Bag of Depravity
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Master of Death, Lover of Witches: Chapter 39
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 07:27:34 +0000 UTCChapter 39
A Night in the Woods
Bellatrix Lestrange giggled. Not so much because something was funny but because everything was funny.
Take her cell, for example. It was formed of crude stones and was wet more often than not, water running down the walls and infiltrating her threadbare robes. Or her neighbors— fellow followers of Voldemort or miscellaneous dark wizards, tossed here to rot for the rest of their lives. Even the guards were funny. Floating demons without souls, sucking away happiness and waiting for the day they could swallow everyone here. It was all hilarious.
Yes, Bellatrix would look back on these days and cackle once her master returned and she was restored to his side. When the glory days returned, in other words. She was just getting a head start by laughing now. Her cell would be a thing of the past, her neighbors would gallivant across Britain again with the freedom to abuse Muggles any way they chose, and the guards the ministry trusted to watch over them now would be allies, gathering under Lord Voldemort’s banner.
Are you starting to get the joke?
So Bellatrix laughed. In the morning, in the afternoon, it didn’t matter. When she wasn’t being jarred out of fitful sleeps, she was laughing. It kept the Dementors at bay to an extent. They didn’t like the sound.
“What’s funny?”
That was what Cornelius Fudge asked, holding the bars of his cell. Bellatrix howled until her dry throat stung.
“You!” she cackled. “And everything else, too!”
Fudge didn’t see the humor. All he seemed to see was Bellatrix’s face. Well, and the rest of her. His eyes dipped occasionally to her milky skin peeking through the tattered, grey robes she’d been assigned.
“You don’t care for my body,” Death said.
Bellatrix’s sneered, giggles leaking through her clenched teeth. “Poor ex-minister. Nobody likes you. Didn’t you know?”
“I think the reporters liked me,” Fudge said. “They were smiling a lot while we talked. But it’s clear you don’t like me. Show me what you like.”
“You don’t give orders, here—”
Bellatrix lost her train of thought and stopped speaking. A haze came over her as if her mind was shrouded in shadow. It passed after a handful of seconds. Bellatrix forgot what she had been doing. Her hands tightened around her amulet.
Like her recent thoughts, the amulet was a mystery to Bellatrix. She hadn’t seen it before and she didn’t know where she got it. She thought she remembered something about… Harry Potter? But that was most likely a dream, because her recollection was as blurry as the mist that shrouded Azkaban island. The amulet had come from somewhere, and now it was here, and it was hers. That’s what mattered.
It was very beautiful. Sleek, with a green S encrusted into its gold. When she touched it, Bellatrix felt kinship. She felt closer to her master. It made her giggle in a different way.
“Bellatrix.”
She gasped.
She knew the voice with its sweet baritone that kissed your ears. It was deep and manly, yet smoother than honey. It was the voice of the only man who’d ever won her. Bellatrix scrambled back, at first, feeling like her body had been filled with electric current. “You’re here!”
It wasn’t Cornelius Fudge in the cell across the hall. Where that fat foolish minister had stood was a handsome man just old enough to be called mature. He had high cheekbones and the face of an aristocrat. One look in his eyes made you want to sell your soul. This was Lord Voldemort as he’d been, the last night that Bellatrix saw him.
She stopped retreating. “My Lord! Is… Is it you?”
It had to be, because he effortlessly walked through the bars. Such a simple cell could never contain him, Bellatrix knew that to be true. He came up to her cell and opened the door like it was never locked. Rather than let her out, he stepped inside to join her.
“You came for me,” Bellatrix whispered. “I knew you would! I’ve been waiting!”
Voldemort’s approval was delivered via touch. He stood above Bellatrix and reached down, rubbing his fingers over her cheek. She saw the desire in his eyes. Bellatrix didn’t pay attention to anything but her master as he lifted the amulet off her neck and cast it into the corner.
She never saw it crack open where it hit the ground, nor the way that when it did, a bright red stone skidded out.
Bellatrix lost herself in the touch of the master she missed so dearly.
O-O-O
Harry was fond of forests. He reckoned that dated back to growing up with the Dursleys, where the only peace he could achieve was by going to the park and finding a cozy spot between the trees.
It was the serenity that spoke to him. You could close your eyes, embrace your surroundings, and lose yourself in the sounds of Nature. Harry did so now, releasing a deep, meditative sigh, listening to the sounds of the forest.
“Sluuuuuuuurp! Sluuuuuuurp! Sluuuuuuuuuurp!”
Like he said. Peaceful.
Harry opened his eyes and looked at the woman on her knees in front of him. Fleur Delacour’s cheeks were concave as she made a tight ring with her lips, suctioning it around his shaft. She pulled her head back, “Sluuuuuuuurrrr—” Then she pushed it back down, “rrrrrrrrrppppp!” Her tongue was doing a lovely little flicking motion on the inside that, frankly, was driving Harry crazy. Not only was Fleur going at it without the help of her hands, she was putting her delicate fingers toward another task. Hooked under his balls, Fleur stroked his sack the way one would pat a puppy.
“You have the most vulgar little mouth,” Harry moaned.
Fleur’s eyes glittered to hear such kind words. They were somehow tear-free. Fleur was the only woman who could take his entire dick down her throat for minutes and look just as flawlessly beautiful at the end as when she started. Not, of course, that Harry had anything against runny makeup. That had its own charm; he was just remarking on Fleur’s remarkable capabilities.
The eldest Delacour was wearing a casual sundress paired with a bright cherry lipstick that must have been magic— it was sticking to her lips too well without smearing. Tomorrow was the last day of the impromptu break brought about by Harry’s antics, seeing as Fudge had been removed as minister and the The Great Dolores Umbridge and Tom Riddle Bill of Half-Blood Superiority and Supremacy was repealed immediately after. Even though he’d been soon to see her, Harry had felt a hankering for his favorite part-veela, likely brought on by a long few days surrounded by Charlie’s coven. So he visited Hogwarts and picked her up, calling a date, both of them knowing their clothes would be off imminently.
They didn’t even make it to the front door of the Burrow before Fleur was dragging Harry into the woods, eager to get to her favorite manhood. That’s what brought them where they were, with Fleur on her knees and Harry pressed against a tree, feeling the magic of her tongue.
When the nearest Hawthorn bush started to ruffle fiercely, Harry wondered if a wandering rabbit or deer was about to get the view of a lifetime. Instead, the view went to a petite blond girl with hair the color of fresh semen.
Fleur didn’t spare a look, too engrossed in her sucking. Harry managed to give the girl a small wave. “Hey, Luna.”
Heading into the woods around the Burrow meant coincidentally heading toward Luna’s hilltop home. Harry hadn’t strictly expected to encounter the blond, but he wasn’t overly shocked to see her pop up. He was mostly glad that of anyone that could’ve stumbled onto them, it was one of the girls who’d already seen every inch of him.
Luna had on the glasses she’d worn ever since she was fucked serious. Her outfit looked like a horrible match for the environment, with heels and a tight skirt that looked fit for an office, not a hike out in the woods. This didn’t slow Luna down as she walked forward, following an arc around the kneeling Fleur to take in the situation.
“Oral in the wilderness. A timeless classic,” Luna said. “She exhibits remarkable throat skill.”
“You’re telling me.” Harry’s voice, understandably, came out strangled; Fleur was slurping the soul out of him.
“Did you know, studies show that three is the optimal number when engaging in sex?” Luna asked. “Any more leads to diminishing returns on the pleasure front, however three offers a variety of teamwork opportunities that a couple cannot manage. Roughly sixty-five percent of men confess to having fantasized about a threesome at least once.”
“Meaning?” Harry said.
Luna curved her walk, coming closer to him and Fleur.
“...Would you like some company?”
Harry grabbed her waist.
Fleur was in a groove. With her skills, involving a second mouth would only slow her down. Harry chose to render Luna weightless and throw her up, directly into the air. As she floated his magic worked as quick as lightning to strip her. Instead of tearing or slicing any part of her outfit, Luna’s skirt undid itself as if hands were helping, her panties slid down her legs mid-flight, and her shirt came open button-by-button. Her outfit whizzed over to the bush Luna had popped out of, each article folding itself neatly before settling on the ground. By the time Luna’s legs hooked over Harry’s shoulders, she was completely naked.
Except her glasses. Harry left those. They kind of turned him on.
Harry put his lips straight onto Luna’s pussy. His tongue delved past her entrance, searching through her folds. As Harry’s tongue traced up and down in careful, controlled motions, Luna moaned loudly.
“You have very efficient genioglossus muscles!” Luna moaned. “Oh, yes, stimulate my vulva vestibule!”
Fleur didn’t care at all about Harry scooping up a new playmate. He honestly couldn’t tell if she had even noticed. All she cared about now was bringing out his seed and swallowing it— after basking in the taste, of course.
Luna’s small thighs squeezed in on Harry’s head from either side. “Proper constriction increases sensation,” she declared.
Harry moved his hands from her hips to her pert buttocks. He latched onto her glutes, to use the muscle name as she had been. His grip immediately made his fingers sink into divots in her skin. Luna had a delightfully soft rear. He remembered it from the time he’d taken her pussy from behind.
“Discharge is imminent!” Luna exclaimed.
Harry could tell. A tangy taste had already reached his tongue as her folds rapidly moistened. He could feel the tightening and trembling that heralded an oncoming orgasm. Meanwhile, his balls were getting tighter than Hagrid’s grip on a mug when he was ten drinks deep. Fleur got what she was chasing with a creamy load delivered directly to the back of her throat, while Luna bathed Harry’s face at the same time with the discharge she so politely warned him about.
“Ooh,” Luna said, her small chest shuddering slightly when she drew breath. “That was extremely pleasant.”
Harry let her shimmy down his body. When she touched the ground, Fleur still had her eyes shut. She almost looked to be meditating, such was her enjoyment over the taste of Harry’s seed.
When she cracked her eyes open, Fleur confirmed what Harry had suspected.
“Hello,” Fleur said, blinking in Luna’s direction. “Where did you come from?”
“My house,” Luna said. “It’s three-eighths of a kilometer in that direction.”
She pointed among the trees.
“I see,” Fleur said. “Are you here to fuck Harry?”
“If you don’t mind, that’s the course of action I had in mind.”
“I get to go first.”
“Of course,” Luna said graciously. “That’s only fair. Although, an idea has occurred to me…”
She tilted her glasses, causing the lenses to glisten. Harry blinked and looked around, failing to locate where that light was coming from.
Harry was left out of the details on what Luna’s idea might be as she leaned in, whispering straight to Fleur’s ear. He tapped his foot as he eagerly awaited what they would come up with. His eyes were drawn back when Fleur abruptly stood up, pulling her dress off. She was wearing nothing underneath it. Her luxurious breasts and sinful hips stared Harry in the face, her pussy basically begging for his attention. Her bright red lipstick contrasted with her pale white body in the right way to elevate both. Harry almost pounced on her the instant she stood in front of him in all her glory, but he held back, because it was clear the girls were doing something.
Under Luna’s direction, Fleur bent over while standing, placing her hands on the trunk of an expansive alder tree. She was taller than Luna, especially below the waist— Fleur’s long legs made up more of her height than her torso did. When Fleur bent over, Luna was small enough to enact an identical position underneath the part-veela.
Luna’s head wedged into the gap between Fleur’s breasts. Their pussies lined up, stacked atop each other at the perfect height to switch between them.
“For a man of your height and sexual prowess, I believe you can generate enough speed to split your time,” Luna said.
Harry couldn’t even see her face anymore, lost as it was between Fleur’s breasts, he could only hear her voice echoing out. Looking at those stacked pussies, Harry didn’t need to ask what Luna was suggesting. He approached, feeling his competitive spirit growing inflamed. What man doesn’t like a challenge.
He put his hands on Fleur’s hips and held tight. Her body was soft enough for him to find excellent hand-holds. Sucking in a deep breath, Harry began.
He delivered a rough and fast thrust into Fleur. She moaned, a noise as deep and guttural as her natural French. When Harry dragged his hips back, he bent his lower back to the point that his slick cock popped out of her.
He moved forward, going fast while needing precision at the same time. Threading the needle, his second thrust went straight into Luna.
The girls moaned at the same time in different pitches. Harry had his jaw clenched as he focused. Not only was it a workout, trying to go fast enough to please both of them, it was a tricky motion to get right.
He wanted to see if he could pull it off.
Switching between the two so quickly taught him things about their pussies that he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. Although they were both tight, Luna was slightly more so. Her smaller size also meant he hit her cervix sooner. In fact, the last few centimeters of Harry’s dick wouldn’t even fit in her. There wasn’t room for them.
Fleur’s pussy, by contrast, felt like more of a satin glove. It could encompass all of him, and any slight tightness that was missing compared to Luna was made up for with how soft she felt inside. Harry thought there might be magic involved. He wouldn’t put it past veela to have developed a honeypot trick into their physiology.
He listened to their voices as he went. The moans sounded promising. The last thing he wanted was to give neither of them a good time by biting off more than he could chew. Harry started to use his hands to compensate.
When his cock left Fleur, he snuck a finger into her pussy to keep the sensation going. When he switched back to her, he reached under their bodies and fingered Luna the same way. It kept the sensation constant for each of them, bringing them closer to cumming.
“Mon dieu!” Fleur screamed.
“Efficient work!” Luna praised Harry.
It took rigorous discipline for Harry to keep the balancing act up for ten minutes. His core muscles ached worse than he could remember. Meanwhile, his brain was starting to feel fatigued from focusing so hard for this long. The fact that Luna and Fleur were no longer speaking, just moaning, was a promising sign.
Luna climaxed first. When Harry’s tip rammed into her womb the way it had been for minutes, he set off a wet cascade identical to the one his tongue had induced. When he pulled out of Luna, he left her to collect her breath from her orgasm, focusing completely on Fleur.
The part-veela lasted a solid five minutes longer. Harry only had to focus on her now, bringing on a second wind that he made the most of. Fleur’s climax came hard and suddenly.
“Yes!” was her one-word exclamation. Her pussy’s grip on him squeezed down in a whole new way.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that there was no way he was holding onto his load after that one.
He pulled out of Fleur just to thrust between the two girls. Harry’s cock sandwiched between Fleur’s crotch and between the cheeks of Luna’s arse, which was where he ejaculated.
The girls peeled apart once the load was delivered. Fleur sat down heavily, running a thoughtful hand over her cum-covered quim and smiling. Luna stood up, her legs shaking from her last orgasm. She pushed her glasses further up her nose again in what Harry took for approval. Again, they glinted with light when she made the motion, but Harry was still helpless to figure out how she was doing that. He had a feeling that if he asked, she would give a useless answer like science.
None of them noticed the bush that Luna had exited rustle softly. It was understandable— the noise was quiet and easy to miss. But if they had paid attention to it, and if any of them crept around to the opposite side, they would’ve found the sight of Ginny Weasley on her knees.
Not just that, Ginny’s pants had been pushed down to her knees, and her cheeks were flushed to the same brilliant shade as her fiery head of hair. She was glaring, and panting, and also moaning under her breath. The last two were due to the three fingers she had wedged in her snatch. The first one — the glaring — was also about the fingers in her pussy, but only indirectly. She was made that was all that was inside her.
She’d been trying to attract Harry’s attention for longer than anyone. What right did other girls have to cut her in line, just because they had some magical ancestor? She didn’t have it in her to be angry at Luna, but Fleur was a different matter. What did she have that Harry couldn’t get enough of, that Ginny didn’t possess?
She was sick of it. No, she was done being a good girl and sitting on the sidelines. She was going to figure out what she needed to do, one way or another.
Ginny’s eyes lingered a long time on Fleur, all the way until she pulled up her pants and underpants and waddled away to avoid being caught. The moans that started again soon after only fueled Ginny’s resolve.
She didn’t care who she had to go to for help— she was going to get the man of her dreams. When Ginny Weasley wanted something, she got it.
