Chapter 5

The following week unfolds with a series of calculated encounters. You have become adept at orchestrating these trysts with Iris Potter, using the potion's influence to ensure her compliance and silence. Each ambush is meticulously planned: an empty classroom here, a secluded corner of the library, once even close to the Gryffindor common room mere feet away from her siblings and housemates. The potion ensures her willingness, yet beneath the surface, a struggle is evident. The duality of her reactions—the way her body succumbs even as her eyes flash with defiance—serves as a testament to the potion's potency and the strength of her spirit.

During one such encounter in the dimly lit potions lab, while your fingers work with practiced ease, you notice a change in Iris's reactions. Her breath hitches in a way that feels different, less controlled. The potion still courses through her veins, but there's a newfound intensity in her gaze. She clings to you, not just because the potion compels her, but because in this moment, she chooses to. The realization sends a thrill through you, a sensation that goes beyond the physical pleasure of the act.

As Iris's body trembles under your touch, you feel the waves of her climax. It's a familiar sensation by now, yet it seems to resonate with a deeper, more profound intensity each time. Her breathless gasps echo in the otherwise silent potions lab.

You stand before Iris, her chest heaving from the aftershocks of her climax, her eyes holding a mixture of confusion and desire. She's still under the influence of the potion, but you can sense a shift in the dynamic between you two. It's as if the potion's hold is merging with something more genuine, a dangerous dance of power and attraction.

With a swift motion, you command Iris to kneel before you. Complying with your command, Iris lowers herself onto the cold stone floor of the potions lab. Her knees hitting the ground seem to reverberate through the room, mingling with the quiet crackle of the flame under a nearby cauldron. The shadows cast by the flickering torchlight dance across her face, highlighting the flush of her cheeks and the anticipation in her eyes. The potion-induced haze in Iris's eyes is tinged with new clarity as she looks up at you. Her hands, previously passive, now reach out to the clasp of your robes with a determined urgency. The sound of the fabric parting fills the silence, and your anticipation builds.

You stand before her, the cool air of the potions lab brushing against your skin as she pulls your robes apart. Iris's fingers tremble slightly as she undoes the clasp of your robes, revealing your black underwear. The tension in the room is palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and the lingering scent of potion ingredients. Iris's breathing is shallow, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly pulls down your undergarments, freeing your erect cock.

Iris's hands, delicate yet firm, wrap around your shaft. Her touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, a sensation that's both foreign and intoxicating. The potion has primed her for this, but there's an eagerness in her movements that suggests more than just the effects of the concoction. You watch as her tongue darts out, tentatively tasting the tip of your cock. The taste of your skin intrigues her. Her tongue explores further, tracing the contours of your erection with a curiosity that's as genuine as it is potion-induced. Her lips part, and she takes you into her mouth. The warmth of her oral cavity envelops you, the suction creating a vacuum of pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Iris's lips slide along your shaft. The sound of her mouth working on you fills the room, punctuated by the occasional clink of a glass vial or the gurgling of a potion. Her movements are tentative at first, guided by the potion's influence, but they quickly gain confidence. As Iris's lips slide along your shaft, you can't help but marvel at the potency of your concoction. The potion has not only ensnared her senses but also seems to be teaching her the art of pleasure. Her movements, once hesitant, now exhibit a rhythm that speaks of an innate talent, enhanced by magic. The potion's magic hums in the air, a tangible presence that intertwines with the raw, physical sensations coursing through you. Iris's technique improves with each passing moment, her tongue swirling around your cock with an expertise that belies her inexperience.

You can't help yourself you push deeper into her mouth. Reacting to your urgency, Iris adjusts her position, shifting from her knees to a more comfortable seated pose on the stone floor. Her hands steady your hips, her fingers pressing into the flesh to brace herself. You feel the head of your cock push against the back of her throat, and you pause, giving her a moment to accommodate the intrusion. Iris's eyes water slightly, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she looks up at you, her gaze filled with a complex mix of emotions - the potion's influence clouding the emerald of her eyes, but not enough to mask the flicker of surprise at her actions, the flicker of resistance, and something else. Something that looks a lot like determination.

As you hold yourself still within the wet heat of her mouth, Iris takes a deep breath through her nose, her chest rising and falling with the effort. With a newfound resolve, she relaxes her throat, allowing you to slide deeper. The sensation is exquisite, a warm, tight embrace that sends shivers up your spine. You let out a low moan, your hand instinctively reaching out to touch her hair, to feel the silkiness of it as she services you.

The potion has done its work, but it's clear that Iris is more than just a puppet under its influence. As your hand gently caresses Iris's hair, you feel the tension in her body start to ease. She adjusts to the new depth, her lips now brushing against the coarse hair at the base of your cock. Her eyes flutter shut, and she begins to move again, her rhythm now more assured, more confident. With each bob of her head, the sounds of the potions lab seem to fade into the background, replaced by the symphony of Iris's oral ministrations. You can't help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Look at you," you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. "Who would have thought that little Iris Potter could be so... adept."

The words hang in the air, a tangible reminder of the power dynamics at play. Iris pauses, her lips still wrapped around your shaft, and her eyes meet yours. There's a flicker of defiance in her gaze, a spark that the potion can't quite extinguish. She releases you from her mouth with a wet pop, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "You're not the only one with hidden depths, Malfoy," Iris retorts, her voice husky from the exertion. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, a small, almost imperceptible act of rebellion. Her eyes, still clouded by the potion, hold a challenge, daring you to underestimate her.

With a swift motion, you grasp Iris's hair and guide her back onto your cock, silencing any further retorts. Her lips part willingly under the influence of the potion, but the defiance in her eyes doesn't waver. The duality of her compliance and inner resistance is a heady mix, adding an edge to the physical pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. Iris's eyes widen slightly as you assert your dominance, but she doesn't resist. The potion ensures her submission, but the spark in her gaze remains, a silent testament to her indomitable spirit. As your cock reclaims its place in her mouth, you can't help but feel a rush of power. This is more than just physical gratification; it's a reaffirmation of your control, your influence over her.

As you reach the precipice of your climax, you withdraw slightly, allowing the head of your cock to rest on Iris's waiting tongue. Her eyes, still locked onto yours, widen in anticipation. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the inevitable release fast approaching. With a final thrust, you let go, your hot cum spilling onto Iris's tongue. She blinks in surprise, her mouth flooded with the taste of you. The taste is familiar, a mix of salt and something uniquely you. Iris's initial reaction is one of surprise, her eyebrows arching upwards. But as the seconds tick by, she swallows reflexively, her throat working as she processes the sensation. The potion ensures her compliance, but the curiosity in her eyes is all her own.

You release your grip on her hair, your fingers sliding free from the silky strands.

"Do you remember the taste of that picnic, Iris?" you ask, your voice laced with amusement. "The unique sauce that you couldn't quite place? Well, now you know." You allow the words to sink in, watching her face for a reaction. Her eyes flicker with understanding, the realization dawning on her that she has been consuming more of you than she initially thought. Iris's face flushes a deep crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She swallows hard, her eyes narrowing as she processes your words. The potion's influence wars with her instincts, creating a conflicted expression on her face. She is silent for a moment, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

"You... you tricked me," she finally manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips curl into a smirk. "You loved it, Iris. You devoured it, savored it, much like you're doing now." You gesture to her mouth, where traces of your satisfaction still linger. "Face it, Iris. There's a part of you, a deep, hidden part, that craves my cum." Iris's eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and humiliation. She quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to rid herself of the taste, the very idea of what you're suggesting. Yet, there's an undeniable truth in your words; her body's reactions have been changed by your potion.

The air between you crackles with tension, a silent battle of wills.

Iris recoils slightly as you dangle your semi-erect penis in front of her, a look of mixed disgust and intrigue flashing across her face. The potion ensures she doesn't run, doesn't shout; instead, she remains rooted to the spot, her gaze locked onto your member.

"Go on, Iris," you coax, your tone light and teasing. "You can be my little cum slut." Iris's cheeks redden at your words, her expression a mix of outrage and a strange, potion-induced fascination. She clenches her fists, her knuckles turning white. The potion's influence is strong. You wonder if this is where she falls further or tries to fight back against the potion.

The stone walls of the dungeon seem to close in around you, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows across the floor. Iris's eyes flicker between your face and the semi-erect penis you're brandishing before her. The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the distant drip of water echoing through the stone corridors.

"You're a monster," Iris hisses, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Iris sits rigid, her breathing ragged as she fights the internal battle between her own will and the potion's powerful influence. Her eyes, despite her clear disgust, remain locked onto your semi-flaccid penis, as if drawn by an invisible ****. The conflict within her is palpable, her resolve weakening under the potion's relentless pull.

"You don't have to love me, Iris." Your words hang in the air, a dark echo against the cold stone walls. "But you do love the power I hold over you, the thrill of the forbidden."

The chilly air of the dungeon does nothing to cool the heated tension between you two. Iris's eyes, wide and conflicted, follow your every move, her gaze glued to your approaching member. The potion's influence is a tangible **** in the room, a silent siren call that even her fierce spirit cannot completely ignore.

"Just give in, Iris." You whisper the words, your voice a soft, insidious melody that weaves through the ancient stones. "Let go of that tight control. You know you want to."

Iris's lips part, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but the words never come. Instead, her gaze remains fixed on your penis, now mere inches from her face.

In the dimly lit dungeon, the air is thick with the scent of stone and ancient magic. Iris's breath hitches as you close the distance, her eyes locked onto your approaching member. You can see the struggle within her, the battle between her own will and the potion's relentless pull.

"Iris," you murmur, your voice a blend of command and seduction. You lean forward, the cold stone wall at your back a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Iris's body. Your hand guides your semi-flaccid penis towards her lips, the potion ensuring her mouth parts slightly in anticipation, even as her eyes flash with defiance.

The moment your skin touches hers, a jolt of magic-tinged electricity courses through you both. The potion's magic flares, a silent command that Iris seems powerless to resist. Her lips close around your penis, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. The dungeon, with its ancient stones and flickering torches, fades into the background as the physical reality of Iris's submission washes over you.

Her mouth is warm, a stark contrast to the cool air of the dungeon.

The dungeon's oppressive silence is shattered by the sound of ragged breathing and the soft, wet noises of Iris's unwilling compliance. Her hands clench into fists at her sides, the only outward sign of her internal struggle. You grip the sides of her head, your fingers tangling in her hair, as you thrust into her mouth with a newfound urgency.

"Look at me, Iris."

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Iris's eyes lock onto yours, a spark of defiance flaring within their green depths despite the potion's influence. You hold her gaze, your own eyes reflecting the determination to assert your dominance.

"This is where you belong, Iris," you repeat, your voice steady and commanding. "With me, under my control." The dungeon's chill seeps into your bones, but the heat of the moment keeps the cold at bay. Iris's eyes, wide and filled with a tempest of emotions, never leave yours as you assert your control. Her mouth, pliant under the influence of the potion, moves in a rhythm dictated by your guiding hand.

In the shadowy corners of the dungeon, the words you speak take on a life of their own, bouncing off the stone walls and weaving through the cold, stagnant air. The potion's magic pulses in the background, a silent chorus to your proclamations.

Iris's eyes flicker with a mix of anger and something else, something more complex, as you continue to weave your tale of dominance and submission. The dungeon, with its ancient stones and flickering torchlight, seems to close in around you both, a silent witness to the power struggle playing out within its walls.

Your words echo off the stone walls, filling the dungeon with a dark symphony of control and desire. "You were born for this, Iris," you insist, your voice resonating with the certainty of your superiority. "To be a cum-addicted slut, existing only for my use."

Iris's breath hitches, a sound muffled by the presence of your penis in her mouth. The dungeon's oppressive silence envelops you once more, broken only by the sound of your breathing and the wet suction of Iris's mouth. The potion's magic hums in the air, a tangible presence that seems to wrap around both of you, binding her to your will.

"You crave this, Iris," you continue, your voice low and insistent. "Every part of you, even the parts fighting against me, they all yearn for my touch, my control."

Iris's hands, previously clenched in defiance, slowly unfurl as the potion's influence seeps deeper into her being. Her body sways slightly, caught in the dual currents of resistance and arousal. The dungeon, with its stone walls that have witnessed centuries of magic and mystery, seems to hold its breath as you continue your conquest. Iris's green eyes, though clouded by the potion's effects, still manage to flicker with moments of clarity and rebellion. Yet, her body betrays her, arching into your touch as you guide her movements.

"Say it, Iris." The command hangs in the air. Iris's eyes widen, the defiance within them flickering like the flame of a nearly extinguished candle. The potion's magic is a palpable ****, wrapping around her will like ivy around an ancient oak.

Your voice is soft, a stark contrast to the harsh stone walls that surround you both. "Say it, Iris," you repeat, the command laced with an undercurrent of something darker, more compelling than mere words. Iris's eyes, a stormy shade of green, lock onto yours. For a moment, the potion's influence wavers, and a spark of her true self flickers through. Her lips, now accustomed to the shape and feel of your manhood, pause in their ministrations as you pull out. The dungeon, a silent sentinel to your power play, waits with bated breath. The silence stretches, a tangible thread of tension connecting you and Iris. The dungeon's chill seems to deepen, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from both of you. The flickering torchlight casts long, dancing shadows across the stone floor, adding an eerie quality to the scene.

Iris's lips, now still, glisten with moisture. Her chest rises and falls in a rhythm that betrays her internal struggle.

The air in the dungeon is thick with anticipation, hanging heavily like the ancient tapestries that adorn the stone walls. Iris's eyes, locked onto yours, hold a mix of defiance and a growing sense of inevitability. The potion's magic is a **** to be reckoned with, its influence weaving through her resistance like a skilled enchanter. Iris's lips part, the struggle within her evident in the tremor that courses through her body. She swallows hard, her gaze never leaving yours. The words, when they finally come, are a whisper that echoes through the stillness of the dungeon, bouncing off the stone walls and mingling with the flickering torchlight.

"I... I want this," she admits, her voice laced with resignation. The words hang in the air, a testament to the potion's power and your manipulative prowess. A triumphant smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you look down at Iris, her green eyes now shimmering with unshed tears that reflect the cold, unyielding truth of her confession.

"Good girl," you purr, your hand gently cupping her cheek.

Iris's hands, previously trembling with the effort of fighting the potion's influence, now move with a resignation that is almost robotic. She resumes her task with a stoicism that would be admirable were it not so tragic. The sound of her compliance fills the dungeon, a stark contrast to the silence that had reigned moments before.

The stone walls, witnesses to countless magical experiments, now watch over a different kind of manipulation. As Iris continues her task, the potion's magic hums in the air, a tangible presence that wraps around both of you. The dungeon, once a place of learning and discovery, has become a stage for your power play. The cold stone beneath your feet seems to echo the hardness of your resolve, the chill seeping into the soles of your shoes a stark reminder of the calculated game you're playing.

The words hang in the air, sharp and clear, cutting through the ambient sounds of the dungeon. "You're a good cum slut, Iris," you say, your voice carrying an edge of authority that the potion amplifies. Iris's green eyes flicker up to meet yours, a flash of defiance visible before it's swallowed by the potion's relentless pull. The title of cum slut, though designed to demean, seems to spark a flicker of something fiery within Iris. Her movements momentarily falter, then resume with a renewed vigor that is entirely her own. The potion's influence is strong. Her hands grip you tighter, and her mouth works with a determination that betrays her desire.

Despite the potion's hold, Iris's reactions hint at a complex interplay of emotions. Her compliance is not a simple result of the potion; there's an undercurrent of genuine response that you, with your keen understanding of people, can detect. This insight sends a thrill through you, amplifying the intoxicating sense of power.

The stone walls of the dungeon seem to hold their breath as you feel the familiar tightening, the telltale sign of an impending climax. Iris, her eyes now closed, continues her task with a steadfastness born of the potion's relentless drive and her complex responses. The potion's magic swirls in the air, its presence almost tangible, like the chill of the dungeon that clings to your skin. As you brace yourself for the imminent release, the dungeon's torches flicker, casting dancing shadows across Iris's face. Her green eyes are shut tight, her lips parted as she works diligently. The sight of her, so thoroughly ensnared by the potion's magic and yet, you suspect, driven by her conflicted desires, heightens the intensity of the moment.

"Get ready, Iris." The words serve as both a warning and a promise, echoing off the stone walls. Iris's eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice, locking onto yours with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The potion's influence ensures her compliance, but the complexity of her emotions is a testament to her inner strength.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you release into Iris's mouth. The tension that had built up within the stone walls of the dungeon dissipates in an instant, replaced by a heavy stillness. Iris's green eyes widen in surprise as she tastes your essence, the potion's magic ensuring her compliance even as her mind races with conflicted thoughts. The dungeon, once filled with the sounds of potion brewing and whispered incantations, now resonates with the echo of your climax. Iris's mouth, moments ago a vessel for your pleasure, now holds the evidence of your power over her. The potion's magic, ever-present, ensures her obedience, but the flicker of defiance in her eyes belies her internal struggle.

"Swallow." The single-word command, "Swallow," reverberates through the dungeon, bouncing off the cold stone walls. Iris, her green eyes still locked onto yours, hesitates for a fraction of a second, a brief moment of defiance flickering across her face. But the potion's influence is relentless, and with a visible swallow, she complies. The act of swallowing seems to break a spell, figuratively speaking. Iris's eyes, previously wide with surprise, now narrow with a mix of emotions. There's anger there, and embarrassment, but also a flicker of something else, something that looks suspiciously like satisfaction.

With a flourish of your wand and a murmur of a spell, you clean both yourself and Iris of any residual evidence of your encounter. The magic whisks away any lingering traces, leaving the two of you as pristine as if nothing had happened. Iris's robes fall back into place, the fabric smooth and unwrinkled, while your clothes settle neatly around you, the creases sharp and the folds precise.

Iris stands before you, the aftermath of the potion's influence still lingering in her gaze. The words you speak hang in the air, heavy with the weight of possession and the undercurrents of dark magic. "Mine, Iris, for now, and forever. My little cum slut," you declare, the stone walls of the dungeon echoing your claim.

Iris blinks, her green eyes processing the audacity of your statement.

Iris stands motionless, her expression unreadable. The silence stretches between you, punctuated only by the distant echo of the dungeon's stone walls.

"Say it, Iris," you command, your voice steady and authoritative. "Repeat what I said."

Her lips part, a whisper escaping, barely audible. "I... I am your little cum slut." The words, once spoken, seem to hang in the air, swirling around the two of you like a dark incantation. Iris's face flushes a deep crimson, the color clashing with her fiery hair. Her green eyes, usually so full of fire, now flicker with a mixture of defiance and shame.

You watch her, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Iris," you say, your voice echoing off the cold stone walls of the dungeon, "every day, you will repeat those words when you see me. You are my little cum slut." The command hangs in the air, a tangible reminder of the power you hold over her.

Iris's eyes flash with resignation. It seems most of the fight has left her. She's coming to terms with her new life. Iris's shoulders slump slightly as she takes in the weight of your command. "Every day," she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, "I will repeat those words to you." The stone walls of the dungeon seem to close in, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows that play across Iris's face, highlighting the complex emotions warring within her.

With a swift, calculated movement, you reach out and deliver a firm slap to Iris's backside. The sound echoes through the dungeon, a sharp crack that breaks the silence. Iris startles, her green eyes widening in surprise, a gasp escaping her lips. A flush creeps up her neck, adding to the crimson hue that already colors her cheeks.

"Off you go, Iris." The words are a dismissal, and despite the potion's lingering effects, there's a spark of relief in her eyes. Iris turns, her robes swishing around her as she heads towards the dungeon's exit. The torches lining the walls flicker as she passes, casting an eerie glow on her fiery hair. You watch her go, a sense of satisfaction washing over you.