The cane twirled slowly in his hand, the carved head revolving against his palm as he regarded the young woman standing before him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and glowing with power and need.
"We aren't finished, my dear," he murmured, and gestured for her to turn and place herself over the brocade arm of the Louis Sixteenth chair.
Fidgeting with the hem of her schoolgirl skirt, Ginny did as he bade, her panties quickly soaked with growing lust. At the first soft touch of his hand on the small of her back, a shiver went through her and she began to pant.
"Anticipation teaches restraint." His hand moved lower to torturously slowly raise her skirt over her plump bottom. Simple white nylon stretched across her pale skin. Skin still marred with bruises from the prior week's encounter.
At the evidence that she didn't heal herself, Lucius smirked in sinful pleasure.
"Please," Ginny begged.
"Please what?" he crooned. All she did was moan, and he lightly patted her bottom, watching her fingers tighten around the edge of the cushions her head rested upon. "How can I please you if you do not articulate your desires?"
One finger slipped beneath the elastic of her knickers to tease her rapidly heating skin.
Ginny's stomach clenched and perspiration broke out on her forehead and beneath her breasts as her passion headed for a quick, high peak. "Pu...punish me," she finally forced out, every muscle in her body tightening.
Lucius leaned down and whispered, "Choose," as he delicately snapped the elastic along one shapely thigh.
"Ahhh...The cane, oh, please, the cane," she babbled.
The smirk on the aristocratic face grew deeper, and Lucius leaned his cane against the chair before taking hold of the sides of her knickers and slowly pulling them down her trembling legs. As he tugged, he dropped to one knee, then released the scrap of nylon, letting it pool around her sensible shoes. Inhaling deeply, he cupped the globes of her bottom and pressed a kiss over the remains of a welt across the softest part.
Then he bit.
Ginny shrieked and bucked against the arm of the chair, the position just right for friction on her swollen clitoris.
Pulling back, Lucius nodded in pleasure at the sight of his teeth marks bruising her. He languidly rose to his feet and slipped off his robes, revealing tight black breeches tucked into knee boots, and a black silk shirt open down his muscular chest. Taking the deceptively wicked cane in his hand, he moved to a comfortable position, and gently tapped her with the shaft.
The cane wasn't as heavy as it looked, and, from long experience he knew just how to wield it to inflict just the right amount of punishment and pleasure. Lucius had lost count of how many lovers he'd used it on, but none had ever enjoyed it as much as this one. None had ever needed the punishment like she did, and, for what she gave him, he was very willing to provide her with anything she desired.
The thought of such young, sweet flesh corrupted by his wicked touch made his cock swell and press against the tight crotch of his breeches. Welcoming the discomfort he spread his feet for leverage.
The first crack of the cane across her naked bottom made Ginny shriek again, a guttural cry of pain and need. Although she couldn't see the mark, she could feel the sudden redness, deep and wide across the center of her quivering buttocks, lighter near her hips.
The second blow caught her just below the first, and she knew how methodical it would be, blow after blow moving down her body until the sweetest pain would come from snapping blows to the soft crease where her bottom met her thighs.
And then he'd move back up, criss-crossing the welts, adding layer upon layer of bruises and pain.
Another shiver of pure lust went through her and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation.
Thirty minutes later, Lucius wiped his hands on a linen handkerchief, and smiled as he listened to her sob. The sounds she made when in pain and longing were like music to his ears. Pouring himself a drink, he took a sip, then turned to watch her.
Ginny lay slumped over the arm of the chair, her skirt still rucked over her back, her legs, her whole body trembling. Her bottom was a sight to behold. It gleamed redder than her hair, and quivered with each sob.
Taking another sip of brandy, Lucius set down the glass and walked back to the girl, his fingers easily unfastening his linen trousers. As they dropped to the floor along with his silk boxer shorts, he took position between her spread legs and drew in a deep breath.
His hands fell on her bruised bottom and, as Ginny shrieked in pain, he spread her wide and drove into her. With two more thrusts he was sheathed completely, her body slick with lust and opening easily for him. Stilling, he slowly ground his hard pelvis against her throbbing softness, listening to her cry at the abuse.
Her inner muscles clamped around him, and he smirked.
"Look at me, Ginny," Lucius crooned as he pulled back and began a slow series of thrusts and retreats, watching her squirm and arch back to meet him.
Slowly she turned her head, looking up at him from red, swollen eyes. Tears streaked her flushed cheeks, tousled hair stuck to her sweaty brow, her lips were bruised from her own teeth.
His breath caught in his throat and his eyes darkened with a deeper desire. As her inner muscles clenched around him, suckling at his staff, he thrust faster, quick, hard jabs that made her cry out and shudder, her eyes never leaving his.
"Please, please, oh please," Ginny babbled. "Please may I, sir?"
Lucius' hands squeezed making her squeal, and he nodded his head in benevolence. Leaning down, his long hair spilling over his shoulder to pool on her back, he ground her clitoris against the priceless, two hundred year old chair.
Fresh tears spilled from Ginny's eyes, her nostrils flared, and then she cried out and bucked against him, rubbing harder against the brocade as she climaxed. Lucius felt her shudder and tighten around him, felt her warm stickiness flow over him, and flung his head back, crying to the gilt ceiling as his own orgasm thundered through him.
Using the same handkerchief to clean himself, Lucius refastened his trousers and dropped the soiled linen across Ginny's beautiful bottom. As he moved to the row of decanters on the credenza, he told her to clean herself up, then he ignored her as he poured them both restoratives.
When he turned back around to offer her a brandy, he found her waiting for him, her clothes returned to order, her hair brushed. Only the bruises on her lips and the dazed look in her eyes betrayed her.
And the slight shifting from foot to foot.
Smirking at the sight, Lucius offered her a glass, then took a sip from his own. Over the crystal lip, he watched her speculatively, as she gulped the hundred year old liquor.
Ah, well, she was young and her training was only beginning.
With a trembling hand, Ginny set down the empty glass and reached for her bag, murmuring, "Same time next week, sir?"
"If you have news. Do not come if you have none." With those two sentences he put her in her place, but, as apparent from the flush of pleasure crossing her cheeks, he also sent a thrill through her.
"I will, sir. I'm in the inner circle. He trusts me completely." Ginny gave him a hesitant look. "Is what I brought you today...is it useful?"
"Every bit of information about Harry Potter is useful, Ginny. One must know one's enemy fully to be successful against him."
She nodded eagerly, drinking down his wisdom, and Lucius took another sip of brandy, savoring the warm, rich taste.
Everything tasted so much better these days, since he'd found his little spy. Corrupted by his master before she even reached puberty, she was perfect for their mutual purposes. No one believed the evil had remained inside her.
As Ginny flashed him a smile and hurried from the room, Lucius chuckled low in his throat.
No one on the side of light had a clue.
With her help, everything would fall into place and he would present Harry Potter to his lord and master for destruction.
That he had found a sweet, submissive little mistress was only a plus.
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