FicWad

I own nothing at all. . . .Except a car. And a computer. But I certainly don’t own Harry Potter.

A/N This story was intended as a one-shot, although as I wrote it I came up with ideas for a few more chapters. Whether or not I write them depends on how this one is received. BEWARE! This story contains graphic sex between a teenager and an eight-year-old child (though I don’t explicitly state her age in the story). If this is offends you, then now would be a good time to discover that your browser has a “back” button. You have been warned.




The Unexpected Result Of. . .




. . .Saving a Veela




Harry slept fitfully in his four poster the night after the second task. He’d been uneasy for most of the day. From what he could tell, it had started in the early afternoon when he noticed a change come over the female population of the school; they seemed to be taunting him—enticing him—teasing him. It seemed that he couldn’t so much as walk down a hallway without girls brushing up against him or walking by him seductively. But at the same time, he was sure that it was just in his head; even on a day without classes, the students of Hogwarts generally wore their school robes, but he could picture the bodies of the opposite sex moving beneath those uniforms as clearly as if they were wearing skin-tight leotards. He knew the girls hadn't changed, they weren’t any different, it was simply that his perception of them had somehow heightened. There was no delicate way to say it; Harry was randy.

Finally, at half nine, he’d claimed he was tired from his swim in the lake and retreated up to bed in an effort to escape the array of femininity that, to Harry, saturated the common room. For more than an hour he had lay there, wishing that he could put the day’s events behind him and fall asleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, he would see things that made his heart race: Hogwarts girls in lacy underthings; smooth, toned, tanned, bare flesh; breasts barely concealed by half open robes; long legs disappearing beneath robes much too short to be allowed in the castle—only just long enough to cover their owners most private parts; curtains of long silky hair. . .

It was near eleven when he had decided that the only way he would get any relief would be to, well, rub one out. Unfortunately, he was just beginning to work up some steam when, from the opposite side of the room, he’d heard Seamus doing the very same thing. He’d grimaced—all of his momentum was lost. Throwing up a silencing charm on his curtains didn’t help, as now he couldn’t get the sounds of Seamus pleasuring himself out of his head. Frustrated, he’d rolled over and closed his eyes, not even bothering to put his nightclothes back on, and tried to fall asleep, while visions of female flesh, tantalizingly hidden, danced behind his eyelids.

Now having fallen asleep, the relief he’d hoped he would find remained elusive. His dreams were filled with nameless, faceless, barely-clothed girls touching him, caressing him, trying to undress him. He settled a bit as the dream shifted and he found himself in an empty classroom with Cho. She slinked up to him seductively, her hands alternating between caressing various parts of her anatomy and opening the fastenings on her robe as she continued to draw nearer Harry. He caught tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh underneath the robe as it opened. She was mere feet from him now and she licked her lips invitingly. Harry swallowed as his breathing increased in pace.

Suddenly, the dream Cho was in his arms as the robe slid ever so slowly over her shoulders revealing her nakedness. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her bare back, one just below her shoulders, the other at her waist. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the kiss and the armful of naked girl.

“Oh, Harry,” she said as her lips broke away from the kiss before moving to kiss up his jaw line. Her voice sounded younger than normal, but it didn’t fail to send shivers down his spine. “I want you.”

Harry couldn’t respond other than to kiss every bit of exposed skin that his lips could reach—cheek, jaw, neck, shoulder, arm—as his hands explored various interesting aspects of her form.

Moving back up to kiss her lips again, he noticed that her hair had changed; it was no longer black but a silvery blond. He knew that Cho’s hair wasn’t blond, but the change felt right to him and he couldn’t explain it. Nor did he have any desire to do so.

She brought her lips to his and again Harry closed his eyes and revelled in the sensations. His hands continued their explorations, his right was kneading her bum and his left ventured around and moved up to her chest. The fact that her chest was flat, with no development whatsoever brought him up short. “Oh, ’Arry,” she said, and this time he knew that the young voice wasn’t Cho’s. “Zank you for pulling me out of ze lake.”

Harry’s eye’s shot open as he was forcefully pulled from his troubled sleep. He found himself in his four-poster, still naked and most definitely not alone.

“Gabrielle?” he breathed. He was too shocked by the girl’s presence in his bed to be surprised that he remembered her name. She was sitting astride him as he lay on his back. She wore a nightgown that was really nothing more than a long shirt. He thought it was pink though it was difficult to tell in the dim light that filtered around and over his drawn curtains and it was bunched up at the bottom but would likely have barely kept her knickers from view had she been standing straight. She was sitting on his legs just below his crotch with his cock standing very erect directly in front of her. He gulped. “What are you. . .” He trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to extricate himself from this obviously embarrassing situation without either getting himself into serious trouble or becoming the subject of some very humiliating rumours. His eyes darted to his shorts wistfully; he wanted desperately to cover himself up but images of her running from his bed screaming loud enough to wake the entire tower should he startle her by moving to grab them stayed his hands.

“I ’ad to come to you,” she said simply.

Shock and fear played their parts in slowing his thought processes. He found himself having to force his eyes up to hers to keep them off of the point where her belly contacted the base of his penis. He silently cursed the fact that it defiantly remained completely hard. “You. . . had. . .” he managed.

She giggled. “Surely you felt it.”

“Felt. . .?” he repeated dumbly.

“Down by ze lake, silly boy,” she said. She twitched her legs just enough to move her upper body forward and back again by the barest amount as though she wanted to press herself more firmly against his cock. As she moved, he felt something he hadn’t noticed before: the nightgown she was wearing would not have covered her knickers after all, since she clearly didn’t have any on. His cock gave an involuntary throb and he mentally groaned. “You know,” she continued uninterrupted, “when we connected.”

Harry couldn’t understand why his mind was working at such a slow pace. He should be figuring out a way to gently tell her that she should leave quietly; she really shouldn’t be there. Instead, all he could focus on—other than the incredibly intimate contact she had with him—were a few disconnected snippets of what she was saying.

“Connected?” he asked.

She nodded, apparently happy that he finally seemed to be grasping something.

“When you pulled me out of ze water,” she said simply as though she thought it should be perfectly obvious to him. “I know you felt it.” She leaned forward a bit, increasing her body’s contact with his cock, and placed her right hand, palm down, on his chest just above his breast bone. “Right ’ere,” she said.

Instinctively, his hand moved to cover hers. She smiled shyly at the contact. How could she be shy, he wondered. She was sitting on him more intimately than any other girl had ever done while she was only one article of clothing away from being completely nude! He didn’t even know her. He’d never seen her before that morning and he’d only been in contact with her for the amount of time it took to swim her up to the surface of the water at which point she. . .

His thoughts trailed off. He’d just remembered something. Something that he’d almost completely ignored at the time. After he and Ron had pulled her out of the water, she’d looked him for the briefest of moments and he’d felt something right where Gabrielle now had her hand. The only way he could think of to describe it was, as she had said, a connection. What that meant, however, he didn’t know.

For several seconds, Harry just stared into her eyes, suddenly very aware of every place that she was touching him. He struggled for something to say—an intelligent question as to the nature of what it was he had felt down by the lakeside and what it had to do with her being nearly naked in bed with him in the middle of the night.

“Connection?” he repeated unintelligently.

Again she nodded. “I am Veela,” she said as though that explained everything.

Harry’s mind latched onto something. He suddenly flashed on Fleur’s comment during the weighing of the wands. Her grandmother was Veela. Gabrielle was Fleur’s sister so Gabrielle’s grandmother was Veela.

“You’re a quarter Veela, right?” he asked.

She shook her head as she removed her hand from his chest and straightened back up. Harry felt a strange reluctance to let go of her hand. “More zan a ’alf. Mama is Veela and Papa ’as a bit of Veela in ’im too.”

“OK. So you’re more than half Veela,” he said. “But what does that have to do with the, er, /connection/?”

She frowned and for a moment, he felt the inexplicable urge to hug her to him. He mentally shook himself and waited for her answer.

“You never studied ze Veela?” she said as though he’d insulted her heritage. He briefly wondered why he felt so uncomfortable.

“Erm, no,” he said. “At least— I don’t think we’ve covered Veela yet. Perhaps next term. I’m not really sure.”

Her frown softened and Harry realized he felt better.

“Oh,” she said simply. Then she moved. It was almost like the way she moved before when she’d raised up a bit and pressed herself against his cock, but where before it was so quick that it was almost over before he realized it was happening, this move was slower—more deliberate—and as she moved forward, she rotated her hips, gently pressing what he knew was her bare sex against his. He fought to keep his eyes from rolling back and he bit his tongue to keep from making any noise; he was sure that anything that sounded like he was enjoying what she was doing would be taken as encouragement. As she stopped her forward movement and began to move back—rotating her hips again to accentuate the grinding motion—she continued speaking. “Veela, ’Arry, are not yooman. While I am part yooman, I am, as I said, more zan ’alf Veela. I ’ave Veela blood and Veela traits.” As she spoke she continued moving, a slow, determined forward and back, grinding herself against him. Harry found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

“Veela,” Gabrielle continued, “’ave ze ability to form a connection wiz someone—a bond you might say.”

Harry realized she was talking about the connection, but at the moment, all he could seem to focus on was the slow, steady back and forth of her hips. He put his hands on her hips to stop her movement, but it didn’t seem to work and soon it was all he could do to keep himself from helping her. Removing his hands, however, never crossed his mind.

“Normally,” she went on, smiling slightly when she felt his hands on her, “Veela only choose to connect—to bond—wiz someone after many years of knowing zat person. But sometimes, somezing can ’appen to make a bond form wizout ze Veela’s choosing.”

Harry was trying to listen to her, but most of his brain could only seem to understand: grind forward, grind back. . .

“For example: saving ze life of a Veela would not normally be enough to force a bond to form against ze Veela’s will, but when a Veela is young, like me,” she said as she gave a more insistent grind of her hips, “and just beginning maturation—if I were completely yooman it would be called puberty, but ze Veela do not call it zat—ze changes in ze Veela’s body, ze changing—how do you say, er, chemicals?”

Harry was only listening with half an ear, but he still heard her struggle.

“Hormones?” he offered. He realized as he said it that the place where they were so intimately in contact was rather slick. Some part of his brain—a part way in the back—told him that it meant she was excited. In that same, out-of-the-way, back part of his brain, an alarm sounded. But then again, there had been so many alarms in his head since he’d awakened, one more made little difference.

“Oui, ’ormones,” she said. “Wiz ze maturation and my ’ormones being out of balance, when you saved me from ze lake, we connected—a bond began to form. And now it is time to complete it.”

So focused was he on the discovery of the slickness between them that it took a moment for what she had said to register.

“Complete it?” he asked after a few more cycles of her hips.

“Oui, you and I must ’ave sex,” she said matter-of-factly with another particularly intense grind of her hips.

“Sex?” It was meant to be a shocked cry, but came out as a strangled whisper.

Her grinding was now more forceful and more deliberate than before but, incongruously, she giggled. “Oui, my ’ero. Sex.”

Harry realized that his hands, while still on her hips, had somehow made their way underneath her nightgown. He jerked them away as though he’d been burned and she giggled again. She reached out at took his left hand and placed it on her thigh before guiding it up under her nightgown again so that it once more rested on her hip.

“It is OK to touch me ’Arry,” she said. “I am yours to touch as you please.”

“N-no, that’s not r-right,” he stammered, though he made no move to withdraw his hand from her bare skin. “We can’t have sex. You’re. . .” He cut himself off. As absurd as this entire situation was, he was afraid of offending her.

“I’m what?” she prompted.

There was nothing for it, now. “You’re. . .” he began, then he nearly mumbled, “too young.”

She laughed, bright and musical.

“’Arry,” she said as she ground herself all the way up to the very tip of his cock, forcing it to lie flat against his stomach, before grinding all way back down. This time, Harry’s eyes did roll back in his head. “I am Veela. We are sexual creatures. I was born knowing about sex. Most Veela ’oo live in ze Veela colonies ’ave ’ad sex before they are more zan a few years old. Ze only reason I am ze virgin is because I did not grow up around ozzer Veela. Zere was no one my age zat knew about sex.”

She had gone back to her more intense grinding again. Harry realized that his right hand had found it’s way back to her hip again; his other had migrated of it’s own volition to grip her bum.

“Ze bond ’as started forming,” she continued and she reached down, gathering the bottom of her nightgown in her hands and pulling it up over her head. His cock gave yet another throb as her naked body was revealed to him. She casually tossed the garment aside. “We must ’ave sex to complete ze bond.”

She leaned forward, his cock pressing insistently against her now naked belly and sex, and placed her hands on either side of him, sliding herself up along his length so that their faces were close to each other.

“Ze desire will only grow stronger and stronger until you can no longer resist it and zen we will complete ze bond wherever you ’appen to be.” Harry’s eyes closed as he found his hands exploring her body of their own free will. Her skin was so soft and smooth and she seemed to be enjoying his touches; he wasn’t so sure he wanted to stop any more.

“Now, while I would not care where it ’appens,” she continued softly. “I’m sure you might be embarrassed to lose control and fuck me in public.” He couldn’t help but gasp a bit at her vulgarity. “Per’aps in ze great ’all? In front of ze ’ole school and ze teachers and ze ozzer schools?”

Part of Harry cringed at the thought of losing control and shagging in public, but another part of him found it strangely attractive. But still, Veela or not, she was just a child.

“I can’t,” he said. “It’s not right.”

She slid forward a bit and back again.

“What is right, ’Arry?” she asked. “I am yours, ’owever you want to treat me. I can be your lover, your princess, your seductress, your slave, your pet. . . I can be anyzing you want me to be.” She leaned forward until her head was beside his so that when she spoke again he could feel her breath tickle his ear. “And I know you want me too. I can feel it.”

Harry couldn’t help but glance down at his own arousal pressing into the girl leaning over him before moving back up to her eyes. She caught the movement of his eyes and laughed.

“Non, mon cher,” she said. She raised herself back over him and brought her right hand up and placed it on her flat chest, directly between her two, tiny, pink nipples, just as she had placed it on his chest before. “’Ere. Zis is where I feel it.”

She brought her lips to his in a kiss. He found himself responding to it, either against his will or simply without it, he wasn’t sure. He had never really given that much thought to kissing before; sure he assumed he would kiss a girl at some point in the future but he’d never spent much time thinking about what it would be like when he did. The reality, however, was nothing that he could have imagined. The feeling of her lips on his lit a fire in his chest and set off flashbulbs in the back of his mind; her tongue dancing with his was indescribable. The fact of her being so young seemed to have packed it’s bags and slipped out one of his ears when he wasn’t paying attention.

After some amount of time, and he most certainly wasn’t sure just how much, she broke the kiss, sliding back down and lifting herself back to her original seated position, only to start her slow grinding once more.

“So,” she said, “are you ready to complete ze bond, ’Arry?”

His mind seemed filled with fog; he couldn’t think straight and could no longer remember the logical arguments for not letting her have her way. His resistance was more a case of mental inertia—he had been saying no, so he simply continued to do so. His determination, however was waning.

“I. . . cant,” he managed.

“You cannot fight it, ’Arry,” she said. “Sooner or later. . .” As if to prove her point, she put her hand on his cock and gave it a couple of slow strokes. Harry could only grit his teeth at the contact.

“Gabrielle, I. . .” But he couldn’t form a thought. All his excuses seemed to have gone, and in doing so had left him with only his waning determination.

Slowly, she raised herself up on her knees—dragging herself along his length as she did so—until the head of his cock was poised at her entrance. She started lowering herself back down, but as his hardness began pressing into her sex, Harry came to his senses. In a flash, his hands were back at her hips, only this time, they were holding her above his cock, preventing her from sliding any lower.

“No,” he said and he heard her growl in frustration.

“Oui,” she said defiantly, trying to force herself down on his cock but his hands held her firm. It was clear that she was becoming frustrated and, at the moment, her frustration mirrored Harry’s own.

“I don’t care if you are a Veela,” he said firmly. “You are still just a child. You’re too young for this.”

“You zink I am a child? Mon Dieu!” she yelled. Harry was glad for the silencing charm as the others in the room continued snoring away, blissfully unaware of the battle raging between the to naked people in their dorm mate’s bed. “I’ll show you just ’ow much of a child I am. ’Arry, I want you to fuck me. I want you to take my virginity. I want you zrow me down and make me a woman. I want you to slide zis beautiful cock of yours into my cunt and make love to me until I scream your name and you cum inside me. I want you to use me for your own pleasure. I want you to pound me until I cannot walk.” She stroked as much of his length as she could reach while she tried to convince him. Harry’s arms were getting tired from holding her up but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move her away from his cock.

“Use me, ’Arry,” she continued without so much as a pause. “Fuck me until neizer of us can move and zen let me sleep wiz you still inside me. Fuck me! Use me! ’Ave sex wiz me! Make love to me! Rape me!” She was panting and flushed, though it was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she still stroked his cock with her small hand.

She was heavy in Harry’s hands and she slipped down a little and the head of his cock parted her outer lips and wedged itself in her entrance. For a moment, all he could do was grit his teeth, but then something snapped in the back of his mind. Perhaps it was the frustration he’d been faced with all day, perhaps it was her taunting, perhaps her teasing him or her stroking him—perhaps it was a combination—but without warning, he moved, flipping her over so that she was laying on her back in the same place that he had been with him now on top of her, his cock somehow still poised at her entrance.

“You want to be used?” he asked her, punctuated with a short sharp thrust of his hips; not enough to penetrate her, just enough to let her know that he was most certainly still at her entrance.

“Oui, mon ’Arry,” she said as she spread her legs wide as though granting him permission. “Fuck me. Use me. Make me yours!”

He gave another thrust, more insistent than the first and, after a bit of resistance, the head of his cock slipped inside. Gabrielle inhaled sharply and her eyes widened.

“Oui! Oui, ’Arry. More! More!” she demanded.

Harry had never felt anything like what he was feeling now. She was tight—oh, so incredibly tight—and slick. With her beneath him encouraging him to go on, he pressed forward a bit more until her walls seemed to cling to him, preventing him from going deeper. In his naïveté, he thought that would be as deep as he could go. But when his instincts kicked in and he pulled out and pushed back in, he sank even deeper.

Gabrielle moaned, looking up at him with a fierce, determined look in her eyes. She reached up and grabbed his back, pulling him closer, and locked her legs around his as though to both spur him on and prevent him from going anywhere should he develop second thoughts.

Now that he had given in to her tempting him, Harry found that any thoughts of stopping were so far from his mind as to be non-existent. For the moment at least, Harry’s universe seemed to have shrunk down to the size of his cock; the sensations that he was experiencing and the feel of the girl underneath him were all that mattered.

He pulled back out and plunged in once again, burying himself completely inside her. At the moment their pubic bones collided, Gabrielle moaned—a high pitched, drawn out sound that was far too sexy to have come from such a young girl—and clenched around him spasmodically; child or not, Harry realized that she had had an orgasm simply by being fully penetrated. As inexperienced as he was, he wondered if all girls came so easily. Not knowing what else to do, he stopped his movements.

She managed to emerge from her orgasm induced haze enough to beg him to continue; he didn’t have to be told twice. He began a slow in-and-out motion that, at first, lacked coordination. She didn’t seem to mind, however as, judging by the clenching he felt and the sounds she kept making, Gabrielle seemed to be enjoying a very long, drawn out orgasm.

As Harry’s body found rhythm and his movements came smoother and easier, the Veela found her voice.

“Oh, oui!” she said. “Fuck me ’Arry. Make me yours. ’Arder, mon amour, ’arder, faster!”

Harry tried to oblige the girl.

“Oh, merde!” she cried. “Oh, oui, mon cher.” And she came again.

Harry continued stroking in and out of the girl. On some level, he was enjoying the fact that she was able to find so much pleasure in their union. On another level, he was simply in awe of the fact that he was shagging for the first time.

Part of him, a small voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione, was trying to tell him that he was raping a child. But, through the sex induced haze in his brain, a louder voice—the one that had pulled him out of Professor Moody’s Imperious curse—pointed out the fact that she came to him wanting this, she begged him for it—practically demanded it; pointed out that she was more Veela than human; pointed out that, with the bond that he could feel strengthening, he knew that every reason she had given him for doing this was true. He really didn’t have a choice, not that he wanted one at the moment.

He reached down and caressed her chest, stroking the place where, one day, her left breast would be. He seized her nipple and twisted it, pulling it before releasing it and letting it snap back. Gabrielle cried out in shock and pleasure as she orgasmed once again from the pain.

He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, their tongues duelling in each other’s mouths.

His stroking continued and he felt himself getting close. Wanting to prolong the moment as long as possible, he pulled out of her and inched back on his knees, pushing himself up and resting on his heels, his cock jutting obscenely in the air. Gabrielle whimpered at the loss and tried to hunch herself back onto him but let out a frustrated moan when she realized that he was no longer in the position for her to do so. She clambered up and onto her own knees and heels, her eyes asking the unvoiced question, “Why did you stop?” Without Harry having to say anything, however, she pulled the answer from the forming bond.

With a coy smile, she bent down and engulfed him in her mouth. The warm wetness and the feeling of her tongue swirling around his manhood was a new experience for Harry. A moan of pleasure was ripped from his throat.

Gabrielle wasted no time in going to work. She stroked him with her right hand and fondled his testicles with her left as her mouth bobbed up and down and her tongue swirled and tickled. A shudder of pleasure racked Harry’s body and, without so much as touching herself, Gabrielle came again.

Harry suddenly realized that, as the bond was growing stronger, she was becoming more in tune with what he was feeling, his pleasure gave her pleasure. “And,” he mused to himself, “it apparently magnifies it.”

Suddenly, as though following his train of thought, the girl changed tactics. She released her hold on his cock and balls and grabbed his waist. Before he even had a chance to wonder what she was going to do, she plunged down on him, burying her nose in his pubic hair and his cock down her throat. Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and another orgasm hit the girl, her neck muscles contracting as though in sympathy with her vaginal muscles.

Then she began moving, using her grip on his waist to throat-fuck herself on his cock. Harry’s head fell back and his eyes close and another moan escaped his throat. Instinctively, Harry reached out and tangled his hands in her hair and began guiding her. He wasn’t sure how, but he had received the distinct impression that she smiled—as much as she could smile anyway with is cock down her throat—when he did so.

Harry felt himself nearing his orgasm again so he stopped her when he was as far down as she could be and held her there. She didn’t seem to mind and she also didn’t seem to need to breath. For a moment, he felt the need to come lessening, then he felt her throat begin to rhythmically contract at the same time he felt her tongue somehow snake out and lick around the top of his scrotum.

He let her ministrations continue for a few more seconds before he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back so that she was again lying in the position she’d been earlier. In a flash, he was atop her, his mouth on hers, their tongues duelling. He gave no thought to the fact that her mouth had just been around his cock and that, as little as fifteen minutes ago, he would have been repulsed by the idea of kissing a girl after such an act.

She wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his bum and again tried to hunch herself down so that she could have his cock back inside her. Harry pulled back from the kiss and grinned ferally, then he reached down and placed himself back at the entrance to her sopping cunt.

“Is this what you want?” he teased, while pretending to be unable to find the exact location of her entrance. She instinctively shifted her hips and pulled with her legs trying to blindly impale herself on him. “Tell me you want it,” he said.

“Oui! Yes!” she panted. “I want it!”

He stroked his hardness up along the outside of her pussy, stopping when he hit her clit and she shuddered in a near orgasm.

“Really?” he asked, sounding sceptical. “You don’t sound like you want it all that much.”

“Oh! Mon Dieu, ’Arry! J’ai besoin de. . .” she began. “Yes! Yes! I need it!”

Without letting his cock any closer to the entrance to her cunt, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Beg me.”

“Oh, God, ’Arry! I’ll do anything,” she pleaded without hesitation. “I need it! Fuck me! Claim me! Use me! S’il vous plait! Please! Let me worship you wiz my body!” He placed himself at her entrance. “I don’t deserve you,” she continued. “But I beg of you, let me pleasure you.”

He rammed himself into her. She screamed and came and began thrusting back against him as her orgasm rolled on and on. Her arms tightened around him which had the effect of almost pulling her off the bed so that she could get him deeper inside her. He thrust, hard and fast, slamming into her over and over as she whimpered in pleasure underneath him.

Long and deep strokes hammered her arse down into the bed, the wet, slapping sounds of their genitals colliding mixed with her quiet moaning whimpers and his rhythmic grunts.

His thrusting slowed as he felt himself nearing his peak once again so he stopped and pulled out. She immediately tried to tighten her hold on him with her legs to prevent him from getting away but he grabbed her legs and forced them around so that they were resting on his shoulders, trapping them with his arms to keep her from moving them back. He then took himself in hand and aimed his cock at the tiny pucker nestled between her two fleshy cheeks. Her eyes widened in surprise but he saw no fear in them. Indeed, coming from the bond, he felt only excitement and anticipation all wrapped up with a healthy dose of lust. Guessing that she knew what her body was capable of, he simply thrust forward hard and fast, burying himself balls-deep in her rectum.

She screamed in pain. Then, when his pleasure hit her through the bond a split-second later, she came; more intense than any of her other orgasms that night, she literally sprayed his abdomen with her juices.

A combination of the pleasure that he felt being inside her as he was and her pleasure seeping back to him over the bond had him close to coming himself. He pulled back and thrust in. She screamed again as her orgasm intensified and more of her juices splashed across him and trickled down to their union.

Another thrust. And another. And suddenly, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He exploded in her depths, his orgasm more intense than any that he’d ever had in his life; it seemed to go on forever. Her orgasm peaked again in sync with his climax and through the bond sharing each other’s pleasure, they fed off each other—his prolonging hers and hers prolonging his.

Each was half aware of seeing, through barely open eyes, a nimbus of golden light emanating from their union and expanding out to envelop them as their mutual orgasm slowly transitioned into it’s denouement.

His climax over, Harry tried to pull out of her, only to find himself too sensitive to move. After a bit of careful manoeuvring, they managed to situate themselves so that he was spooned up behind her with his softening cock still buried in her arse. She seemed to draw comfort from the intimacy of their position and he enjoyed the closeness as well.

Harry found himself suddenly very sleepy and Gabrielle smiled at the stereotype of the male that falls asleep as soon as he comes.

“So,” he said groggily, “what was that light, anyway?”

“That was the completion of the bond,” she said, and Harry was surprised that her English was now perfect. “Now we are together forever.”

He smiled sleepily. “I notice you don’t have an accent any more.”

Harry sensed her hesitation through the bond before she answered. “I think you’ll find that’s not all that’s changed. . .” She hesitated again before speaking her final word, “Master.”







Well, that’s my first published story.

Now that you’ve read it, feel free to curl up in the fetal position in the shower and cry.

Flame on.




NOI