"You wretched red-haired freak did your mother never teach you to shut up?!" You hurl your shoe at him. Ron looks at you pleadingly. "N-N-No! I have seven siblings, and I've always had to be heard by being the loudest. If not… I'd have been eaten up by the twins. They're like sh-sharks."
"Oh, you poor thing!" You roll your eyes. You finally understood what this creature was, a deadbeat; he would be nothing if he wasn't educated. Disgusting truly, if he couldn't survive among his own stock, how would he ever do well in wizarding society?
"W-well, master, you can teach me your ways! First, you saved my frog… then you saved me; I'll do anything! I'm indebted to you!" He suddenly grabs your discarded shoe, clutching onto it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He was pathetic; it disgusted you. However, it did put the most brilliant idea into your head!
You've been frustrated ever since you got with Harry; all he cares for is your wellbeing and watching you eat. And the added stress from Snape and Draco judging your every move was really starting to get to you. The regular romp with Hagrid was out of the picture with him dealing with his unicorn situation, and… truth be told, you just really needed some bussy, BAD.
Looking around you, it's apparent Harry doesn't care about what's going on, still lost in his mind, watching you fill yourself on repeat. With Draco having gone to flirt with some student five years his senior and Hermione occupied studying while enjoying her salad, this was the perfect time to strike.
"Come here, sheep," you snap and tug on his scarf. You hear Hermione gasp; she must be in awe of your dominance. He falls to the ground, unable to stand for himself. You have no need to hide your glee at the resulting slap coming from his fall. You hope it stung. "C'mon, squirm like the livestock you are." You demand.
Ron sniffles in acknowledgment and begins to follow you. "Perfect," you snicker and kick open a small janitor's closet where elves would work within. From below, you can hear Ron ask meekly. "Won't we get caught y/n?" You tug on his scarf tighter, one more good pull, and the boy won't be able to breathe. "Sheep, don't talk, dumbass."
Teary-eyed, the boy silently obeys. Then, with the unicorn beef wellington from earlier pulled from your pocket, you thrust it into the shoe he was carrying. "Eat up, pussyboy! If you don't, you'll be thin and weak. How will you defeat the evils of the world if you don't?!" You spit on him. Ron is sobbing. "I-I-I can't eat unicorn. I mustn't! Mother taught me to be a good little boy, wa-waah-wahhhhh. " Crying again? So disappointing. Your boot strikes strong into the boy's shoulder, toppling him over; at least he's shut up.
"Fine, fine, have it your way. I'll give you a different meal instead." You lift up your Hogwartian cloak and frock, revealing innocent white and green frog-themed panties; the white had been soaked through, teeming with sticky discharge. "I wore these just for you, carrot top. Taste me instead."
You sit on a crate and spread your legs. "Any time now."
Ron laid there for a while, conflict running through his face, though it eventually crawls upwards between your legs, lifting his repulsive spindly neck up to reach your core.
He began slowly, his short, panicked breaths tickling your hood. Your fleshy pink pit was being teased more than anything. He was terrible, and you realize it must have been his first time as he was obviously a poor, disgusting virgin. It was evident you would need to take control if you wanted any pleasure; you laugh at him, though you could appreciate the way he attempted to attend to every nook and cranny.
Roughly grabbing his red ruff, you decide he would be best if he learned from experience. His mouth, it turns out, is much more accommodating once it's sealed.
"Good boy, you could be good at this one day. Maybe," you whisper. Ron becomes visibly overjoyed and continues his tireless work towards your climax. It would undoubtedly approach if this continued; however, you refused to show weakness. Instead, you stop him ere he can continue further by slamming his weak-willed body toward the wall. It was exhilarating; you could do anything with this boy; he was yours to use.
"You thought that would be it?"
With a touch of ancient Malfoy magic and thanks to some quick reading you did during Transfiguration class, you are able to manage the manifestation of a grand growth at your groin! Monstrous in length and frightening in appearance, it would put even a man such as hagrid to shame and to submission. You had been hoping to use it on a more impressive partner, however testing it on this limp being of a man wouldn't hurt, you at least.
It certainly could use some greasing; you decide to grab him, his maw stretches around the girth. His wretching is quite unsightly as you make him throat the tip for lubrication; fear was evident in his eyes. Fine, he could enjoy this one mercy, you decide to flip him over onto his stomach.
"There, there, I can be nice too, you're gonna love this." you rub his pale, freckled ass. Then you slap it so it would sting red; the boy could certainly use some color. "Waaaaaaaagghhh!" He moaned. You did it again. And again. And again. While this was wonderful, you eventually move on to the true prize. Finally, you insert the member. His body refused to give, but you make it work, rubbing his gates until they're forced to give in. Ron attempted to scream, but you saw it coming, you have him down to a peg (heh) you gag him up with your matching frog socks, it made you pity him, almost. "SHHHH!"
Slowly and surely, you begin to pound away, increasing your momentum with every thrust. You made sure each stroke contributed to his pain and your pleasure. You smirk and pause. Nevertheless, Ron began to quiver. Who knows what was going on in the poor boy's mind? To humiliate him even more, you decide to lightly caress his cock. This, of course, prompted him to moan quite loudly against the frog in his mouth. It disgusted you; you always loved those socks. Suddenly, you hear people strolling by the shabby room you two were holed up in. The footsteps seemed to settle in front of the door. A fantastic opportunity to torment the toad-freak. "Let me hear a baa, c'mon," you sneer, menace entering your low voice. "For Master."
From behind the gag, you can hear the faint sounds of his attempted bleats. Soon, you begin to get bored. Finally, you let go of his inflamed knob. "Finish this Weasley, cream yourself, cum for me," You demanded. He looked so pitiful sitting there with his asshole all red, tightly encased around your length; it was time this charade came to a close.
Ron hesitated and then began frantically stroking himself in his frenzied rush to come faster. "Stop!" You yank his arms back into a vice similar to that of an arrestee; if he couldn't control himself, you would lend him a hand. "Open wide, here comes Bishop!" You propel the strapon deeply into his passage like a missile in an attempt to cause discomfort. His sweaty hands squirm in your hold; pain and desperation are evident. "Now try again. No hands." Slowly, obediently, he rides up and down.
His breathing quickens, and he slows his rhythm. You know the warning signs and prepare yourself, shoving as deep as you can as to hike his crotch into the air; there was no doubt about where he would be shooting. He erupts in a torrential blast of seed. His semen being blasted across his robes, with even a trace stretching to the bottom of his boyish chin. "Aww, poor Ron! Look at the mess you made. How will you go back to your Common room looking like this?" You tease the pitiful ginger. He whimpered and fidgeted for his wand. "S-Scourgify!" He stammered out. The stains came out miraculously.
Satisfied, you pull up your clothes, clean off your cock, and leave the boy to regather his wit, the little he had.