”

“Well, this kind of cockcicles never melts, no matter how much you suck it” The dark Lord was definitely smug.

The two couples coming back from the French Minister’s Lapeste soirée, heard the sounds of their laughs echoing through the corridor leading to the Dark Lord quarters. Seems in his haste, the Dark Lord forgot to cast Muffliato.

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Hope this last chapter won’t disappoint. there won’t be an update, any time soon if at all. My Mother passed away, and I am unable to focus on writing anything, having a severe case of writer’s block, I think the least I can do is to inform you my readers of this sad state of affairs, out of respect to you all. considering the stats and reviews I am inclined to think it outlived its interest. The story could be considered complete as it is now, without the Epilogue. Hence, the tag will be changed from WIP to complete.

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If you are interested , these are the links to Hermione's :]

Bridal Gown

http://www.clairepettibone.com/bridal/?cp=gowns/chantilly

Veil

http://www.clairepettibone.com/bridal/?cp=veils/jasmine

Tiara / Band

http://www.clairepettibone.com/bridal/?cp=enchanted-atelier/finale-crown

Shoes

http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/monocronana-python-1.html
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Plenitude