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Chap. 109: Reunion

Harry stepped up to Romilda there in the hallway, and looked her up and down. "Strip."

She didn't hesitate, despite being in the wide-open crossroads of the upper floor of the house, where nearly anyone could see. No one was around, and Harry knew it, but Romilda did not. That didn't stop the girl, however, who shucked her outer robes in a moment, then peeled her almost too-tight t-shirt and form-hugging trousers down before kicking them off.

Harry stared. One of her breasts was starting to darken with a hand-print too large for his own. It was fresh, so could only be Ron's. She had other hand-marks, not as dark, on her hips and, as he walked around her, the young wizard could see more on her delightfully pert arse. Considering her age, Romilda had a stunningly gorgeous figure, with perky, upturned tits just a little darker than Katie's own with a similar Mediterranean heritage, a narrow waist, and the perfect curve to her taut belly and round ass.

He sniffed, then looked a little closer in the dim light of the hallways. Yes... pearly white dribbled and ran slowly down one thigh. Ron had definitely been there, he already knew that, but he'd finished inside, too. Harry found himself grinning. "Ron used you pretty well, didn't he? How many times?"

"Three, Master," she replied at once, neither volunteering more information or even considering withholding what he'd asked for.

That was good, Harry decided. His slaves were loyal and obedient, without wasting his time. Once, too, the thought of fucking this girl after someone else, even Ron, had would have turned him off. That was before he'd had Marietta after Ron had shagged her. After he'd gone back to Cho after Ron had her, too. Within him, Iris voiced the opinion that she would love to clean the girl's snatch with her mouth and fingers before turning the body back over to Harry to fill it again... and then she would clean the girl once more.

But that wasn't what Harry wanted, not this time. He had felt so guilty after what he'd done to her the last year that Harry had only used her for pure physical pleasure, and taken no real enjoyment in her. Not any more. Now, he acknowledged Romilda as not just his mistake, but his. At least for now.

Harry reached out to caress her around the waist and drift his hands almost-lovingly down the teenage witch's arse, then he delivered a powerful slap much like Pansy and Lavender had been getting earlier.

Only Romilda didn't squeal. She moaned wantonly, "Oh, Master... yes, punish me! Punish me for being a filthy whore!"

"I think every way I punished you, you'd be a whore, wouldn't you, Romilda? How many men have you shagged since Ron and I took you that night?"

"Eighty-seven, Master," she exhaled, panting, but otherwise motionless side from twitches in her fingers as he continued walking around the girl. "I've shagged eighty-seven men. Well, if you count the boys, too."

"Name them," Harry ordered, "Or at least your favorites. The ones you had the most fun with."

"Th- There was Carl Vane. Roger Vane," she started, and this time Harry noticed the girl glance his way as if to gauge his reaction. She looked away at once as he caught her eye though.

"Your family?"

She nodded, "My brother and father," Romilda confirmed quietly.

"Wow, you are a naughty whore," Harry chuckled, "Go on."

"Dawlish. He's an Auror. And his partner, but I don't know his name, Master."

Harry's eyebrows rose. That was prime blackmail material, considering her age, but the thought of actually using the information for his benefit made Harry's blood run cold. Still, if it was absolutely necessary at some point...

"Then my Healers. Brockton, Smythe, Carrie, Stone, Kent, and-"

Harry laughed then, "Alright, alright, Romilda, you can stop. I already knew you were a whore. Did you really enjoy fucking all those people?"

"Every single one," Romilda answered at once, sounding quite serious as she turned her head to follow Harry, "and the women, too."

"Oh? How many women, then? How many screamed your name as they came?"

Romilda grinned proudly now at the intrigue in Harry's voice, "Thirty-six. Roxanne, my sister, was the first. The last was Healer Lewis, three days ago. I've been shagging her for a month, now."

Once again, Harry smiled, "Good slag, then. Fuck, Romilda, you've shagged many, many more people than I have. You must've been quite randy."

The witch could only shrug and smile, "It's my purpose, Master. To please others with my body. The way you remade me. I please them to please you and Master Ron, Master."

"And you do," Harry told her quietly, then reached out to prod the stiff, distended nipple that had also been bruised by Ron's rough handling. "Is it sore? Tender?"

"Deliciously tender, Master," Romilda exhaled, and leaned into his touch.

"Hm, I see. And if I do this?" He grabbed it suddenly between the first and second fingers and pinched powerfully, twisting as he did, nearly ninety degrees around, and pulled, too. This time, Romilda did gasp in pain, and he watched her brown eyes roll with surprise and discomfort. At the same time, Harry felt her arousal spike, just as his own had.

He was not the type to abuse women... but he was a kind Master. A kind Dominant, who would do what his Submissives needed to be whole, healthy, and happy.

Harry let go, then leaned in as his hands dropped to his sides, knowing she would not move unless commanded to. The abused, no doubt throbbing nipple was given a long, slow exhalating breath to help cool it, then kissed oh-so-tenderly. "That's my girl," he whispered, then stood up. "You are amazing, you know that, Romilda?"

"Thank you, Master," she replied happily.

"Alright, now, through that door is my bedroom."

"Yes, Master," Romilda followed his gesture with her face, but otherwise didn't move.

"It's off-limits to you. You are not my girlfriend, my wife, or anything like that. Are you?"

"No, Master," she agreed at once.

"What are you, Romilda?"

"I'm your whore."

Harry smiled, "Excellent. You are not ever to enter my bedroom unless I, or one of my wives or girlfriends orders you to do so, unless it is a matter of safety. If you need to go there to be safe, do so. If you need to take someone out of there to make them safe, do so. Otherwise, you enter only with permission. You may knock, of course, following the normal social protocols."

"Yes, Master," Romilda agreed.

"However, there is one exception besides the safety. I have, in my bedroom, two other doors. One leads to a bathroom. If you need to use a loo and that is the closest one, then you have my permission to do that, but you must knock. The other room is my personal little playroom. You understand what I mean by that, don't you?"

The witch nodded, "The kind of room I was trained in, Master. Is that right?"

"Yes, exactly. This one has much of the same furniture, we moved it from there since most of it belongs to me or Lilith. You will become very acquainted with that room while you're here. It will not be your domain, it is mine. But you can use the things in that room as you see fit, unless instructed otherwise by myself, my wives, or my girlfriends. That includes Lilith."

"Yes, Master," Romilda exhaled breathily, sounding even more excited.

"You cannot climax with them without permission from one of those same people, of course, but you may use them to entertain yourself if you are not needed elsewhere. At most other times, however, I expect you to care for the needs of those in the Manor. You will lick us, shag us, clean us, please us, however we wish, as is your purpose. But above all else, you will take care of yourself, too. That means hygiene, food, water, and sleep, in addition to any sexual appetites you must feed."

"I understand, Master. I would not be a good whore for you if I died of starvation."

"That's right. You're a smart whore. Now, go into my bedroom and take the first door on your right. Relieve yourself. Clean yourself, inside and out. I don't wish to have Ron's leavings tonight. When you are presentable, leave the look cross through my room to the next door on your right. That is my playroom. Knock, and wait for me to enter. Do not look around my bedroom while I am not present. You haven't learned that right. You may only see or focus on what you need to to get around."

"Thank you, Master," Romilda smiled cheerfully, glad to have some clear instruction again.

"Go."

Then she was gone, almost bouncing away from the pile of clothing on the hallway floor. Harry was about to summon Winky or Dobby to clean them up, when the clothing vanished. No doubt, one of them was on top of things.

He followed Romilda through the open door, shut it, and glanced once at the five banners that hung over the head of the bed: Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor, while above and central to them, the Potter House Crest hung in pride of place.

The water was running a few moments later, so Harry allowed himself a few moments to reflect and consider his plan of action. He would have to be a Dom for Romilda possibly for the rest of her life. He could afford to feed her, house her, clothe her, of course. That wasn't the problem.

What was he going to do with her? He didn't think Hermione would put up with her just being the fuck-toy for the entire household for long. The summer, maybe, while they were still figuring things out. But long-term, once they got out of school and started their adult lives? It wouldn't be as likely to be given a pass. If his other plans for after Voldemort has been dealt with were going to happen, she needed to be well cared for, lest Romilda's behavior and needs cause issues in other ways.

He didn't have any solutions in mind when the water shut off a few minutes later, so Harry removed his clothing and tossed them toward the hamper (his trousers magically altered course mid-way to actually go inside as the lid opened), then walked into the playroom.

The furniture was mostly familiar. An A-frame, an X-frame, two sawhorses instead of one, a pillory, and shelves full of smaller toys that surrounded a much larger bed with minimal, low foot- and head-boards more intended to attach straps to than anything else. But there were new ones, too. A second pillory, this one with both hand and leg holes, a larger closet-type space with a pair of miniature curtain-covered glory holes that were open, a swing that seemed permanently mounted, and a variety of couches and large, bean-bag like cushions.

Harry grinned. He could work with this.

Romilda entered the room a minute later, and Harry told her, "That's your bed. You'll sleep there, amid everyone's fluids like you deserve and want, if you're staying here. Unless someone wants you in their room, of course. You'll be communal, you are there to be made use of by everyone of age, excluding Astoria Greengrass. That means everyone your age or older, except her. She's not to be touched."

"Alright, Master," Romilda agreed, and for the first time since her parents had dropped her off, the girl seemed a bit confused and disappointed.

"... You're still wet."

"You told me to come when I was clean, Master, not when I was dry. If you wish, I'll go- I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk back."

Harry actually laughed, "No, you can talk back if I gave you a different order. You're absolutely right, Romilda. Good girl. Because you're right, you can taste my cock for a while, until you dry or until I give you a load."

"Yes, Master!" she almost cheered, but sprinted across half the room to almost skid onto her knees in front of him. Then her mouth was on him, and Harry had to sigh in relief and pleasure as she immediately started bobbing.

"Shit, I'd almost forgotten how eager you are, Romilda. You suck cock like it's the best thing that ever happened to you."

"It is," she moaned around him, taking him out just enough to speak, but the witch still slid her lips up and down his length while she did so, and wanked him with two hands otherwise. "I love servicing you, Master."

His erection throbbed, and Harry grinned. "Of course you do. It's your purpose, right? The question is, what am I going to do with you? You can't belong to me. If I made you my girlfriend, or one of my wives, it would cause problems. Your parents, for one."

"Mm," was her only response aside from the wet slobbering noises she made as her tight lips moved up and down his engorged pole.

Harry let her do it that way for a long time, several minutes in fact, blowing him as she wished. As he enjoyed, because Romilda was as in-tune with Harry's desires as anyone except perhaps Lilith. Then he grabbed her skull suddenly, and started humping furiously. Like she was born to it, Romilda let him face-fuck her relentlessly without so much as a twitch or gag. She wasn't impassive either.

Instead, the girl looked up at him with excitement shining in her eyes, and tried to smile though her mouth was stretched so far it was barely visible. Her throat was tight and hard to push through, but she never once complained. Even her eyes didn't really water as he used her upper hole until he finally let lose with a grunt, and fed her what must have been a quart of semen, enough to make her belly distend slightly, in several dozen pounding pulses.

Once Harry pulled his tower out with a wet slurping noise, the girl licked at her lips ravenously, then belched. "Thank you, Master."

To thank her, Harry pulled up on the girl's hair, hard enough to make it hurt just a bit, until she was standing. "You remember the sawhorse, don't you, whore?"

"Yes, Master," Romilda smiled again, widely.

"Climb on. You know the position."

He watched her do as she was told eagerly, her breasts and arse jiggling just a little as she hurried across the room and slipped her hands and ankles through the straps, then lowered her body onto the somewhat sharp edges with a hiss of mixed pleasure and pain. He was hard as a rock, and could've just shagged her again right then, but Harry had other ideas.

Instead, he crossed slowly over to the shelves, and browsed them for several seconds, even though he already had an idea of what he was going to pick up. First, a dildo. Thick and squat, but not quite the smooth cone of an anal plug, it most resembled Neville out of the core group. Then another, long and slender, like Ron's, which was actually a double-ended device for two women.

Or, in her case, a woman with two eager holes. After a moment, Harry sat the thicker one down again, and picked up the large, purple one Hermione so favored, along with a few straps nearby. It was the matter of a few minutes for Harry to figure out how they went together, but as he fitted the leather over Romilda's head, he was pleased to see the blinders limited almost all of her vision. The actual attachments would affix the dildo nicely, and Harry slid it into her mouth with a slow twist, not that Romilda needed it, then attached it to the straps too. A few taps of his wand had it moving in and out, throbbing occasionally.

"You like having a dildo in your throat, just like my dick was, whore?"

"Mm, hmm!" Romilda squealed, and Harry watched her hips buck against the sawhorse, despite the pain.

Good. She was enjoying it, then.

Both ends of the longer dildo were fed into her pussy one at a time, though Harry distracted himself afterward by leaning in to taste of the girl directly. "Mm... lovely," he moaned against her nether lips, and audibly slurped up some of her dripping fluids. "This was why I wanted your pussy clean, whore. I just wanted to taste you, not you and Ron."

She said something else Harry couldn't understand through the dildo, but he didn't particularly care what it was. Romilda wanted to be the household's cum-dump, so her verbal opinions weren't that important anyway. At least, not at the moment.

Once he'd had his fill of her savory gravy-flavored juices, Harry stood back up and thrust the dildo into her once again. He worked it back and forth a few times, ignoring the need in his own rod for the moment, then pulled it out and shoved the well-lubricated object into the girl's anus, instead.

Romilda squeaked at the sudden change, but didn't protest. In fact, almost at once her pelvis pushed the phallus further into her body. Harry worked it a few times there, too, then bent the long silicone shaft and pushed the other end back into her pussy. He grinned at the sight of the arch plugging both her holes, and used one hand to drive both in and out for several minutes.

At least once, Romilda climaxed around both, because her squirt coated Harry's thigh and the floor both mid-way through, but Harry kept double-fucking the witch with the dildo for a good five minutes after that. He was fairly sure that at least one of his lovers had climbed into his bed, judging by the low voices he could just make out, but no one disturbed him in the playroom.

Either they hadn't heard Romilda's panting, gasping cries of pleasure, or they didn't care.

Both options were fine, as far as Harry was concerned.

Once the witch climaxed the second time, Harry pulled the phallus out of her pussy, and plugged the gaping hole with his own shaft. Romilda's pussy was made for him now, almost deliberately, and it fit him so snuggly as he bottomed out well past the entrance to her womb, that Harry was sure he would have been satisfied with no other pussy for as long as he lived... if it was all he had access to.

But he still didn't love the girl, and Harry knew he never would. He loved fucking her, using her, dominating her... but he wasn't in love.

Romilda Vane would always be, in some respects, a fan-girl of his, and that, Harry could not stand.

No... there had to be another way.

Some other option. One that would let him have full access to her body, but not claim her as his own, aside from the responsibility he owed her.

He filled her eager, waiting pussy with a gigantic load, purely because it had been so long, then yanked himself out, shoved the dildo into her twat to plug his cum in there, and forced his own shaft into her ass in a smooth switch that took about three seconds.

Romilda cried out loudly as he violated her rectum, but not with pain. He knew she felt no such thing. In fact, she might never have felt better, as he used her for his own pleasure once more. Of course, he could always ask...

He reached over her body, just able to get to the strap, and undid its buckles while his hips plunged his rock-hard erection in and out of her intestines with the force of a jackhammer. It was a bit harder to pull the dildo out of her throat, but Romilda actually whimpered when it came free. "Master! Oh, Merlin, use my whore arse, Master! Cum inside it, cum in me, on me, I don't care! Just cum, and keep shagging my whore-wholes!"

... There was also the fact that her voice was just a little bit off-putting as she tried to please him with pillow-talk. But that was minor, all things considered, and it was an ego boost all the same.

"Better idea, Romilda," he told her, "While I shag your arse, I want you to tell me if you like having all your holes filled at once."

"Yes, Master!"

"Good. Be my whore!"

"I can't, Master," Romilda whined, "I can't be your whore! I'm a whore, though!"

That made Harry pause mid-stroke for a moment, though he resumed even harder afterward, making her ass ripple and bounce as he slammed her into the sawhorse again and again. "Why not my whore?"

"I- I swore myself to Ron, Master," she cried out, "I- I want him! He wants me, Master! He'll take- take care of me, and my needs, Master! Together, but he owns me! If you want me, Master, you- you can- ah- talk- fuck, it's so good!- talk to him, Master!"

Harry hunched over, unable to help himself. He wanted to rail, to protest, to deny it...

But why?

Ron was not the same jealous child he had been a year and more ago.

Ron was his best mate, his friend, all-but his actual brother.

They shared everything.

They had even made Romilda, the Romilda he was making use of, together.

Ron's own commands, bolstered by his own Runes and Harry's power, had helped shape Romilda into what she was: a whore for their pleasure, a toy to be used, a tool to sate appetites.

Ron wanted her.

Harry wanted her, but didn't love her.

Ron... Ron wanted something simple. Physical.

Exactly what Romilda was.

"It's done, then, whore," Harry exhaled into her ear as he released his third load into the girl's last orifice one agonizing, exhausting, blissful shot at a time, "You will be Ron's, and I will still be your Master along with him."

When Harry finally slipped out of her a few minutes later, her belly was even fatter, but he left her there, for now. She would be alright for a few hours, and was not the sort to need any after-care. The shagging had taken care of that. He still worried she would be upset, but as her glazed eyes looked at him, at his cum-dripping half-hard dick, she smiled, "Thank you, Master. From both of us."