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Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)
"Yes, my king," she whispered as he inserted his already hard cock straight into her mouth and began thrusting in and out. He knew she wanted to get pregnant - he knew she desperately wanted his bare cock to fill her fertile body. But he was too occupied fucking her mouth at the moment to do that. He started off slowly, allowing her to get wet. Then he began picking up the pace. Tracey was already an expert at taking his cock this way - he had fucked her face many times before. Her pillowy breasts were perfect cushions for his ass.
"Daphne," he moaned as he fucked Tracey's face. "Daphnee... Daphnee..."
Every time he uttered her name, Tracey came, as instructed. He couldn't hold back, fucking her harder and harder. He fucked her mouth as if it were a pussy, as if it were Daphne's hot pussy, pushing his thick, hard cock deeper and deeper into Tracey's throat...
With a sharp exhale, he came down the bedazzled brunette's throat, convulsing with each hot load leaving his body.
"Daphne," he rasped with each thrust, trembling with pleasure as Tracey climaxed beneath him. "Daphne. Daphne. Daphne."
Tracey's eyes seemed even more glazed over than usual after experiencing so many consecutive orgasms. He withdrew his cock from her mouth and whispered in her ear, "Good girl. Good slave."
She climaxed one final time, holding onto him tightly, needing his closeness. Feeling somewhat generous, Harry allowed it for a moment. His wet cock left long streaks of jizz along her chin and neck.
Outside the room, he heard voices in the corridor. It was some students, and could he hear shouting and knocking? Yes, it was Ron calling him from behind the door. "Oh, fuck," he said, looking down at Tracey. "Just... uh, get dressed and calm down, okay?"
"Yes, my King."
Tracey pulled herself up, her panties obviously soaked from the number of orgasms he had given her. His room was essentially soundproof, and now he could only be thankful that when he became the Quidditch captain and got a room just like the prefects, he installed a few shields, including soundproofing. So he wasn't too worried that his friends would find out he brought Tracey. Or Irma, for that matter. He forgot about that. The three of them had been fucking non-stop until seven or eight in the morning.
Wow.
"Did... did Narcissa also join them?"
She did. She did, until she remembered that she had to go back home to her husband. She promised that she would never, ever fuck him again. Harry made her promise that. Irma made her promise that she would have a really loud orgasm every time she took a shower, just so her idiot husband would know he wasn't good enough. Harry really fucked Irma hard for coming up with that idea - and that's probably why it happened.
He glanced at the clock on the wall - damn. It was already half-past five in the evening. When did it get so late? Did he sleep through the whole day?
His memory of the previous night - filled with sneaking around under the Invisibility Cloak and engaging in illicit sex with beautiful women - wasn't too clear.
He threw on a pair of loose gray shorts and a tight white shirt, throwing a robe over it. All the fucking he had been doing lately, combined with his constant forgetfulness to eat anything, was leaving him quite drained.
He picked up his book, where Tracey had left it, and saw that she still needed more time to regain her energy.
Oh well. After Narcissa joined the ranks, it was no surprise, though thankfully Narcissa easily succumbed to the power of the book as she wanted to escape her marriage contract, but the power of the book still had to overcome the blood-bound agreement.
He went down to the Great Hall for dinner just in time to briefly meet up with Hermione and Ron. However, they were preoccupied with each other and headed off to spend some time alone, even before curfew. As Harry made his way back to his quarters, right next to the door, he noticed the beautiful, snobbish eighteen-year-old charms intern Fleur Delacour - and Daphne.
Harry suddenly regretted not taking a little more time to consider what he was wearing. He had no clue that Daphne knew Fleur more closely.
The girl of his dreams stood there, and the tool that would allow him to enslave her would take at least half a day to work.
Fuck...
It might have been easier if Daphne wasn't clearly dressed for a night out on the town. But she definitely was. She was wearing a tiny red miniskirt that clung tightly to her stunning curves. A large leather belt with a funny silver buckle hung loosely around her waist, supported entirely by the width of her sexy hips, and everything was barely covered by a Slytherin robe just for the sake of appearances.
Her perfect cleavage was on display for admiration, her breasts pushed up and lifted by a barely visible black push-up bra. Her long, light hair cascaded into beautiful, shiny waves down her back, barely touching the peak of her bubble butt, a length that only a Hogwarts beauty queen could achieve.
The most enticing thing of all were her shoes. Knee-high, skimpy leather boots wrapped around her perfect legs, adorned with sexy four-inch heels. Harry had a slight fetish for heels and shoes, and he had actually seen such boots
on a poster somewhere. He had even jerked off before, imagining that the model in the picture was Daphne. Of course,
Daphne completely outshone that girl with her appearance. Harry saw her and nearly fell down the stairs.
"Well, don't just stand there gawking, you wanker," Daphne said, clearly pleased with herself as she stopped next to the portrait hiding his room. "Invite us in and show us around."
"Oh... ah... right," he said, regretting that he was wearing jeans or anything at all that could hide the boner that his cock desperately wanted to become. "Come in. Welcome. To... uh. My humble abode."
Daphne chuckled. "Humble" was the key word. What a hovel. No wonder you're dressed like a hermit."
He watched as Fleur tried to stifle her laughter. Well, at least she was trying to act like a sane person.
He supposed that Daphne didn't really have to act sane, considering how insanely beautiful she was. For some reason, the fact that she knew it and enjoyed rubbing it in everyone's face, how much better she was than others, made him desire her even more.
Good fucking God, he wanted to see her on her knees. Begging for his seed. Begging to be impregnated by him. Fleur, on the other hand, was generally a somewhat cold person, as far as Harry could tell. Her boyfriend Bill Weasley, for the first two weeks of their relationship, couldn't stop bragging about what a catch he had made. Since then, Harry had only heard about him from Ron, lamenting the fact that he was dating the hottest and most frigid cunt on Earth. She wouldn't even allow his hands to touch her breasts over her shirt.
If it weren't for the most positively wonderful woman in the universe standing next to her, according to Harry, Fleur would probably shrivel quite a bit under his gaze and admiration. She had long light hair and shiny blue-brown eyes, and her face reminded Harry of many stars he had seen in movies, glimpsed at the Dursleys while cleaning.
Today she was wearing tiny denim shorts and a thin white top pulled up above her navel. Somehow, she wore it innocently - as if she had no idea how flexible and long her legs were, or how incredibly well-built her torso was.
He was fairly certain that Daphne was involved with Fleur, aside from the fact that she was a cheerleader - mainly because Fleur posed a low level of threat compared to her. She was attractive, that was clear, but she didn't work at being sultry or sexy, as being a Veela tormented her perception of her own body, which made Daphne all the more attractive in comparison.
Harry realized that it would be an obsessive, excessive analysis of his choice of companion. However, with Daphne, he felt that he was barely scratching the surface. There were probably even more reasons why she chose Fleur, who worked at the school.
The need to take Daphne was almost tangible at that moment. The girl of his dreams - quite literally - right in front of him. But he couldn't, not without Fleur noticing.
Harry struggled to come up with something to say, to hide the fact that he had spent the last few seconds openly staring at these two beauties in his home.
"I'm just passing through, helping Fleur learn the secrets of Hogwarts rooms," Daphne pointed to her companion.
"Oh." He looked at Fleur. It was almost painful to tear his gaze away from the embodiment of his dreams, Daphne. "My Quidditch captain dormitories are simple, a small bedroom, a room where I can entertain someone, and a small kitchen so I don't have to go to the Hogwarts for coffee or tea. Next to the bedroom, I have a basic shower so I don't smell after training."
"Sounds cool," Fleur chirped, "In that case, I'll be here with you, reviewing the material together."
"Reviewing the material?" Harry asked, not aware that he had any poor grades in Charms.
"Together with the professor, we've decided that I'll assist with exam reviews."
"Let me treat you and make some coffee before we start discussing our review plan," she replied, then headed to the other part of Harry's dormitory.
And now he was alone with Daphne. His heart was pounding in his chest.
"Do you have my money?" "Your money?"
"The money you owe me for not revealing you and Madame Pince. Give it up, you fool."
With just a look at her, in that way, he would probably give up the savings of his life. Her need was clearly visible on her face. It seemed she enjoyed seeing it.
"Just a second," he said, then disappeared into his room. Tracey was nowhere to be found. That was... strange. He found the cash he needed from what Irma had left him the previous night - over two hundred gold coins.
He stepped out of the room, and Daphne was right there. He handed her the money.
She quickly counted it - a practiced motion. "Is this all?"
"It's several times more than I paid you last time, Daphne."
"I know... but it's still quite a paltry sum. I don't need to explain to you how much I deserve, right, darling?" She addressed him like a child. Such endearment... and such a turn.
"No, Daphne. You're right. I... I apologize."
"You should be sorry. So, raise the stakes." She sniffed. "I can smell sex. Were you just jerking off or something?"
He shrugged. "Or something."
"Did you masturbate before we got here? Is that why you're dressed like this in the evening?" "Well..." he shrugged.
She smiled, sliding her hand down her neck to her perfect cleavage. There, she had a shiny red ruby pendant in the shape of a rose, the chain dangling over the amazing slopes of her breasts.
"Have you been thinking about me, Harry? Or were you just imagining me in an outfit like this?"
His nod was weak. God, why did it turn him on so much that she was exposing his own weakness to him? And she owned it. She owned him, completely. It was intoxicating.
She slid her hand down to his thigh, slowly moving it up.
"You're not bad-looking, you know," she said with a smile. "Kind of cute, actually." She leaned in, whispering in his ear. "I wouldn't mind if you sent me a message on the notepad when you come, thinking about me, Harry. Letting me know how much you're in love with me. You are in love with me, right, darling?" Saying that, she pulled out a notepad from her bag, with a silver HP embossed on the cover.