The Dormant Power ch.11

He stepped closer to her, sending a shockwave of power, amplifying her fear but reaching underneath to caress the pink, bubbly aura of her desire.

“What... what happened to you?” she stammered, stumbling back onto the bed.

Harry smiled wickedly, savoring the moment. “You could say... I’ve evolved,” he replied, his voice dripping with sinister delight.

He could have shifted back into his more masculine form, but he resisted the impulse. Suddenly, he wanted her to know it was him, weak little Harry, who was about to make her beg for mercy.

Daphne’s fear intensified, and her instincts kicked in as she bolted for the door. It was futile. With a single thought, Harry sent a wave of warmth to her aura. A visible shudder ran through her body, and she collapsed back onto the pink bedspread, her limbs trembling with an arousal she couldn’t understand or control.

“What’s happening?” she moaned, clutching the sheets, trying to fight the sensations coursing through her.

“Can’t you feel it, Daphne?” Harry’s desire grew as he watched her struggle against his powers. “You see, Daphne, you might see me as a nerd, but I can give you something your precious Draco never could.”

“No, it’s impossible!” she pleaded, her voice raw with need as her body writhed on the bed. “I can’t be turned on by you!”

“Really?” Harry taunted, letting his power intensify, focusing on the core of her arousal. “Because it looks like your body has other ideas.”

“Fuck you,” she spat through gritted teeth, but he could see a flicker of doubt in her eyes as her body continued to betray her.

“Only if you beg,” he responded with a wicked grin, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted—unsure and aroused, completely at his mercy.

“Please... I can’t do this,” she choked out, her eyes wide and glassy as she looked up at him. The perfect picture of submission, despite her feeble protests.

“No,” he said, stepping closer and savoring the scent of her arousal. It hung in the air like a tangible mist, intoxicating in its intensity. A wicked smile spread across his lips as he reached out and traced a finger along the edge of her cheerleader skirt, feeling the silky fabric glide over his skin. “You shouldn’t do this! But that doesn’t mean you don’t want to, right?”

“Oh God!” she sobbed, trying and failing to push his hand away. The struggle amused him even more.

“Admit it, Daphne. You crave me,” he demanded, pressing harder against her soaked underwear. “You want me to take you right here, don’t you?” He felt her body shudder under his touch, her resolve crumbling as he continued to manipulate her essence, bending her will to his own. He picked up the photo of her and Draco. “You want me to fuck you right in front of good old Draco, don’t you?”

“Fuck you, Harry,” she spat, tears streaming down her cheeks. But the fire in her eyes was replaced by something else—hunger. A deep, primal desire she could no longer deny. She needed him, and he was going to make her admit it.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her hips arching toward his hand involuntarily. He let his middle finger glide up her barely covered slit, feeling her aura pulse hot pink, then focused on that spot, circling her wet, swollen clit. “Please! Don’t make me say it!”

He withdrew his finger, along with his power. He left her lying there, writhing on the pink bedspread, legs spread wantonly as her hips moved, seeking his warmth. He pushed aside her fear and anger, leaving her with guilt and throbbing desire.

Harry Potter knew how it felt to spend a lifetime wanting someone, only to remain cold and lonely, unable to satisfy the aching need inside. He fed that need back into Daphne, widening the chasm until the only thing that could quench her longing sat right beside her. The skinny geek whose name she couldn’t remember.

“Please!” she cried, her body shivering with a desperate tremor. “Please, I need this.”

“What’s my name?” Harry asked, giving her just a lick of his power along the aching pulse of her aura.

She moaned, her eyes wide and wet. She looked so beautiful in that helpless, submissive state, he almost gave in.

But he thought of how many men had fallen for that innocent look and restrained himself.

“Harry!” she gasped, clutching his shoulder. “Please, Harry! I need you!”

He picked up the photo of her and Draco, smiling. “And what about Draco?” he said with a wicked growl.

“Oh God!” she looked helplessly at the photo, Draco’s smiling face igniting guilt in her aura. Harry reached out, pressing down on the guilt and stroking the bubblegum pink of her desire until it became disgustingly sweet on his tongue.

“I don’t care!” she screamed, her desperation a soothing balm to his soul. “Please, Harry! I need YOU!”

“Good girl,” he crooned, rewarding her with a slow, deliberate drag of his fingers along the soft, exquisite skin of her inner thigh. Her moan echoed through the room, a cry of desire and humiliation that fueled his own lust.

“From now on, Daphne,” he whispered in her ear as he undressed, his movements precise and methodical, “you’ll learn what it means to submit. To truly feel powerless in someone else’s hands.” He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll never look at Draco—or any other man—the same way again.”

“Oh God,” she breathed, the raw need in her voice betraying the truth of her submission.

Daphne writhed on the bed as Harry slid his hands under her skirt and pulled her wet panties down her hips. She didn’t fight it. In fact, her hips lifted eagerly, helping him slide the thin fabric over her firm ass. He laughed at the eager movement and the mix of pleasure and shame dancing on her flushed face. He reveled in the knowledge that he held her completely under his control—her body, her mind, her essence, all bending to his will.

“Please... Harry,” she panted, her blue eyes shimmering with desire as they locked onto his. “I can’t take this any longer.”

“Can’t you?” he mocked, smiling at her desperate state. “For someone so cold and bitchy, you warm up quickly.”

Her cheeks flushed even more, but she couldn’t deny the truth of his words. As much as he wanted to continue tormenting her, being so close to possessing Daphne’s body pushed his need to its peak.

“Stand up,” he commanded, his voice filled with authority. Daphne obediently rose to her feet, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Her legs trembled slightly, betraying her anticipation.

“Lift your dress,” he ordered, watching intently as she raised the hem of her cheerleader outfit. The fabric slid up her smooth, toned thighs, revealing the wetness glistening between her legs. He could see the desire burning within her, threatening to consume her completely. 

"Turn around," he commanded, his mouth dry at the sight of her exposed body. She turned her back to him, bending slightly as her hands gripped the edge of the bed.

"Very nice," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her perfect, rounded ass. He positioned himself behind her, his erection straining against his pants. With one swift motion, he freed himself, the cool air striking his heated skin as he prepared to take her.

"Remember, Daphne," he whispered, feeling her hot breath on his skin. "This is what you wanted. This is what you need."

"Please," she moaned, her body trembling with desire. "I need you inside me."

"Beg for it, you fucking slut," he hissed, rubbing the head of his cock against her quivering slit. "Beg me to fuck the whore out of you!"

"Please, Harry... fuck the slut out of me," she begged, her voice barely audible in the empty room.

"Oh, I will, bitch! I will!" he growled. He reached down and grabbed her cheeks, spreading the fleshy globes like ripe melons. Without hesitation, he drove his throbbing cock into her, groaning as her tight, wet heat enveloped him, pulling him deeper into her hungry cunt. Daphne gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedspread as he pounded into her, pouring all his pent-up lust into every thrust of his swelling cock.

The sounds of the party outside faded away, leaving only Daphne's desperate moans and the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh. The line between pleasure and pain blurred, and Harry took satisfaction in knowing he was breaking Daphne, transforming her into something new—something that belonged to him.

"Say my name, bitch!" he snarled, his grip tightening on her hips as he drove into her mercilessly.

"Harry... oh, Harry!" she cried out, her voice filled with ecstasy and submission. The sound sent a shiver down his spine, fueling his lustful power.

With every thrust of his cock, he sent his essence into Daphne, doubling and tripling his desire. Her body convulsed uncontrollably as the force of his lust overwhelmed her, fucking her mind from the inside out.

This was no longer the Daphne he knew. Instead, his power was reshaping her into the perfect vessel for his desire. The knowledge that they were hidden from the partygoers outside only heightened his arousal. He felt her body tighten around him, a clear sign she was nearing her climax. Her moans grew louder and more desperate, a symphony of pleasure that fueled his own desires.

"Please... Harry, don't stop!" she cried, her voice hoarse with lust. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glazed with ecstasy, and he felt a wave of power surge through him. This beautiful, slutty cheerleader was now entirely under his control, her submission sweeter than anything he had ever experienced.

Harry grinned wickedly as he pushed her over the edge once more, reveling in the sensations that washed over her. With a scream that echoed in the empty room, Daphne came apart, her walls clenching around him as her orgasm ripped through her. It was a sight to behold—her athletic cheerleader's body shaking, sweat dripping from her brow, and her eyes rolling back in pure bliss.