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This is epilog

"How is my little beloved doing?" Harry bit Daphne's arms as she was washing dishes. It was her night for dishes. She was happy to do them. Clean dishes made their tiny shared home on the top floor even better. They moved in together just a few days after they graduated from Hogwarts over half a year ago. He was now doing an internship at the Ministry, and she worked full-time as a secretary, basically supporting him. She thought it was wonderful that she could help him like that. He promised her that when he finished school, it would be her turn, and it was really generous of him.

Girls should be accommodating.

But as he whispered to her, his hands wrapped around her waist, she felt a reluctance to play this role-play thing at that exact moment.

"Darling, I just... don't want to do this role-play thing tonight. Is that okay? I just want to make special, hot, sexy love to you later when I'm done with this... you know, like we used to."

She tilted her head toward him, but he backed away. She could feel the disappointment emanating from him.

Lately, Harry had been asking her to call him "Sir" when they were fooling around.

Daphne liked it - it was a playful way to spice up their dirty talks. She would say things like, "Fuck me, Master" or "Your slave needs your mighty cock, Sir." And he would fuck her harder.

But it wasn't her thing all the time. Lately, it seemed like it was Harry's thing. The whole slave for her, the whole master for him, all the time. She missed the lovemaking sessions they had at the beginning of their relationship when he would gaze into her eyes and enumerate all the happy, cute, wonderful things he loved about her.

She was always ecstatic that she could go to bed with him. Fucking her man when he was so amazing and beautiful, and she loved no one else better? It was transcendental.

Maybe he could be a little better in bed or a little bigger, but Daphne was fine without those things. Making love to her wonderful boyfriend was the best thing in the world. She would do it however he wanted. But... if she could influence what he wanted, if she could maybe suggest another way to handle things... wouldn't that be good on her part? To be open and honest about what would make her happy?

"I'm going to read for class," he said, sulking. She sighed. Her man was so complicated. She would have to work harder to know what he wanted. Being a great girlfriend was all Daphne wanted, and she could only ever be Harry's girlfriend. When she finally finished washing the dishes, Harry walked back into the tiny kitchen, holding a crystal with runes that he took as a memento, as he said, of her declarations of love for him. She thought it was sweet back then. But lately...

"That thing again? Give it a rest, Harry," she said, smiling and shaking her head.

Every now and then, he would take it out and show it to her, trying to get her to... something. He would ask her how it made her feel - her answer was always great. Being around Harry made her feel simply marvelous. But he seemed disappointed with her response in every way.

"No, I've been thinking about it a lot. This time... this time I want you to try something for me, okay?"

She would be happy to try anything once for him. That's how they ended up doing anal - something she wouldn't admit she ever liked, although she loved that Harry loved it. Afterward, of course, she sweetly asked not to do it again, and he agreed. He was wonderful that way.

"This time, I want you to aim it at the mirror and press that rune," he pointed to his side. She took it in her hand. "This rune?"

He flinched to the side, ducking his head. "Whoa. Yeah. That one."

She giggled. "What do you think will happen?"

"Just... just try it and see, okay?"

She shrugged. Of course, she would try it. She was his girl. She would always be his girl unless he mustered the courage to propose - and then she would happily be his wife.

Standing in front of the mirror, Daphne took a breath, quite pleased with what she saw. She was wearing a joyful yellow dress, skimpy and sexy, showing off her magnificent breasts. She loved being so pretty, just for Harry.

He closed the door behind her.

"What's this for?" she called out.

"Just trust me," his voice came through the door. "Okayyyy..."

She held the crystal, aimed it at her reflection in the mirror, and pressed the rune. And then her world exploded into blissful, mindless ecstasy.

Daphne FELT herself returning to the web, combing her hair in front of the mirror. It was shiny and sexy, just as Harry deserved for his girl. She sighed. She was really tired of that label - girl.

It was so pedestrian and dull to just be her beloved's girl. He deserved something more, right? He deserved something sexier. Something incredibly erotic.

I should really be Harry's fuckslave, she thought. Yes. A fuckslave.

Girls kissed, fucked, and made love. But slaves served. Slaves did whatever their master commanded. Slaves could get pregnant, she realized distantly, her hand slipping into her naked, wet pussy.

She was naked in front of the mirror, she realized. Completely naked, her pussy dripping with hot moisture, as if she had been coming for the past thirty minutes straight. And yet, despite that, she still wanted more sex. She wanted Harry to fuck her and call her his fuckslave, she wanted to call him Master and wanted him to be her Master.

That thought clung to her mind like molasses. There was nothing in the world that made more sense. In fact, if she were his slave, it would mean she could just suck his cock non-stop. He could just sit there reading books or drinking tea or doing any other really important manly things he did all day, and she could crawl over to him and start sucking his big fat cock, which she loved so fucking much, and just suck, lick, and adore it until he came his cum into her happy little slave throat. Then she would go make him dinner like a good slave, and then she would suck him again while he ate dinner.

That would be so cool.

The bathroom door was open. When did that happen? She shrugged. It didn't matter.

Exiting the bathroom, she hurried to the bedroom, where she quickly put on her sexiest lingerie. A black corset, of course, that made her big tits look so fucking amazing, as if she had stepped straight out of a porn movie.

And lace panties with a garter belt, along with those hot stockings that covered her legs, making her feel like she was born to show herself to her Master.

High, high black heels, the highest she had. They were only a measly four inches tall - she would have to fix that soon. And then the coup de grâce: black opera gloves up to her elbows.

She had never worn them, even though Harry bought them and said that if she wore them, she would look really sexy. She didn't understand it. Why was she such a bitch? It wasn't fair to him. She had to show him what he meant to her.

Every part of her was now advertised as a complete fucking slave for Harry's use and abuse. Her hair, so long and thick, shiny and sexy, reached down to her waist. Harry insisted she have long, wonderful, healthy hair, and she was so pleased to be obedient. There was no way for him to look at her and think of anything else but hard, furious fucking and putting her in her place as a slut who barely deserved his magnificent cock.

That's how she should look all the time. She didn't care if he wanted to go out for food and have her on a leash or stroll through the park with her crawling behind him. If that's what he wanted, he should get it. Harry was so important. Her Master was so important.

Maybe she should break her wand? After all, slaves aren't meant to have access to magic, and the Ministry forbade non-humans from possessing wands, and by becoming a slave, she ceased to be human. No, it would be better to give the wand to her Master for him to decide what to do with it. After all, everything she owned belonged to him, so breaking the wand would be destroying her Master's property.

Fuck, she hoped he would let her call him Master. She walked through the short hallway of their apartment, easily seeing him sitting on the couch and watching her approach. Almost as if he was expecting her... as if he was expecting this outfit. That was good. She wanted him to anticipate her wearing sexy things.

Casually, he pointed his finger down to the floor. Obediently, Daphne began crawling toward him, swaying her ass joyfully and looking at him with desire in her eyes. When she finally reached him, she wrapped herself around his leg, her massive, delicious tits enveloping his thigh.

"Harry, honey? I'd like to ask you something." He stroked her hair. She purred happily. "What is it, honey?"

She melted a little, hearing that endearing name... but it also solidified her determination, knowing that it was inappropriate for a fuckdoll like her. She took a breath, still snuggling his thigh with her big breasts, and began.

"It's just, like, I'm tired of all these roleplay games. I really, really want to be your slave for real. I don't want us to play anymore. I don't want to just say those words. I want you to know in your heart that I'm your complete, absolute slave. I want you to know that I'll do anything you ask. I would take your enemies down. I would steal things. I would lie." Her voice grew louder as her pussy grew wet. "I would kill someone. I would seduce an old man so you could have all his money. Whatever you want, Harry, I want to do it for you. Because I don't own myself. You own me."

She could see excitement building on his face and in the bulge in his pants. She leaned forward slightly and slipped her hand into his pants, rubbing intentionally.

"You're my owner, Harry. You're my fucking Master. I don't care if I never call you anything other than Master ever again. I'll do it publicly, in front of my friends - you can send hot pictures of me sucking you to the newspaper and make money off my hot, fucking body, Sir. I don't care. I'm whoever you want me to be. I'm your fucking slave, Master."

Her beautiful face became increasingly strained as she spoke, her breaths heavier and heavier. "Fuck," he finally groaned, stroking her wonderful face. "Are you sure about this?"

"Oh yes, Master." She nodded intentionally.

He scratched his head. "I'm only asking because you're not begging. If you were serious, I would think you'd be begging."

Oh god, she was so fucking stupid! It was the closeness of his cock that made her so stupid. She became greedy, demanding things from her Master, not thinking about begging.

"I'm so sorry, Master!" Her big blue eyes were wide and sincere. "I can do it! Please, let me beg! Please, let me beg to be your fuckdoll!"

He ran his hand through her thick, sexy hair. "Very well. Impress me."

Obediently, she lowered her head between his knees, raising her ass high in the air.

"Please, Master," she murmured. "Please, let me be your fuckslave forever. Let me be obedient to you in every possible way, please? Let me do anything and everything you desire. Let me be your perfect fuckpet slave now and forever, oh please, please, please!"

She was so enchanted by her adoration that she almost didn't notice Harry getting up. In fact, she didn't notice him move at all until he tore off her panties and thrust his naked, unprotected cock deep into her pussy from behind.

"Ohmygodohmygod!"

Harry grunted and thrust even harder. "Do you like that, slave? Do you like it when I take you how I want?"

She felt more alive, more fertile, more womanly than ever before in her life. "Yes, Master!"

"Tell me again," he growled, pumping his thick, hard cock. "Tell me what you would do for me." "Anything you ask," she moaned.

He thrust harder. His cock was so fucking big. She couldn't imagine any cock ever coming close to his. "I would steal for you."

Grunt, thrust, smack. She came again, her face buried in the couch cushions. "Yes, I would lie!"

Thrust, thrust, smack. She came again.

Each new smack was a new orgasm. "Murder."

Thrusting even harder now, pressing her face firmly into the couch, he began pulling her thick hair back. It was fucking perfect.

"I would take anything someone else had and give it to you, my Master!"

Slapping her ass wildly now. Her head was caught between the floor and the bottom of the couch, and she simply didn't care. Her orgasms came like subway trains, one after another, going in every direction through her body.

"You have no will but my will."

"No will but your will!" she cried out. "No will but my Master's will!"

Finally, his orgasm exploded inside her. It was Master's seed. It was godcum, filling her. It was her alpha and omega, everything she hoped to achieve in life. It was so warm, so gooey, so wonderful. She had no doubt she was already pregnant. She was such a hot fucking perfect slave for her Master to cum in her like that.

"Very well," he breathed on top of her, after a minute. "You can be my slave. Call me Master from now on, girl."

She was Harry's fuckslave for as long as she could remember, deep in her heart. Now it was her reality.

She couldn't help it. All her dreams came true in one moment. She came again, her pussy throbbing wildly, turning and holding her Master tight, knowing he would give her countless orgasms in the future.

If you want to support me, read the next chapters of the story and more, I invite you to my

Patreo n .com(slash)BoobsHunter (Remove spaces)