Dudley's Domination 24 (Patreon)

Harry paused even as he watched the tall, willowy beauty walked down the stairs, silvery-blonde hair cascading almost to her waist in perfect waves, deep blue eyes scanning the room with haughty curiosity.

She wore a long, loose nightie that covered almost all her body, enough to count as conservative … if it wasn’t made of transparent fabric, leaving everything except what was covered by her underwear. Her very sexy underwear.

He didn’t know how to explain. What could he say when Hermione was collapsed next to Dudley, topless, wearing merely a messed up skirt, something leaking down her legs. Especially when Dudley was completely nude, his cock still out, half hard.

“So,” she said as she got closer, yet Hermione lay on her back, listless.

Harry opened his mouth twice, trying to explain, but words died in his mouth. How could he explain. He sat there, rigid, trousers tented, face burning.

Fleur's perfect lips parted in shock. “Mon Dieu... what is zis?” Her voice was sharp, accented, laced with something sharp Harry couldn’t identify. Possibly anger.

“Nothing much. I was just teaching my cousin how to handle the female form. He did need some help.”

“Teaching,” she said, her tone sharp. Harry expected Fleur to explode with fury, dump him, maybe even start cursing. “With, ‘er… What can a little virgin bookworm even knows about lovemaking, let alone teach. Especially with a pathetic little man with … more size than skill.”

Suddenly, Harry wished that she had started cursing. It was better than the way she engaged with Dudley … giving him an opportunity to respond. A few hours ago, that wouldn’t have even made him blink, trusting Fleur.

That was before watching Hermione’s loyalty shatter merely in minutes.

She took a step back toward the stairs. “Hermione? You—zis is... pathetic. I am leaving. I can teach Harry later in private, far better than an egoist Muggle could.”

Despite his every instinct shouting otherwise, hope bloomed in Harry.

Then, Dudley's hand shot out, catching her wrist, not hard, but firm enough to stop her. “Not so fast, Delacour.”

Fleur yanked her arm, but he didn't let go. Her Veela allure flared instinctively, eyes flashing, that silvery glow intensifying, trying to bend him to her will like it had bent so many men before. Harry found himself getting heady, dazed.

But Dudley just laughed low, eyes dark.

“Don't bother with the charm, princess. It only works in pathetic virgins. Besides—” He leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur that carried across the room. “I didn’t think you were a coward.”

“I am no co’ard,” Fleur responded, her fury quick to rose.

Dudley grinned. “That’s what we muggles call someone when they come in, act arrogantly, throw words of challenge, then depart without taking the challenge.” He widened his legs. “What do you say. Can you educate Harry better than Hermione?”

Harry gulped, wishing that she would reject. Or, accept, but teach him directly. There was nothing wrong about it … right?

Fleur's blue eyes darted to Hermione, then Harry, then back to Dudley. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Harry could see her pride warring with other emotions he couldn’t identify.

She swallowed. “You are pathetic. I will shatter you,” she hissed, but her voice cracked. Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned her nightie.

Dudley smiled, slow and triumphant. “That's more like it.”

He guided her to the sofa like she was fragile porcelain. Fleur moved stiffly at first but when Dudley tugged her nightie down slightly, exposing the smooth expanse of pale skin even more, she didn’t stop him.

Hermione watched with dark eyes, shifting to make room. She reached out, fingers brushing Fleur's arm, gentle, almost comforting. “Let’s see who will win,” she whispered.

Fleur shot her a glare that could cut glass, but she let her nightie pool at her feet. Underneath, black lace lingerie that hugged her perfect figure, high, firm breasts, narrow waist flaring to hips that swayed with unnatural grace even now.

Harry wished he could enjoy the sight of his girlfriend’s body, but it was complicated when he watched as Dudley pulled her down onto his lap, face to face, leaving Harry behind, discarded.

Fleur straddled him rigidly, hands braced on his shoulders like she might push away. But when he cupped her breasts through the lace, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked, a soft, unwilling gasp escaped her.

“See?” Dudley murmured, mouth against her throat. “Not so bad.”

He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, tossing it aside. Fleur's breasts spilled free—full, pale, nipples rosy against her skin. Dudley took one into his mouth, sucking hard, tongue flicking. Fleur's back arched despite herself, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Her moan rose, his previous drunk nightmare coming to life. A part of him wondered if he had the ability of a seer.

It would just like his pathetic life.

Hermione slid closer, pressing kisses along Fleur's shoulder, down her arm. soft, coaxing. Fleur shuddered, eyes fluttering shut.

Dudley tugged Fleur's knickers aside, fingers finding her already slick, whether from the Veela allure's betrayal or something darker, no one asked. He rubbed slow circles over her clit, and Fleur's hips jerked forward involuntarily.

“Non—” she breathed, but it came out weak, half-moan. “I won’t be defeated —“

Dudley positioned himself and guided her down, her complaints died as his girth invaded her. Fleur sank onto him slowly, inch by inch, mouth falling open in a silent cry as he stretched her. Her silvery hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid moonlight.

He started thrusting—slow at first, letting her adjust, then deeper, harder. Fleur's head fell back, moans spilling out in French, curses, pleas, something that sounded suspiciously like “oui.” Hermione kissed her then, deep, filthy—silencing the last protests.

Dudley fucked her relentlessly, hands gripping her hips, driving up into her until Fleur pride shattered. They continued in the dim room, their bodies alight by the flickers from the telly.

“Sorry, I have been rude,” Dudley suddenly said, lifted her, and brought her down again, but not before twisting her so that she was facing the screen. “It’s a movie night. You need to watch it.”

Then, he ripped her panties.

Fleur sat on Dudley’s lap, facing the screen, her long legs draped over his thighs, back pressed to his broad chest. She was completely naked now, the black lace lingerie landing on the pile of discarded clothes on the floor beside the sofa.

She moved. Harry had to admit, even lost in the moment, she looked unreal. Her silvery-blonde hair spilled over Dudley’s shoulder like liquid moonlight, strands sticking to her sweat-damp skin. Her perfect breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath, nipples still flushed and sensitive from earlier attention.

Dudley had one thick arm banded around her waist, holding her flush against him. His other hand rested possessively between her spread thighs, fingers lazily circling her clit while he continued to ram her. Every few strokes he’d dip lower, only to pull back to shallow thrusts again when her hips started to roll in desperate little jerks.

“Please, let me cum,” she begged.

“Not yet. You volunteered to be the subject. I’m the professor. I decide on the syllabus.”

For the first time since they started, she turned to Harry. “Please, ‘Arry, tell him to move quickly. I can’t take it.”

His face burned, his lips sealed with shame. How could he say it. How could he ask his cousin to fuck his girlfriend faster?

Hermione lounged beside them on the sofa, still wearing nothing but her skirt. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes, occasionally reaching over to trace idle patterns on Fleur’s thigh or brush a thumb across one rosy nipple, making the Veela arch and whimper softly.

Harry remained in the armchair across from them, trousers tented, unable to move. He just watched; silent, burning, and unable to look away.

Dudley shifted beneath Fleur. “Let no one say that I’m a bad professor,” he said mockingly. He guided her hips up slightly, then pulled her down in one slow, deep, deliberate slide.

Fleur’s mouth fell open on a sharp, breathy gasp as he filled her completely. Her head tipped back against his shoulder, silvery hair cascading down his chest. Dudley groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through both their bodies.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered against her ear, voice rough. “Even after all that.”

Fleur’s answer was a shaky exhale in French, half curse, half plea. Her hands gripped his thighs, knuckles white, as Dudley began to move.

He didn’t rush. He fucked her slow and deep, long rolling thrusts that dragged every thick inch along her walls. Each time he bottomed out, he ground his hips in a tight circle, pressing against that spot inside her that made her thighs tremble and her breath hitch.

Fleur; arrogant, haughty, beautiful Fleur shattered under his touch, moaning louder and louder.

The movie lit their bodies in flashes of orange and white. Fleur’s skin glowed ethereally in the shifting light, pale curves, flushed cheeks, the faint silvery sheen of her Veela blood making her look almost otherworldly even as Dudley claimed her so thoroughly.

Hermione leaned in, capturing Fleur’s mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. Fleur moaned into it, one hand reaching up to tangle in Hermione’s curls, holding her close while Dudley kept up that relentless rhythm beneath her.

When they broke apart, Fleur’s lips were swollen, eyes glassy. Dudley’s hand slid up to cup one breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers while his other hand returned to her clit. Rubbing tight, firm circles now, no more teasing.

Fleur’s moans grew louder, less restrained, high, melodic French curses mixed with broken gasps of “oui… batard… Dudley—” The Veela allure flared instinctively, filling the room with that intoxicating pull, but Dudley just laughed low against her neck.

Harry froze.

“I will give you everything you want. Let me cum,” Fleur begged.

“Don’t need it, whore,” he rasped. “Already got you right where I want you.”

He sped up. Harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin cutting through the movie’s soundtrack. Fleur’s back arched, breasts bouncing with each thrust, thighs quaking as she chased the edge.

Hermione slid a hand down between them, fingers joining Dudley’s at Fleur’s clit, rubbing faster, slick with her arousal.

Fleur shattered almost immediately, body going rigid, cry echoing off the walls, clenching around Dudley so hard he cursed under his breath. Her orgasm rolled through her in waves, thighs shaking, silvery hair whipping as her head thrashed against his shoulder.

Dudley didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, hard and relentless, until her second climax crashed over her almost on the heels of the first. This time she sobbed his name, nails digging into his thighs deep enough to draw blood, body trembling uncontrollably.

Only then did Dudley let go.

With a guttural groan he slammed up one last time, burying himself deep and coming hard, hot, thick pulses that filled her completely. He held her down, grinding in slow circles, milking every drop while Fleur whimpered and shuddered in aftershocks.

When it was over, he didn’t pull out immediately. He kept her impaled on him, softening slowly inside her, arms wrapped around her waist like he was claiming ownership. Fleur slumped against his chest, breathing ragged, hair sticking to her damp skin, looking beautifully wrecked.

Hermione pressed soft kisses along Fleur’s shoulder, then met Dudley’s eyes over her head. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips.

The movie played on, credits rolling now, unnoticed.

Dudley kissed the side of Fleur’s neck, voice low and smug.

“Still think I can’t teach, whore?”

“I … I don’t know,” she whispered, dazed. “We still have more material to cover. Only then, we can be sure…”

No one reached for the remote. No one moved.

Harry’s nightmare continued.

&&&

Harry Potter trudged down the hallway, tired. He didn’t sleep even a wink, a lingering fog in his head from the previous night's excesses. This time, he didn’t even had the luxury of it being a nightmare.

His bare feet padded softly on the creaky floorboards, a towel slung over his shoulder as he headed for the bathroom. A quick shower would clear his mind, wash away the haze so that he could have a talk with Fleur and Hermione.

And convince them that he forgive them. It was his fault for neglecting them. He just hoped that they accepted.

It was early, so he hoped that no one would be up. But as he approached the bathroom door, he heard the telltale rush of water from the shower, someone was already in there.

The door was ajar, steam billowing out in lazy curls, carrying the scent of soap and something earthier. Harry paused, about to knock, when a soft moan drifted through the crack. His heart skipped. The voice was familiar. A fatalistic curiosity pulled him closer even as his heart sank.

He peered through the narrow opening, and the sight hit him like a Bludger to the chest.

Fleur stood under the spray, her silver-blonde hair plastered to her back, water cascading over her flawless Veela curves. But she wasn't alone. Dudley loomed behind her, his bulky frame pressed flush against her, one hand gripping her hip while the other cupped her full breast, kneading it roughly.

Fleur's head was thrown back against his shoulder, her lips parted in ecstasy as Dudley thrust into her from behind, slow and deep, the wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles. Her breasts bounced with each movement, nipples hard and pink, and she moaned in that lilting French accent: "Oui... harder, Dudley..."

Harry froze, shock rooting him in place. This couldn't be real. Fleur was fucking his cousin? Again? Right there, door open like they didn't care who saw? His stomach twisted, a mix of betrayal and helpless arousal warring inside him. He wanted to burst in, to yell, to hex Dudley into next week and have the talk with Fleur, forgiving her.

But his feet wouldn't move; his voice caught in his throat, shyness and insecurity clamping down like a vice. He was the Chosen One, yet here he stood, paralyzed.

A soft gasp beside him made him jump. Susan Bones stood there, wrapped in a towel that clung to her ample curves, her red hair damp from what must have been an earlier wash in the tent shower outside. Her eyes were wide with shock, mirroring his own, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene. "Harry... oh Merlin, no," she whispered, her voice trembling. She glanced at him, her face paling. "This isn't right. I'll fix it. Don't worry. Stay here, I'll handle this."

Harry nodded numbly, his heart pounding as Susan pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, unable to decipher a voice at the back of his head, warning him. He watched helplessly from the threshold, his body still frozen by shock. Susan marched up to the shower, her towel slipping slightly but her resolve firm. "Dudley! What the hell are you doing? Get off her, now!"

Fleur turned her head lazily, eyes hazy with pleasure, but Dudley just grinned, not missing a thrust. "Join the fun, Susan? Or are you jealous?" Fleur moaned again, arching back into him, seemingly unbothered.

Susan grabbed Dudley's arm, pulling him back with surprising strength. "I said stop! Fleur, snap out of it—this is wrong." To Harry's relief, she succeeded in separating them; Dudley pulled out with a wet pop, his thick cock glistening and hard, and Fleur stumbled slightly, leaning against the wall as water continued to pour over her.

Susan shot her a stern look. "Go dry off. We'll talk later."

Fleur pouted but complied, wrapping a towel around herself and slipping past Harry without a word, her Veela allure making his cheeks burn even in his shock. Susan turned back to Dudley, hands on her hips. "You can't just—"

But Dudley moved fast, his grin turning predatory. He grabbed Susan's wrist, yanking her under the spray. Her towel loosened in the struggle, slipping down to expose her massive breasts, heavy and swaying as water soaked her. "It’s only fair you take her place," he growled, spinning her to face the wall. Susan gasped, shocked, but Dudley was already behind her, his hands roaming, one squeezing her breast, rolling the nipple, while the other dipped between her legs.

Harry expected her to push him again, showing her earlier strength. But, suddenly, that strength was absent when her hand landed on his chest, her push ineffective. He almost thought that it was a caress rather than a push.

But no, not Susan as well…

Harry watched, helpless, his voice failing him again. "Susan... no..." he whispered, but it came out too soft, drowned by the water. Susan’s protest faltered as his fingers worked her, her body betraying her with a moan.

Dudley didn’t waste time before he positioned himself, thrusting into her in one swift motion, and Susan cried out, her hands bracing against the tiles. Harry could only stand there, frozen, as Dudley took her, pounding relentlessly, her breasts slapping wetly against the wall, her promises to fix things dissolving into gasps of pleasure.

The betrayal stung, but Harry's shyness held him back, leaving him a silent witness once more.

&&&

Dudley had left the bathroom door ajar on purpose, a tease, a declaration of victory very thing hotter.

The thing with Susan was not planned, just like how Fleur’s arrival the last night hadn’t been. But, seeing Harry unable to react, showing that despite the magic, he was still the same wimp that only ran away when they played Harry Hunting, Dudley couldn’t help but push for more.

Like right now, under the hot spray, pinning Susan against the wall, her lithe body slick and yielding as he thrust deep into her tight pussy while Harry watched. Susan’s walls clenched around his cock, hot and velvety, her moans echoing like music. "I’m better than that French whore, right," she gasped, pushing back to meet him, her incredible breasts heaving under his rough grip.

He slapped one, watching it jiggle, then pinched the nipple hard, drawing a cry that mingled with the water's rush.

He knew Harry was watching, his shadow clear at the door, but that only spurred him on, pounding harder, the wet slap of his balls against her ass filling the room. Fleur came first, shattering around him with a scream, her pussy milking him, but he held back.

He pulled back a moment, making her turn, enjoying her incredible nude body before he spun her to face the wall again. She gasped as she collided hard, but he was more interested in her lower back arching her ass toward him.

He didn’t start fucking. After all, it was only fair to give him a lesson. “Harry, watch carefully,” he called.

Her folds were slick, clit swollen as he rubbed it roughly. "You promised to fix it? Fix this," he taunted, thrusting two fingers inside her, pumping fast. Susan moaned despite herself, her resistance crumbling. "Stop... oh god, let’s close the door. This is wrong," she gasped, but her hips bucked back, chasing his touch.

He positioned his cock at her entrance. "Take it," he commanded, thrusting in deep. Susan cried out, her pussy stretching around him like a vice, hot and plush. Dudley groaned, gripping her hips and pounding relentlessly, her massive breasts slapping against the wet tiles with each slam. "These tits... fuck, they're perfect," he grunted, reaching around to knead one, pinching the nipple until she whimpered.

Susan braced against the wall, her body betraying her with moans. "Dudley... harder." He obliged, angling to hit her core, the water making everything slippery and intense. Harry watched from the door, helpless as he filled another of his girlfriends.

Susan collapsed. He slapped Susan's ass, leaving a pink mark, then rubbed her clit furiously.

Dudley left the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and walked toward the door. Harry was there. “Cousin,” he said cheerfully. “This was the lesson on how to handle a girl with tits this large. I hope you took notes, or we might have to repeat the lesson,” he said.

Harry said nothing, his horror growing. He smirked at Harry's frozen form. “Do you need any other lessons? Maybe about teaching an arrogant slut who looks down to you about her real place? Or how to handle someone athetic? An airhead?”

He left, leaving Harry frozen, still looking at Susan’s naked body.