Draco meets the dean

Note: All characters in this story are over eighteen years old.

Draco Malfoy strode down the busy street of Diagon Alley with the light, confident gait of a man who felt like the absolute master of everything around him. His three perfect **** girls followed obediently behind, each one the living embodiment of his total power. Tit Whore walked a little behind, breathing heavily under the weight of her massive, swollen tits. With every step they jiggled and swayed, milk sloshing rhythmically in the silver buckets attached to her sensitive skin. Her face kept flushing with shame, but her body had already gotten used to that constant, humiliating wetness. Idiot Bitch’s microskirt — barely deserving to be called clothing — hardly covered her smooth, always-accessible pussy and plump ass, drawing lustful, mocking stares from passersby. The girl blushed constantly but, obeying the new rules, couldn’t help arching her back and displaying herself even more. Sperm Toilet scurried right beside her Master, her eyes full of hungry, **** need, her breath breaking into quiet, needy moans every few seconds.

The air around them was thick and sweet — a mix of fresh milk, female arousal, expensive perfume, and the faint scent of leather from the other slaves’ latex outfits.

Suddenly, a tall, familiar figure in flowing black robes appeared ahead. Professor Severus Snape.

For a split second, a strange, unpleasant burning flashed in Draco’s head — a fragment of a false memory in which Snape was dead, killed in some pointless war. But the feeling quickly dissolved like smoke in the wind. What ridiculous nonsense, he thought irritably. The Professor had always been here — Head of Slytherin, brilliant Potions Master, and the one who had personally taught him the finer points of handling sluts like Sperm Toilet: the right rhythms, depth of penetration, and the art of breaking a **** girl into a begging, ruined mess. Snape stopped in front of him. His cold, unreadable black eyes slid over the three **** girls with the approving gaze of an experienced connoisseur.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said in his low, velvet voice that always carried a hint of mockery. “I just saw your father. Lucius is quite… displeased that you’ve been lingering so long, amusing yourself with your whores, while your mother is already waiting for you at Madam Malkin’s shop.”

Draco felt a cold drop of sweat run down his spine. Even in this perfect new world, Lucius Malfoy’s anger was a **** to be reckoned with. His father never tolerated lateness, especially when it came to family duties. He quickly nodded, keeping his usual arrogant posture.

“Thank you for the warning, Professor. I’ll head there immediately.”

Snape gave a slight nod, his thin lips curling into a faint smile.

“And don’t forget to buy the new textbooks before the start of the eighth year. This year’s curriculum will be… particularly demanding.”

Draco nodded respectfully once more and continued on his way, urging his **** girls forward with a short, commanding flick of his wand. Sperm Toilet immediately pressed closer to him, barely holding back a shiver of desire. Tit Whore followed obediently, milk still dripping quietly into the buckets. Idiot Bitch, blushing furiously and muttering something humiliated under her breath, tried to cover her exposed pussy with her hands while involuntarily pushing herself out even more for display.

Madam Malkin’s shop was already visible ahead — an elegant building with wide windows where the silhouettes of pure-blood witches and their half-naked, obedient **** girls could be seen.

As he got closer, Draco spotted the silhouettes of his parents in the windows and stopped abruptly.

“Wait here,” he ordered the **** girls coldly.

Sperm Toilet, Tit Whore, and Idiot Bitch obediently froze by the entrance. Draco strode into the shop, pushing the door open. At that moment, a worn notebook quietly slipped out of his pocket and fell softly onto the cobblestones at the threshold.

Draco, absorbed in the upcoming conversation with his father, didn’t even notice his pocket was empty. The door closed behind him with a soft jingle of the bell, leaving the Book lying on the stones.