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"You can't be serious," Harry exclaimed, bringing his hand to his head, astounded by the mountain of books in front of him. It was a true pile of material, books stacked up to the ceiling, completely unsorted by any system, be it Dewey decimal or otherwise. Behind him stood two other students, Daphne and Tracey, equally overwhelmed by the amount of work ahead of them.

The three sixteen-year-olds found themselves inside the Hogwarts library, facing the charming and stoic figure of Miss Irma Pince. It was a windy, chilly Saturday morning, and the trio of students and the librarian were the only people in that spacious, magical library. Their voices echoed off the high ceilings, caught somewhere by the enormous magical mirrors placed in the corners of the reading room.

"Oh yes, Mr. Potter, I most certainly can be and am serious. Your task," Miss Pince pursed her beautiful lips and cleared her throat, capturing the attention of the young and lovely Daphne and Tracey, who began flipping through pages alongside Harry, "Your task, the task for all of you, is to take these books and sort them in some order. I would suggest starting with genre, followed by the author, and then the title."

The library was an eccentric, magical space. Miss Pince, whom Harry knew had only been in this position for a few months, seemed to despise the peculiarity of it all. Posters encouraging students to read adorned the walls, along with magical portraits of famous wizards.

"Or perhaps by size?" Daphne asked. "There are many large ones... and many small ones..."

"Yes, Daphne. That's a splendid idea," the librarian replied coldly. "And then, when someone comes asking for the history of the Third Goblin Rebellion, I'll simply direct them to the massive shelf of medium-sized books and tell them to figure it out themselves."

Daphne rolled her eyes and turned away, remaining silent.

Miss Pince smiled. "Now, does anyone else have something foolish to say? No?"

Harry watched as Miss Pince's behind swayed from side to side. Her elegant figure was nicely accentuated by her sharp gray pencil skirt. She wore thin light blue heels that clicked on the library tiles as she walked. If there was one word to describe Miss Pince, it would be "imperious." Standing at five feet eight, with short, thick, dark hair and measurements of 36C-22-36, information Harry had gleaned from a few gossip sessions, she was incredibly attractive. However, Harry knew that level of attractiveness was reserved for men far above his rank. Men who could walk into a bar and feel at home, buying drinks for everyone in the place and then buying the bar itself.

It seemed she had become a librarian simply because she enjoyed order—organizing and shaping the way things worked. Harry could respect that, as he had many of the same impulses within him.

He was a sixth-year student at Hogwarts. He still had two years of schooling left and would have to decide what to do after school. Although during the career specialization choices, he had told Professor McGonagall that he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and become an Auror, now he wasn't so sure if he wanted to spend his entire life chasing pranksters and then writing pages of reports at home.

Nevertheless, he didn't have many options. Recently, however, he had started pushing his limits and cast a forbidden spell during a duel. Before he could say Quidditch, he received a detention.

So here he was, detained in the library on a Saturday. Detentions in the library, which, fortunately, gave him plenty of time to gaze at the three incredible beauties who seemed otherworldly.

There was Tracey, a diligent and beautiful brunette, the kind of straightforward girl from Slytherin who never had time for dating because she was always jumping from one extracurricular activity to another. She was here because of some mischief she pulled in the Slytherin Quidditch team's locker room. She had soft, angelic lips and big brown eyes, her hair falling effortlessly in a sexy mess down her slender shoulders and well-toned back. She ran in different circles than Harry, although they attended the same classes. Today, aside from her unbuttoned robes, Tracey wore a very liked chiffon sweater, white, with a loose pleated skirt that couldn't hide the firmness of her behind or the charming shape of her legs in modest heeled sandals. It was incredibly difficult not to stare at the exquisite line of her jaw when she picked up a book from the towering stack and examined it, flipping through the pages. He had to fight the urge to reach out and pull her close, to hold her in his arms and slide his hand down the curve of her magnificent behind.

Harry himself had very few extracurricular activities. He was a casual member of the Rune Club and occasionally attended the meetings of the Debate Club, but only when he felt like arguing with some Ravenclaws, who made up the majority there. Most often, after school, he went straight to the Gryffindor dormitories, where he worked on his essays and mainly maintained social connections within the Gryffindor Tower. He was skinny, mostly due to forgetting to eat, and he wore glasses just like his father. The heavy wire frames were perhaps a symbol of the Potter lineage, especially combined with the tangle of dark hair.

He approached the enormous pile of books, prodding it hesitantly.

"How should we do it?" he asked. "Should we create some sort of assembly line?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Daphne sneered. "If we all bent over to work with you?"

To a large extent, as her words suggested, Daphne had quite a lofty opinion of herself. Harry would be lying if he said it was undeserved. Working in such close proximity to her (as well as Tracey and Miss Pince), he would indeed be lying if he said he hadn't already planned at least five different fantasies about jerking off in the late afternoon when he returned to his dormitory.

She was easily the most stunning woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. Harry was a connoisseur of looking at women - he collected photos from various issues of PlayWitch, keeping them in a special album that he personally secured with a simple combination of runes, arranging the babes according to how hot they were.

Daphne blew them all away, even the ones on the front pages. If there ever was an image that appeared in his mind while he stroked his thick cock, needing to feel that hot stream of sticky life-giving fluid flowing out of his body, then she was everything he could focus on, even with other images right in front of him in the album. He couldn't look away or even think. Her beauty was mesmerizing.

She was tall - almost his height, and Harry was slightly over six feet. Her legs were long and athletic, her torso a hot collection of tight muscles and perfectly sculpted curves. She had the most incredible, bouncy, perfect 36DD breasts he had ever seen, which she gladly showcased in tiny tops like the one she wore today. Tiny black shorts seemed to be painted onto her perfect ass, and she wore ankle-high boots with cigar-sized sexy heels. She didn't even attempt to wear robes today that would obscure her perfect silhouette.

But the true magic of Daphne lay in her face. She was divine. He really didn't have any other word for it. It physically hurt him every time he had to tear his gaze away from her. She had deep blue eyes, a perfectly shaped nose, juicy lips, high cheekbones, and an elegantly curved jawline that inspired long nights filled with the need to bite her where her jaw met her neck. Her hair was thick and blonde, flowing just above the top of her bubbly ass.

Her face was astonishing to him in the sense that it could simultaneously be sultry, sweet, and mockingly arrogant. And that's exactly how she looked now, gazing provocatively at him, waiting for a response.

"That's all I meant," he finally said to her, "that maybe it would be good to work together. It would be faster, and we could all return to our rooms a bit earlier."

"That's not a bad idea," Tracey said, putting down the book in her hands and nodding. "I mean, at least we can agree on what piles to create. Next to those plants could be everything from 'A' to 'E,' and over there at that table," she pointed to the other side, "it could be 'F' to 'J'."

Harry nodded in agreement with her. "That's a great plan. And next to those railings, 'K' to 'P'."

The two of them continued on, smiling and nodding their heads. It was easy to get along with Tracey, easy to talk to her. Clearly, she thought she was better than Harry, at least socially, but she had no problem working with someone who could engage with her.

Meanwhile, Daphne spent her time scribbling something with a pencil in a black notebook. She was a cheerleader, through and through. She was the captain of the Slytherin cheerleading squad, although she rarely, if ever, attended practices or cheered at matches. Most of the time during the games, she sat on her commentator boyfriend's lap, causing him to stutter in his commentary ever since they became an item.

Harry suspected she was only here because she acted as a lookout for her only friend, Tracey, and even if they hadn't caught her in the act, they had to assume they planned everything together.

He and Tracey began organizing the books according to their discussed plan. He took six or seven at a time and then handed them off to different piles. Tracey did the same. Daphne, if she ever stopped writing in the notebook, which was probably charmed with a Protean Charm, and giggling at whatever she had in there, casually approached the largest stack, picked up a book, held it for a moment, nodded, and then tossed it back. As if it wasn't good enough or interesting enough to be sorted. Then she bent over, showcasing her perfect ass, and grabbed another one.

He watched her, unable to truly restrain himself. It felt like she knew he was watching. His cock grew hard, immediately, just from seeing her bend over like that, and then retract. God, her ass, her body, it was fucking perfect! It was as if she was created solely to tease him!

She turned around, only for a moment, as she bent down to grab another book. She flashed him a little wink, a small smile. To let him know she was in on the game - that she was having fun. Finally, she picked up the book and made her way towards him, tossing it onto the stack behind him - the wrong stack, as he noticed.

"Never, ever gonna happen, loser," she said softly, a smug smile adorning her perfect face.

His face turned bright red. He saw Tracey had stopped, observing the scene.

Ugh. He needed to escape for a moment. Daphne giggled as he rushed off to the bathroom. She probably thought he was going in there to jerk off to her. He wished he could say she was wrong.

Frustrated, he entered a stall in the restroom and opened his bag. Nothing improved his mood like watching porn where a gorgeous babe like Daphne acted superior towards him. He didn't know why, but anger and disapproval from women made him want to fuck them even more. Perhaps that's why so many women in porn magazines looked pissed off. The girls who smiled were obviously cute, just as the women who were happy. He enjoyed that transformation, the shift from disdainful and angry to joyful and submissive.

That's where his budding power fetish came from. He read stories in magazines available only on Knockturn Alley, ones that featured various photos showing amazing women with eyes devoid of will or beams of magic hitting their heads, and so on.

All that visual stuff really worked for him. Lately, through mail order, he managed to acquire an ancient book about mind magic directed at women. He mainly bought it because of the vivid and precise moving illustrations, as well as the texts talking about women's service to men. All enchanted women, at all times, prepared to serve their masters. Running his hand along his hardened shaft, he pulled out a few photos - women bending over, their eyes glazed with yellow, pink, or purple. He flipped through them one by one, slipping them between the pages of his latest acquisition, stroking his cock all the while.

For a moment, he imagined Daphne with glazed eyes, an incredibly submissive expression. Tracey too. Both on their knees... Miss Pince walking in, wondering what was happening... and just a few seconds later, she kneels just like them...

His cock was instantly fully erect. He was tempted to just say "fuck it" and masturbate, risking the girls catching a whiff of him.

Then, the pages of the book shimmered with golden light. He had forgotten he even had it in his free hand. He looked down and saw that the pages were now covered in glowing golden letters, obscuring even the illustrations of the women that were previously there:

"Congratulations! You have been deemed worthy and received the Master's Token. To fully activate it, you need..." The next symbols were a sequence of runes that kept changing.

Harry stared at the message for a few seconds, but he concluded that the previous owner of the manuscript must have been a prankster, trying to trick the book's new owner. So he closed the book and waited in the bathroom, casually stroking his cock and imagining Daphne and Tracey passionately obeying his command.

He had almost forgotten about the book when he noticed its pages glowing again, but this time in red. Text appeared:

"You are the Master. A drop of blood will suffice for confirmation."

James had warned him many times that his blood could be used for nefarious purposes, but what could a book do? Nothing.

He reached into his bag, searching for his potions class tools. There, he had his silver knife. The blade was magically sharp and sterile to avoid damaging the ingredients being chopped.

Gently, he pricked the inside of his palm and waited for a droplet of blood to form. It lazily gathered on his skin and finally dripped onto the open pages of the book.

The book burst into a bright, almost furious light, blinding Harry to the point where it seemed like the bathroom lights had gone out, as if all the candle flames illuminating the room had been sucked away, leaving the book as the sole source of light for a few seconds. The flickering slowly vanished, and the candles in the bathroom lit up again. Then a message appeared: "The Master is immune to control. The Master can now control at will."

He didn't understand. He looked at the book - a bookmark was hanging between the pages, permanently attached to the book. On the surface of the bookmark, which seemed to be made of dragon skin or some other large reptile, various runes coiled in a spiral, softly glowing and pulsating. They seemed to tug at something distant in his mind... but it wasn't a strong tug. Was this... was this the immunity? Would it have done something different if he wasn't immune?

Still stumbling, he left the bathroom and walked straight into Miss Pince. The book slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

"You're here," she said, brushing off dust and shaking her head. "Taking a break while the women do all the real work? What's the deal? Isn't book arranging crude enough for your taste?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just... had to use the bathroom."

He picked up the book, the runes still swirling wildly on the protruding bookmark. He didn't know what to do with them.

"Please. I know what men do in the bathroom. Give me that book."

She reached out her hand. It was delicate and perfectly manicured. He could see down the exquisitely tailored edges of her blouse, straight into her ample cleavage. She was so damn magnificent.

"Hand it over," she said again, clearly noticing where his gaze had wandered.

Panic ran through Harry. "Oh, look. I'm sorry... I'll put it back in its place, okay? I'll put this book away right now."

She snatched the book from his hands. "I said, give it to me. What could possibly be needed in it now that it's... that it's... so... sooo... sooo00 important..."

Her words trailed off. Her eyes widened. Her posture relaxed, her arms retracted. And...

Holy shit. No way. Her eyes...

He couldn't believe it. Her eyes actually had constantly shifting runes in them. Not just a reflection from the book. No, her entire irises and pupils had become runes!

His cock quickly hardened.

"Miss... Pince?"

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Master?"

Holy shit!

He had to test this somehow.

"Irma."

"Yes, Master?"

She would never let him address her like this, never. He reached forward and touched her breasts through her tight suit. She moaned in orgasmic pleasure.

No way. There's no fucking way!

She licked her lips, staring at him with her runic eyes.

"Thank you very much, Master. Please, touch me more?"

"Fuck," Harry replied. "Fine."

He slid his hand up and down her tits, then onto her neck. She gasped, clearly orgasming just from him holding her by the throat, and not even tightly. He liked the look of his hand in that place. It looked good. Right. Right to hold his enchanted slave by the throat and let her know that her life was in his hands. His cock, which had never really been satisfied from his bathroom attention, strained to free itself from his pants.

Someone could come in at any moment. He withdrew his hand.

"Take me to your office, Irma." "Yes, Master."

She sounded like she loved the thought of having him all to herself, in private, as a dream come true. She took his hand, and he followed her beautiful, seductive sway of her hips to her office.

Everything in her office was meticulously organized. The massive, dark wooden desk, which sat at the center of the room, was always immaculately clean. On its surface lay a few essential tools of her trade: a quill that seemed to come alive as she wrote letters, ancient parchment scrolls that appeared to unfurl on their own, and a series of books she knew inside out.

The office was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves, bending under the weight of ancient volumes on wizardry, catalogs, and indexes. Each book had its place, and the order was maintained with military precision. The air was filled with the scent of parchment and old wood, giving the space an incredibly cozy and nostalgic character.

The light flowing from the alabaster ceiling was gentle, creating a warm, white aura that illuminated every corner of the office. The walls, though kept in shades of white, seemed to pulsate with subtle magic, adding warmth and depth to this modest room.

While initially appearing to be maintained in a Spartan style, closer inspection revealed that every item had its place and purpose. There was no room for unnecessary decorations or knick-knacks—this place was remarkable in its simplicity, and its elegance derived from functionality and order.

She leaned against the desk, undoing a few buttons.

So, she didn't need his permission for every action. That was good. She had some semblance of her own mind, solely dedicated to exciting him.

He needed to find out more about this. Learn about the parameters, somehow. He walked past her, between her legs. She casually wrapped one long calf around the back of his knee. He played with the fabric of her blouse, pulling it out from under her skirt. "To have... to have..." it felt silly saying it. Oh well. "...have you been enchanted, Irma?"

"Of course, Master. You have enchanted me. For... for millennia." She spoke the word with delight, as if it were precisely the right amount of time for her former identity to be erased from existence. "Millennia and millennia of pleasure. Only from you. You are so, oh, good to me, Master. Thank you."

"Milenia? The runes must have somehow slowed down her sense of time, providing immense pleasure in a nanometer of timeline."

"This is really, really fucking hot, Irma."

"Yes, Master," she nodded. "I know."

"You're fucking hot too."

She nodded again. "Yes, Master. I know. I'll be a good slave for you to possess, if you enjoy showing off. I can always do it so well."

Harry felt his throbbing cock jump again. "Yes," he said, gripping her hips, gazing at her enchanted face. "You'll wear tiny slutty dresses. High heels. Sexy shoes."

"Yes. Yes. Yes. All of that. And everything else I know you like."

Good God, this was a dream come true! He stepped forward, lifting one of her nipples.

"You'll do anything I tell you, right?" Her magnificent face seemed almost offended, as if accusing her of disobedience. "Of course, Master."

He stepped forward, running his hand through her short, dense dark hair. "Then suck me. Suck me like a good slave."

Her flash of irritation dissolved into an ecstatic smile. "Of course, Master."

With pleasure, she slid off the desk, then unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to his ankles. Until her tongue touched his cock, he thought it might be some kind of dream. That he was still in the bathroom, stroking his imaginary cock wildly.

Then Irma's perfectly shaped tongue moved over the head of his fully erect cock. Her wet tongue slid up and down the shaft, leading to a luxurious kiss.

Oh God. Her tongue circled the head of his cock. He loved it.

"Hoooo oooh hoooly fuck," Harry moaned. She was good at it. He loved it.

With immense satisfaction, Irma hummed as her lips completely enveloped his cock, his long, thick, hard flesh quickly hitting the back of her tight throat. He placed his hands on her short hair and pulled her towards his crotch, eliciting a needy moan from her. His big balls smacked against her chin, her throat, and he pressed her tighter against his crotch.

His enchanted slave, his perfect, fucking, enchanted slave! He couldn't believe it. He was now fucking her throat just as he had always dreamed of doing with a slave, his full length sinking deeper. Looking into her eyes, he saw the runes beginning to dissipate. For a moment, he worried, easing up on the throat grip. What if... what if it was all just temporary? The message said the book needed recharging after all.

But Irma's eyes didn't lose their shade of devotion. They normalized back to their naturally juicy caramel color, and she took it upon herself to grab his cheeks and fuck her own throat with his cock, needing to feel completely dominated by him.

It all started to feel hyperreal for him. He was receiving his first blowjob in his life! Not only that, he was being serviced by none other than Irma Pince, the hottest librarian in the world! It couldn't possibly be true!

It was more than he could handle. Her willingness! Her heat! Her hot, enchanted mind now so absorbed in everything related to him!

He climaxed, thrusting forward into her mouth, his hot load streaming down her throat. It seemed like she climaxed too—as if she couldn't resist tasting Mason's load—her body vibrating and purring with pleasure as she sucked every last drop of his hot cum.

His cock slipped out of her mouth, and he sprayed a little more onto her beautiful lips. He sighed, feeling rather enamored as she licked them clean. Then, taking a deep breath, she gazed at him with complete adoration.

"Should I suck you again, Master? Your ability to produce cum is legendary. I know it's true." Harry could only nod in response. "Yes, fuck, yes. Do it again. Every last bit."

"With pleasure, Master. You're so kind to this slave, allowing me to taste you once more."

Oh, it was so hot. Not just her readiness, but her absolute joy in being his total servant. He loved that she went above and beyond to say how each little request was a dream come true for her.

He also loved everything she started doing with her tongue on his member. It had been semi-hard in the moments after his orgasm, but it didn't last long with her incredible tongue and mouth working their magic.

Someone knocked on the door. Harry turned and looked, his mind so disoriented that he didn't even think to be surprised.

The door had been open all this time. How did he not notice? Oh God... And standing behind the door was...

Daphne.

Oh shit. Daphne had been watching the whole scene. She smiled with a mix of amusement and severity. He saw her eyes simmering with this golden opportunity for... what? Humiliation? Blackmail?

"Irma..."

She whimpered.

"Irma, Daphne is watching. You have to stop." With a protesting whimper, she pulled herself off his cock, breathing heavily. She picked up his book from the desk, standing there for a moment, trying to turn it on. With a sigh, she dropped her hands to her sides and looked at him with regret.

"The book, Sir, is out of energy. Otherwise, I would have enslaved it for you."

Irma wanted to enslave even more women for him? Holy fuck. It made his naked cock twitch hard—especially at the sight of Daphne. The teenage beauty smiled and rolled her eyes, gesturing with her finger for them to step outside.

Irma's office had two doors. She pointed to the ones at the back. "Should I go out that way, Sir, and do what I can to help?" "Yes," he said, nodding. "Yes, that would be the perfect solution."

Daphne wasn't looking anymore. He kissed the top of Irma's head. "Good girl. Good slave." Irma moaned with orgasm, her jaw working up and down as she trembled with ecstasy. "T-thank you, Master. Thank you."

A small tear appeared in one of her eyes. A tear of joy, Harry was certain—there was no way to look at Irma and think she was anything but ecstatically lucky.

Harry pulled up his pants and began to step outside to talk to Daphne. Normally, he would be terrified. But thanks to Irma and his newfound power, he felt some relief from the stress that meeting the overwhelmingly gorgeous cheerleading queen would have caused.

She sat on the railing, with her sexy legs crossed, twirling one long, yardstick-straight strand of perfectly shiny black hair. Fuck, he thought. She stops hearts. He just got a blowjob from disgustingly beautiful Irma, and Daphne's beauty had the power to practically erase any thoughts he would ever have about Irma.

Seeing him approach, she wagged her finger. "Youuuu are in so. Much. Trouble!"

"Please, Daphne..."

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one. Just you. Please, listen..." She smiled, already familiar with this conversation. "You want me to stay quiet." "Yes."

Fuck, yes. How would he explain it? How would Irma explain it? No, seriously—how would Irma explain it? He would have to break up with her and pretend it was all a rumor. Otherwise, she would probably start talking about how wonderful it was to be a sexual slave. While Harry and Irma were on the same page about that, it didn't mean anyone else would find it anywhere near okay.

"I have to admit," Daphne said, leaning back on the railing. "I'm impressed. I mean, she's a total dish. Not as hot as me," she giggled, "but still, like, really hot. Way out of your league hot. How did you manage to pull her?"

"Don't worry about it."

She furrowed her brow. "Well, okay then. Well, if you want my silence, you'll have to pay for it."

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Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 are already on Pa tr eon

Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)