"He who attacks must vanquish. He who defends must merely survive" (Master Khan)
The owl on the perch by the desk was looking down on her parchment with a dubious light in his large orange eyes. The downy feathers below his beak pulsated quickly with his breath. If she didn't know better she would have thought the bird was impatient. Eleanor dipped her quill and resumed writing. She still had a ton of paperwork to go through and it was almost time for Lucius' arrival. Sometimes she resented the amount of administrative overhead that came with being head of a house.
Just as she got ready to roll up her letter she heard the familiar muffled crack of an apparition behind her and cursed softly under her breath. Malfoy and her had a certain agreement about being late – and it looked as if this time he'd be able to call her on it. She swallowed and turned round in her seat to face him as he walked up to her. As usual she could not help feasting her eyes on him.
The blonde wizard did not believe in sloppiness bred from familiarity. He could have come straight from an important social function. His white-blond hair was gathered at the nape of his neck without a single strand out of place. He wore a pale grey necktie tucked into a midnight-blue great-coat with a subtle paisley jacquard pattern, black wool pants over spotlessly shined boots and a black cloak lined with the same blue brocade as his coat. His gloved hands held his silver snake-head cane.
She got up to face him and with his customary grace he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. Sometimes she had to inwardly smile at his serious formality, especially when it occurred to her that in an hour or so they would have reduced her bed to a state where sometimes she felt embarrassed for the house-elves who had to make it up the next morning. Still she knew better than to insist on a looser protocol. It would have only earned his disdain as being too muggle-like. So instead she smiled, trying to hide her nervousness as he lifted his mouth from her hand and moved in to kiss her lips next.
Of course he realized her tension immediately. "What's the matter, my dear? You seem preoccupied, and it's not with my visit, I think." 'Caught,' she thought. It was time to confess and hope he would not invoke the agreement. She cleared her throat, trying to sound off-hand. "Nothing much, Lucius. Of course I am thrilled to see you, but I need to finish a few things up first. Today has been extremely busy. How about I'll have a house-elf bring you some dinner and wine? I won't be more than a half hour."
His pale grey eyes grew cold and narrowed and she knew she would not get away with it. His hand that had not yet relinquished hers pulled her close again and he used the silver head of his cane to nudge her chin up. "So, in other words, you will be late?" he drawled. One corner of his mouth twitched briefly and she detected a spark of predatory glee in his eyes. He had been waiting for this, and he would play it for all it was worth. Oh no, tonight she would not get away with anything.
Anticipation and the knowledge of what he would want to be avenged for sent a shiver of fear up her spine. "Well, I am here, whereas you were actually delayed the last time," she tried to defend herself, realizing too late she had said the wrong thing. He smirked at her. "Oh, so you do remember! You recall what you had me do to give satisfaction for my disrespect a month ago. Well, I am pleased to hear that. Then you will know that I will have no mercy this time."
He released her with unexpected casualness. "Go finish up your work. I will be quite occupied devising an appropriate punishment for you." She felt furious at herself as she realized the flustered speed with which she scrambled back to her desk. It took her quite some time to tie her letter to the owl's foot, and while she opened the window to release the bird she thought back on the incident a month ago.
She had followed Lucius' invitation to spend a weekend at Malfoy Manor, and when she had arrived at the appointed time, he had stood her up for about an hour. A delayed meeting at the Ministry had been to blame. However, they had agreed some years back that lateness would not be tolerated and that the waiting partner could exact a fitting punishment. So gleefully she had demanded her dues: he was to please her with his hands tied behind his back, using only his mouth – twice. His eyes had killed her, but he had submitted.
As she watched the owl take off into the night, her lips curled in a reminiscent smile. He had given complete satisfaction for his disrespect, as he had described it. But she had known even then, she would get her comeuppance. Well, apparently it would be tonight. She squirmed in her seat as she absentmindedly tried to finish the rest of her chores. She was convinced she would find numerous errors and omissions in her documents tomorrow.
Seemingly mere minutes later she almost dropped her quill as she heard Lucius clear his throat. "Half an hour is up my dear," he announced. "Or do you need more time? In which case, of course, I would be even more aggrieved than I am now. And you might surmise what that means…" "Oh Hecate," she mumbled and put the griffin feather back in her ink well. It was pointless to try to do anything else.
She got up and slowly approached him. He lazily uncrossed his legs and stood up from the reading chair by the fire-place. She noticed that he had folded and laid aside his cloak and had taken his gloves off, but he was still holding his cane. He looked positively dangerous, his hooded grey eyes raking over her body, his full lips curled in a cruel smirk. "I see you have not even had the courtesy to change for me," he announced. "Hair up in a prim schoolmistress bun, wearing a terribly plain dress and still in your school robes. I am very disappointed."
He pretended to consider, although she was sure that by now he had planned his revenge down to the last detail. "I think I will punish my little schoolteacher in a most fitting manner," he purred. They were now standing mere inches from each other. Suddenly his studied nonchalance disappeared, and as he began his game in earnest the steely resolve in his orders left no room for disobedience or objections. She knew in her heart it was still nothing more than an exciting pretense they both got off on, but he always managed it with such chilling conviction.
"Undress, Eleanor, now, and don't give me that look of defiance. You don't want to anger me." He bent down to hiss in her ear. "In fact, you want to do everything to stay on my good side tonight. Don't you?" She shuddered in anticipation. "Don't you?" he demanded again. 'Oh, damn, he wants an answer,' she thought. So head games were to be part of the fun. "Yes," she squeezed out. "Yes, what?" was the growled reply. "Remember, this is about respect." She swallowed. 'Bastard!' "Yes, sir," she said, trying to keep her voice level.
"Such a good schoolteacher," he sneered. "Learning so fast, are we? Now, lose those robes." As she pulled off her school gown and loosened the fastenings of her dress Lucius walked over to the chair that held his cloak. He leaned his cane against the armrest and picked up one of his black leather gloves. Then he sat himself down in the heavy oak seat by her desk and watched with gleaming eyes as she stripped for him.
When she had arrived at her panties he stopped her with a gesture. "Enough. Come here." She tossed her bra on the pile of clothes on the floor and took slow and hesitant steps towards him. Her trepidation was half-feigned and half-real. He was absent-mindedly pulling the glove through his fingers as he watched her. She felt acutely aware that her nipples were already standing at almost painful attention courtesy of the cool spring air that permeated the old halls. Finally she stood before him.
"Very good," he assessed her coldly. "Across my lap." She took a step back in surprise. She had anticipated a lot of things, but not this. He had to be joking. He couldn't really want her across his knees like some naughty school-girl. Triple goddess!
Now he raised an eyebrow as he regarded her and for a moment she felt the spine-chilling certainty that he would normally keep this kind of glance reserved for muggles. "Do you think to argue, to disobey?" The gravelly threat in his voice was unmistakable now. "Across my lap, woman!" Any stalling would be interpreted as weakness now. And the last satisfaction she wanted to give him right then was any indication that she was actually truly scared by now.
With as much calm and dignity as she could muster she draped herself across his knees feeling the rough fabric of his pants on the skin of her chest and beneath it the long hard planes of his thigh muscles. She could see his feet and the flawless, polished glow of his boots. The surprisingly gentle touch of his dry warm hands on her back had her hum in appreciation. For a few moments he ran his palms up and down her back in gentle circles. Then the touch was replaced by something lighter, cooler, alien – his leather glove. He dragged the empty glove along her skin, caressed her until she calmed, then suddenly fisted his hands in the thin waistband of her thong and ripped the scrap of fabric off her in one fierce move. She hissed in dismay.
"Hey, these are mail-order from Reykjavik," she protested. "You know how hard it is to get decent muggle underwear…" He bent down with surprising speed, his mouth right by her ear. "Did I give you permission to speak, Eleanor?" She shut up. "Well, did I?" She sighed inwardly. "No, sir," she spat.
He sat back, surveying her. "Very good. Now, here's your punishment and your challenge. I will spank you, three strokes for every minute you've made me wait. If you wish to quit before – simply get up, and I'll know you for the little spoilt witch you are," he challenged her. "I will not be kind, but we will see what kind of endurance you possess, my dear." He paused for a moment and a strange scraping noise told her that he had pulled on the leather glove.
She clenched her teeth and a moment later his hand descended on her bare unprotected butt with quite a spectacular smack. For a moment her body took control and she gave a muffled cry of pain while her hips shifted to get her out of the path of his attack. He paused. "Ready to quit already?" His rough voice was oozing with contempt. She shook her head, willed herself to hold still. There was no way she would let him win. 'Stupid and stubborn,' she thought, and then concentrated on giving him as little reaction and with that hopefully as little satisfaction as possible as he resumed his attack on her.
She felt the rhythm of his slaps and counted along, expecting to get to about ninety. At about twenty she realized that the sharpness of the pain had become somewhat dulled. Her ass felt on fire, and his hand seemed to descend through a haze of heat. At forty her sensations shifted again as did his rhythm which seemed to lose some of its regularity. She grew more aware of his body that controlled her. His thighs tensed and released underneath her with every hit, and she was absolutely sure that the bulge that now nudged insistently into her right flank had not been there to begin with. Her pain seemed to recede and make space for something else. When she had counted to sixty, she realized belatedly what was slowly replacing the pain. Like him, she was actually getting aroused.
She clenched her fists, now furious with herself. He had her across his knees, spanking the living daylights out of her, and she had started to like it. However, there was no denying it. His gloved right hit her for the seventy-second time, and against her will she found herself moan and her derriere rise up towards him, eager now for the rising heat he stoked in her.
His breath was taking on a slightly ragged edge. The exertion began to tell on him, and she heard a short, breathless chuckle from him as he realized what effect his punishment was having on her. By the time his last slaps finally hit home, she was ready to beg to have him inside her. When his hand did not return, she craned her neck to look up at him, but Lucius was not yet done.
"Well, it seems my little schoolmistress possesses more stamina than I credited her with. But let us see how you handle the second part of your punishment. Get up!" She pushed back on his thighs and tried to get her feet beneath her. Her knees trembled with arousal and the aftermath of her ordeal. As she faced him, he got up out of the chair, stripped off the glove and fisted and released his hand with the smallest trace of a wince. His palm glowed quite red and she could only imagine what her butt had to look like.
The implacable stare of his grey eyes pierced her. "Bend over the chair," he instructed her. "Hands on the seat." She opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted a warning hand. "You will obey me," he stated with all of his Malfoy arrogance and conviction. "You will obey, because you want to. You cannot think to pretend that you are not ready for this." With complete familiarity he reached down between her legs as she stood before him, and when he pulled back his fingers, they were glistening with her juices. "You wish to deny it?" he asked. "Now, do as I say!"
She bit her lip and faced away from him, positioning herself as he had instructed. Oh, he would pay for this. Even if she had to bribe Minister Fudge himself to detain him on some future day, so she could get back at him. She heard a brief rustle of clothes behind her, realizing that he was not planning on undressing, but had merely unbuttoned his trousers. For a brief moment she felt his fingers at her opening, and then, without any other warning, he plunged inside her.
She gasped as he filled her and his hands dug into the sensitized flesh of her butt cheeks to position her hips. She could feel her heated core grip him in anticipation. She doubted that she would willingly put up with another similar ordeal to get to this point, but had to admit that this particular punishment had some very serious rewards. She felt every stroke of him shake her to her very center, and the third or fourth had her moan in shameless abandon.
It took neither of them long to reach climax. She felt his hands yank her back and onto him as he buried himself in her one last time and heard him cry out as her own orgasm crashed over her. The tension, the nervousness, the pain and the anger she had felt over the last half hour exploded in one powerfully charged moment and the energy that fuelled her release had her almost lose her footing.
For a moment they both stilled, catching their breath. He stroked his palm over her ass and she heard an amused laugh from him. "You should see my handiwork, my dear" he drawled. Then he pulled back and rebuttoned his trousers, before extending a hand to help her up. His sated pale eyes had now lost their mock sadistic glint. For a moment his hand moved up to brush some stray strands from her face, his gesture surprisingly gentle and protective.
"Why don't you take some time to get yourself tidied up and we start this evening properly," he suggested, as if nothing much had happened. "Let your hair down, lose the school clothes. I'll be quite content to wait this time." She tried and failed to glare at him, and saw the corners of his mouth twitch at her attempt. As she gathered her clothes from the floor and made her way to her bedroom, his voice stopped her. "Oh, my dear, and don't try any magic to erase the traces of my punishment. I want to see them. I want you to remember. I want this to be a valuable lesson to my schoolmistress, every time you sit down this weekend." She hissed and slammed the door behind her.
When she had left the room, Lucius bared his teeth and his brows furrowed as he slowly twisted the wrist of his right hand. He had really given it all he had and now he could feel it, but to have her squirm on his knees and see his handprints slapped all over her beautiful pale creamy ass when he had fucked her had been worth every minute of it. He walked over to the chair that held his robes and pulled out his wand to clean himself.
Later that evening she sat in the small steam bath in her quarters facing Lucius Malfoy through the billowing humid fog. Durmstrang had been built over a volcanic fault line many hundreds of years ago, and the hot springs beneath the school had supplied countless generations of wizarding scholars with the luxuries of hot water and steam.
She stretched lazily, watching Lucius lean back into the marble-tiled wall. He had his eyes closed. His white blond hair was slicked back from his high forehead and lay close against his skull like the fur of an otter. She watched as rivulets of condensation and sweat poured off his shoulders and down his chest where they trapped themselves in little droplets in his short wiry blond hair. His hands lay on his thighs, relaxed, palms open towards her. She enjoyed being able to feast her eyes on him unobserved. Even after all this time, his body still aroused her like no other could. Of course he had aged during the last six years, as had she, even though age in wizards and witches was a different matter from muggles. But she thought that like a fine brandy, he had only improved with time.
She felt little cracks down her spine as she moved, willing the soreness out of her muscles. On top of that her bottom still vividly reminded her of the abuse she had taken from him right after his arrival. Sitting would be uncomfortable for a while. Tonight Lucius had been truer to his usual form than the week before, which of course had meant, more demanding. Love-making between them had started out as something of a battle of bodies and wills and it had remained that way.
Tonight he had remained firmly in control after his punishment of her tardiness, and so she had ended up begging him for release after enduring a rather prolonged purgatory of delicious teasing from him. In consequence she now felt quite pleasantly drained with kinks and aches in muscles she had only been dimly aware before she possessed. When she exhaled with a sigh, he opened his eyes.
A cool grey glance pierced her through the steam. "I know you're looking," he drawled with the ghost of an arrogant smirk in the corners of his mouth. "And I know you like it." She wiped water from her face. "And you always so enjoy giving me things to like, my dear," she teased him back. "Imagine you can do that just by sitting there." He stirred and she watched in fascination as his muscles moved under his pale skin while he turned sideways and shifted to place his left foot on the narrow marble bench on which he sat. "If only I'd known that an hour ago. I could have saved myself so much exertion," he complained. She smiled: "As I recall you put me in a body bind, because I was making too much of an effort to please you and you wanted to hog all the action."
He flashed her an evil grin. "I so like you tied up with nowhere to go," he confessed. She shook her head and opened her mouth for a reply when suddenly an ear-drum shattering shriek pierced the room. The blond wizard opposite her almost jumped out of his skin, despite his usual self-possession. And while she was familiar with the noise, she too felt her body jerk in surprise. "Oh, gods, damn!" She was on her feet a second later and rushed to the door that closed the small steam room. The shrieking noise continued. "There's been an attack!" she shouted over the din. Lucius got up in one fluid movement and followed her. In the anteroom she grabbed him and upended a bucket of cold water that was suspended by a chain under the ceiling over both of them.
Ignoring her lover's protests over her treatment she threw him a towel, grabbed one herself, dashed back into her bedroom and pulled a large black school robe over her head. Lucius jumped back into his pants and threw a shirt over his shoulders. While she hunted for her wand he tried to close the buttons, but the fabric stuck to his water slicked skin and he gave up on it as she looked back at him once more before leaving her chambers. "Come on!" she called out to him and he grabbed his cane and followed her, cursing under his breath as his bare feet hit the icy cold stone slabs of the corridor.
"What's this racket?" he asked jogging beside her how. "Means someone has cast an unforgivable. It's an alarm. I bet the Karkaroffs have made their move." A few moments later they stopped by an open door that cast a bar of golden light into the corridor. A terrible wail of anguish and pain came from the room behind it that even drowned out the alarm. There seemed to be some commotion further down the hall, but Eleanor chose to investigate the room first.