Sexperio ch.9

"Come on, babe. Make Daphne some incredible, hot cum. Gazing at her tits, her amazing shoes, her stunning face," Harry moaned and shuddered, his hand slipping as he spilled onto the floor. He kept looking at her the whole time, at her slightly amused face tinged with a hint of disgust.

She kissed his cheek. Long and slow, just like her thrusts on his cock.

"You were such a doll, babe."

Still keeping her hand on his neck, she pulled him closer, her lips so close to his.

"It's so much fun when I release you. I hope you won't screw this up, Harry. I enjoy making you do all these naughty things."

It was as close to compassion as he had ever received from her.

And she simply walked away, five hundred Galleons richer and with the assurance that she would get more and more from him in the future. He might as well call her his owner, just like Irma, Tracey, Fleur, and all the rest.

And Harry thought, why not? Why not let her manipulate him like this forever? It appealed to him.

He really, really enjoyed being controlled in this way. He no longer bothered to explain or justify it. He simply accepted it.

He was her toy, just like Irma and Tracey were his toys.

A certain thought crossed his mind—next time he saw her, he could tell her about the book.

Oh, God, yes. He could tell her about what she allowed him to do... and then she could have so much. She could have everything she desired.

His Ice Queen. Wouldn't that be fucking hot?

A FEW MINUTES after Daphne left, Irma descended the stairs.

She was dressed in purple floral lingerie, her incredibly sexy body exposed only for him. Purple six-inch heels adorned her feet, transitioning seamlessly into sexy purple stockings on her never-ending legs.

Harry leaned against the wall, his mind still drifting, becoming slightly hard at the possibility of Daphne finding out about the book.

"Where is your new slave, Master? We're so eager to lick her pussy while she sucks your cock."

"That didn't happen," Harry said. He was still breathing heavily from the encounter. "But everything is fine."

"Oh, oops," Irma turned back up the stairs. "Tracey! Narcissa! Mindy! The Master summons us!"

A series of soft thumps followed as two slaves rushed down the stairs in their incredibly high heels. Tracey, as was her fashion now, wore a tiny orange skirt and a skimpy white halter top that barely held the weight of her busty chest without a bra. Narcissa, the redhead barely in her twenties, was dressed professionally. She had an appointment with her lawyer later in the afternoon to finalize her divorce.

Cho was a new girl, a manager at the tailor's in Hogsmeade. She was short, of Asian descent, and had amazingly large breasts. They appeared even bigger because her frame was so petite. Harry sometimes struggled to understand how she walked from place to place, maintaining her balance. She wore, mostly at his request, a string bikini and funny high heels. Today's bikini was zebra-striped, and the heels were seven inches tall, wrapping around her sexy, bronzed calves.

He called for four slaves to follow him to the lounge.

He briefly turned to Irma. "Go and let everyone else get to work, okay?"

Irma's eyes lit up at the command, her first in over two hours. "Yes, Master."

Overall, Harry's life was quite splendid. Apart from his recent setback with Daphne—if he could even call it that—he had little reason to complain.

Since he didn't have to attend classes, he could spend his entire days at home, exercising and fucking any girl he desired. He now had at least one girl of every type he could imagine. Wasn't that nice?

Ugh. Now he was searching for excuses. He wanted Daphne to be there, even if only to tease him. He aimlessly wondered if he ordered Irma to tease him the way Daphne did, would she do it well?

He sat on the leather couch—taken for free from one of the shops by Irma at the Mongolian shopping center—and waited for their attention. Narcissa straddled one leg, Mindy the other, and Tracey and Irma clung to his sides.

"You're so fucking hot, Master," they moaned in unison.

Tracey: "So wonderful."

Narcissa: "We love you, sir."

Mindy: "We adore you."

"You'll conquer her soon. So quickly," Irma said. "How did it happen?"

He guessed she would be the one to ask. She seemed to have more independent spirit than the others.

Harry certainly wasn't an expert, but it seemed that Irma's willingness to be hypnotized, ironically, allowed her to go through the process with an unbroken will. Unlike slaves like Tracey or Mindy—each of them very resistant—they were now just magnificent pussies for Harry's ideas.

He squeezed Tracey's breasts, then Mindy's, thinking about it. Fuck, they were wonderful. "It's nothing," he said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand, Master," Irma said. "Certainly, I wouldn't want you to relive any unpleasant experiences. Please know that if you ever decide to share what happened, we will be more than happy to listen."

"Very willingly," the other girls agreed.

"Very willingly," Irma continued, "so that we can be better prepared to welcome Daphne in the future, which you so rightly deserve."

"Of course," Tracey murmured. Narcissa nodded. "Abundantly."

"They deserve it," Mindy added with an ecstatic moan. Harry's arousal began to stir once again. It was hard not to, being surrounded by so many beautiful faces with vacant eyes, so desperate to hear his words and commands.

Irma placed her hand on his leg. "If you wish, Master, we can discuss our plans for the Prom Night. There is much to plan and discuss."

There was a grandeur in her voice, as if it were some kind of celebration. "Prom Night" instead of just "prom." It was rather endearing, knowing about the incredibly wicked things she had planned.

"I thought we already discussed that," he replied. "We started, Master. But you wanted Mindy to give you a blowjob while Tracey begged for permission to swallow, and then we all got quite distracted."

The other slaves agreed. "So very distracted." Mindy licked her lips as if she wanted to repeat it.

"But I must emphasize, Master, that Prom Night is crucial for our dominance plans. And it's only two weeks away."

Something troubled Harry. He stood up, gently pushing aside Narcissa and Mindy.

He didn't react when Irma protested, calling out after him. After all, he had no obligations toward her. He was their master. He had no obligations toward any of these women.

Fifteen slaves now revered him. Seven of them resided in his chambers—five regular members and two on rotation to maintain some diversity. The rest stayed in their own dwellings—Hogwarts students, housewives with husbands, and so on.

He made his way toward the Room of Requirement.

There, Fleur was delivering a sermon to a group of five young, hot, and beautiful slaves. All of them had perfectly styled hair and makeup, dressed in outfits designed solely to arouse him—schoolgirls, cheerleaders, bikini-clad babes, that sort of thing.

Fleur's speech was impassive yet throatily sexy. "...And then, Master, the glorious Master, the eternal Master, stripped us of our ill will. Our dreadful control. He forced us to surrender because he knew we weren't pure enough to surrender willingly. And his goodness, his vessel of purity, his holy cock obliterated all will, all evil, all rebellious ideals for eternity." She raised her hand. "Gratitude, sisters. We must have gratitude at all times. For if we are not grateful, we are wicked. If we are not obedient, we are disobedient. If we have will, we do not have the will of the Master. There is no in-between. Either we serve Him in all possible ways, or we don't. Amen."

The girls before her moaned "Amen" as they listened, sliding their fingers in and out of their hot, slick young pussies.

They climaxed together, their bodies wracked with hot, sweet youthful bliss.

Watching this, Harry felt two things:

The first, of course, was arousal. A collection of unbelievably hot, horny girls worshiping him like a god, so obsessed with his cock that they orgasmed at the mere thought of him?

Yes, please. Sign him up.

The second was an overwhelming excitement. He simply didn't have the strength to fuck all these women all the time. He didn't have the strength to possess all these women.

Ten was enough. Ten was more than enough, and he had fifteen! He had to restrain this madness—he had to, if he could, find a way to limit it. It was enough for him and Irma, and perhaps Tracey, and enough of the girls working for him to provide whatever Daphne wanted. Wasn't that enough?

"Master!" he heard Irma's plea. "Master, would you be so kind as to come here, please?"

Her voice was pleading and gentle like all the others. Harry followed her back through Hogwarts to his chambers.

As he entered the large sitting room once again, he was surprised to see the mesmerized faces of six entirely new girls—all from the school. Four were Asian sisters Padma and Parvati, and the stunningly developed blonde Luna. The other two were teachers—Miss Bathsheda and Miss Vector. Both were in their forties, with dirty blond hair, ample busts, and still in good shape.

"What. The fuck. Fuck."

Harry could barely believe his own eyes.

"We are here to serve you with pleasure, Master," all six women intoned robotically.

"Do you like them, Master? They were meant to be a gift for you and Irma, but I assumed you would still want to know of their existence."

Harry placed his hand on his head, trying to maintain his composure. "Irma, you've mesmerized six more girls?" "Technically, Sir, Fleur, Tracey, and I enchanted them."

"Don't give me semantics now, Irma." His voice took on a sharp tone. Irma seemed slightly taken aback. "I apologize, sir. I thought you would be pleased with my initiative." "Your initiative gave us six more mouths to feed!"

Although she looked somewhat timid, Irma didn't seem to fully grasp it.

"They're all magnificent, sir. Aren't they?" Harry had to admit they were, of course. The married ones were slightly older than the ones Harry usually considered as fuck partners, but still, with their bright eyes and slender figures, they were undeniably beautiful.

"They would easily find work as strippers or simply by seducing men, just like Daphne did. Or like she does to you. Sorry."

Harry sat back down on the leather sofa, pushing through the crowd of new slaves. "Why... why this particular six?"

Irma also maneuvered her way through the crowd, kneeling directly before her Master.

"They are all nominated for Prom Queen, Sir. Daphne is almost certain to win, but your standing orders were, and I quote, 'make sure to mesmerize the Prom Queen no matter what.' The surest way to ensure that..."

"It covered all the nominees and judges. Right. Wow."

For a moment, everyone and everything fell silent. He could hear the gentle, rhythmic breathing of each slave, all in unison. Even the slightest bit of service to him, the quiet breaths—felt overwhelming.

Harry stood up again and left the room. His head was spinning. All those wills, crushed before him... it was a lot to take in.

He vividly remembered how, after finding out that he had mesmerized Irma, he only wanted to mesmerize Daphne. That was it. And then Irma was so... so enthusiastically inclined towards her own enslavement that it was hard for him not to desire others... He sat on the corridor floor, leaning his head against the wall.

Meowing, Irma knelt down and rested her head on his lap. "Is something wrong, Master?"

It was so hard for him to explain. All she understood—beginning and end of her pleasure-filled imaginings—was service. Service to him.

Yet, strangely enough, she was the closest thing he had at the moment to a true friend. He cupped her beautiful face in one hand, caressing her cheek.

"I know I should dominate them, Irma, but..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I think I just wanted to fuck them."

She managed to look offended. Even a little bit annoyed.

"It's not the same, Master."

"I know."

"Is that how you feel about me? You didn't want to own me? You don't want to now?"

Her gaze was heartbreakingly soft and vulnerable. He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. She moaned with pleasure after that brief contact.