I'm having such a good time writing this, thank you for all of your lovely reviews, especially those from guests I can't thank individually or reply to. Your encouragement is treasured.

More naughtiness, I'm afraid!

Hermione awoke to the disconcerting feeling of being in an unfamiliar room and in a strange bed. It took her a moment to register exactly where she was. Smirking, she allowed herself to roll in the luxury of a guest bed in Malfoy Manor, content that this time it was not a dream conjured up by the tease of stolen moments in the office, or by that book that had an awful habit of provoking a disturbed night's sleep. It was very, very real. The memory of the previous night was imprinted on her body, it was in the soreness she felt in her back, in the light, but still visible red marks at her wrists and ankles, and in the persistent dull ache between her thighs. Sighing deeply, Hermione turned over to face the window. Pale winter sunlight was already peeping through the tiny gaps in the curtains. At this time of year, when the days were short and the dark nights and mornings were at their height, she understood if the sun was up, it was time to rise. Part of her wanted to laze and revel in the expansive bed, reliving the night before. She hadn't paused to make sense of it yet. Perhaps at some point she would; for now, she was living in the moment. The ache to be filled had finally been satisfied, except it hadn't not at all. Instead it made it all the more pronounced and made her want more. Hermione knew she should get up.

Stirring herself, she couldn't begin to process the events of last night. The empty space beside her had only exaggerated the vastness of the bed. Hermione starred at it, shocked but able to admit to herself that she wished he was there now, filling it, filling her. Rising and catching sight of herself in the mirror on the dressing table, Hermione was suddenly rather glad he wasn't. Even in the dim and forgiving light it was evident she'd had a heavy night. Falling into bed without doing a thing, her dark eye make-up left black smudges around her eyes. With a final puff of her cheeks, she tore open the curtains to reveal the view of the estate, still green, though the trees were stripped of their leaves. A thin coiling ribbon of Muggle road twisted and turned around the distant horizon, marking a barrier between land and grey sky. Though she'd never concede it to Lucius it was a stunning vista. Recognising the road as a much-contested by-pass, she imagined him embroiled in the campaign to prevent it being built, in amongst the curtain-twitching old dears and local busybodies, crusty environmentalist and local press. The image made her chuckle.

A polite but determined knock rumbled through the door and disturbed her thoughts. Before she could respond Finchley had already entered. The speed of his arrival, moments after she had stirred, made her question if he had been camped outside the door, waiting patiently and listening for signs of life. Hermione wondered just how late it was. It wasn't difficult to imaging Lucius would have little time for those who lounged in bed until late morning. What if it was later? He would be angry. The delicious prospect of being punished for such laziness raced through her mind. It dissolved as it dawned on her that she was still completely naked. Scrambling gracelessly, Hermione managed to throw herself back under the covers out of sight. The elf looked disinterested and unimpressed.

"The Master will have you join him for breakfast in the conservatory."

She could only nod and remained frozen, her cheeks flushed red at the thought of the elf seeing her in all her glory.

"He doesn't like to be kept waiting," he added with a hint of irritation, utterly unperturbed by the sight.

Instead, the elf stood to attention, apparently awaiting an order.

"Thank you so much, that will be all. I really don't need anything else"

Hermione smiled warmly. The disagreeable elf softened slightly and handed her a thick fluffy robe.

"You are kind. I'll try to hurry. I don't want you getting into trouble."

"Don't bother to dress. The Master says you must come now."

"Finchley you do an amazing job, what a wonderful house elf you are. I don't think your master appreciates or deserves you. I really don't."

Finchley backed away, a smile fought to break out, but as if by a reflex he regressed to his ill-tempered self, muttering under his breath as he left the room, "Finchley has seen it all before. Finchley does not wish to see it again."

Hermione released a snort of laughter at the elf's disgust. With only a moment to try and bring order to her hair, clean her face and throw on the barest amount of fresh make-up, she obediently followed the elf downstairs and into to a light, glass-roofed room at the rear of the house. Lucius was already seated in a plush, dark green smoking jacket, the table set for breakfast.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well."

He was emotionless and formal.

"Very well, thank you."

Hermione hadn't had time to consider how the morning after would play out. In the office, they seemed to play two different, but at least defined roles. This was his home; it was the weekend. His expectations were unclear and undefined. Still, his manners were surprisingly impeccable, rising to his feet as she entered the room and bidding her to take a seat beside him. Hermione found her heart leaping at the sight of him. Memories flooded her mind, the feel of his touch, of him deep inside her. Lust stirred instantly. Hermione studied his face and his actions. There was a formality to them. The urge to kiss him fought the knowledge that it was absolutely the wrong thing to do and instead she sat as instructed. He gave away nothing, bar the certainty that his eyes followed the line of her legs as her robe parted as she sat down. Tempted to antagonise him further, she crossed her legs and sat bolt upright, affording him a view all the way up to the top of her thighs. His interest turned to his tea and Hermione gave up.

Finding herself engaged in small talk over breakfast with Lucius Malfoy would have been a surreal experience in any case, more so considering their last meal together. He made no mention of the previous evening. It frustrated her. She watched as he buttered his toast then oh so consciously licked a stray streak of butter from his thumb. It was hypnotic, watching that tongue slowly and deliberately tracing the pad, removing the already melting traces, cleaning it thoroughly. Hermione's cunt lunged. The slight gasp she made was not wasted on him. He smirked, licking his lips intentionally, before he continued with his breakfast.

"If there is anything additional you require, don't hesitate to ask. I am sure whatever it is can be arranged by the house elf."

"No, honestly I'm fine, really and Finchley is really helpful." It was an exaggeration, at the very least there was no service with a smile, but the last thing she wanted to do was to get the poor thing in trouble. She didn't imagine he had a great time of it. Praise and thanks seemed alien to him.

"Don't be shy if you have needs, Hermione," he said with a hint of innuendo and wickedness.

"I won't be," she replied, chewing at her lip and running her fingers through her hair in a conscious effort to appear seductive.

"Of that I am certain."

Lucius took a sit of tea and seemed disinterested in flirtation. Hermione changed the subject.

"The grounds look beautiful. Even in winter. I would love to look around and enjoy them while I'm here." It wasn't entirely what she had in mind, but best not to look completely desperate and horny.

"Do you enjoy the outdoors?"

"Yes, very much, Sir..Master..."

Hermione fumbled for what to call him.

"Lucius," he interrupted sharply. "You can't be expected to maintain these things at all times. Relax and eat your breakfast."

Though she was starving, she picked daintily at a pastry.

"Do you ride?" he asked.

"A little, I had a few riding lessons. Like lots of girls I suppose, I wanted a pony. I didn't get one."

"There are stables here at the Manor, the Malfoys have always kept horses amongst other things. I can't imagine being without them. Were you too poor to keep them?" It was cold and blunt, a stark reminder of who and what he was.

Anger spiked within her. "Look, my parents were both dentists. We weren't badly off. Not by most people's standards, maybe not yours, but I didn't grow up poor. I didn't have some terrible childhood living in a cupboard like Harry, neither was I ruined brat like Draco. It's a big commitment to keep a horse and muggles don't have house elves to do their bidding, ok?"

Lucius stiffened and shuffled in his seat. "Then I apologise if I have caused offence. In all honest, I have little concept of muggle life. And your parents?"

"My parents?"

"Yes, what do they do now? You said they were dentists. It implied the past tense. I was enquiring what it is they do now? Enjoying a lengthy retirement, perhaps?"

Hermione sighed. The question seemed real and sincere; he really didn't know. It still stung and burned, prodding at a sore point she rarely allowed herself to think about.

"I obliviated my parents to protect them from Voldemort. They are overseas and wouldn't know me if I fell over them." It was matter of fact. Tears might have come, but she repressed them, as she always did.

There was a difficult silence. Lucius considered what had been said.

"It is, irreparable?"

"It is."

"And you have no other family to speak of? No siblings?"

"No. No one."

"I see."

Hermione was thrown off guard and surprised as Lucius took her hand in his.

"Then I am sorry. It may be of no consolation, but I may as well be obliviated from the memory of my family. We find ourselves very much alone in the world, it seems."

There was a truth to his words she had considered before but had been unwilling to fully acknowledge.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe that's how we ended up here."

He squeezed her hand gently.

"Will you ride out with me this morning?"

"Hmm I might. Is this my compensation for all the times I said Daddy will you buy me a pony?"

Lucius smirked and sucked on his cheeks.

"That sentence is perhaps worthy of exploration at some point, but I fear this is neither the time nor the place."

Her mouth fell open. She knew exactly what he meant by that. Blushing, she pouted back at him, lowering her voice and looking up at him wide-eyed.

"Please, Daddy," she said wickedly.

"Enough," he snapped. "It is settled. We shall ride this morning."

With a clap of his hands Finchley appeared.

Lucius leant in close, his voice curling into Hermione's ear, sending sparks through her body.

"I shall assume you have no suitable attire for a rough and vigorous riding session."

The words alone were innocuous. Not when he said them; not the way he said them.

"No…I didn't expect to be doing that sort of riding."

He turned his head to look over her shoulder and address the waiting elf. He was pressed close now. Hermione's heart was starting to thump in her chest. Need and want began to rise through her. It was nothing and yet enough for sticky liquid to start to pool. Pressing her thighs together she tried to contain it.

"Your needs will be attended to."

Hermione heard the elf shuffle away behind them.

"Now, Rabbit," he purred as he untied the robe.

It fell open. Bare beneath it, his eyes bored into her as he traced the line of her cheekbone with the back of his hand. It slid further, lightly grazing her neck until he cupped a breast.

"I expect you eager and ready at 10.30."

He idly rolled a taut nipple between his finger and thumb. Hermione inhaled deeply.

"Don't keep me waiting."

With that he gave a sharp pinch. A hot sting shot through her, straight to her now throbbing cunt. Unable to contain it, a whine escaped Hermione's lips. Hot with need she longed for him to shove everything off the breakfast table onto the floor and take her there and then. It would keep, for now.

"Yes, Master," she whispered back.

"Now go and make yourself decent." With that he swept out. Hermione pulled in the robe as tight as she could, tugging the cord into a knot, as if it would somehow hold her together.

XXXX

By the time Hermione descended the stairs, Lucius was already waiting. She had been careful not to be a moment too early and certainly not a moment late. It wasn't only to appease him, usually a stickler for punctuality herself, it was a trait in him she could at least relate to. He inspected the grandfather clock that stood in the hall and though her timekeeping was impeccable, he still managed to look displeased.

Hermione had thought getting out into the fresh air and doing something might serve as a welcome distraction from the relentless throb between her thighs; she wrong. Instead the sight of him, immaculate as ever, his hair tied neatly with a black ribbon, dressed in a hunting jacket and long, polished, black riding boot was doing nothing to reduce the ache. Her stomach lunged as her eye was drawn to the riding crop tucked under his arm. It gave her wicked thoughts. All too aware of them, Lucius smirked.

Finchley had already laid out suitable riding clothes on the bed by the time Hermione had collected herself enough after the conversation at breakfast and returned to her room. They looked new and expensive, fitting perfectly. It made her wonder just how much of an itinerary Lucius had planned in advance. Still, she had put them on unquestioningly.

"Come along," he barked and made his way outside.

Two fine, saddled horses were already waiting. Hermione thought he was almost impressed as she mounted her ride with ease and set off down the drive. Lucius was a skilled horseman, but she kept up. It had been years since she'd ridden; the competitive streak in her drove her to take risks. Little was said, but there was no doubt he was beginning to test her. The cold air and concentration required fought against the friction and motion of the ride and the distracting sight of his muscular thighs. Yet somehow, she managed to hold on until he commanded that they return to the stables.

Hermione led her horse in and offered him a warm bag of oats in thanks. A loud snort behind her grabbed her attention. Four thestrals stood, stabled with the horses. Drawn to it, she approached gingerly. It sought attention. Extended a hand to stroke it softly, the creature accepted graciously.

"We are close to Muggle dwellings here. Too close to ride them out far or too often without some incantation. Perhaps another time, if you are so inclined."

The voice that appeared suddenly behind unsettled her. He never failed to do that.

"They are beautiful."

"They are intriguing creatures," he had drawn close to her. So close, she could feel the warmth of him behind her. "As are you," he added.

Hermione swallowed hard and tried not to audibly gasp.

"I find their relationship with sorrow and death fascinating. They are mournful. Depressing. I had imagined a spritely young thing like you may find that a less than desirable proposition. At my time in life mortality is a little more real."

"You're not exactly old."

"Perhaps not, but there is a significant difference in our years."

"I've never given it any thought. I'm not some vacuous kid."

"I never imagined you were, though you sell yourself short in other ways. You are a far more accomplished rider than you implied. You were…quite a sight."

"It's been a while. I'm glad I hadn't forgotten how to do it."

"Likewise."

Hermione petted at the thestral. It snorted and whinnied back at her. "I suppose I am drawn to them now. Others could see them at school, Luna, Harry. I couldn't. Maybe knowing loss makes us stronger. You see them. Who did you lose? I know things between you and Draco are, well, strained, but he's still here, alive and well. It's not unfixable. My parents feel dead to me sometimes, but I know they aren't and I'm grateful for that."

"My mother."

He spoke softly and quietly. It was hard to imagine he was ever a child or had a mother who he loved dearly. Hermione was uncertain how to respond.

"I miss my mum and my dad. My dad was so funny. He would do anything, no matter how ridiculous to make us laugh. Always full of surprises.

"Your father sounds like a decent man."

"Yours wasn't?"

There was a difficult pause.

"My father was… a good Slytherin. He taught me to be strong, determined and loyal to the values and principles he believed in, to my very core. He taught me the value of a pure and refined society, to watch my enemies closely and to protect and honour the family name."

"And your mother?"

"An angel. Every bit as strong, as determined, fierce yet…"

His unease was evident, the shift was sudden.

"Come, Rabbit. I have need of you."

He was gripping Hermione's wrist, dragging her to a clean and empty stable box. She followed.

"Strip," he commanded.

Lucius' eyes burned with rage and lust. There was hesitation. Should she? Should she allow this? He missed nothing.

"Now. Do as I command."

The determined tone of his voice was difficult to argue with. His eyes bored into her. Hermione's desire to satisfy his need, coupled with her own want made it too difficult to deny him. Instead she complied. Slowly removing the jacket, trying her best to kick her way out of her boots and remain on her feet.

"Hurry, girl. Don't test me."

With shaking hands, she managed to tear away the rest, until she stood in only her underwear. He tilted her head to examine her. There was still a sense of menace about him. A little afraid, but unable to stop it, the urgency in him and the way his eyes burned were potent. He hooked a finger under her bra strap and snapped it.

"Take it off."

Hermione obeyed.

He stood back to admire her and just as the fear was subsiding, he reached out and tore away her knickers with one hard yank. He held the thin scraps of black lace in his clenched fist. Hermione shook now, but with anticipation.

"Such a fucking slut. Bend over."

He roughly directed her to the back wall and placed her hands on a metal bar that ran across the wall. Gripping it, she obeyed as he pushed her back downwards and spread her legs apart.

"Better. What are you? Tell me what you are."

"A slut," she replied.

"Hmmm"

"A fucking slut, Master." The ache deepened. Moisture was already pooling, she could feel it, warm, wet and sticky.

"My, my, my what a filthy mouth you have. I will have to silence it."

Hermione watched wide-eyed as he took a shining metal horse bit from a peg on the wall. She knew what was coming. She should be horrified; she should refuse to be demeaned that way. Instead she craved it more than anything.

"Open your filthy mouth."

He slid the cold metal into her mouth and secured its leather straps. Her cunt ached hard.

"There, much better," he announced as he tugged at her hair, tied tightly in a high ponytail. He yanked again. Hermione moaned into the metal that gagged her mouth.

Watching, unable to speak as he carefully removed his jacket and placed it onto the now vacant peg, then deliberately and slowly roll up each sleeve in turn, Hermione revelled in the slow anticipation. This time as he pulled back his sleeve, she did not flinch at the Dark Mark. Something about its wickedness, the illicit and forbid nature of it turned her on. He smirked.

"Now slut. You have been looking at this all morning. I know you have."

He wickedly stoked the length of the riding crop.

"Have you slut?"

It was true. Since she first saw him at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione had wondered and wanted, sought its pain and its release. She needed it now. Desperately. He yanked at the straps on the bit, forcing her head back.

"Well, have you slut? Is this what you need?"

Only able to nod her head, she agreed. She wanted and needed to feel its burn and sting.

"Of course, it is."

He moved behind her. She knew his arm was raised, poised, ready. The wait was everything, hot juices were already leaking and gathering between her legs at the thought of it; her whole body tensed. Still he made her wait, until the swishing sound alerted her it was finally coming. It was a sharp, brutal stroke. The sting and burn radiated through her cheeks. It was delicious. Before she could absorb it or prepare herself, another came, then another, just as hard as the one before. Two more in rapid succession. Hermione clamped down on the bit. Barely able to swallow, spit leaked and dripped down her chin. She didn't care. In this moment, she lived and existed only for the next glorious stroke. She lost count; her vision blurred. He paused for a second, yanking her head up.

"Stay with me. You are taking it so well. Can you take more? Can you?"

He was wild with excitement. It only made her crave it more. She nodded again feebly.

"Excellent."

He struck again and again. There was no need to see it to know her bottom was criss-crossed with thick, red, glowing welts. The sting only made her lust more. Every sensation lit the fire in her cunt and made it hurt more than the pain of the crop. Tears formed and fell down her cheek. There was a single word to stop it, she had no desire to think it and use it. Hermione sobbed through the restriction of the bit that muffled the moans and whimpers. She longed for respite and yet ached for more.

Finally, it stopped.

Hermione could hear Lucius panting and out of breath. Heat radiated from her ravaged and burning arse. Sticky wetness seeped from her soaked cunt. A solitary, long and elegant finger traced a line over her dripping slit. It was bliss; so sensitive to touch it made her whole body jolt at the lightest of contact. Two fingers worked inside her and she needed it. Hermione bucked back against his hand, urging him for more.

"There. That's what you needed. And you did take it so very, very, well, my Rabbit."

Lucius gently untied the straps and released the bit. Hermione gasped for breath.

"Look at the state of you, covered in drool. Perhaps I should leave you here with the animals where you belong."

"Please, please."

There was no effort to disguise the intense and unrelenting desperation.

"Please what?" he demanded.

"Please, Master. I need. I need…"

"What do you need?"

"Your cock."

The plea was well received. There was just about enough of a view over her shoulder to watch him untucking his shirt and see his hard cock spring free. Hermione made a sharp cry as she felt it nudging between her legs, pressing against the wetness it found there. His fingers dug into her hip as he drove it into her, filling her, stretching her, her greedy cunt opening to accommodate him. It felt so fucking good. He worked in and out of her, sliding almost all the way out until she was sure he would withdraw completely then thrusting hard and deep back in. Hermione moaned for more and Lucius gave it to her.

"Thank you, thank you, yes, oh thank you."

Barely coherent, every time he brushed against the still throbbing welts on her arse it only served to make her pleasure spike and soar and endless moans and whines escape.

"Please, I'm going to come. I can't stop. Please."

He worked in and out of her faster, relishing your needy cries.

"Yes, come for me, Rabbit. Come for me."

Hermione burst. Gushing and shaking, gripping his thick, hard cock inside her cunt, savouring every hot wave that coursed through her. Without any doubt she had never come harder. There was a disappointment that followed as she felt him slip out of her.

"On your knees," he barked.

She complied immediately, almost too eager for what she knew would come next.

"Look at that," he growled.

Hermione looked up. His still hard cock stood before her, coated in sticky juices.

"Look at the mess you made all over my cock."

She did, licking her lips.

"Clean it. At once."

She took him into her mouth able to taste her own cunt on him, It turned her on. He allowed a second or two to adjust to the thickness of him in her mouth, no more than that, then pushed in, all the way in, deep until it almost hit the back of her throat.

"Good little slut, lick it clean."

The feel of Lucius' cock, full and fat in her mouth excited her. Greedily, she sucked and licked and obeyed until something snapped within him and he gripped her hair and dragged her forcefully up and down the length of it. Eyes watering Hermione took it and took it, looking up at him, watching him slowly lose his grip until she knew the inevitable was close. It drove her on. With three final, determined hard thrusts she felt the hot salty splash of his come hit the back of her throat. It amused her to watch him try and regain control.

"Hold it. Don't you dare swallow it yet."

As always, she did as he asked.

"Show me."

As she opened her come-filled mouth, it dripped down her chin. Hermione swirled it around, savouring and revelling in it.

"Filthy. Disgusting. What a perfect slut. Now swallow it all."

Hermione took it all down, exaggerating the motion, licking her lips wantonly.

Lucius looked at her disdainfully and mopped up the rest from her face with his forefinger.

"All of it," he said as he pushed his finger into her mouth. When she was finished sucking off every last drop, he removed it with a pop sound.

"Now clean yourself up and rest. I have a very busy evening planned."

With that he rearranged his clothes and managed to look completely undisturbed, picked up his jacket and leaving without another word, leaving Hermione in a dripping puddle on the stable floor.

Thoughts? If you can still type, leave me a review and let me know you are still there!

Still thirsty? I have also updated Into the Woods, Lucius, Hermione, secluded woodland and a thunderstorm…it's all good (or a little bit bad!)

Thanks again, Vin x